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#you guys have seen the sequels right?
swedenis-h · 1 year
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Practice practice practice
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lunataurora · 3 months
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y. youre kidding me
#read ll 25#i liked three things in technicality but um. hated their presentation completely and entirely#i ripped this to shreds elsewhere um. to ppl who do not know abt this comic#bc ive never seen ppl complain abt the things i did not like in this comic. at all#anyways im surprised i fucking despised the double-ending. usually i like exploration of variation. but this felt truly sinister#felt like it REALLY was trying to give bad vs good ending which! i hate!#especially when characters becoming more disabled vs not is seen as a choice to choose between as a reader#ESPECIALLY WHEN THE WRITING WORKED SO HARD TO PRESENT ITSELF AS HATING THE CONCEPT OF MORAL ABSOLUTISM AND THE IDEA PEOPLE CAN BE#QUANTIFIED AS 'GOOD' OR 'BAD'#haha noooo dont rejoin society. youll be abused by corrupt systems and become more disabled and have to face consequences for your#actions and revert to your worst self lol.#just join the eternal fratboy ship where nobody(else) dies and we can all take care of each other mentally. like a cult#like ok yeah the ship is supposed to be like a new home ok yeah. but youre all fratboys. in a big ship.#'turns out postwar society SUUCKS im getting a van lets go solve a random mystery pls just get me off this planet' to#'i was right postwar society sucks im staying in the van. guys just stay in the van with me. forever btw'#shouldve made a sequel series. the quest to find at least 1 good therapist#like srry yes its very ro/dimus ending but um. not so great as a story conclusion imo#LOVE the series LOVE most of the little arcs. the endings though? hollow. devoid of meaning#i personally think brai/nstorm shouldve gotten that physical disability like. right around elegant chaos. and kept it.#no 'you reap what you sow' no 'optional bad end' fuck you its cool that he has an assist i love it so much#altho tbh i guess giving him that right after EC would feel very 'reap what you sow' still....... maybe in the peak of EC then? idk#hell. all the way back to getting shot in the chest. or maybe the dark cybertron situation even. when they revealed hes technically unwell#waaaaaghhhhhh.#dummy posts
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valleydoli · 1 month
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𐙚 Ao3 Fics I’ve read and love 𐙚
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𐙚 infidelity by @tawus (completed)
gojo x fem reader
Your marriage to Gojo Satoru lost its initial excitement, since your husband spent all his time either at Jujutsu Tech or on exorcism missions across the world. To ease your loneliness, you picked up your favorite pastime from your student years — clubbing — behind his back. Too bad that on Satoru’s most recent mission he spots his wife dancing in a nightclub with a bunch of guys in the skimpiest dress he has ever seen on her…
𐙚 desert rose by @sadistic-kiss (on going)
all jjk men x fem reader 😭
Toji Fushiguro finds you during one of his hitman jobs. With no idea what to do with you he decides to bring you home to his house of misfits. They weren’t picture perfect but neither were you.
𐙚 mascara by @/softstellars (on going)
geto x fem reader
You've never been a particularly good person, you're self-aware enough to know it. It's your only flaw, and recently you've actually been working to better yourself. For example: paying for a 30-dollar Uber so you can take your friend home only for her to ditch you for some guy when it comes down to it. Although you’re pissed, you decide to try and make the best of it instead of get into a screaming match with her. It's an easy thing to do when Getou Suguru is offering you everything to do just that. Everything a party entails: liquor, weed, and sex with a perfect stranger. And Getou knows perfectly well you have a boyfriend, so it's not like he'll want anything serious.
𐙚 a pearl by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)
toji x fem reader
The Fushiguros needed a nanny, and the pay was too good to not apply, especially since your family needed financial help. You were the perfect nanny for the kids, they loved you as if you were their own mother. Slowly, you built up the perfect relationship with the family. Especially with Mr. Fushiguro. A man who would constantly visit you after dark. A man who you thought had sincere intentions but at the end of the day didn't care about you. A selfish man who just saw you as a tool to make his wife mad. A man who didn't care about you but didn't want you with anyone else. A man that took away your ability to know what a healthy relationship was. You couldn't speak up about it since all the fault would fall at your feet and would be deemed as the "homewrecker".
𐙚 you, my angel and my saint by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)
toji x fem reader
sequel to a pearl!
After having an affair with your boss, you're left to deal with the consequences, those being: two exhausting new jobs and a child. A child that he never got to know the existence of. Now all you had to do was keep her hidden, which should be an easy task, right?
𐙚 rings by @/bungeemum (on going)
toji x fem reader
you divorced the man in front of you for a reason. so why was he standing on your doorstep, guilt plastered on his face, and eyes glinting with hope?
𐙚 a dangerous game by @/anaoyuo (completed)
gojo x fem reader
geto x fem reader
Both men agreed to a game about who fucks you first, but they didn't play their cards right. Gojo and Geto changed the course of the game when they decided to keep you around for way longer than intended, making you fall for their sweet way to deprave you, and now you have to face the consequences in a gamble that they call their life.
𐙚 fate’s gamble by @/anaoyuo (on going)
gojo x fem reader
geto x fem reader
sequel to a dangerous game
缘分— a story about predestined affinity, set in a world where the intoxicating thrills of wealth intertwine with amorality.
𐙚 him & i by @pharixden (on going)
gojo x fem reader
toji x fem reader
sukuna x fem reader
A cheating husband, a widowed bodyguard and a malevolent fling of the past who owes a favour isn’t a combination for the faint of heart, but not every girl is a damsel in distress.
𐙚 changes by @lemonlover1110 (on going also on tumblr!)
gojo x fem reader
From childhood friends to lovers to mere strangers. Your love story with Satoru Gojo was one from a fairy tail, until it wasn't. When you were twenty-one, Satoru left you without an explanation. Five years later, you meet again but nothing is quite the same. Too many things need to be explained, especially the fact that there's another Gojo that Satoru has yet to meet.
𐙚 the man in apartment 381 by @lemonlover1110 (completed also on tumblr!)
toji x fem reader
Looking for a new beginning after the death of your husband, you move away from town. That's when you meet him, Toji Fushiguro, a widower with a three-year-old son. You two understand each other, which draws you close. Except you two don't realize that feelings would eventually develop, and neither of you want that. Feelings are the last thing you two want after finding out the great damage that they can cause. When you two discover this, it's too late.
𐙚 4th avenue viewing by @/softstellars (completed)
nanami x fem reader
Nanami Kento is intelligent, serious, reserved and can easily catch someone in a lie. It's his job to do just that, he's renowned for it. So when he comes to your university to offer up an internship, it's quite the opportunity. Anyone would jump at the chance, except for you. But no, you just had to be the one caught in a lie.
𐙚 forgotten souls by @/killerpoultry & @/bebobopobo (completed)
sukuna x fem reader
You and Sukuna have been married for years. Even though he is brash, mean, and sadistic, you love him more than anything. While he may not show it much, he truly loves you too. One day you get into a terrible car accident and lose all your memories. You learn to live once more while Sukuna must now get you to fall in love with him all over again.
𐙚 love kills by @/sourome (on going)
i actually don’t know 😭 i think toji x fem reader
The wealthy and successful Zenin family, well respected and seemingly perfect. But all that glitters is not gold. Toji Zenin, CEO and face of the Zenin Group acts like a gentleman but is a vile creature that has ruined many lives, such as yours. That married man dared to play with your mother’s heart many years ago, destroying her sanity and her life and ultimately killing her. Now years later and being all grown up you decide to seek revenge, he deserves to suffer that same destiny and die of love. With the help of a few friends you plan to become a part of his life and his every thought but you didn't take into account his son, that man had the potential to turn your plans upside down.
𐙚 the black swan by @uselesslydamaged (completed)
sukuna x fem reader
Loving someone is easy, but experiencing it is harder.
𐙚 bodyguard by @/succybuss (on going)
toji x fem reader
Your Grandfather, a man involved in unsavory businesses that has taken you under his wing, has informed you that you will be under the care of a full-time Bodyguard. Unhappy with your grandfather's decision, you decide to go out for a night of drinking for your last night of freedom. There, you encounter a man you planned on taking home, but life had other plans in store for you...
𐙚 violet lights by @septembersummer (completed)
gojo x fem reader
In which you're at a party that you should've skipped when you capture the attention of a boy who looks like an angel and grins like the devil. He looks beautiful in the neon lights, and maybe you just want to make your ex-boyfriend jealous, but trouble with a tongue ring does sound like fun, just for tonight. What's the worst that could happen, you know?
𐙚 starboy by @septembersummer (completed)
gojo x fem reader
sequel to violet lights
After your ex-boyfriend gets arrested on national television, you find yourself realizing that you really didn’t know much at all about Gojo Satoru. Well, he’s better known in the Yakuza as The Six Eyes, not that he ever told you that.
𐙚 sweet little lies by @/mooglepaws (on going)
toji x fem reader
Megumi Fushiguro is the perfect Fiancé. Caring, loyal, successful, devastatingly handsome and crazy in love with you. So how and why do you end up fucking his Dad? As your wedding looms and the consequences of your affair unfold, you have to make a choice between the Fushiguro men.
This is a Toji x Reader x Megumi but the smut is almost exclusively Toji x Reader focusing on their affair.
𐙚 the twist of a knife by @darkcat23 (on going)
gojo x fem reader
This world is dull, colourless in your eyes. You are just trying to keep going with your life, not bothering anyone, trying to support your mother and yourself. So what happens when you agree to help your ex one night? And what if you catch the attention of a certain white haired assassin? And he shows you just how colourful this world truly is. or, a story of a girl with a violent mind and a boy with violent tendencies, finding each other, intertwining, and feeding off one another. perhaps it is fate that has brought them together. or perhaps it's something more sinister, something more cold.
𐙚 untameable waves by @/circedemedici
(unknown i guess hopefully i can let you know)
has been taken down i dont know if it’ll come back but if it does i’ll link it! but i’m leaving it here because it was most definitely my favourite :(
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please let me know any other fics you’ve read because i love reading fics with a LOT of plot and also let me know if you end up reading any and you enjoy them as much as i did! :3
i think i used every tag known to man LOL 𐙚
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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months
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Mom and Dad are fighting on Christmas 🎄⛄🖤
Miguel O'Hara x wife reader
TW: MINORS DNI, angst, relationship and marriage troubles, fighting, insecurity, jealousy, postpartum, talk of divorce, mild smut at the end (p in v, idk to me it's mild, I've seen worse) word count 3.3k
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Credit to the gif owner keezinemugstudent! 🙏🏽
Synopsis: your marriage to Miguel is on the brink of collapse. He wakes up and tries to fix it on Christmas. Jerry Maguire inspired. 😁
Valentine's Day spinoff sequel
I tried to write something angsty. Hope everyone had/is having a good holiday season! ⛄
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Miguel's in the doghouse and he knows it. You requested a separation after you reached your limit. The kids were sick in the weeks following Thanksgiving and before Christmas and he spent the whole time working late and coming home at suspicious hours in the morning, leaving you drowning. You and the kids were piled in yours and Miguel's bed when you'd hear him come home, the front door closing and his familiar footfalls dredging down the hall, pausing only at the fridge before passing out on the couch. Oh you hated him right now. The resentment had creeped in and poisoned the marriage inside and out when he became exceedingly obsessed with work.
Protecting the stability of the multiverse was a huge undertaking, but, like all things in his life, Miguel took it to the next level. But when it came to his personal life, he was grievously lacking. The passion where you two would do it twice a day and couldn't keep your hands out of each other's pants? Ancient history. The small pecks you'd trade in the mornings were a thing of the past. Gone were the days you two would text all day and go out for dates. You didn't so much as get an "on my way home" text, instead letting the sound of his car pulling in the driveway be your confirmation of his return. You two were more roomates at this point than husband and wife.
Traditionally, on Christmas Eve after the kids went to bed, you two would take that time for each other, eating the cookies for Santa that were conveniently your favorite kind, placing the presents you two carefully shopped for and wrapped (well, mostly you wrapped), under the tree. A hysterical giggle would escape your lips at the milk mustache on Miguel's face. Then you'd two get busy on the floor in front of the fireplace, fighting back laughter as you tried to keep your moans down, every year struggling a little bit more than before because your knees weren't what they used to be before taking it to your bedroom for one more round before the chaos of Christmas morning began.
He was perfect in the beginning. The romance between you two used to be at an all time high. He was a nerd in the same friend circle when you knew him in high school, wickedly smart, the guy who won the Robotics and Math Olympiad comps and got visits from Ivy League college STEM departments, eager to scoop up his talent. Sure, he was cute, but when he went to college is when you heard he had a major glow up and became kind of cocky. You heard about how he became Spider-Man and was pretty much the greatest thing since sliced bread in the eyes of the people, saving lives and fighting villains and all. You knew how the opposite gender seemed to malfunction and forget how to act around him, so you stifled away your tiny crush you had on him for years in the smallest crevice in your brain in a forgotten folder, never thinking it'd see the light of day.
When you saw him at your high school reunion, you decided to be brave and remark on how they're playing Nickelback, which he shrugged and said he actually enjoyed them, to which you sheepishly admitted that you really enjoyed them deep down too, you just couldn't resist making yourself the person to talk shit, since there's always gotta be one hater when Nickelback comes on. A canon event, if you will. This earned a tiny side smile from him, a chink in his stoic armor. After 8 beers, some flirty jests, and a little backseat rendezvous in his car, that became the last night that you two spent apart.
You were a single mom and he was a single dad. He had Gabi who was now 10 and you had Marcus who was now 6. Then you two had little Anthony together who was now 2. At first he was at all the doctors appointments, all the parent teacher conferences, he knew what the kids were doing in school. He did bed times every night, reading in a silly voice with Gabi and Marcus both balancing on his lap while you rocked baby Anthony, smiling when you heard the kids giggling from the other room. You'd walk in after baby Anthony fell asleep in his crib, your heart melting as you saw this handsome giant of a man usually known to be cold and serious to everyone else, turn into the doting husband and loving father you knew him to be. Now, years of the monotony of every day life, pressures of raising a family, and the dying egalitarian attitude you two had as partners snowballed into your own version of Gottman's four horses, leading your marriage to Miguel into apocalypse.
At first, he welcomed the separation as you two battled in the kitchen.
"You wanna separation, fine, I'll do you one better. I'll fucking leave! Felicia's better company anyway," he smirked.
There wasn't real truth behind his statement, but he knew it would hurt you when you heard it. He'd be lying if he said Felicia wasn't an attractive woman, but, she simply wasn't you. He had learned his lesson on cheating years ago when he fumbled his relationship with Gabi's mother.
Ouch. But his words could be daggers when he wanted them to be, and he knew just how to twist them into you. Of course it was Felicia. Felicia, the gorgeous Black Cat recruit from work. Her silvery hair that halted midway down her back and startling blue eyes that could drown any man in them. She didn't have kids either, a life with her promised excitement, passion, and freedom. She was witty and funny and had a way of making anyone in her vicinity listen when she spoke. And to add insult to injury, she had a killer body.
After giving birth, you became so busy, and with reassurance from Miguel that you were still beautiful to him, you let your desire to get your body to "snap back" sit on the back burner. Signs of motherhood and postpartum marked you with purple stripes running vertical on your soft belly and a new plushness to your thighs. Basically, Felicia was a complete 180 from the woman you were, which made the sting of his words that much more unbearable. He took your vulnerabilities and threw them in your face.
"Oh so you admit it, finally! I know there was something going on between you two. Makes sense. She's a gorgeous woman, right? She can fucking have you then. What, are you in love with her?"
Miguel rolled his eyes, annoyed with the superficialness of your statement and your obsession with looks, despite him reassuring you many times that he wouldn't look at other women.
"I'm not in love with her, but she doesn't nag me all the fucking time like you do. I bust my ass every day for this family so you don't have to work. I don't know who this new woman is that I'm looking at right now and what she's done with my wife, but it's not the woman I fell in love with. It would be nice if you could show me a little appreciation once in a while."
You felt your blood pressure rise.
"Appreciation.... APPRECIATION, are you fucking kidding me?! I was up all goddamn night with Gabi and Marcus. I run this fucking household all by myself. I quit my fucking career to stay home and raise your kids. Do you not understand how lonely that is?"
"I'M LONELY!!! " he yells, triggered, the feelings bottled up, fizzed over and hurtled at you like a cork on a champagne bottle. "How do you think I feel? I got women at work practically throwing themselves at me but I don't do anything about it because I'm a good husband. Meanwhile, my own wife doesn't wanna fuck me. I'm a prisoner in my own fucking house."
Your eyes almost slipped from their sockets from rolling them so hard. He seemed to want a cookie and a gold star for just being loyal, the bare minimum.
"Oh, so you wanna fuck them? Go ahead! Maybe I'd fuck you if you actually gave a shit about me and not like I'm some damn fleshlight you use to get off!" You hurl back.
He left and checked into a hotel down the street.
A few weeks had passed and it was now Christmas. You were getting used to being separated but your heart still ached in your chest. You couldn't go on doing life, when the one person you did life with was nowhere to be found. You couldn't listen to your favorite songs, eat your favorite foods, or even look at your own children without being reminded of him. Gabi was his spitting image. Same with Anthony. Even Marcus, who was his stepson, started adopting Miguel's mannerisms. The way he'd scratch his head while he did his math homework, deep in concentration.
It was Christmas evening at your mom's. You joined the other women in your family, your non-politically correct Aunt, your soft spoken sister-in-law, your mother with a don't-try-me attitude, and your younger sister with a sass to rival your mother's. You were all complaining about the men in your lives, your aunt rattling off about her 3 ex husbands but, 'hey she collects alimony from two of them so she can't complain!', your younger sister complaining about the frat guys at college who just wanna get in your pants, your sister in law who's silent the whole time (your brother treats her like a queen), and your mom about your asshole dad with an erratic mother who was incapable of cutting the apron strings and made her life a living hell. The kids are laughing and playing in the basement, eagerly trying out their new Nintendo Switch Santa left under the tree.
"I'm here for my wife."
Your feminine council meeting is interrupted by an unwelcome masculine figure. It's your estranged husband, Miguel, the coffee-colored strands of hair that hung over his forehead starting to wet from the snowflakes that melted under the warmth of the room as he stepped inside, a look of regret and longing embedded in his eyes that you hadn't seen since your earliest days of knowing him.
His strong hands dangled at his sides in fists, his chest heaving up and down. His navy blazer bearing dark water stains from the melted snow. He had a revelation at work. He and Peter B. stopped an anomaly that was terrorizing the streets of Queens in Peter's universe. The battle was close, almost a little too close to where he lived, putting MJ and Mayday in direct danger. After the job was done, the moving and emotional reunion between Peter B., MJ, and Mayday was his epiphany.
As the little family reveled in their joy and relief of evading the ultimate disaster, the only thing there for Miguel at the point of his return was the inanimate, empty, thin walls of his apartment and the thoughts of you, his severed family, that inevitably haunted him. He needed you back. He needed to apologize and fix it now.
He ran from your house to your mom's in the snow and all. It was the first Christmas Eve he spent not in between your thighs and buried deep inside you. It was the first Christmas morning he didn't wake up to Gabi's blueberry pancakes and Marcus tackling him while Anthony screamed in delight. It was going to be the first Christmas night without his family by his side, an uncomfortably obvious empty seat at the table he rightfully belonged. Next to you.
Sometimes you don't know the value of something until it's gone. Sometimes life gets in the way and you forget to appreciate the person in front of you. Why did I treat my wife like garbage when all she ever wanted was for me to ask how her day was? Why were we on our way to winding up like both sets of our parents? Doomed to repeat the cycle of divorce and hurt. Doomed to lose your faith in love and marriage like all the maternal figures in your family before you did.
Now here he was, in the living room while your mom, sister, and aunt moved towards each other, eyes squinting, three pitbulls willing to jump in on your behalf while your sister in law just stayed frozen in place. He was in enemy territory and he needed to choose his words carefully.
"Not here Miguel..."
"YES here. Right now." He says in a firm voice. "You're not getting rid of me, woman."
You scoff, almost amused by his sudden urgency and painting you like you're the one who wanted this family to be broken apart.
"The kids are downstairs..." you start to say, hoping that the mention that innocent ears could be prying into the adult conversation would help him simmer down.
"I'll see them in a minute." He says flatly.
"I miss my wife...."-he chokes on the last word, wife.
"And I want her to come home." He knew at any time his words would give way to the reservoir of tears built up behind it.
You stood there, incredulous.
"I don't want to come home to an empty apartment. I don't want my own bed. I'm ashamed it took me losing you and the kids for me to wake up. And, I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever I can to be better. To be a better man for you and the husband that you needed. We both got caught up in real life and focused on the kids so much that we lost each other. Well, this is me trying to find my way back."
Your lips parted slightly as your breathing became heavier. This was all you ever wanted to hear him say. Stop neglecting the love between you two that laid dormant, a plant starved of sunshine. For him to finally shake off the stubborn shackles that was his ego and express himself to you. Let him allow you back into his heart, no longer as a guest, but a permanent resident.
"You're... you're everything to me. And I'm not leaving here tonight until you let me know if you'd allow me the opportunity to get hurt by you again," a tear rolled down his cheek, his scarlet eyes yearning, his hands pining for the feel of you. As though the madness of not having you alone could stop his heart from beating, stop his world from turning, rearrange life as he knew it into a hollow existence not worth seeing.
Your own reservoir could not be held back any longer and started to roll down your cheeks. He managed to peel back the walls you built with his apology, revealing the woman underneath who just missed her husband.
He steps closer to you now, eager to bridge the rest of the space between your bodies.
"You still love me?" he asked softly.
Your chest heaves, shoulders raising then falling sharply, feeling yourself crack with exasperation under his burning gaze as you softly answer,
"Never stopped."
He grabs you and pulls you into him, his embrace is tight as though you'd disappear if he dared to break it. He tangles a hand in your hair and presses his cheek into your head, his eyes closed, drinking in the scent he'd been away from for weeks. You bury your face in his chest, trying to make yourself small and allowing his frame to swallow you whole, not minding his wet shirt and blazer that still have a slight chill on them from the storm outside, allowing your body heat to seep into his. You both began to rock back and forth a little bit, still locked inside your hug. It was as though the passing of time had evaporated and it was only you two in the room, nevermind your family witnessed the whole thing.
After several long moments, you pull apart and he offers you one of his dazzling smiles, one you hadn't seen in months. The kids have made their way upstairs and shriek with excitement when they see their dad and Miguel bends down to scoop them up. You smile and stand beside your mom who scoops you into a side hug. With her blessing, Miguel stays and celebrates the rest of Christmas with you and your family.
Gabi, Marcus, and Anthony are now all tucked in. The sugar from the chocolate they consumed all day had worn off, making them crash hard in their beds. You and Miguel are cuddled up on the couch watching the fireplace, taking some needed time as a couple. You stroke his strong arms that are wrapped around you with your fingertips, watching the way the flames leap and spark in the air when they crackle against the charred wood. You look up at him and feel a wave of desire wash over you that you had pent up for months as you study his chiseled features and the way the fire's glow highlights his skin.
"Should we end this Christmas with a bang?" You ask, pun fully intended.
Miguel looks at you tiredly, trying to act like that wasn't a witty remark but he lets out a chuckle. "I'd love to," he whispers.
He takes both your cheeks in his large hands and brings his lips to you immediately. They're soft and full. You feel yourself melting into him every time he sandwiches yours in between them. He reclines you backwards, slowly, until he's on top of you. He lets the weight of his body and hips come down on you little by little, making you arch your back, so your body can better receive him.
Once he lets you taste his tongue, you open your mouth wider, permitting him to deepen the kiss, tossing kindle onto the growing flame between you two, and it's not the one in your fireplace. You take your turn to dial up the heat, seizing his bottom lip in a gentle nip from your teeth, earning a low groan from Miguel and a tightened grip on your hair.
As you continue your steamy makeout session, he begins to hump gently against your clothed body, a nonverbal plea for the wet friction only the inside of you can provide.
After your frantic hands strip each other of your clothes, you've transitioned so you're straddling him in the lotus position, goosebumps popping up all over your skin as your bare body meets his, a high pitched gasp escaping you as you sink down onto him, his mouth falling open and his eyes shutting closed as he breathes in your ear,
"God, I missed you, baby."
You whine into his neck as you coil your fists in his hair. His hands fly to the soft flesh of your sides, using them to move you up and down, his haggard breaths making you weaker and weaker by the minute. You hum,
"I missed you even more."
The next move of his hips is harder than you anticipated, causing your brain to go fuzzy with pleasure.
"How much?" he exhales in a sultry tone.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you all week,"your tone turning into pleading as you feel yourself approaching your limit.
Miguel can't help but feel himself lose his mind a little bit at your words and at your reaction, sensing you won't be able to hold on much longer.
He lays you down, while still keeping himself inside. He slows down to a more sensual pace, breathing in the sight of your wild hair clinging to the couch cushions, evidence of him hitting you in all the right spots every time the inner corners of your eyebrows squinch upwards and your lips fall open.
His loving eyes burn with worship of your body and how well you're doing as he runs a thumb along your chin then pulls down your bottom lip, leans in and mumbles quietly into your mouth,
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. O'Hara."
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🖤
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shuttershocky · 11 months
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this overwatch 2 shit has GOT to be illegal right? I mean, they sold the game on the promise of PvE and now they cancel it. This better earn them a false advertising charge
And the wildest part is that you can't even play Overwatch 1 anymore.
Anyone who's followed this blog long enough has probably seen me post a rant about how terrible video games are at media preservation, and how we should preserve games (even ones we don't like) to be playable in some manner long after the developers take the servers offline because games are art and deserve to be able to be experienced by the future long after they've been discarded by their makers as a product.
You can't do that anymore with Overwatch 1, a game that wasn't even free to play.
People paid 40$ in 2016, 60$ if they went for the deluxe edition, to play Overwatch. New heroes, maps, etc were promised to come as free updates, instantly accessible for anyone to play without grinding or microtransactions (though there were mtx for cosmetics) and that the game would be supported for many years.
This was one of the many reasons why Overwatch back then absorbed a large part of TF2's playerbase: TF2 had been chugging along since 2007, at the 8-9 year point its updates were winding down and people have accepted it was finally hitting the end of tis life, and were looking for a new cartoon team shooter that would last for years. OW was not TF2's successor and was never intended to be, but that promise of many years of free support was a major part of why people gave it a chance just the same.
And then just 3 years later in 2019 they announced Overwatch 2, a game that looked really, really similar to Overwatch 1, except it was going to have the actual story missions via PvE mode that Overwatch 1 didn't have. They said there would be enough new things to justify the '2', and that people who bought Overwatch 1 need not worry about their investment in the first game.
And then it turned out what they meant by that was that they were killing Overwatch 1 by closing its servers, forcing everyone to move over to Overwatch 2, a Free to Play game where you had to grind to unlock the new heroes (people who bought OW1 instantly had the new hero unlocked but come on), was chock full of the usual Free to Play engagement mechanics, and changed the 6v6 format to 5v5, if you had a full squad of friends before, you had to tell one guy to get fucked.
I think the worst part was that when people were understandably angry that Overwatch 2's actual changes from the original were almost all monetization based, games journalists that pressed Blizzard on why players now had to grind a battlepass for heroes, which Overwatch 1 had always given for free, were met with a "well, heroes are the strongest engagement point for our players" type of deflection where they didn't even try to hide their reasons behind something respectable.
Now they're announcing that OW2's PvE mode, the whole (public) reason they made OW2 a sequel instead of an update to OW1, isn't even happening anymore, and Overwatch 1's original 6v6 remains dead and inaccessible.
I didn't like Overwatch 1. I was really hyped for it when it came out, but found myself really disliking the gameplay (especially on its map design which I thought was terrible) which only worsened with its creative and balancing direction until I lost interest in only a few weeks.
Still, killing OW1 to force all players to move to OW2's free to play model was inexcusable. All art must be preserved in some manner, even ones we don't think are good enough to be worth preserving. Overwatch in particular was so massive in 2016-2018 that to kill it is to make inaccessible the source material of a kajillion other pieces of art from those years.
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plasticferal · 2 months
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hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)
damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.
i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.
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the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.
all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.
“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.
“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.
you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.
you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.
all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.
the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.
chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.
every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.
"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.
"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.
"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.
“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.
"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.
"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.
"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.
"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.
you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.
"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.
"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.
looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.
"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.
"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.
you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.
"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.
"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.
you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.
feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.
when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.
"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.
chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.
turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.
"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.
"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.
"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.
the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.
"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.
"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.
"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.
"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.
you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.
"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.
you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.
"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.
"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.
you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.
"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.
chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.
"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.
there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.
you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.
the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.
he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.
before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.
chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.
the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.
you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.
in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.
he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.
you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.
you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.
appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.
they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.
nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.
your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.
chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.
you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.
"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.
walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.
the room is filled with tension.
matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.
"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.
"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.
"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.
"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.
matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.
"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.
you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.
you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.
“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.
he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.
“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.
“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.
"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.
"chris," you start. he keeps talking.
“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.
“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.
“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.
"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.
"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.
"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.
"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.
"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.
"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.
"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.
you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.
"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.
you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.
"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."
"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.
"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"
"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.
"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"
"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.
"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.
your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.
in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.
chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.
the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.
you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.
"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.
he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.
"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.
tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.
turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.
you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.
"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.
"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.
with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.
"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.
his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.
"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.
chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.
"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.
he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.
"i mean it, y/n."
"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.
"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.
he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.
"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.
"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.
"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."
"i know, chris."
"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."
"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.
"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.
"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.
"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.
you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.
"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."
"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.
"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.
chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.
"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.
you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.
"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.
his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.
"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.
chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.
"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."
this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.
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araminakilla · 1 year
Text
Regarding Death Wolf...
Hear me out (NO, it's not the kind you are thinking)
We know Death has a job, right? To collect souls and most likely release them to the afterlife.
And for this job, he has to be there when somebody is about to die, as demostrated with him being there moments before Puss' eight death.
Supposing he is THE Death and he has been doing this since the beginning of time (or at least when there were enough stories of the Grim Reaper to adquire a physical form) that means he has seen a lot, A LOT of awful things.
Murders, suicides, massacres, death of infants, people who didn't deserve to die alone, animal cruelty, some other heavy stuff I won't mention here, etc etc etc.
And we thought "man, how is he able to cope with all of that? That job has to be utter torture for someone."
Probably many of you could think that he is able to do that because he is Death, and he was "born" with that purpose and only him can reap souls perfectly.
But while he is a force of nature, he also WAS a force of nature. Let me explain it well: He adquired a personality enough to be angry, excited, frustrated, amazed, happy, among other emotions.
While he has supernatural power and is most likely the most powerful being in the Shrek Franchise (or in Dreamworks as many say) he is also a PERSON.
Someone with a code of honor, morals, opinions, beliefs, etc.
Returning to the question "How can he bear all of that?" taking into account he is no longer an inevitable force, but a character of his own.
The answer is something you may relate to, and that is: Creativity and escapism.
To be the embodiment of Death, the guy is a very creative fella.
First of all, his design. I heard many people saying here and in Twitter that his design is something they would come up in their edgy, teen years of drawing their first fursona.
Guess what? They are right, the wolf form is someone's fursona. It's DEATH'S fursona. He clearly came up with this badass, piercing canine form to blend with the Fairy Tale Land assuming the form of the "Big Bad Wolf". He most likely had other forms he designed over the centuries and was able to present as them like if he were on a role play game in the living world.
His sickles? The weapon of choice with the little crossed cats on it to have a bigger effect of terror for Puss? Those who can become knuckles and join to create a scythe? Those are his creation, probably after thinking it for a while and writing all of those functions on a paper.
The way he presents himself? In the bar? The coins in his eyes as a "watching you" sign while being a cool reference to the Ferryman of souls? He transforming Perrito's forest into the background of a skull? The chilling reveal at the Cave of Lost Souls? The fire ring? It was all him.
As for the escapism part...
When the world becomes too heavy to deal with as real life issues tend to make us feel bad, depressed, angry... we tend to escape it somewhere. And in our time the common place would be the internet as in webpages or comics, stories, etc.
But what has to do with Death Wolf you may ask?
Well, while he would NEVER be able to escape his job entirely, he can have moments where he can enjoy a good hunt of people who don't appreciate life, like the whole plot of the Puss in Boots sequel could demostrate.
He managed to have a little time outside his eternal routine to chase an arrogant cat who took life for granted. He enjoyed it, it was thrilling, it was exciting.
It was a way to escape a monotonous, grim "life", if just for a short moment.
So, when the chase ended as his prey no longer feared him and now was ready to fight for his last life, the wolf retreats, happy for Puss' character development but resigned because he once again had to return to "The Eternal Duty"
And that's not even counting all the times Jack "I'm dead inside" Horner had to interrupt Lobo's hunt and remind him of his job even in his "spare time"
Death knew the chase had to end eventually, but he didn't want it to end.
He didn't want to return to his own world
And if we look at Death like that, then he is probably one of the most relatable characters Dreamworks has ever make.
In the Shrek Franchise:
Monsters can be loved
Princesses don't have to fit the perfect standards of beauty
Handsome guys can be possesive jerks
Love at first sight doesn't work like one would think
Happily ever afters had to be built and not just obtain them with magic
And Death is the most creative and "full of life" being in the world
Because he would absolutely go crazy with his life/work if he wasn't.
Because in a world of Kings, Poets and Soldiers, he's the Supreme King
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And he's also a perky goth but none of you are ready for that conversation.
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melancholyhigh · 3 months
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sooo... i just read your "sunrise" fic and i'm obsessed. the plot was great and the way you narrated the feelings and the setting??? i'm in love. i live for your subby!leon. i don't know if you're taking requests right now but i would love to read more about him:)
MIDDAY.
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ft. brother’s best friend!leon x afab!reader
synopsis. your mom thinks leon is a bad influence on your brother, but only if she knew how much of a good boy he is.
content. 0.6k words. smut. subby leon, handjob, begging, praise kink, thigh riding (?), edging, marking, sneaking around.
note. ty for the requests anon !! <33 it’s basically a 1.5 to sunrise. sorry for being so inactive :( tryna get through some requests <3 lmk if u guys would like a full sequel to sunrise tho!!
masterlist. reblogs & comments are appreciated :3
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You couldn’t fathom how your mother could dislike Leon. He was one of your brother’s friends who didn’t actively try to be a nuisance to your neighbourhood, and it was shocking when they even became acquaintances – let alone best friends. 
She says he’s a bad influence on your brother, but he’s the kindest boy ever met. You must be biased because you think he’s a very good boy. He’s especially good when he’s beneath you, his blue eyes brimmed with tears, begging you to let him come, but, oh, doesn’t your perfect boy have such nice manners?
“Please, please, please, ‘m so close,” he’s sobbing as you continue to move your hand up and down his throbbing cock. Your digits are stained with tacky precum, thumbing the sensitive head. He was so gorgeous, rosy cheeks stained with tears, and his lips all swollen and slick with spit.
You told him a few minutes ago to quiet down — you’ll get caught, but he continues to whine and plead. You're beginning to think he wants to be seen at your mercy, crying for you. His soft whimpers and quiet moans get you aroused, soaking through your shorts, and Leon can feel you on his thighs where you’ve made yourself comfortable. It drove him mad when you rut against him, trying to soothe the ache between your legs that he caused.
He wants nothing more than for you to strip down and sit on his face for him to lap at your cunt like a starved man. Instead, you are entranced with him, admiring the cute expressions he makes when you give his dick a firm squeeze. He’d say it’s humiliating if it didn’t feel so good to be under you, panting and sobbing.
Arching his back, Leon feels his impending orgasm creep up on him, only to dissipate rather than crash when you cease your movements on his erection entirely. Head digging further into your pillow, he whines loudly, only to be muffled by your lips moving against his. Despite the seemingly delicate way in which you touch his body, your lips are hungry against his, tasting him as you stifle his moans.
Your lips trail from his to the sensitive skin of his neck, sucking red marks that were too difficult to hide, but that was the point. Your brother had congratulated him for finally getting some when he saw the purplish bruises on his fair skin. He chuckled at the irony of him fucking his sibling, boyishly rubbing the back of his neck.
“P- please, fuck, angel. Can I come?” he pleads. Leaning back on his thighs, you let your nails scrape the flesh on his chest and stomach, allowing red scratches to rise in its paths. He feels you shift on his thighs, subtly grinding your needy cunt on him as he begs for your attention on his cock. 
You had been denying his release for too long now, but you finally had time with him for yourself, so you wanted to abuse it to the best of your ability. When he peers up at you, gripping your hips so eagerly as moans slip past his parted lips, you want to give him to the moon and more. 
“You’ve been so good f’me, Leon. So pretty ‘nd obedient. I think you deserved to come,” you whisper back to him, gripping his length once more and pumping him slowly. Your words are almost enough to make him come undone into an incoherent mess, and when you squeeze the tip of his cock, his soft tummy clenches as ropes of his thick cum spurt out his overtly sensitive dick onto his chest.
Peppering his face with kisses, you mumble soft praises as you take care of him.
“You’re such a good boy for me, baby. I love you s’much.”
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leclercss · 2 months
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Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc),
a Tainted Love sequel
Masterlist
plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.
pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader
warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing
authors note: our amours are back. hope you enjoy this sequel featuring our fave Monegasque.
word count: 4.3k
taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar
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"Pierre, I just don't get why you can't show me his picture?" you whine, throwing your head back against the sofa. Clearly you need to work on your negotiation (or blackmailing) skills because you've not made a dent in changing Pierre's mind.
"Because, [Y/N], I don't trust you this time. I've seen your love life, if you can even call it that, in the last six months. It's nothing short of embarrassing and from what I've witnessed, I know who the problem is," Pierre retorts.
You snort at Pierre's response. This man doesn't given a fuck and you do your best to not throw a cushion at his face.
"And what do you mean by that?"
"What I mean, [Y/N], is I've seen you make out with random guys in clubs, ugly ones by the way, who you either sleep with or have to spend the rest of the night hiding from. You're also useless when it comes to Tinder. You either fall in love with their pictures, match, have about a two minute conversation with and then ghost them entirely or you spend five minutes analysing everything that is wrong with them."
"That's no true," you growl.
It's Pierre's turn to snort. "Oh, it is! And if you do end up chatting to someone half normal, you just get drunk and show them pictures of your ex husband's dog".
This time you couldn't control yourself and so you launch the cushion at Pierre's head. Your aim clearly needs some work as you miss his head by about half a meter and hit the lamp above his head, causing it to hit against the wall.
"Right, you two! That's enough," you hear a voice yell from the other room. You look over your shoulder and see Pierre's girlfriend, Kika, storm into the living room.
"He started it," you cry out before shooting Pierre some daggers which earns a kick from Pierre.
"I don't care who started it. I care about ending it," Kika growls as she throws herself onto the sofa opposite then one you and Pierre are occupying.
Silence falls onto the living room but only for a few moments before you look at Pierre again, continuing your previous argument. "Pierre, I don't get why you can't just tell me anything about him".
Pierre, aware of the daggers he's receiving from Kika, simply rolls his eyes.
"Ugh, fine! Kika, can you please talk to Pierre?" you plead as you turn your attention to Kika.
She sighs at you, defeated. "I've tried, [Y/N]," she replies. "But Pierre has made some good points".
You narrow your eyes at her, "Traitor."
Pierre can't keep contain himself as he erupts into a fit of laughter. Annoyed, you return the kick that he gave you earlier which results in a loud cry from Pierre.
"Hey! We're the ones trying to help you out here," Pierre laughs as he rubs his shin, tender from your kick.
"I didn't ask for your help," you grunt, throwing you arms across your chest in frustration. You catch Kika in the corner of your eye trying to hold back a smirk.
"Spit it out, Kika!"
Both Pierre and Kika look at each other, exchanging a little chuckle, before you friend gives you a polite reality check.
"Well, we're in Paris, the city of love. And well, your love life since we've met you has been, putting it nicely, tragic. So Pierre and I thought that as your friends in this new city, we would take the trouble out of your hands for you when it comes to love," she politely tells you.
Pierre snorts again, "Nah, Kika. It's called an intervention".
You look around you to find any other cushions you can throw at Pierre but realise that you've thrown all cushions within reaching distance at his head already.
The truth is that, as hurtful as it may be, Pierre and Kika were right. Your love life since moving to Paris ten months ago has been pathetic. In fact, it's been pathetic for the last three years, ever since you had ended both your marriage to Lewis and your relationship with Charles.
Your intention at the time was to only end your relationship with one of them and in your heart and mind, you were going to end your marriage with Lewis. And that was what you did. Despite his last ditch attempts of rekindling your marriage and relationship, you had declined Lewis' offer to leave your life in London behind and join him in New York City.
An offer like that earlier on in your marriage would have been tempting but after yourself and Lewis both agreed to open up your marriage, and before all of the walls came tumbling down, you realised that whenever Lewis was close to losing you he would pull out all of the stops to become the husband you wanted and needed.
He'd done it throughout your relationship. Once Lewis smelt danger or felt vulnerable, he loved bombed you to the point where you fell in love with him all over again. Telling you everything you needed to hear and throwing you grand gestures like a proposal, a new puppy, extravagant gifts, monogamy (looking back, that one was laughable) and finally offering you a new life in the bright lights of New York City. And when he was sure that you wouldn't leave him and were fully committed, he'd go back to the Lewis of old - doing as he pleased without any questions or consequences. That was until Lewis pushed you too far, he'd tested you one too many times during your "open marriage" and pushed you into the arms of another man, Charles.
In a totally unplanned and spontaneous night out, you had met Charles and the two of you had clicked instantly. Charles was the only person that ever led you to doubt your marriage and relationship with Lewis. You developed a relationship which led to you falling in love with one another. It was very real and very serious. He gave you the love and fulfilment you had long yearned for. He was worth leaving your husband for and you were so ready to do that.
That was until Lewis' offer of moving to New York came about. You didn't want to move to New York. It may have been a dream once but not in those circumstances. Not after you'd already taken off your wedding and engagement rings and told your husband you were ready to move on in your life. This was Lewis' next step in life, not yours.
You were free from your marriage and you could continue your relationship with Charles but something weird happened. It all fell apart one night when you went to see Charles at his flat after you had told Lewis that you wouldn't be moving with him. Your intentions were to tell Charles that you were all his and you could finally start to build a real life together.
However, that’s not what happened. You couldn’t get the idea of leaving London with Lewis out of your head. Even in separation the man couldn’t leave you alone. He was in your mind as you spoke to Charles, kissed Charles and even when you made love to Charles that night. Something deep down was telling you that instantly starting a life with Charles just days after separating from your husband of five years wasn’t the right thing for you.
You needed time to mourn your marriage but also to figure out who you really were. You had been in a relationship since you had moved to London at 21 and had never gotten to explore adulthood and your twenties on your own. And just maybe, you needed a little bit of time to be you.
But that’s not how it went down, or how you had tried to communicate it to Charles. After you and Charles had finished having sex, Charles started a conversation about your relationship and mentioned the possibility of moving in together. You guys were in love and it made sense.
But you freaked out, confessing to Charles that Lewis was going to New York and had asked for you to go with him. And when Charles had asked you want you had wanted to do, you froze.
Fuck, why did you have to freeze? You already told Lewis no but why couldn’t you tell Charles that?
You realised over time it was because that you were unable to tell Charles that while you had said no to Lewis, you needed to be on your own for a while. And how could you tell Charles that after he had made love to you and confessed his loved to you once more?
And so when you struggled to find your words, Charles took it as a yes and that in fact you were moving to New York, leaving him behind. You were ending things with him to be with a husband who treated you poorly.
And when you did begin to find your words, Charles didn’t believe you despite the fact that you had already removing your wedding ring. He was fed up. He’d been humiliated by you and Lewis to one too many times and so he asked for you to leave.
You obeyed and left his apartment. Too hurt and stubborn to speak to one another, you both waited for the other to reach out. A text, a call, something to let the other know that this was stupid and you wanted to be together. But that text, call or something never came. And so you and Charles never spoke again.
Not long after you and Charles ended things, a position in work opened up in Singapore. With nothing meaningful thing you to London any more aside from your best friend Whitney, you applied for it. You were successful and so within a few moments you moved to Singapore for two years.
You finally got your new life and spent the last of your twenties in an amazing city. You even had a few casual, no strings attached situationships. But as you turned 30, you began to miss being closer to home and so you moved back to Europe, this time settling in Paris.
You enjoyed the city and while Paris was famed for being romantic and the city of love, your experience so far had been anything but. Which is why you were here now, letting your new friends Pierre and Kika salvage whatever love life they could manage for you.
You had grown close to them over the past few months. You had met Kika in work and over time she took you under her wing. You hadn’t told Pierre and Kika everything though about your life in London. They knew you were divorced from Lewis and that you had an open marriage got wrong but you had never told them about Charles. How could you even begin to explain that you had fallen in love with someone that wasn’t your husband and then, when you finally had the chance to be with him, you chickened?
No, you couldn’t tell them about Charles. It still hurt you when you thought about how things ended between you. With a heavy heart, you still valued your relationship with him and looked back with fond memories. Charles was still very special and important to you. And so, that was one story you wanted to keep close to your heart.
“Can you just give me a name? Not even a name, just the first letter of his name?”
You were back to whining at Pierre and Kika, begging for any details about this mystery guy that they’d set you up on a blind date with. So far, the only details you had gotten out of them was that you were going out with a guy this Friday night.
As Kika went to open her mouth, feeling a little sorry for you, Pierre flashed her a look.
“Kika, don’t! I know what you girls are like. One sniff of a detail about a man and you girls give the FBI a run of their money, Pierre cried. “No, you’re just going to have to shut up and wait until Friday to meet him”.
Finally accepting defeat, you sighed and rested back against the sofa. Pierre wasn’t giving in this time. With last fight in you, you looked over at Pierre and mumbled,
“Did I ever tell you how much I hated you, Pierre?”
“Yes, everyday”.
-
It was finally Friday and you still didn’t have a single detail or idea about the man you were meeting for dinner. For all you knew, he could be Timothée Chalamet. Pierre and Kika had given you nothing.
Despite withholding all information about this guy, the did feel bad for you and so had brought you out for a drink before you date to calm the nerves. Just one drink, Pierre had said, they didn’t need you showing pictures of Roscoe to another innocent soul.
As you sat in a Parisian bar, you began to bounce your legs up and down, anything to calm you while you waited for 8pm to arrive. With a quick look at your phone, you saw that it was only 6:30pm.
Shit!
You were going to need more than one drink if you were going to get through the next ninety minutes. You were halfway through your first Aperol Spritz but you’d need about two more if you were going to be any fun tonight.
“Can you stop bouncing your legs please? It’s incredibly annoying,” Pierre spat.
Kika, being the peace maker gently placed a hand on your knee to prevent you from causing any annoyance or, in the way Pierre was carrying on, preventing you from causing an earthquake.
You loved Pierre, but the two of you behaved like siblings much to Kika’s despair. The two of you constantly bickered and found ways to annoy one another but did deep the two of you were close and had a solid friendship.
“Children, please,” Kika groaned. As she took a quick look at her phone, you took the opportunity to flash Pierre the middle finger.
Another fifteen minutes had passed and you weren’t any less nervous about this date. While you had been on dates before, it was your first blind date. And while you had faith in Pierre and Kika’s taste, you wouldn’t put it past Pierre to drag Quasimodo down from the Notre Dame and bring him to a Parisian restaurant for your date.
Feeling bad that he’d been taunting you for days, Pierre felt like it was time to give you some reassurance.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried, [Y/N]. Despite being a pain in my side, you’re catch. You’re a good looking girl. You’re funny and smart. You’ve lived in four countries, I mean there’s so much to talk about,” Pierre says as he places a second Aperol Spritz in front of you.
You flash him a grateful smile.
“He’s right! You’ve got so much going for you, [Y/N]. Plus your boobs look great in that dress,” Kika added. “And he already things you’re hot”.
Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “Wait, what? He’s already seen a picture of me”.
Pierre flashes Kika a look of what the fuck did you say that before accepting a small defeat.
“Yes, he’s seen a picture of you. And before you tell me how that’s not fair, he’s not a freak like you two”.
“But Pierre,” you begin but Pierre wags his finger out you.
“No. I’m not hearing it,” Pierre says.
Great, out of the four of you, you’re the most clueless about your date.
“Fine, if you won’t tell me anything about him, can you at least tell me what he said when you showed him a picture about me?”
Exhaling, Pierre nodded. “Sure, he pretty much grabbed my phone out of my hand when I showed him your picture. He seemed pretty into it, wanted to see more photos. Asked how we knew you, wanted to know as much about you as he could.”
“Oh, and you told him everything right?”
Pierre chuckled. “Not everything. Didn’t tell him that you were divorced by 30. I thought that it’d be funny for you to do that on your own”.
You thanked Kika as she hit Pierre for you.
“Sorry. That was harsh. He was interested in what happened in your last relationship though. If it’s any consolation, I’ve had to intervene in his love life too. It’s almost as tragic as yours,” Pierre continued.
You frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well,” Pierre hesitated. “He was in a relationship about three years ago. Things were pretty serious but suddenly things changed. There were talking about moving in together but one day, she told him she was thinking about getting back with her ex. They had an argument and didn’t speak after that. The last he heard through a friend was that she had left the country to start a new life.”
A weird feeling of deja vu suddenly hits you. The story sounding very similar to your own. Except that you didn’t get with Lewis. You pause before asking, “Did she get back with the ex?”
“I think so,” Pierre answered. “Either that or she was a snake who used her ex as an excuse to end things with Charles”.
You feel your blood run cold as Pierre accidentally drops the name of your date.
“What did you say his name was?” you ask, making sure you’re not hearing things.
“Merde, I can’t believe I dropped his name at the last hurdle,” Pierre groaned, burying his head in his hands.
You mind was racing a million miles an hour. Surely this was just a coincidence. There was thousands of Charles' in Paris, let alone in France. And what were the odds of Pierre knowing your Charles? And a Charles who had the same break up story as your Charles? No, this couldn’t be it.
“Are you okay, [Y/N]? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kika asks.
You force a light-hearted laugh before taking a sip of your Aperol Spritz.
“I’m all good, thanks. Just worried that Pierre is going to go into a downward spiral now that his plan of keeping this Charles a secret has failed,” you joked. But deep inside you were freaking out.
What if this was Charles? You weren’t sure if you were ready to see him. Even though it had been three years since things had ended, it still hurt you to think about your relationship. Even three years later, you knew you still loved him. But what about Charles? Did he still love you? Or did he hate you? According to Pierre’s story, he still seemed bitter about this break up with his ex.
“It’s a good thing you don’t have time to go through Instagram and find him then, you’ve got to leave for your date in fifteen minutes,” Pierre reminds you.
Shit.
This was really happening wasn’t it? You were going to see Charles finally after all these years.
Or maybe you were just being dramatic, maybe this was just a weird, fucked up coincidence.
“Whatever you do, [Y/N], just don’t break my Charlie’s heart, eh? He’s had to fuck his way through dozens of women just to get over her,” Pierre teases.
“Pierre,” Kika squeals, “You can’t tell her that before she meets him”.
But Pierre’s comment goes over your head. Charles’ fucking lots of girls was the least of your worries.
-
You’re the first one to arrive and the wait is excruciating. You have a look at your phone 8:03pm.
Fuck, it’s been the longest three minutes of your life.
You’re not sure if you want to look at the entrance and see who walks through the door or if you want to keep your head down and pray for the ground to swallow you whole. Right now, the second option feels preferable.
As another minute passes, your phone lights up. It’s a text from Pierre into your group chat with Kika:
Bonne chance! And if we don’t hear back from you by the end of the night, either my friend is a serial killer or you’re 🍆👉🏼🕳️💦
As disgusting as Pierre’s text is, you’re grateful that your mind is occupied for a few moments as you text a:
You’re disgusting 🤮
Once you send your text, you place your phone back down on the table and put your head in your hands, praying for a miracle.
“I’ve thought about what it would be like if I ever saw you again,” it’s a familiar voice coming from behind you, “But I’d never have guessed that it would be the two of us being set up on a blind date”.
Your head shoots up and you turn to the direction of the voice. It’s him. It’s Charles. Your Charles.
“I…,” you begin but that’s all you’ve got. You’re just sitting there with your mouth agape.
Charles smiles at you, he’s much more composed and prepared than you are. How could he not be when he knew long ago that it was you that Pierre was trying to set him up with? He’s probably had days if not weeks to prepare for seeing you in person again.
He takes a few steps towards you before taking your hand in his. Just like the last time, he takes your left one, moving it towards him. He smiles at your hand.
No rings this time around, he thinks to himself before placing a delicate kiss onto your skin.
You feel your cheeks redden at his touch and whatever feelings you’ve harboured for him over the last three years all come rushing back. His touch still feels the same, delicate but purposeful.
He gently lets go of your hand before taking the seat opposite you. You’re still shell shocked that he’s actually here, which is why you can only muster up a, “Hi.”
Charles laughs to himself a little.
“Hi, [Y/N]”.
It falls silent between the two of you. Charles gives you the space to figure out what the fuck is going on while he flicks through the menu for a drink.
You take the opportunity to take in his appearance. He looks good, if not better than the last time. His face is slightly more mature and he’s let his moustache and stubble grow a little longer this time. He’s a little bulkier, clearly he’s been lifting more weights in the gym. His hair looks the same, long and silky. And he’s sporting a tan thanks to the French summer. He dresses better than he did before.
Charles smiles as he’s reading the menu, clearly aware that your eyes are fixated on him, glancing over every inch of his body that you can see. He looks up from the menu and looks at you, still smiling. He’s confident in himself, he knows he’s in control and he seems to be enjoying it.
Embarrassed that you’ve been caught staring, you clear throat and decide to speak your first words of the date.
“Ho-How are you? You look good,” you manage to squeak out.
Fuck, that was embarrassing. Is that it?
Charles chuckles to himself once more before it’s his turn to eye you up. His eyes take in your loose curls that are falling delicately over your shoulders. Your face looks the same, no difference to the last time he saw you. Still so beautiful. You’re rocking a summer tan too. And as for your body, well your breasts look incredible in that peach fitted dress. You didn’t look good, you looked phenomenal.
“I’m good. And you? You’re looking good too but I’m not surprised,” Charles replies.
You blush a little at his comment. “Yeah, I’m fine”.
Taking one last look at the menu, Charles closes it before looking at you. Giving you his full attention.
“How long ago did you find out that it was me you were going on a date with?”
“Erm, about- about thirty minutes ago,” you stutter.
Charles shakes his head. “Fucking Pierre,” he mutters to himself.
“How- how long ago did you know it was me?” you ask ever so quietly.
“About three weeks ago,” he watches for your reaction before continuing, “Look, I don’t want to do this here. And I’m sure you don’t want to do this here either. Let’s go back to my place”.
Without even thinking, you nod. And as Charles stands up from his chair, he puts his hand out for you to hold. His touch is so warm. He smiles at you softly before leading you out of the restaurant into the warm Summer evening.
He’s still holding your hand as he waves down a taxi. As you climb inside, Charles’ hand finds his way to your thigh as he gives his address to the taxi driver.
You can’t help but look at his hand on your thigh. It all feels so surreal. He’s being so nice to you after everything that happened and he’s going against everything that Pierre had said about Charles being hurt by an ex. But maybe Charles had changed, maybe he didn’t hate you that much after how things ended between the two of you.
As your drive through the Parisian streets, Charles’ hand remains on you thigh. And it’s Charles who breaks the silence between you.
“How was New York?”
Your head immediately turns towards him. His expression impossible to read. Confused, you answer him.
“Charles, I never went to New York”.
499 notes · View notes
sinsandsweetness · 10 months
Text
CAMERA SHY
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(Rick & Daryl x fem!reader)
warnings- 18+ content. extremely filthy smut. not even joking srsly. lots of sex, filming it, unprotected p in v, oral (r!giving), cream pies, fingering, so many pet names it’s kind of sickening, dirty talk, one use of ‘daddy’ cause I just couldn’t help myself, two cocks at once, light choking, cowgirl, little bit of ass play, and spitting. think that’s it <3
notes- thank you guys for all the love on ‘birthday boy’! I’m so glad that so many of you enjoyed it. I thought I’d do a sequel/part 2 for it, where the boys film your alone time. It does occur directly following, but It can be read independently if you want! 3.1K word count.
Please let me know what you think! xoxo
Daryl made his way over to the dresser, no shirt on, just some pyjama pants slung low on his hips. His back still glistening, with water droplets trailing down his muscles. All taut and tan. The sight alone made you shift positions. Moving to your knees so you could squeeze your legs together. How on earth were you still horny?
He ruffled around the drawers contents and pulled out a video camera. A hand held silver one with a flip screen. One of those ones that people would film their home movies on. Christmas mornings and dance parties. Road trips and first steps. Though you’re pretty sure you guys weren’t the only ones using it for something a little less tasteful.
You couldn’t help but look over at Rick while Daryl played around with the thing. Turning it on and checking the battery. Getting it all ready for the movie you were about to make. Rick was biting his smile back. Trying to suppress his excitement about the situation.
They’d talked about this before. How they wanted something for when they had to be away from you. For longer supply runs that left them both a little hot and bothered. Missing you, waiting patiently for them back at home. Thinking about you touching yourself in their clothes. In their bed. Moaning their names and missing them just as much. And it’s not like phones were a thing anymore. You couldn’t call or sext. They just had to wait til they got back to deal with it. To deal with you.
If you were honest, the thought of them filming it, was a little nerve racking. But you wanted your boys to be happy. To always have a part of you available for their needs.
So there you were, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed, both men standing in front of you, smelling like Irish Spring and laundry detergent. Looking down at you with two sets of the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. Ricks hand was on your jaw, his thumb rubbing your lip and sneaking it’s way between your teeth. Your eyes were on Daryl, tilting the lens down at you. The little red light intimidating you with its glow. You shifted a little, thighs squeezing together even more, with both your hands shoved in between them.
“What are you squirming for, baby? You gettin’ all shy on us now?” Rick asked, with a teasing tone. Your gaze shifted between them. Swallowing hard. Yes. You nodded a little.
“You’re gonna do great, sweetheart. Just do what you always do. You’re always so good for us,” Daryl’s own hand was making its way to the back of your head, fingers finding their way into your hair.
Their praise helped a little. At least gave you the courage to reach for their waistbands, pulling each of them down. You grabbed them both in your hands, already rock hard in your grip. Both of them kept smiling down at you, giving you a little nod to keep going. “Go on,” they motioned in unison.
So you did. You licked at Daryl’s shaft, getting him all wet with your tongue before moving over to Rick, and repeating the same process. Feeling their grips tighten on your hair and the hitch in their breaths was all you needed to step it up a notch. Being sure to look right at the camera, you wrapped your lips around Daryl’s cock and started to move your head back and forth. Sucking him off all sloppy and messy. Just the way he likes it. Blushing hard but forcing yourself to step out of your comfort zone. This was for them.
You could feel a pearl of Rick’s precum drip onto your hand as you jacked him off, so you decided to swap. A string of spit from Daryl’s tip was still connected to your lips as you started on Rick. Keeping your hand on the other man, being sure to give them equal attention. You never wanted one of them to feel left out. Not that they ever did. They both knew how much you worshipped them.
You kept swapping back and forth. Gagging every so often when one of them would push a little too hard on the back of your head. Spit started running down your chin, and little sounds escaped the back of your throat. The whole situation created a pool of wetness in your panties. Surely soaking through the fabric.
Rick took you by the hair, pulling you off of him with a ‘pop’.
“Feels real good, baby. You look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around us.” He started, thumb rubbing all lovingly against your cheek bone. “But I think we’d like to get these panties off and give the camera a good look at some of your other pretty parts.” Rick playfully shoved your shoulder. So you dropped back onto the cool comforter. Knees coming up and crossing your ankles in anticipation, waiting for whatever plans the two were silently deciding on.
“So fucking wet, Daryl. Look at her.” Rick said, hands parting your legs so they could settle in between them. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks at their words. Their amused little laughs.
“Soaking right through, isn’t she? Sucking us off turn you on, sweetie? Is that it?”
“Uhuh. So much.” You nodded, propping yourself up onto your elbows. Both men on the mattress in front of you were making themselves comfy. Hands started trailing up your legs and playing with your boy shorts. Tracing the wet spot as your hips bucked. You were just so ready for them. Cunt still puffy and aroused, and even a little sore from your first round. But so, so ready for another.
Daryl made sure to capture Ricks fingers, tracing the wet spot of the cotton, and rubbing circles against your clit. Over your underwear, teasing, poking and prodding. Pulling them to the side when you whimpered a little, and his index finger glided through your slick with ease.
“Always so wet for us. Such a pretty pussy. So fucking pretty.” Rick praised, mesmerized at your swollen cunt. Practically throbbing for their attention. You lifted your hips as Daryl dragged your panties down. Throwing them off to one side of the room. They spread your legs so wide that your muscles hurt. Inner thighs stretched out and knees hooked around either man. Pulling them closer to you and eachother. Not that they minded.
They played with your pussy for a while. Getting you all sorts of worked up. Both of their fingers inside of you, stretching you out and making you groan. Clutching at the comforter below. Rick spat right on your clit, and you just about came right then and there. Unbelievable turned on by their focus. They slowly worked away at you, curling their fingers inside you and rubbing at your sensitive nub with their thumbs, definitely showing off a little for the camera. Taking everything just a a little slower than normal. So that they would have the most footage possible. Capturing your moans and whimpers and the way you moved against them. Desperate for more.
“Please I just- I-” your hips bucked further on to their fingers, and you could see the little look they gave each other. All mischievous and lustful. “What is it sweetie? You wanna cum? Is that it?”
You nodded eagerly. But with your confession, both men’s hands withdrew. Causing the quietest whimper to leave your mouth.
“Ugh,”
“Don’t complain. We just want you to cum on our dicks, that’s all. Isn’t that something you want, princess?”
It was more than ok. In fact it was preferred.
“Wanna cum on your cock, please.” You whined, pulling at Rick’s tee shirt
He groaned. He didn’t mean to. It’s just what your words could do to him.
“You will, sweetheart. I promise.”
You did. And it would have been a lot sooner if it weren’t for the damn camera in Daryl’s hands.
They had you get on top of Rick, straddling him as he sat up against the head board. Daryl started getting creative with his angles, with the camera behind you as he played with your ass, all while you rode Rick’s cock. Bouncing up and down as you held onto his shoulders. Pressed nice and close to his chest. His hands trailed up your shirt, peeling it off so he could grope your breasts, pinching your nipples nice and hard. Eventually his fingers wrapped themselves around your throat and squeezed gently on the sides.
He was stimulating every part of you that he could think of. His tongue was in your mouth the whole time. You stayed moaning against his lips and grinding down against him. Desperately trying to achieve more friction against your clit. It was driving you both wild.
Daryl stayed filming the whole thing. His own hand grabbing at your ass, thumb prodding at your other hole. Threatening to split you open once again. You were shocked he wasn’t touching himself. That he wasn’t getting his own dick wet. That he could actually keep the camera focused, even with the sight in front of him. The pure temptation to join in must have been killing him. Leaking precum all over his plaid pyjamas. That thought made your hips stutter. Along with the fact you’d be riding for what felt like ever. Your legs were starting to wear out. Muscles becoming all heavy and forcing you to switch from a bounce to a grind. Rick noticed you tiring out and decided to start fucking you from below. Hands moving to grip your ass cheeks and help you bounce. An actual cry left your mouth and you both knew you were close.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, I’m- Rick I-” you babbled against wet lips. Trying to hold off as long as possible, but he just kept hitting that damn spot. The spot that made you physically convulse around him. When Daryl’s dick pressed against your ass and you felt his hand squeeze your waist, that was it. You snapped like a rubber band. Cumming all over Ricks lap, your head fell back against Daryl’s chest as your rode out your high. Your body starting to twitch from the intensity of the orgasm. A very shaky sigh left your mouth as you all stopped to a halt.
“Feel good?” Daryl asked, lips brushing your ear, camera over your shoulder and pointed at Rick. The grainy screen was displaying his pretty face, lips parted and wet. Eyes focused on you. The lens moved down to show your hands. The ones still gripping Rick shoulders, tight enough to leave marks. He smiled when he noticed.
“So good. You make me feel so good, daddy. Both of you. Both my-” you were catching your breath. Rambling in your post orgasmic daze and drunkenness. But they weren’t done. And you knew that before you even came. They wouldn’t be done for a while. Even with your pussy practically raw and begging for an ice pack. You should have been begging for a break, yet somehow you were still dripping with need.
“One more, baby, then we’ll get you some rest okay?” Daryl asked all sweet, hand trailing under your shirt to squeeze at your breast.
“Want you both...” You whimpered. Rick’s cock still stuffed inside you. Filling you up and making your walls twitch. Yeah, you weren’t done.
You tried to get up. Figuring that they’d want you in another position. Something to switch it up. But when you pushed on Rick’s chest and tried to lift, they held you down, keeping you on his lap.
“What are you tryna do?” Rick smirked at you, wrapping his hands around your ass and moving your body for you. Grinding yourself against him again. The sound of your wetness squelching and making you blush.
“Was gonna move, I thought-”
“I’m really enjoying this view. Aren’t you?” Rick said, leaning in for another kiss. He always loved eye contact. Loved seeing your expressions and feeling your moans while you kissed.
“Mhm.” You agreed against his mouth. There was really no sense arguing. Even though you’re quads were on fire and you could barely lift yourself off of him to continue riding.
Daryl moved to place the camera on the bedside table. So that the three of you were in the frame. When he came back behind you, hands on your hips as he started kissing down your neck, your shoulders and the top of your spine. All while Ricks hands rocked you against him, fucking into you nice and slow.
“You gonna let us fuck your tight little ass again sweetie? Or do you want to get that pretty pussy all stretched out?” Daryl asked.
You turned to try and look at him. A little shocked at the suggestion. There was no way that would fit. Right?
They both chuckled at your reaction. Daryl’s thumbs already pushing themselves in to your asshole. Stretching out the tight muscle.
“We can do that?” You asked. Never even having considered it. But it was definitely intriguing.
“We can. Might hurt a little though,” Daryl warned you, catching your lips as his fingers moved down even further. Using your excess wetness to push his index in your pussy. Still stuffed full of Rick. You gasped as he hooked his finger upward. Even Rick made a little sound. Surprised by his own dick being touched and your walls stretching even further.
“Wanna try…” you sighed. Trying your hardest to relax your muscles. To allow them to actually ruin you. Split you in half on both of their cocks. You couldn’t imagine a better pain.
“Ok baby, we’ll give it a try. Just tell us if you wanna stop, ok?”
“Go real slow Daryl. Let her get used to it.” Rick told the man.
“Let her get used to it. Or you?”
“Both. Seriously, just go slow. Don’t wanna break her.” You could feel Daryl suppressing a quiet laugh against your skin. Two fingers now moving inside of you, getting you ready for his cock.
“Alright, come down a little,” he retracted his touch and pulled you by your hips. Both you and Rick shifting downward so he could lay back. His head pressed against the pillow. He stayed inside of you as you leaned forward, opening yourself up for the man behind you. Kissing the side of Ricks mouth and up to his earlobe. Knowing exactly how much he loved that.
Daryl spat on your hole. Moving foreword and pressing his tip against you. Pushing ever so slowly as the two of them stretched you out.
It hurt. But you expected that.
“Breath, sweet girl. Gotta breath, ok?” Rick told you, hands wrapping around your ribs nice and tight, holding you up since your legs were completely useless. Daryl’s hands were on your hips. Pulling you down onto the two of you until he managed to actually fit himself inside. All of him. Him and Rick. Inside of you, together. It was hard to even believe. But you were so stretched out, there was no denying that it was possible.
“Oh god,” you mumbled at the realization. At the feeling of being so fucking full.
“Oh god.” Rick repeated with a grunt. It was even better then last round, you realized. At least for them. Having the added pressure of another cock, rubbing up against them both. That extra friction affecting you all.
“You two all good?” Daryl tried to confirm, his breaths a little laboured as well.
“Yes!” You squeaked, realizing that Daryl had started to move. Thrusting slowly into you.
“Y-Yes. “ Ricks eyes were rolled back. The two of you breathing hard. And the sight of him in so much pleasure made your walls tighten. Earning another groan from them both.
“Keep going. Keep fucking me, please.” You asked them politely. Your wetness was running down your inner thigh.
So they fucked you. Rick from below, and Daryl from behind. Completely abusing your pretty little hole.
Rick was in heaven. You could tell by his eyes. All glossed over with his lips parted, breathing impressively slow. He was trying to focus on not cumming so quick. Daryl’s hands gripped your hips real tight. Snapping his own right against your ass. Nails leaving little crescent moons in your skin. Whispering little praises in your ear.
“So fucking tight for us. Such a good girl, always taking us so well. Doing so well, baby. So, so, good.”
You’d never taken them both. Not like this. And having them both together, was intense. Hitting every single spot inside of you. Ones you didn’t even know about. Ones that made you cry out and call their names.
“Still ok, baby?” Daryl asked, becoming just a little concerned by the sounds pouring out of you.
“Gonna cum, Dare, gonna- oh, oh.” You could feel a tear slip onto your cheek. Wet and salty when it hit your lips. The pressure and the buildup catching up to you. Hurting so fucking good. Your core was all hot and tight and your head became fuzzy.
“Don’t stop,” you whined, burying yourself into Rick’s shoulder as your orgasm rippled through you. A burst of heat running down your thighs and up your stomach. Waves of pleasure pulsed through your core.
The two of them moaned your name and a couple other profanities. Honestly, you didn’t hear. A little too hazy to pay close attention. They each came inside of you. Their seed physically flooded out of you when Daryl finally pulled out. Very slowly and carefully, so it wouldn’t hurt you too bad. And Rick too. So gentle and caring. Both boys Immediately getting you to lay down between them. Your pussy was fucking aching. But you didn’t mind too much. They kissed you lots. All over. Asking you a million times if you were ok. If it was too much. If they wore you out too badly.
“Gonna have to give you some time to recover, huh?” Rick asked, coming back from the kitchen. An ice cold glass of water in his hand.
“You’re sure we didn’t hurt you too bad?” Daryl added. Rick picked a towel off the hook on the back of the door. Bringing them both over for you.
“I liked it.” You responded. Not fully answering their questions. You would definitely need a few days. At the bare minimum. Your cunt was swollen, and you could feel it. Rick handed you the water and you drank up. The coolness coating your throat. Gulping a few sips down and passing the rest to Daryl beside you.
“Gotta get you all cleaned up,” Rick started with the towel in between your legs, wiping up the pearly mixture that had coated your thighs.
“Again…” you joked, smiling up at him.
“Bath? Shower? Just the towel? What do you want?” He smiled back.
“Mmmm… bubble bath,” you bit your lip.
“Bubble bath?” Daryl asked from beside you, smoothing some of your hair down. Trying to tame the unruly mess.
“Mhm,”
“Only if we can watch.”
“You can film it for all I care,” you turned to catch his lips. Grinning against your mouth.
They sat down on the vanity stools and watched as you laid your head against the tub. Both of them smiling down at your cuteness. Soapy suds hiding your body under the water. Only the tops of your breasts threatening to breach the surface. The hot water and lavender bubble bath doing wonders for your sore muscles. You were sure they’d give you a massage after, if you asked all nicely.
Despite the undeniable toll on your body, you’d relive the night again in a heart beat. Having them split you open all over their cocks was always ideal. But seeing Rick’s face as you got double stuffed, was the cherry on top. Shuddering beneath you and cumming with an actual moan. Accompanied by Daryl’s stuttering hips and grunts of his own. Each of you fucking eachother into a mess of pure ecstasy.
Thank fucking god they got it all on camera.
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taglist: @rickswh0r3 , @elnyrae
[ comments and reblogs are always appreciated ]
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so-mordor-itis · 11 months
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Through Her Eyes
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Synopsis: Ada observes you and Leon as you trek through the village and castle of Los Illuminados, only to realize he wasn't her little loyal pup anymore.
A/N: I wanted to try something different! I saw a lot of people writing jealous reader or jealous Leon, but I was like "No one has done an Ada POV yet, I could give it a shot. I might do a part 2 with the rest of the game if you guys would like!
Read the sequel here!
Taglist:
@izuniias , @spookluckpuck , @uhlunaro , @inaflashimagine , @amatxs , @aussiepineapple1st , @honeysoakedbandages , @boundinparchment , @tosuckmyweenis , @airanke
It was interesting, watching you two communicate. Leon had this way of shrugging his shoulders whenever he spoke, sometimes tossing his arms into the air to somehow solidify his point. You, on the other hand, were a bit carefree with your body language, Ada noticed. Quite the opposite to your companion. Perhaps it was because you were more comfortable with him, maybe you have worked with him for a longer time than she estimated. You two were discussing a plan, but Ada couldn’t get the absolute details. If she did, she would’ve most likely been seen–at least heard. The environment was rough and rocky, full of sticks and branches that easily could be broken or snagged against her outfit. She knew better.
Though she did catch a brief moment with you two when she was forced to get closer–she had grabbed her binoculars to observe some of the villagers ahead, they were carrying pitchforks and axes, glancing around like mindless dogs. How cute, such obedient little pups.
“We could split up, maybe we’d find Ashley easier that way.” You suggested, maybe adding a shrug of your own shoulders.
“No, I don’t think splitting up would be the best idea,” Leon said instantly. Ada felt her chest coil at the sound of his voice. It was deeper now, more scratchy, rugged. He had definitely seen more than what he was forced to at Raccoon City. She figured that would be the case, now being the President’s little weapon, being kept under his nose for his every beck and call. Wesker made sure to do some research on him, in case he would be a nuisance in the process of delivering the amber. You, on the other hand, were a new, unexpected addition. Perhaps another lackey the President kept hidden. But Ada couldn’t help wondering why only two people? The President’s daughter was taken here, wasn’t she? She would’ve thought Daddy would come to collect his little girl as soon as he could with an army of men at the ready. Or, he’s truly that worried for his image and was desperate to keep this under wraps because of what was at this location.
“Stuck to me like glue, huh?” You quipped. Ada heard Leon scoff, the sound of a gun being reloaded echoed throughout the area.
“I’d rather you be here than in the dirt somewhere I can’t see.” Protective, she noted. Interesting. You two must’ve been friends, at least. Then again, what did she know? He could’ve been like this with a lot of people. He definitely had a habit of being friendly, of asking questions.
“Hunnigan said the path to the lake was beyond a windmill, right? Then I guess that’s our destination.”
Ada cursed under her breath before launching herself off the roof of one of the houses. She would’ve been out in the open, easily spotted. She hunched over a barrel, checking her own guns. A few bullets had been used earlier when she rang the church bell. She didn’t know what compelled her to come back to the village area, but she found herself here, observing. Too late to complain now, the damage was done. She would book it for a different direction the moment you two were out of sight.
She poked her head out slightly, watching as your shadows came into view and then your figures. She had stopped paying attention to what you two were talking about, that wasn’t in her job description. Though she couldn’t help eyeing Leon for a second longer. His physique had certainly changed, too. He had more muscle, his eyes were tired, small gray circles under them. You were trailing behind him, holding your pistol with a tight grip. Ada noticed your eyes darting back and forth, now extremely cautious. From what she could note, you were the observer type and she had to be extra alert for anything that could cause a sound.
“Wait,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “There’s a path up ahead.” You started trekking towards it, footsteps were heavy with movement. You were in a hurry. Leon seemed to be startled slightly but quickly followed suit. Ada felt a smirk forming on her lips. He was following you so fast, like a lost puppy, just as he did with her. You had him wrapped around your finger and didn’t even realize it. Ada was convinced if Leon had a tail, it would surely be wagging. He was under your spell.
“Still a good boy, huh Leon?” Ada murmured to herself.
After saving Leon from nearly being crushed to death by a taller man–Luis called him the ‘big cheese’ of the village–Ada had lost track of you two by the time night fell across the village. This was good. It allowed her to carry through with the delivery of the amber with no trouble. No more distractions.
At least, until Luis found himself caught in between two messes.
From a rock, Ada discovered what seemed to be a battle for survival in a nearby, abandoned house. She noticed your figure and then Leon’s, and then her little carrier pigeon. You three were scrambling around one another, fighting off Gnado after Gnado, scraping by with the skin of your teeth. Ah, she would’ve helped, surely, but she had bigger priorities. She knew Luis could handle himself and if it truly was time for her to rescue someone she’d do what she needed to. She had at least one grenade she could spare if she truly had to.
It wasn’t necessary, you three pulled through somehow. Ada had told Leon he had some unique version of dumb luck, and it seemed it still carried through.
Luis found her later, desperate to catch his breath. She reminded him of the deal, of the amber. He was annoyed, clearly, but he knew what he had to do.
Once Ada arrived at the castle, she started to notice some little attributes of you and Leon. The both of you were a good team–you have saved him countless times, pulling him towards you when an axe was about to slice his throat, shooting over his shoulder when he couldn’t see an enemy. Ada had to admit you were skilled, and it was no wonder you two were there to protect little Miss Graham. The girl was petrified of the whole thing. She reminded Ada of a doe-eyed lamb, sheltered from the dangers of the world until only recently.
Before Ada encountered Leon in the castle, she had accidentally found you two–not three, the girl must’ve been taken away, the two of you probably running yourselves ragged trying to retrieve her again. Ada quickly hid in a spot she knew she wouldn’t be found. You had requested Leon stop for a second, sliding down the wall of a hallway to catch your breath.
“You alright?” Leon asked softly.
“Just peachy,” you snapped, gritting your teeth once first aid spray hit raw skin. You had an open wound, skin sliced open, red flowing to the floor. “Sorry, it just hurts like hell.”
“No, I get it,” Leon said he didn’t have much on him but guns and some herbs, but Ada watched as he grabbed a tablecloth from one of the stands. “Surely they wouldn’t mind if we borrow this?”
You looked at him with big eyes full of gentleness and wonder, of awe and inspiration, the same way he had to her, and she realized that it wasn’t just Leon that was under a spell. Though you immediately hardened your gaze when you realized he was now looking at you.
“There, that should hold you. For a while, I’d hope. Wouldn’t want you to bleed on their fancy carpet.”
“Oh, the horror.” You feigned concern.
Did you two even realize you were flirting? Did you even realize that when you were scourging through your bag, Leon had a softer look on his face? Was watching you with such intent, with such curiosity?
Ada sighed, loading her pistol. She wouldn’t be able to drag him with her this time, but that was fine.
She could find some other way.
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lo1k-diamonds · 2 months
Text
Unique 💜 (Part 1)
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PAIRING: idol!Namjoon/OC
SUMMARY: After overhearing something he shouldn't have, Namjoon promises to make it up to the bride by keeping her bridesmaid company during the rehearsal dinner party. What was supposed to be an unremarkable night became something so much more.
WORD COUNT: 20.9k
GENRE: strangers to lovers (bonus: Yoongi has a secret)
RATING: R (explicit)
WARNINGS: explicit, first meetings, light angst, Namjoon is a communication and consent king, protected sex, oral, fingering/handjob, toys, sapiosexuality, body worship, dirty talk, mouth riding, I think I can say switching (+ BTS being chaotic around RM and making him all embarrassed 😁)
(You can also read it on AO3, originally posted there in March 2023)
A.N. Part 1 stands as a one-shot so I'm going to post it here to complement all the snippets from Part 2. I just love this one bad and I'm not even sure I can do it justice in the sequel 😩
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Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost. ― Khalil Gibran
“When’s the last time you’ve seen her?”
Jimin’s voice echoed in the corridor as the other six men followed him.
“Before the tour, definitely,” Hoseok answered with a grin.
“Right?” Jimin asked, glancing at the others for confirmation.
“She didn’t even wait for us to have a bachelorette party,” Jin whined.
“Of course she couldn’t, she couldn’t wait until the eve of the wedding,” Taehyung scoffed.
“Why not?” Jungkook pouted with a raised eyebrow. They all stopped in front of the apartment door. “It’s what they do in the Hollywood movies, right?”
“She can’t attend her wedding with dark circles and a hangover,” Yoongi scoffed at their silliness. “That’s a Hollywood invention.”
“But she could have waited for us,” Jungkook pouted.
“And deal with BTS at her party?” Hoseok shook his head with a smile.
“Yeah, this is way better, guys,” Namjoon finally intervened. Jimin rang the doorbell. “This way we have a nice drink with her before the big party, and it will be just us remembering old times.”
“That’s right,” Hoseok agreed with a warm smile.
Jimin turned with a grin, “Maybe this is the time she’ll tell us all about the cream incident—”
“Uhhhh, won’t you look at the time—” Yoongi suddenly stammered, turning around with the intention to walk away.
Jungkook and Jin grabbed him, blocking him while everyone smirked. They teased him about it, but it was short-lived. The door opened and they all turned to greet the woman they wanted to meet.
“There’s our bride!”
“Our Hyejin is glowing!”
“Wow, you look so beautiful!”
“So pure and fresh!”
She giggled with a wide grin, pulling her long dark hair behind her shoulders. “I spent the day at the spa,” she boasted, stepping away for them to come in.
They complimented her complexion and radiance for a hot moment before she shooed them over to the living room.
“Wait there, I’ll be with you in a second.”
Namjoon was the last one in, and he stood around while the guys sat on the sofa and chairs in the dining room. Their chat was nice until they noticed Hyejin was taking way too long.
“I’ll go check on her,” Namjoon offered. He was already standing anyway.
“Bring alcohol,” Jimin asked playfully, making the others laugh.
Namjoon grinned and shook his head at their goofiness, but before he could enter the kitchen, he froze.
“We should finish our conversation,” a female voice said. What shocked him was not that he didn’t recognize it, but that it spoke in English.
“No, we should leave it for tomorrow. The friends I grew up with just arrived,” Hyejin’s tone was soft and hopeful. “I would like you to meet them.”
Whoever it was puffed, “I don’t speak Korean, you know that.”
“Angie—”
“Besides, don’t you think you should think about this before getting married?”
Hyejin released a deep impatient breath, “We shouldn’t speak of it right now—”
“It’s in English, they won’t understand anyway,” Angie dismissed dryly.
Hyejin was pressing her lips, “You’d be surprised. Actually—”
“Stop trying to dodge the issue.”
Namjoon took a deep quiet breath, he should probably announce himself before—
“I’m no one's reference in this, Hyejin,” Angie sighed. “But you should obviously find what works for you, not try to fit someone else’s ideal.”
“You say that, but you’re every guy’s ideal.” 
Namjoon’s eyebrows twitched; Hyejin sounded upset. He wondered what they were talking about.
Angie laughed bitterly, “That is so far from the truth!” Unbeknownst to Namjoon, she was shaking her head with a sour smile. “Sure, in theory, every guy wants a girlfriend that enjoys and wants to have sex, but none like it when she has a bigger libido than they do.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows skyrocketed.
“How big exactly are we talking?” Hyejin suddenly perked up. She was very persistent when she wanted to. “No, let’s put a number on it. How many times have you had sex in the last month?”
Angie snickered, “Exactly zero.” 
Hyejin was taken aback for a second, then she nodded, “Of course, you’re single.” 
Angie raised her eyebrows, “That’s not why though…”
“Alright, then how many times did you masturbate in the last month?”
“Month??” Angie’s brown eyes were wide. “How am I supposed to count? Ahm, I guess…”
Namjoon was blushing, he rubbed his face to hide the embarrassment. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he wasn’t moving. 
“Forget it then. What about… in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Three.”
Namjoon raised his head, that was a fast answer.
“Three?!”
Angie rolled her eyes.
“Oh my god, just go and have sex,” Hyejin smirked. “Let’s go out, I'll be your wing woman.”
“It’s not about that,” Angie’s voice was strained. “What I truly crave is intimacy. That’s why once is not enough, the orgasms feel thin as if something is missing. And to have sex, well… You know me, I need to trust the guy, to be able to have a conversation…”
“You’re too picky,” Hyejin had a playful tone.
“And here I was thinking I wanted the bare minimum…”
Hyejin laughed and suddenly gasped. She had crossed the kitchen’s archway to find Namjoon just standing there, out of sight, with his back against the wall. His eyes widened at being caught, his cheeks were red as tomatoes and he opened his mouth to surely stutter an apology.
“I’m going to bed,” the voice from the kitchen said, and Hyejin turned back to look at her best friend.
She glanced at Namjoon for a split second then smiled, “You know I got your back, right?”
Angie smiled, “Of course, and I got yours. You’re right, let’s talk better tomorrow,” she rubbed her face and pulled her sandy-colored hair back. “I’m too tired. At what time for brunch tomorrow?”
“Eleven,” Hyejin smiled after giving Namjoon a stink eye so he would stay where he was.
He was closing his eyes with his lips between his teeth, cursing his stupid curiosity. Hyejin was going to kill him.
“Perfect, I need to sleep my jetlag off. It’s the only hope I have to look like a human being tomorrow.”
Hyejin chuckled at Angie’s playfulness and waved her goodbye. Angie left through the opposite archway to reach the corridor that led to the bedrooms.
Then Hyejin turned to the red elephant in her dining room with a harsh look.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop—”
“I can trust that that conversation will—”
“I’ll take it with me to my grave.”
“And the other guys?”
“Won't ever know about it.”
Hyejin released a deep breath, then eyed Namjoon from head to toe. The instant she saw him she cursed her luck that the only BTS member who was fluent in English was the one who happened to overhear their conversation. But now… maybe that was actually a blessing in disguise.
“Do you really regret it?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“Yes, of course!” He sounded pleading. “I should have never—”
“Namjoon! Oh—” Jin stumbled on them in surprise, “What is taking you so long?”
Namjoon opened his mouth, not sure of what to say, but Hyejin answered first, “He’s helping me with drinks. Soju?”
“And beer!” Jungkook yelled from the living room.
Jin grinned at the maknae’s request, then turned back to the two of them. “I’ll help—”
“No, Jin oppa, it’s okay,” Hyejin smiled. “I was talking with Joonie…”
Jin’s eyebrows raised, “Well, and I can’t hear it?”
“It’s important,” her tone was sweet as she pouted, and Jin sighed.
“Fine, I’ll leave you two be.”
Jin shrugged and left them, telling the others they’d bring drinks soon. Namjoon and Hyejin were close, it wasn’t weird that she wanted to speak with him alone.
She turned to Namjoon, “Make it up to me. To us.”
He frowned slightly, but then nodded, “Sure. What can I do?”
Hyejin licked her lips but then decided. “I would like it if you could be with Angie at the rehearsal tomorrow night and at the wedding.”
“Be with her?” He repeated, confused.
“Yes. Well, you speak English fluently and I don’t want her to be left alone and uncomfortable.” Hyejin released a deep breath, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I can’t think of anyone else. Truth is I was going to ask you about it tonight anyway.”
“It’s not a lot to ask…” He answered, scratching his chin. “I’m more concerned about the tabloids.”
“It’s my wedding, Joon. No freaking tabloids or media,” her voice was harsh and he immediately regretted mentioning it. He knew how sensitive she was on the subject. “Plus you don’t have to be with her only, stay with the guys too. Just don’t leave her alone.”
He nodded with a small smile, “I can do that, don’t worry.”
She smiled happily with one less worry. “Consider it your wedding gift,” she playfully said, waving at him to follow her into the kitchen. They did need to get drinks.
Namjoon laughed, “No way, we already arranged something else.” His cute dimples were showing and she felt reassured. “Just don’t stress about it.”
She started getting the bottles and cans out of the fridge and putting them on the counter when she suddenly remembered. “Also… I’ll just say it to be sure. Don’t leave her alone with my brother. He has always had a thing for her and I’m afraid of how it could escalate.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows jumped up and a couple of thoughts ran through his mind. A look at Hyejin told him she could read him like an open book, and before he could apologize, Hyejin smacked him.
“Just because she has a big libido, it does not mean she’ll sleep with anyone,” she pointed out with frustration. “My brother included. He’s just a playboy and he’s married. Do not let him get near her, do you understand? He’ll harass her and I don’t want fights at my wedding.”
Namjoon, feeling deeply regretful again for his callous thoughts, just nodded and promised to be good company for Angie over the weekend.
He just didn’t know how to do it. He had never met her, not even seen her. He hoped he would get a glimpse of her before leaving, but throughout the night it was just them and Hyejin. 
He kept playing the words she said in his mind, and he wondered what kind of person she was. She was definitely the type to be good friends with Hyejin, otherwise, she wouldn't be staying at her house or have her request that favor of him. 
His mind was already contemplating how he should approach her: should he apologize, should he give her some advice, should he be her wingman, should he just play it cool? He kept wondering about all those things and by the time he entered the rehearsal dining hall with the rest of BTS the next night, he hadn’t made up his mind.
Hyejin was at the entrance with her fiancé, whom BTS knew well, and they greeted each other.
"So about that track—"
"No work talk at my party please," Hyejin interrupted quickly, making her fiancé smirk and step back from Yoongi.
"Yes, dear."
Namjoon got close to her and hugged her, "You look so beautiful."
She hugged him back closely, and he knew she was nervous and overwhelmed.
"You'll do what I asked you?" She asked with a hint of anxiety in her smile.
"Of course," he assured her with warmth, rubbing her arms once soothingly.
She nodded, "Thank you. She'll be here soon. Just be yourself."
He chuckled and scratched his neck, "About that…"
But he didn't get the chance to ask, as other people arriving pushed them in after a rushed photo with the bride and groom.
From then on it was a mess for a while. Lots of people he knew approached him and the others for a chat, and he couldn’t say no but he wasn't there to talk about work or pamper them. It was a celebration and he had made a promise, he couldn’t disappoint Hyejin and stress her even more.
The guys ended up splitting between the dancefloor, the bar, and their dining table. He ended up grabbing his whiskey and going to his spot on the table by himself. He sat down and sighed; parties were not his thing, and he got tired quickly.
He placed his glass down and then noticed the names on the cards next to him: on one side, Jin, on the other Angie Wagner. He blinked and leaned closer to see it. She'd sit next to him?
"So," a female voice he recognized sounded from behind him and made him turn. "On a scale of one to ten, how much did you understand the conversation last night?"
She pulled the chair to sit down next to him and he just stared. She was sitting in Angie’s spot, and he recognized her voice, so… Angie?
She was wearing a light lilac string dress that fell all the way to the floor. Her sandy blonde hair was braided in a hairdo, letting a few strands fall around her face and neck. Her eyes were brown and shiny, they looked incredibly astute and he suddenly had the feeling he would not be able to hide anything from her.
She raised her thin eyebrows quizzically and he stammered, “I— Well—” For a second he considered pretending he had no idea what she was talking about, but then he gave up on it. “I believe most of it.”
She nodded, “Meaning all of it.”
He pressed his lips and looked down in clear regret, “How did you know?”
“Hyejin can’t lie to save her life. It was obvious she was looking at someone, despite her attempts to deny it.” Angie sighed, looking around at the card names on the table. “And I heard you speaking in English before.”
She waved back at the bar, and he nodded while pressing his lips in nervousness. He guessed she could connect the dots.
“So are you thinking I’m just a promiscuous Western woman or can I still save some face?”
His cheeks were becoming pink, but he chuckled, “I don’t think being Western has anything to do with it. You’re just freer to talk about it in Western countries, which I find a healthy thing." He looked at her, who was just attentively listening to him. Hyejin told him to be himself so he'd risk it. It was only fair after having learned such intimate secrets. “You’d find equally promiscuous women here, they probably just hide it more.”
She pursed her lips, intrigued by his words, but they were interrupted by a waiter with champagne flutes. She took one with a small head bow.
“Besides, if I understood correctly, you’re not that promiscuous.” He pressed his lips, was he really going to talk about this? “Something about having standards…”
She laughed and his dimples appeared. He was flustered and hot, but it was pleasing to speak with someone so earnestly.
“So you did understand everything!” She didn't look mad, she was grinning and sounded playful. “Can you tell that to Hyejin, though? I have a feeling she wants to ‘help me’ somehow when she doesn’t seem to understand the situation.”
His eyebrows puckered, “How does she plan on helping?”
“Something about a guy babysitting me tonight,” she shrugged. “I’m sure she means well, but it’s not how these things work. Although I must admit I’d be bored out of my mind if you weren’t here.”
“How so?” He laughed to take away from his embarrassment, realizing immediately he was the 'babysitter'. He didn’t know how to feel about it.
“Well, I wanted to make sure you’d keep that conversation private and now I’m pleasantly surprised that not only are you fluent in English, but you can actually have a conversation. I don’t see a way to be bored now.” He nodded with his warm cheeks marked by his dimples. “And with a bit of luck, I can escape the so-called babysitter. I'm not sure I trust Hyejin's taste in men to meet my standards.”
He tried laughing but it came out dry. Did he understand it right? Hyejin had implied to Angie that they'd… and she didn't trust Hyejin to choose someone, but it was him so—
“Do you want some tiramisu?” She interrupted his thoughts after downing her champagne. He looked at her, confused, and she pointed at the walking dinner on the tables at the other end of the room. “I’m starving.”
He nodded and went with her, grabbing not only tiramisu but also other small bites. He made a judgment call then to keep his mouth shut about being the person Hyejin had chosen to 'babysit' her. That way Angie wouldn't feel imposed on and they could keep chatting amicably.
They went back to the table with their food and continued chatting. Some of the BTS members noticed this.
“Wow, Joon made a friend,” Taehyung pointed out from the dancefloor in surprise.
Jimin turned and gasped dramatically, “Really?! Let’s go meet her—”
Hoseok stopped them both by getting in their way. “Oh no, you don’t. Let him be.”
“But he made a friend, I want to know her too,” Taehyung pouted playfully.
“Guys, he’s talking to a girl,” Hoseok repeated, playing with his eyebrows.
“He talks with girls all the time,” Taehyung pointed out, confused.
“Ohhhh, I see what you mean,” Jimin smirked with a nod.
“What?”
“It’s a wedding weekend, people do crazy things,” Hoseok smiled intently at Taehyung.
“So? Are you implying that our Joonie will sleep with that girl?”
“Joonie will sleep with a girl?!” Jungkook’s shocked gasp came from behind Taehyung and Jimin quickly hushed him.
“Shh, we don’t know that,” he told him, making Jungkook truly puzzled. Why was Jimin shushing him, the music was so loud!
“But he’s so shy, there’s no way—”
“Let’s give him the opportunity,” Hoseok interrupted Taehyung.
“It won’t hurt,” Jimin pointed out.
Jungkook pouted his lips, “It will if she hurts him.”
The other three men shook their heads with a smile. “He’s old enough, let him decide that for himself,” Hoseok pointed out, and the other three agreed.
Namjoon was truly intrigued to be talking with Angie about women's emancipation and the feminine movement. It was a topic he had sought to educate himself about but that he rarely got to talk about. He was interested in learning the perspective of a woman, or should he say a Western woman.
“The thing is that it’s not because I believe in equality that I don’t like things like chivalry or an actual man,” she pointed out with a short deep breath that contained her frustration. “In what dating is concerned, I would like a partner that doesn’t fall into extremes and I feel that’s happening more and more.”
“What kind of extremes?”
“Like the woman is always right and can do no wrong, or women are bitches that don’t accept men for who they are. I’ve seen both, I hate both,” she pointed out cleanly, then shrugged. 
“That really happens?” He asked, surprised while they ate.
“Oh yeah. You try to date for a few months and it just becomes insufferable,” she chuckled, but he could see there was an inch of bitterness. “I truly just want a partner, an equal partner. I believe this to be a good standard, but then none of my friends understand why it’s so hard.”
He nodded, he sort of understood her. He didn’t hope to find someone who could stand by his side easily, and he wasn’t eager to put anyone through that, but if he could choose, he’d prefer to have someone by his side, not beneath or above.
“Like my friends say I expect too much, that I should just date a genius from work.” Her tone was despairing yet scornful. “And it’s precisely why I’ll never ever date any of them. I mean, I know I’m smarter than most, but I don’t want a genius by my side. I don't consider myself a genius, despite popular belief.”
He was looking at her with wide and intrigued eyes. He opened his mouth, then backtracked — there was so much information to unpack there he wasn’t sure about what to ask first.
“Look and behold, Mr. Namjoon,” she opened her arms with a cocky smile as if presenting herself. “You’re talking with the youngest professor of Quantum Physics at MIT.”
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened even more, “Really? Wow!”
She chuckled, closing her arms again and finally reaching for the tiramisu. “I know, I get that a lot. I'm surrounded by people who are pure geniuses in every sense of the word but lack everything else required for socialization. And me being a woman in the middle of men should sound fun, but it really isn’t.” She sighed, with a spoon of dessert in her mouth. She didn’t look very happy. “Everyone thinks I'm at a buffet, when in reality I wish I could go to a Michelin-star restaurant and have that one gourmet meal.”
She was expecting him to laugh at her analogy, but he nodded with a small smile that overflowed with sympathy.
“I get you… I sometimes feel like the Michelin-star meal, only I’m behind a glass and I can’t interact with anyone.”
She raised an eyebrow, “You consider yourself a Michelin-star meal?”
Her tone was playful but he choked on his spit, blushing a strong shade of red. “That’s a way of speaking,” he tried saying through coughs.
She giggled and tapped his back soothingly, “I’m messing with you.” She waited for him to calm down before taking a deep breath, “That must suck balls.”
He laughed, a bit more relaxed. “It does, and it doesn’t. I know I inspire a lot of people, as they inspire me. That’s why I… you know, Michelin meal—” She was looking at him with a mocking smile, so he coughed to clear his throat. “Anyway. It’s lonely.”
“What do you do?” She asked, cleaning her tiramisu cup with her spoon.
His eyebrows twitched for a second. She didn’t know? She was friends with Hyejin and she didn’t know? Should he not tell her? But she surely knew who he was to Hyejin, so should he tell her?
He licked his lips. Be yourself.
“I’m a music producer.”
She whistled, “Like Hyejin’s fiancé, then?” He nodded. “Right, you must work with her father. I keep forgetting that she comes from a music background.” She laughed to herself. “But anyway, lonely? How can that be?” Her pitch was high again and playful. “I imagine you have at least one girl every day trying to make a move on you to fall in your good graces and get that record deal.”
He laughed awkwardly, “I don’t and I would hate it if I did.”
“Because you’re not into women?”
“Because I’m shy,” he answered quickly and seriously, looking into her eyes. 
Her features slowly lost their teasing glim and sobered. “I wonder about that… you’re talking pretty okay with me.”
He nodded, “There are… reasons for that.”
“Such as?”
“You’re Hyejin’s friend and you don’t want a music deal.”
She laughed giddily, “How do you know? Maybe this is just us scheming or something.”
He couldn’t help the smirk on his lips, “She could get you something just as easily as I could.”
Angie hummed playfully and leaned into him, and he didn’t move away. “But maybe I'd prefer to be associated with the genius Kim Namjoon?”
He held her eyes with a raised eyebrow. He felt hot and proud at her words, which was unusual for him. Normally, he’d be the first to say he wasn’t that big of a deal, he wasn’t that great. He was truly nobody. As the seconds ticked, this truth came to light in his mind. He had to be truthful with her.
“I’m really not that great.” She tilted her head with a smile of who wonders about that. “I’m just a poet,” he added. He tried ignoring the burn on his cheeks, why was that happening? Maybe even that was untrue? “I… I just appreciate art. In all its forms. And try to do something with my thoughts. That’s it.”
He quickly reached for a sip of his whiskey, and then took a deep breath. He felt like he was stammering or vomiting his thoughts without reflection, what the hell was he doing? Why was he oscillating between being relaxed and so freaking nervous?
She smiled warmly, “I’m just teasing you.” She straightened herself and he felt weirdly upset at being able to breathe freely again. “So art. What’s your favorite kind of art? Excluding poetry and music?”
“It’s very difficult to choose,” he confessed. He looked at the table for a moment of absolute focus before answering. “I feel like right after hearing, my eyes are the next sense I rely on. So I’m inclined to say anything visual. Anything that invokes things in me that reflect deep thoughts.”
“Interesting,” she said, creasing her forehead a bit. “Would you say it helps with your music?”
“It definitely does,” he agreed instantaneously. “It has helped me a lot to see my struggles reflected and shaped by the hands of so many artists. To see it given color or texture through other means than sounds, or words.” He smiled, “I could never do it, but I recognize it because our struggle is the same, it’s human. It’s very freeing in a way.”
Angie smiled softly. She was now totally focused on the man in front of her, sitting turned to him and supporting her head on her hand.
“I wish I knew more about art,” she confessed. His eyes locked with hers for a moment before he looked away with a smile. He was shy, she could see that. But he was also very intriguing, definitely the best kind of surprise that night or trip could offer her. She wondered if he understood what she meant to imply with her words.
“It’s an infinite subject. Even I am still learning about it after years of interest,” his smile was kind. He licked his lips and looked at her again, “I could show you a few things.”
Her lips curved immediately, “I’d like that.”
And he pressed his, looking away again. “I went to Europe once to do a tour around many museums.” He turned to her with a smile, “I was in Switzerland for a few days and visited so many exhibitions, then Paris too. I can show you pictures if you’d like.”
She smiled, “That sounds nice. I would have loved to see it myself.”
He sighed, “Yeah. I couldn’t see everything I wanted, I didn’t have the time. I wish I could just go and spend a month or two there, really take in the places. The cultures, they’re so close to each other, but they’re so different. I hiked Mount Rigi last time, but there’s still so much to see in the Swiss Alps, and also in other countries.” 
He was so invested in sharing his thoughts his eyes were shining. They were close now and he didn’t mind, quite the opposite. He was normally quiet with his entourage about such things, but with her, he felt accepted. She wasn’t scorning or being derisive, she was drinking his words out of interest for new things.
“You should go and do it. Take time off, pause, and do what you truly want to do.” Her tone was serious. “Life is short. Everyone always told me I’d have to fight tooth and nail to get somewhere, and that I’d get there in my old age. Well, I’m nearly thirty and I feel like I’ve reached that place already. And it sucks,” she shrugged in sorrow, reaching for her drink. “It should feel fulfilling, but it’s empty. I look behind me and see what I’ve missed, what I sacrificed. I realize I’ve won the race, but there’s really nothing to celebrate. And for as much as I may have gained, I became fearful of heights. Because now that everyone knows my potential, everyone would be disappointed if I didn’t meet the quota for just one day. And then… the real loneliness would start.”
A hint of sorrow passed through her features quickly before she downed another champagne flute, and he just nodded solemnly.
“There must be something to celebrate. Though… the responsibilities… they follow us,” he said quietly. “Even if I wanted to pause and go, it’s just not possible.”
“I’m telling you it has to be, Namjoon.” Her eyes were shining, but she didn’t hide them away. “There has to be more to life than grinding, burning out, and chasing the idea of success.” She put her glass down, “I keep convincing myself that this is what I wanted, that it was an opportunity all along, that I’m doing something great with myself, but am I?” She seemed to contain her tears of frustration. “I mean sure, there is an importance to what I’m doing. to what we’re doing. I’m teaching and shaping young minds, and I’m involved in projects that will advance our technology and understanding of the universe significantly. You’re doing music people love and inspiring them, like you said. Surely, all of it has meaning. But then why do I feel spent?”
She looked away with an anxious breath and her eyes fell on Hyejin laughing at the entrance of the party. That was what happiness looked like.
Her eyes turned back at him and his serious expression. She chuckled, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you with my existential conundrums.”
“Not at all, I feel like… we’re different, but similar in many ways.”
She looked at him and they stayed in silence for a moment. The party and music were developing all around them while they found some sort of empathy in each other’s existence.
“Maybe,” she acceded, with softening eyes. Her lips curved gently, “It’s not every day I get to talk about this.”
He was going to ask why but he never did.
“Ahh!” A yell sounded from behind them that had them both turn. The beautiful and glowing Hyejin placed her hands on their shoulders with a smile that could rival the sun. “I’m so happy you found each other!” Namjoon smiled politely, but Angie was furrowing her brow quizzically. Hyejin squeezed her shoulder, “See, I told you you would like him.”
“What do you mean?”
Namjoon opened his mouth, but Hyejin spoke first. “Well, I know you didn’t want a ‘babysitter’, but I chose the best as your company.”
Angie’s eyebrows jumped as her features changed just a little. She smiled with a hint of bitterness, “Indeed.”
Angie cursed herself mentally as she tried not to give her thoughts away. She should have figured the ‘babysitter’ would be the same guy who eavesdropped, though she had thought more than one of her friends would speak English fluently, hence they could have been different people. Honestly, she just wanted to make sure he’d stay quiet about what he heard, but maybe the fact that he was cute and interesting clouded her judgment. Maybe she did have unattainable standards, she didn’t seem to be that bright herself if she was going to let something so simple happen right under her nose.
Her eyes shifted from Hyejin when she was called away to Namjoon, who was looking worried. That was guilt, wasn’t it? He knew about it, he just played dumb. He could have told her he was the guy Hyejin wanted her to meet, but he decided not to probably because he wasn’t interested and didn’t want to embarrass her. Well. She still was.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Hyejin smiled, seeing she couldn’t avoid whatever problem was calling for her.
As soon as she left, Angie dragged her chair back as Namjoon spoke. “I can explain.”
“A bit too late for that,” her voice was stoic as she got up. “If you’ll excuse me.”
She turned to leave without a second thought. That was freaking embarrassing, and utterly disappointing. Maybe she got too tipsy and confident? Maybe. Either way, she never had to speak with him again, so—
“Wait.”
She glanced at him, surprised he had followed her out of the party to the elevator lobby of the hotel, but she didn’t stop. She pressed the button to call the elevator.
And he stopped next to her, “Wait.” He swallowed, and she finally glanced at him. She was showing no emotions on her face and it twisted his stomach even more. “I didn’t know what to say. The way you spoke of it made me feel like it was something bad.”
“Bad?” She knew she wasn’t tipsy, she just had to respond to such a silly idea. “I told you I would never be bored with you, how is that bad?”
“It isn’t.”
“Then why not tell me?”
“I didn’t want to pressure you. That’s why I chose to be the other guy. I wanted to be the guy you chose to come and find and chat with, not the one Hyejin asked to babysit you and that you didn’t want to meet.”
She stepped inside the elevator, pressed floor seven, and then looked at him. She looked confused and hurt and he just stood there waiting for her to say something.
“I guess you’re neither now.”
The elevator doors started closing and he felt a rush. Time slowed, he had a decision to make. He never got to be with someone who understood him. He was always afraid of the backstabbing and image issues, everyone was watching, and it was too risky to do anything. Everything relating to dating had been relegated to the last spot on his priority list, the furthest corner of his mind and heart. But right there he could reach for something that resembled what he always wished he could experience.
So he stepped inside at the last second, squeezing through the doors. Her eyebrows jumped in surprise.
“But I could be both,” he finally said.
The elevator started moving and she raised a skeptical eyebrow. He tried not to feel disheartened. For the first time, she was looking incredibly cold and unapproachable, and it saddened him.
“Explain.”
Despite her detached tone, he felt alive. “I could be the guy you came to find and that stuck around you because you’re interesting and captivating.”
Her lips twitched in skepticism, “You don’t have to work that hard, Mr. Kim Namjoon. I know Hyejin told you to look after me, but I’m going to my room where I’ll be perfectly safe by myself.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’m speaking the truth.” 
“Are you? You haven’t exactly been the most truthful.”
He pressed his lips and looked down — that hit him. Hyejin had told him to be himself and lying was not something he ever did. Being dishonest was not like him, and it felt off. 
Angie exited the elevator without another word and Namjoon followed her all the way until she reached for a card to unlock her room door.
“Then let me,” he asked. She entered her room. “Let me be truthful.”
She stopped and turned to him. She was holding the doorknob in her hand and the doorway was the line separating them. She considered his words for a moment, then nodded. It couldn’t hurt to hear him out, she already felt humiliated as it was.
“I’m not just a producer,” he said, and she frowned very lightly. He was sure then she truly didn’t know who he was. “I’m an idol. Do you know what that is?”
“People that sing and dance and are idolized by teenagers?” She seemed confused.
He grimaced, “You get the gist.” He sighed, “We are very well known, so our lives are scrutinized and it gets lonely.”
She shifted the weight on her legs, “So that’s why you’re here? Because you’re lonely?”
He let out a tense breath. “I’m here because you are enticing. Your words, your mind. You’re so captivating I could just talk to you all night to learn your ideas about everything the world has to offer.”
“You want to chat?”
He opened his mouth, unsure about what to say. She removed her high heels and threw them inside, then heaved a deep breath.
“I don’t know what to think of you right now.” She admitted, then shrugged. “I figured you didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to give me the impression you were interested in that way, and that’s fine. But then why follow me here?” He became flustered, and she just shook her head. “You’re worried about me complaining to Hyejin? I won’t. Are you feeling guilty? You’re forgiven. Let’s just forget about all of this—”
“That’s not it,” he managed to get out.
“Then what is it?”
He opened his mouth and fought his words multiple times until he just let go. “I don’t want it to end.”
“What?”
“Our talk. Our interaction. You said you didn’t get to talk about these things, well, I don’t either. And it’s so much more interesting because you’re not a musician or an artist, and yet we feel things in the same way,” he closed his fist as if he could grab the moment, then threw it down. Was he conveying the message properly? “What I mean is that there’s a potential for a unique connection, for a unique moment. I want to seize it, just like I want to go to Europe and hike the Swiss Alps. Like you said I should. Just pause and do what I really want to do.”
She observed him in silence for a moment as she went over what he said.
“But why didn’t you tell me before? You could have just said it.”
His cheeks warmed up, “You seemed to imply that Hyejin chose someone to… to sleep with you. I didn’t want to scare you away, so I thought it would be best not to mention it.”
Her eyebrows puckered in confusion, “But whatever reason Hyejin uses to choose you has nothing to do with you, you could have still just said it.”
He smiled and rubbed his face, he was embarrassed but sort of happy. “You’re right, I should have.”
She wasn’t smiling. “All of this just because you don’t want to sleep with someone; just say it next time and avoid the trouble.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” she groaned mutely. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“No, that’s not it.”
She raised an impatient eyebrow, “I got it wrong again?”
“Yes,” he said confidently, which intrigued her.
“Explain it to me then.”
“I never said I didn’t want to sleep with you.” He didn’t know where he got the courage to say those words, but maybe it was because he didn’t want any more misunderstandings. Her eyebrows jumped. “I said I didn’t want to pressure you, I said I didn’t want our talk to end, I said I followed you because you’re enticing. I said I didn’t want to scare you away. I didn’t want you to think anything we were doing was coming from a place of 'she's just promiscuous and we'll sleep together anyway'.”
Her lips twitched as she tried to deduce something. “Then…”
“I wanted it to just be genuine,” he shrugged. “If you were interested and I was interested, then cool.”
“Are you interested?”
He smiled despite looking at the floor, “I followed you all the way here, didn’t I?”
She blinked as her features morphed into surprise and realization. “You did.”
He gave her a moment before asking, “Are you? Interested?”
She finished her line of thought in which she decided she no longer had reasons to feel embarrassed. His lie had come from a good place, and although she disliked feeling deceived, she was willing to forgive him.
“I am.”
They stared at each other with a lighter atmosphere. He felt warm and sort of happy, but he didn't want to push anything. He was happy they sorted things out. It didn’t feel awkward or anything, he just didn’t feel any need to rush it.
“That’s… that’s good,” he smiled. “Then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re not coming in?” She asked almost in surprise. He was confused and she turned around to enter the room. “Only if you want to, of course.”
She dropped her handbag on a chair and turned to see him still in the same place. He had his hands on the doorframe as if stopping himself, and she just raised her eyebrows. He looked down, but dropped his hands and entered the room, closing the door softly behind him.
She smiled, “I’d offer you a drink,” she opened the mini-fridge. “But I don’t want us to get drunk.”
He was smiling too, he felt lightheaded. “That’s okay.”
“How about a coke?”
“Sounds good,” he agreed, accepting it from her.
She also opened a can and sat on the bed with her legs bent by her knees. 
"Didn't you have something to show me?" She asked, then took a sip. He just stared at her. "Photos of your trip?"
"Right!"
He pulled his phone out of his slack pocket and sat next to her. She leaned in to check his phone, but her eyes quickly moved to what risked captivating her more than any work of art he could show her. That tight dark blue suit made his shoulders look broad and firm. He was taller than her, even in heels, and he looked pristine and lean under all that haute couture. She could of course appreciate a man that could talk well and look good, but to find a devoted artist and poet under all that was… like straight out of movies or novels. 
She nodded and listened to his explanations about the art pieces and exhibitions attentively. He was light and free when speaking of such things, and she could not see an idol or famous person. He was too real, too grounded, too connected with his inner self to appear shallow and superficial. She didn’t have enough of that in her life, she was always with people who were analytical, cynical, and skeptical, much like she was. That fresh outlook on life, on a human’s soul, on feeling was so touching she wanted to interact with him just to know what it was like.
He was explaining this painting of a fallen angel and the catharsis and redemption themes in it when she got up from bed to put their empty cans away.
“What do they say? To be able to fly you have to learn how to fall?”
He eyed her from head to toe, with her back turned to him, and nodded quietly. He never thought a physics genius could be so empathetic and understanding. She had a caring soul that transpired in every single comment, even when she was rational about the themes he was trying to explain. He felt like she could be an anchor, a defined line around his countless smudges of color. He should feel contained, maybe underestimated, but instead, he felt elevated. He felt like they were mutually showing the other how they perceived life, and it was incredibly unique. He knew that could happen after a few minutes with her, but now after maybe more than one hour, he was completely certain.
“It’s getting late,” she commented and he nodded, putting his phone down.
“You’re right, we need to get some sleep for the actual wedding tomorrow,” he got up with a gentle smile.
“Would you help me with my hair?” She asked, then turned around. “They put so many pins in, could you take them off?”
“Sure,” he immediately acquiesced, throwing his phone on the bed and nearing her. But then he pressed his lips, eying the braided hairdo. “I’m afraid I might hurt you.”
“You won't, don’t worry about it. You should be able to see them pretty well.”
He was still eying her hair nervously, but it was true he could see the black hairpins among her blonde threads. So he risked it and reached for the first one very slowly. He gained more confidence as time passed and they had a few giggles when a few proved too stubborn to come out on the first try. 
Then suddenly her braid fell over her back and his smile dropped. He was incredibly close to her, he could smell her orchid perfume perfectly. Her skin looked smooth and delicate, the line of her neck was a feminine invitation. Her hair was beautiful and soft and now he didn’t have an excuse to touch it anymore.
She pulled her braid over her shoulder to open it and pass her fingers through it quickly. She glanced over her shoulder at him, “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Their voices were both low and warm as they eyed each other. She was wondering what she could do to give him a hint, whereas he was fighting his urges. He shouldn’t go too fast and she hadn’t expressed clear consent, so—
She suddenly grimaced and pressed her neck, and he spoke without thinking, “Are you tense?”
She nodded but immediately closed her eyes, her senses overcharged. His fingers were pressing and gently massaging her tired muscles, first on her neck, then her shoulders and spine. Her lips parted in absolute satisfaction at his dexterous hands, could he get any better?
Eventually, his fingers slowed in rhythm and stopped and she turned her head to the side, “Don’t stop.”
Her tone was low and pleading and he looked at her profile with his hands still on her delicate shoulders. She was truly beautiful, like a nymph out of a painting from the masters. He was inevitably attracted by her elegant curves, her dainty lines echoing everything in him from desire to devotion. He felt like any of those foolish men who would wish to lose themselves in the purity and nurturing embrace of such an ethereal creature, and he had to take a deep breath to catch himself.
She turned around and their foreheads connected as he swallowed. He was heartily eager to have her despite knowing that he could lose himself and disappear, just like Hylas once had in that ancient myth.
She touched his jaw gently and leaned in slowly, and he let her. Their lips touched and brushed briefly, and his breath hitched. He was immediately curious and chased her lips so he could feel her better. Her kiss was just as delicate as her and he was filled with this want to discover more, to know more, to partake, to dive in.
His hands were supporting her neck and jaw when she pulled away just enough to speak. “Are you comfortable continuing this?”
He almost chuckled; he was sensible enough to just smile, “Yes.” His tone was sure. “Are you?”
Her hands moved over his shoulders, “Oh yes. Yes.”
She leaned to capture his lips again and he smiled through their kiss, so incredibly happy that he would have the opportunity to touch her, to kiss her. 
He of course wanted more than that and as their kiss built up, he started losing his grip. Their kisses were sloppy as their tongues played, his body was spiking with heat at her hands exploring his chest and pulling his blazer off to firmly squeeze his shoulders. His hands which had been respectfully on her waist became curious and decided to palm her curves. Those sensual curves that the dress failed to express vividly enough, thankfully. 
She reached for his belt and he swallowed, trying to catch his breath as she kissed his cheek. That was happening, he thought. He looked at her, whose brown eyes were shining with desire while she breathed heavily. He had one second to decide before—
Her hand entered his pants and he closed his eyes, feeling her explore his erection. She was observing his reaction; she found the right angle and pulled his hard-on out. He was utterly absorbed in the sensation of her gripping him firmly and she wondered for a split second if it was genuine. He looked like a thirsty man who had just found an oasis, and she would think this odd if he was a famous idol that millions of people desired.
His hands pushed her to sit on the bed gently. He kneeled on the bed by her side and she eyed him. That man was the reincarnation of Adonis, there was no doubt in her mind about it.
“Can I touch you?”
Her features softened, “You have to touch me.”
His hands grabbed her lilac dress that covered her legs and pulled it up anxiously. She helped him do it all the way to her waist before she leaned back with him half over her. He reached her lips as his hands traced her legs, and the higher he went the more she started losing grip. Still, before he could touch her, she reached for his erection again to pump him gently. He grunted quietly and she smiled slyly, incredibly proud that she could make him sound like that.
Quickly a sigh was escaping her lips when his fingers reached her center over her panties. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d be able to get that and more out of her.
“You’re so warm,” he whispered against her lips, descending then to her neck. 
Her hand on his erection was making it hard to process, but his fingers quickly pulled her panties aside to feel her and damn. She was so wet and ready that his cock twitched. She moaned quietly with his touch exploring her folds and core, and he felt it in her neck as he kissed it. She would surely make the most beautiful music for him if he played her correctly, and he intended to.
His fingers reached her clit to rub it gently and she gasped, completely frozen by it. He pulled away enough to observe her expression with agape lips, squinted eyes, and knitted eyebrows.
“Like that?” He asked, his voice tense.
She looked up at him, an expression of pleasure so sensual he had a hard time thinking. 
“Yeah,” she sighed and restarted moving her hand. 
His fingers were too fucking good, or maybe she was just that turned on. Her core was clenching around nothing despite the simple gesture of his digits, but she knew it was more than that. He was an attractive and attentive man observing her through desirous but respectful eyes. Like she was worthy of his praise, attention, and care, and that adoration was really spiking it up for her.
So she tried making it last by focusing on her hand on his erection. It had been a while since she had last done that, but what mattered was reading his cues. He preferred a firm grip instead of light, he preferred the tip instead of broad all-encompassing movements, and he preferred slower and intense movements rather than fast and light. Soon he grunted and she smiled yet again.
“That feels very good,” he managed to get out with closed eyes.
“I’m glad,” she whispered.
They had reached a balance and they could see it in each other’s eyes. So when her lips curved in a playful smile, so did his.
Then he grunted mutely at the view of his hand between her legs. He was imagining what she would feel like, but there was nothing better than finding out. His fingers slipped in and she moaned.
“You’re so tight and warm,” his voice strained at the thought of replacing his fingers with his twitching cock.
She was pulsating around his fingers, “Imagine how comfortable you’d be… inside me.”
He looked at her, and she was already eying him back. Her expression tensed when he reached his thumb over her clit, her jaw clenched. She couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed, every single touch of his felt better than the one before and she would melt for him every time he would like her too. 
Suddenly he looked down at her hand on his dick with thin lips. “Do we have condoms?”
She tried thinking rationally for a second, then cursed under her breath. “I don’t.”
She felt irritation spring from deep inside her chest, that was very stupid of her. She couldn’t have known she would meet someone interesting and get involved with him, but fuck should she be better prepared just in case she did.
She took a deep breath, “Don’t worry about it right now, we can have fun in other ways.” She smiled playfully to ease him, but quickly his fingers reached somewhere deep inside her that stole her breath. “Is that okay?”
“That’s okay…”
He was sad he wouldn’t be able to feel her all the way as he intended, but that was for the best. He was already out of his mind, excited that all of that was happening anyway.
He hardened his movements and leaned on her neck, “I want to know what you sound like.”
She tried repressing a moan, his rough movements on her were making it very challenging. “If you keep doing that you’ll find out soon enough.”
He smirked at her teasing and decided to go rougher, though not faster. He instantly knew he made the right choice because her hand on him became sloppy as if forgotten, and her legs started spreading as if to give him more space. He prioritized his thumb over her clit in wide rough circles and her waist started bucking. He pulled away to look at her and surely enough she was close to falling apart. 
She looked at him through puckered eyebrows almost pleadingly and he licked his lips, wishing for nothing but the moment when it would happen. Suddenly she gasped and arched her back, then a roll of moans echoed from deep inside her throat. He fucked her with his fingers, completely absorbed by the sensual sounds her beautiful self was producing, and when she calmed down, he couldn’t contain his pride. He made her fall apart, he played her correctly and created that music through her. He felt honored and happy and extremely turned on, and she knew it because she immediately tightened her grip on his dick and hastened the movements.
“Did you like it? How I sound when I come?”
He opened his eyes which had closed momentarily to look at her pink cheeks and shiny eyes. She looked satisfied and hungry at the same time. His lips pulled — nymph was the right word for her.
“Definitely, yes,” he groaned quietly.
“I know you did,” she smiled and looked down. He was covered with precum, it was the perfect lube for her hand. “Have you wondered what I taste like?”
He blinked, his brain freezing for a second, and then he moved the hand covered in her slick still in her core. He could find out.
But she quickly stopped him, “No.” His hand stopped, though his mouth was open and waiting. “Not yet, you can find out after.”
“After?”
“After.”
Then she reached for his glistening hand and guided it to her mouth. She licked his wet fingers and sucked on them all while she kept pumping him. 
He groaned. “Is it good?” He asked, completely beside himself.
She chuckled, “You’ll find out in a minute.”
“I will?”
She smiled teasingly, still playing with his fingers and her tongue. “If I’m lucky.”
He groaned through a smile; he wanted to lick her and find out. He wanted to discover everything tonight.
“Where do I come?”
She smiled, “Make my hands messy.”
He looked down at her hands on him, on his tip and base working on him perfectly, then at her body, her lean legs, female curves, the line of her chest in between her modest cleavage, and then at his hand on her chin, now fully cleaned as she looked at him with hunger. He felt a prickle of embarrassment, she was looking at him making faces, but she looked absolutely invested. He dared think she was really into him, that a beautiful nymph like her would look at him twice and be interested in his pleasure, and that pushed him over. The thought of being with her and her wanting to be with him was enough to make him grunt deeply and pop. He grabbed her hands around him so he could slide in them pleasurably as his warm cum collected there and dripped on the sheets. 
When he finished, he took a deep breath with his eyes closed. He didn’t see her smile, nor was he bothered when she got up and went to wash her hands in the bathroom, he just sighed. That felt good, being there was good. He craved that satisfaction though he very rarely attained it. He sighed again.
She came back and laid on the bed again, prompting him to do the same. Their breaths were normal now, but whereas he was still processing, she was smiling playfully.
“Not having condoms sucks,” she puffed and he nodded. “But we can still have fun.”
He adjusted the pillow under him, wanting so much for that to be so when he suddenly gasped.
He got up and reached for his wallet in his blazer on the floor, and opened it. It took some effort, but very safely hidden was a wrapper that he waved victoriously. 
She grinned, “Good job! That’s a nice party trick.”
He smiled in embarrassment, “I didn’t even remember about it, it’s been there since—” His voice died when he turned the wrapper around, and then he closed his eyes.
“What?” She asked, curious. She sat up and took it from him since he wasn’t reacting, and when she saw it, she fell on the bed and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I can’t!”
He was blushing in embarrassment, “It’s really been there for years, I don’t even remember when I put it there…”
She was still laughing, “Clearly! I mean, how long do condoms stay good? Five years?”
He tried taking it from her by leaning on her, “Well, we don’t have to use it, forget I—”
She hid it between her hand and her chest and raised her eyebrows, “Are you joking? Using an expired one is better than nothing, we’re using it.” Her voice was so firm he stopped in his tracks. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”
“I want to,” he breathed immediately, eying her under him. He didn’t even realize he was shamelessly admitting to wanting her that badly, he was just enamored by the sight of her smiling teasingly.
“Then we have that to look forward to,” she smiled, putting it aside on the bed before raising her hands to feel his torso through his shirt. “How tired are you?”
“Not tired,” he murmured.
She grinned and her hands reached his back, “How fast do you recover?”
His cheeks warmed up wildly, “I… it depends…”
“Tonight. How much can I hope to have from you?”
Her hands on him mixed with her words were making him hot and unable to think. “I don’t know, it’s been a while since I… needed to perform like that.”
Her smile softened, “Let's find out together then. For now… I want to strip you.” His eyes roamed down her lilac dress for a second before trailing back up to find her tongue between her teeth. “Is that okay?”
“Yes.” 
She sat up, forcing him to move out of the way. Every yes of his sounded like a sigh, almost like happiness or relief for her having taken the initiative. She had no problems with that, but she would love it if he would relax. Maybe he would as they got comfortable.
Being naked always meant a significant amount of vulnerability and they were both aware of that. They kissed slowly while comfortably sitting in bed as they helped each other take off each piece of clothing at their own rhythm. He took most of his off first, starting with his waistcoat, shirt, inner tee shirt, then his slacks but not without getting rid of his shoes and socks first. She giggled when he made his shoes flip in the air with how fast he tried taking them off, and he smiled at her. He laid back down in bed and traced her uncovered legs. She still had her dress on and he pecked her cheek almost reverently before asking, “Where’s the zipper?”
She smiled, he was so cute. “On the back.”
She got up from the bed and turned her back so he could take care of pulling the zipper all the way down. He traced her back skin softly as he guided the strips to fall from her shoulders, then contoured the bands of her bra.
“Can I take it off?”
“I was hoping you would.”
He unhooked the hook quickly and traced her skin again slowly, this time leaning in to nuzzle it softly as he pulled everything off. She felt goosebumps all over, a wave of warmth invading her as she forgot how to breathe. He was so delicate and reverent that she felt like the most precious person he ever touched, and she was into that. It turned her on like crazy to be treated adoringly and he was hitting all the right keys.
She turned to him so he could push her strapless bra off and fully lay her bare, and he didn’t disappoint. He gently pulled it off along with the dress that fell to the floor, and his eyes roamed her body hungrily. She was so beautiful and elegant that he was totally hypnotized. 
He didn’t ask for permission and just dove for her chest, lowering himself to reach those wonderful perky nipples and take one in his mouth and another in his hand. He truly didn’t know how long his body would take to react or how he would perform, but he was happy that just seeing her naked immediately pumped him up. He sat on the bed and pulled her by the waist to continue the ministrations of his tongue, lips, and teeth on her chest while she moaned breathlessly and petted his hair. His hands lowered to the small of her back, then to her ass and he squeezed, feeling his hard dick throb inside his trunks. That was the finest offering he could ever have had and he wanted it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he told her in between switching nipples in his mouth, with wet traces and suckling sounds. His hands squeezed her asscheeks again, making her moan. “So beautiful. I need to have you,” he admitted, tracing his hands to pull her panties down.
His lips descended to her stomach before his hands pulled her to support her knees on either side of him. Suddenly, though, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her so he could lay her in bed under him. She giggled when her hair splayed over the bed and she looked down at him.
“It looks like you’re ready again,” she pointed out.
He didn’t need to look at the tent in his trunks. “I am, but I want to taste you first.”
Her lips pulled in amusement as he leaned to trail down her body with kisses, focusing on her mound and inner thighs to her delight. She was trembling involuntarily when his lips brushed hers and she squirmed in both want and shyness. He licked her across her slit, taking in her flavor, then he chuckled, unsurprised.
“Of course, you’d be delicious too,” he muttered before getting down to business.
Angie moaned breathlessly and more and more as his tongue circled her clit. Her eyes were closed as she gripped the sheets, so completely focused on what he was doing. She cursed herself for having had one orgasm already because that would make it harder right now for him. He didn’t look like he wanted to give up, but she didn’t want to tire him.
“You’re so sexy,” he still encouraged her, which invariably kept on melting her. “Make that sound again,” he asked as he suckled on her clit. 
She did the sound he wanted but gritted her teeth. She was needy. “I want you,” she asked, as soon as she could breathe.
He smiled with glistening lips as he used two fingers to feel her tightness. “That’s a good idea… I was hoping to make you come first, though…”
God, he was so freaking adorable she couldn’t handle it. “Give me a second.”
She reached to stop his hand and gently move him away, and he let her. She got up and reached for something in her bag — a black cloth bag. She grabbed it and then threw it on the bed.
“What’s this?” Namjoon reached to grab it and immediately figured it out. “Oh, I see.”
She hopped on the bed next to him. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she pleaded, suddenly worried. He looked let down despite his smile. “You’ll get me there, but since I already had an orgasm, you’ll probably lose the ability to move your jaw and you might need it tomorrow.” He chuckled at the way she put it and she felt confident in touching him again. “You were doing it wonderfully though,” she smiled, looking down. “And I’m more than happy to return the favor.”
He pressed his lips, “That’s— Only if you want to, you don’t have to.”
She smiled and reached for the vibrator, “You in my mouth will be the exact thing to make me come. So will you?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Would you… let me blow you while I pleasure myself?” He raised his eyebrows further in surprise. “I mean, you can of course control the toy if you want, I just mean… that would turn me on and push me to come.”
“I can use my fingers,” he seemed to think out loud.
She tilted her head, “You can if you think you can focus on two things at once.”
“Fair point,” he chuckled again. “Multitasking is not my thing.”
She bit her lip, “Actually, if you would be into it, you could fuck my mouth.” His mouth opened. “I mean, you know, only if you’re into that.”
“I’m into that, I…” he rubbed his face to clear out his surprise. “You just keep on surprising me.”
“In a bad way?” She asked, fearful.
“No, in a good way.” He reached for her hand, “We’re actually talking about what we want and expect before doing anything, which is great.”
She smiled, “I agree. It’s… very easy to talk to you, in fact.” She looked at their hands, then at the tent in his trunks. “And it doesn’t kill your mood, which is so refreshing,” she admitted. “I love it when I can communicate what I want and like without feeling like everything is ruined.”
He chuckled, “You almost got me… but you want to include me, so that’s okay.”
“What do you mean? Almost killed your mood?”
“Yeah…” He shrugged, “When the girl you’re with seems to prefer a toy to you, I mean…”
“Wow, are you crazy?” She jumped to her knees. “I’m freaking done with toys, so done,” her tone was laced with exasperation and he smirked. She was getting on his lap and he supported her waist to sit there. “I’m one hundred percent into you,” she underlined her words softly, lacing them with want. 
Now straddling his lap, they were close and personal. She grabbed his erection through the cloth to position it so it would rub on her nicely as she moved her hips. She had to lean back and support herself on her other hand, making her a sinful view. 
He was supporting her waist while eating her with his eyes and drinking her soft moans before she sat back up. He then dove on her chest again, ravishing the flesh in range of his mouth while she moved her waist to grind his cock so slowly and gently, but enough to help him draw those lustful moans out of her. 
She gripped his hair, “Did you feel how wet I was?” He hummed while flicking his tongue on her nipple. “Then you know how much you turn me on.”
The more she moved her hips, the crazier she became with the thought of that hard cock inside her. His mouth on her chest was not making it easier.
“Fuck, I want to ride you.”
He hummed, “You want a lot of things.”
She giggled, “I do, it’s all your fault.” She bit her lip strongly and then decided to push him to lay back on the bed with her over him. “Take some responsibility, Namjoon.”
He smiled, “I will. Tell me what you want.”
She was lying completely on him and straddling his cock now felt even better. She moaned over his lips, “Stay like that and let me ride you until I come on your cock.”
He groped her hips to help her move, “That sounds doable.”
She grinned, then reached for the condom. “I hope you can resist because it’s up to you how much we can get done.”
He chuckled, “You’re giving me too much responsibility.”
“I know, I’ll try my best to make it easy for you,” she sassily said, getting off him. He removed his trunks so she could cover him with the condom. “Feel free to tell me if I feel so good you’ll burst,” she added with a sly smile, before moving onto his lap again.
“You’re very confident,” he teased, supporting her on top of him again.
She leaned on him and aimed his cock inside her, “Oh, I am.” She made it a point to take him in slowly and in stages all while nuzzling his nose and seeing his reactions. His lips were agape and eyes closed, and with every inch, his nails sank on her hips. “How long has it been since you felt a tight cunt around you?” He was trying not to groan and it rilled her up. “All dripping just waiting for you to force yourself in?” Her voice was taunting, but laced with lust. “When was the last time you had a woman like me riding your hard cock?”
He bottomed out and she could feel him twitching inside her, which had her taking deep breaths to stay calm. The fact that she was the person getting to fuck him egged her on. That sexy, interesting, and sensible guy was a treasure that she was more than willing to have.
“I can’t recall,” he admitted, panting. “But I certainly never had one with a mouth as sassy as yours.”
She giggled as he smiled. She nuzzled his nose, “I gave you a chance to fuck this sassy mouth.”
“It’s still in my plans,” he admitted, finally looking at her.
“Perfect. Now let me milk you right,” she whispered sensually before adjusting her angle to move.
He was so deep inside her that by controlling her hips reaching an orgasm would be a piece of cake. That dirty talk with him had totally turned her on and him stretching her where it counted was taking her there.
“You feel so good,” he let out, still gripping her hips as if ready to stop her at any moment.
“I know,” she cooed, kissing his cheek. “How lucky are you that I’m riding you right now?”
“Very lucky,” he breathed.
“Very fucking lucky indeed,” she groaned, biting his cheek softly. “Will you give me your cum?”
“Oh yes.”
She cursed, grinding her clit in an angle that would get her there before she fell apart in moans over his mouth. He focused on feeling her around him, taking deep breaths to take in that sensation without letting it unfocus him. Then he hugged her body and kissed her when she searched for his lips. She was blushing and glowing and it filled him with pride to see her smile.
“See how into you I am?”
He chuckled and stayed calmly in place, letting her recover from her high.
“How much would you like to fuck me right now?” She was pecking his jaw and eying him with mischief.
“A lot,” he admitted, nodding his head in confirmation.
“I do deserve it after riding you so well, no?” She nibbled on his neck and he stretched while grabbing her asscheeks.
“Oh yes, absolutely.” He couldn’t stop smiling as if he had hit a jackpot.
She bit his earlobe before sitting up and getting off him. They both noticed how absolutely covered in slick he was, and then she got all fours.
“Show me how much I deserve it,” she asked sensually, moving her blonde hair over her shoulder. He sat up and touched her hanging boobs. “Hmm, show me how much you appreciate being able to fuck me.”
He leaned to kiss her as he groped her breasts, making her puff in between their kisses, then he moved to get behind her. He groped her asscheeks, spreading them for him, and licked his lips. She looked so fucking good, like a temptation, and he wanted to bury himself balls deep.
He aimed his cock at her core and slid in quickly, grunting with the sensation. She was so tight it caused an electric wave to go up and down his spine. He moved his hips a few times and shuddered, trying to collect himself.
“Are you ready to admit I was right?”
Her tone was mocking, but he only grunted, “I can admit that you deserve a nice pounding.”
She chuckled at the way his voice was tense and his nails sank on her hips. “If you want to spank me, you can.”
He leaned in and kissed her back with a smile on his lips, “Aren’t you full of surprises?”
“Aren’t you very lucky?” He smacked her ass, making a thin moan escape her throat. “Does it change anything?” He eyed her as he fucked her slowly. “Does it change the fact that you’re dying to fuck my tight cunt?” He smacked her again and she giggled right after a moan. “I’d love for you to mark me, don’t be afraid.”
“I don’t get you… You want to be worshiped, but you also want to be used?” He cleaned the sweat off his brow. He needed to understand to be able to decide on how to go about it.
“You might use me, but it had to be me.” She was biting her lips at the pleasure shooting from his pounding cock. “You might do whatever you want to me, but the point is that you want this pussy. Only I will make you feel this way. It will always be a form of worship.”
“You do feel very good…” he admitted, then slapped her ass again. “You take my cock very well.”
She moaned between words, “Your cock is so good… I’m fucking happy I didn’t miss out on this.”
He chuckled and leaned forward to grab her tits, fucking her so deep that her moans got to a higher pitch.
“Fuck, you’re deep.”
He groaned, “You're taking me so well…”
Too well, in fact, and he straightened back up and calmed his rhythm. 
She giggled, “Too much?” He struck her asscheek so hard it echoed in the room, yet she giggled. “You’re so my type I can’t control it, I’m sorry.”
He passed his fingers over her asscheeks, “I’m your type, huh?”
She wiggled her ass as if she wanted him to move his fingers. “Cute, attentive, sexy, and smart.” He wasn’t sure where, so he moved his fingers away, but she whined. “No, touch me. You can use me, Namjoon. I talk big but I want you to fuck me so bad,” she whined, moving her hips against his for him to fuck her deeper.
He was tempted to, but first, he slid his fingers between her asscheeks, and she trembled. She incentivized him with her bucked movements until he rubbed her asshole, making her moan deeper.
“You like that?”
She moaned again and he decided to rub it at the same rhythm he fucked her. Her asshole started twitching, and when it did he felt it around his cock too. She was getting tighter and wetter and he was completely up to his limit.
“Am I milking you right?” She asked in a breathy voice.
“Yeah, I’m close. I’ll stop playing with you and fuck you now, okay?”
He didn’t see the way she paused and blinked her eyes, confused. “Wh—?”
He positioned himself better behind her and unleashed his energy. He didn’t care how or what he was doing, as long as his cock was ramming right into her every time and hitting deep. Her thin moans were uncontrollable and music to his ears. She wanted to milk him, she deserved a good fucking, and he was going to give it to her.
Her face landed on the pillow as she started losing grip and he angled deeper. She could not think with the fast pace he was entering her, and all the sloppy sounds and slaps were just the icing on top. She never got to shut her brain off, but just there that’s exactly what happened and it was bliss. Her hand darted to her clit, which was covered in her juices, and she moaned desperately for her release. She wasn't planning on it, but she was beyond being organized and structured; that kind of pleasure was not premeditated or controlled, it was imposed.
He leaned on her and was talking to her but she couldn’t really register. 
“Yeah?” She finally caught him saying. “You want it? Come for me. Come on my cock with me.”
Her brain lit up like a firework popping and she moaned in a frenzy, cumming so hard he had to hold her hips in place or she would have fallen apart away from him. Her pleasure rippled and rippled until she was left a void drooling mess and it was… odd. Satisfyingly so.
He got off her and laid next to her, pulling her to fall to the sheets by his side gently. “Are you okay?” He asked with a hint of concern as he pulled her hair out of her face.
She was still panting with her mouth open, and she blinked. It took her a moment to react.
“What… What the hell was that?”
“What?” 
“You— how did you—?” She opened and closed her eyes. “I’m so mind-blown right now.”
He grinned happily as they tangled their legs together. “In a good way, right?”
She was still shocked, “You— You’re good. My god, are you fucking good. That had never happened to me before.”
“What?”
“My brain shutting down like that,” she shrugged, hugging herself in bewilderment.
He scooted closer and hugged her, “It was good then.”
“It was awesome, it’s what it was.”
Her tone was so firm he just smiled, “I’m happy.”
She reached to trace his jaw with her hand. “You really are something.”
He tapped their foreheads and looked deeply into her eyes. “So are you.”
They were left sweating and calming down, but eventually, the lethargy became too much. As if on automatic pilot, she got up to pee and he took care of the condom and did the same. In minutes they both threw themselves in bed and snuggled together to sleep relaxedly.
Despite her sluggishness, Angie eventually woke up and looked around, confused. She thought it was the jetlag still messing with her after three days. She reached for her phone: 5h53. She sighed deeply and put her phone away, she could still sleep.
Then someone moved behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and she closed her eyes. For a split second she thought she had dreamed of him, but that fresh, citrus, and woody scent reminded her that it was all real. She turned, still under his arm, and he leaned to unite their foreheads, still in his sleep. She looked at him with a small smile, feeling so relaxed. She didn’t know how he managed to make her like that but it was certainly something to be praised.
She closed her eyes, ready to fall back asleep, when his nose started nuzzling hers softly. She sighed and hugged him closer — she was awake, and they could do whatever he wanted. His lips fell on hers gently and she smiled at his delicateness and gentlemanly actions. They kissed slowly and softly for a while before she moved her hand to trail his torso. She was getting hotter and she felt like there was still so much of him she hadn't explored.
He seemed to get hot as well and reach for her to come closer, taking equal opportunity to touch her. She squeezed his shoulder in incentive for him to do as he pleased and couldn’t contain the moans as he did. He felt and groped her curves firmly, and when she evaded his mouth so she could breathe out a moan, he quickly caught her neck skin in between his teeth. She scratched his skin and grazed his scalp in approval and rolled with him immediately once he got on top of her.
His kisses were more demanding, but she was completely on the same wavelength. She wanted him to take her, to touch her, and handle her however he saw fit. He had earned that.
He trailed down her neck and quickly made his stop on her chest. His tongue and mouth were warm and wet and she squirmed with want, opening her legs instantly. He bit her once, twice and it only vexed her more; she was already so ready for his touch.
His fingers brushed her folds before searching for her wetness and she stopped breathing, completely focused on what was going to happen next. He was eying her attentively, feeling that shift on her chest. He removed his fingers, which made her raise an eyebrow, but his intentions immediately became clear. He gave her one last kiss before moving down so that his mouth could now reach her mound, and she trembled.
His lips brushed hers softly and increasingly with more pressure until his tongue opened her up and started licking her. She gasped for air with the way he seemed to want to lick her slit clean, knowing perfectly well that was the way to just make her even wetter. His hands grabbed her hips to stay in place when his mouth moved over her clit and he was not gentle. She writhed under him with whiny moans, she could feel his smile on her as he licked her clit deliciously.
She couldn’t stop squirming and trying to escape it while simultaneously being annoyed whenever he lost contact with her bud. She started moving her hips and her moans dragged.
“Use your lips,” she pleaded, and the sensation became less wet but firmer. “Yeah, like that.”
She was unaware of his eyes on her seeing her oscillate with her pleasure hungrily. He was trying to keep a steady pace for her, but she was making it hard.
Then she suddenly propped on her elbows, “Let me ride your mouth.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave her one last kiss. She seemed to realize what she had just said while he licked his lips and sat up.
She was blushing hard, “I mean if you’re okay with that.”
He was already lying down, pushing the pillow away. “I’m more than okay with that, come here.”
She took the hand he was offering and got on her knees. She then passed a leg over him so she would sit on his belly. She was trying her hardest not to just jump on his glistening mouth, out of respect, but he incentivized her by pushing the small of her back in his direction. That along with his hand still holding hers for support just pushed her to raise and sit where she wanted to with a deep sigh.
She cursed, “Tap me if you need me to stop, okay?”
His hands felt her hips firmly before he moved so his lips could disappear under her and she gasped. He felt too fucking good, she would come in a literal minute if he kept—
She sucked in a moany breath and started bucking her hips as gently as she could. He was a fucking sin with the way he managed to suckle on her clit every time it passed his mouth, just to escape it seconds later. And yet every time she did her circular hip movement, he was right there waiting, pressing her hips down so that the rub would be as intense as possible. She was too turned on, too far off, so when his nails sank into her skin to keep her close, she only needed a few seconds to fall apart.
He licked her and mouthed her roughly as she came, keeping her core as close to his mouth as possible. She had to whine because of the overstimulation, and only then did he let go. She stumbled back, completely alienated on how to control her own body, but he had her. He quickly reached to support her back so she wouldn’t just fall and instead helped her sit back on his lap graciously. 
He sat up and brushed her hair away from her red hot face, “You make the most beautiful sounds.”
She opened her glistening eyes to him and chortled, “You make me do them.”
He grinned happily, “I do.”
She was still recovering from the hastened heartbeat in her chest, but she reached to kiss him nonetheless. His mouth tasted of her and it burned her. She bit his lip, clenching around nothing. She shouldn’t feel possessive, but she couldn’t help it.
“Remember my sassy mouth?”
He cupped her neck and kissed the corner of her mouth, “I do.”
“I don’t think I can articulate much yet, but how about doing what you planned?”
He chuckled at the hint of neediness in her voice. “You mean you blowing me while you pleasure yourself?”
“Or you fucking my mouth, whichever you prefer,” she sighed, nuzzling his nose.
He brushed his nose back on hers and hummed for a moment.
“We can start with you and see how you feel.”
She pecked his lips and immediately moved away. She grabbed a pillow and threw it on the floor before kneeling on it, then she tapped the edge of the bed.
“Come here.”
He moved to sit there with his legs around her and she drew closer, leaning down to kiss his crotch and belly before nuzzling her way down to his balls. 
He grabbed her hair out of the way without any pressure whatsoever and just stayed with his mouth agape looking at the way she was licking and nibbling his balls gently. She was soft and mindful of hurting him, but quick and sloppy as if she was hungry and it filled him with anticipation. 
By the time she licked up his shaft, she was already drooling and she looked up to see him, to make sure he knew that. She wanted that, she wanted to taste him, to drive him wild into coming and giving everything he had.
She took his tip in and remembered well how he liked pressure there more than speed, and she got to it immediately. She sucked hard on his head while she bobbed her head in short movements, making her best to keep that pressure constant. The way he groaned and tightened his grip around her hair melted her and gave her even more energy. His girth was wide enough that her jaw would hurt for sure after the fact, but that would not be the thing to make her stop.
She added her tongue to the mix, flicking it and searching for the place that made him moan the hardest while she suckled on him.
She must have done something right because his taste hit her taste buds and she moaned. He tasted sweet and delicate and she guessed then that if she wanted the full taste she had to go for it. She was drooling with how much she wanted it and she didn’t realize how much she was pushing him until he groaned loudly and put one hand on her neck to gently guide her out.
She raised her head with a pop of her lips, keeping his hard dick pointing at her with her hands. Its glistening reddened tip was tempting her and she couldn’t look away.
“That was close,” he mumbled, and she finally looked up.
He was panting and he reached to wipe the thin coat of sweat off his brow. He looked down at her and she could only curve her lips in amusement.
“Why did you stop me? I was having a blast.”
She sounded playful and he chuckled, “Well, you never told me where to come. Plus,” he moved away from her to reach for something on the bedside table. “You wanted to pleasure yourself.”
She lowered her eyes to his open hand and saw her vibrator.
She grimaced in disbelief, “You stopped our fun for that?”
“I want you to feel good,” he smiled sheepishly.
Her eyebrows jumped, “How do you think I’ve been feeling so far?!”
He grinned with a hint of shyness, and pride, and she bit her lip down hard so she wouldn’t bite him.
“You said me in your mouth was the thing to make you come… and I don’t want to steal that opportunity from you.”
Her chin dropped in shock, then she shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. We’re taking care of you right now and you’re still worried about me?” She reached suddenly for his lips and he supported her through their kiss with gentleness. “You can’t be real,” she whispered, nuzzling his nose before going back down on her knees. “You just can’t be.”
He didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t give him the time to think of something.
“You should come in my mouth,” she told him, grabbing the egg-shaped vibrator. “I need to know how you taste. You can get up and fuck me whenever you want, just please don’t do it too harshly because I gag easily.” She spread her legs a bit so she could accommodate the vibrator. “And if I start coming, do not stop. In fact, I might get sloppy, so take matters into your own hands.” She raised an eyebrow, “Did I forget something?”
“No, ma'am.”
He was smiling in a tease and she pursed her lips before looking down. His cock twitched under her gaze and she looked back up. He didn’t need to ask for attention, so she guessed it was involuntary, which made it even hotter.
She sighed as she took him inside her mouth again and she made sure to take him all the way in comfortably a few times to show him where he could go. He didn’t fit completely in, so despite his moans she hoped he had paid attention.
Only then did she turn on the vibrator and hummed instantly. She was not going to last, she was certain. She was immensely turned on, any nudge in the right direction was enough.
She bucked her hips on the toy and used that same rhythm in her mouth. It was harder to stay focused and she started moaning quickly out of the sheer pleasure shooting through her. He had such a good fucking cock that fit in her mouth perfectly and would spray her full soon. He couldn’t help himself, she would blow him just right until he would pop. He knew deep down that he had no choice. He wanted to come for her, to fill her up, he was helpless. If she wanted it, he had to give it to her, and if he tried holding back, she would blow him and ride him until he blew.
Thoughts like those drove her insane, and his dick in her mouth was exactly what brought to life all of her fantasies. In minutes her whines gained a pitch and he should know by now that meant she was right on the verge of her orgasm. Her hand on his base lost grip, and her lips became less taut, allowing for her drool to drip down his shaft, and he knew what to do.
He got up and she moved with him, allowing him to grab her head and gain complete reign over everything. She let him do it and in seconds her orgasm invaded her, making her moan deeply. And he grunted with those sounds because he could reach her throat that much easier, interrupting them with every thrust. It was so fucking hot that he had no problems in just leaping through it as soon as he could confidently say her orgasm was done.
Then she hummed as his cum started dripping on her mouth and her lips became taut again. She sucked him neatly and swallowed him dry as he did his best efforts to contain his hips jerking. He was still holding her hair and head, and her mouth felt so wet and tight he had to take a deep breath, mastering himself until the end.
He sighed as the pleasure dissipated gently, then let her head go. She pulled out and looked up at him with a sly smile.
“You… are fucking great.”
He broke down laughing quietly and she did the same, holding his hands to get up and stand tall. He immediately supported her lower back and neck and drew her in for a kiss. His tongue licked hers and danced with hers, not bothered in the slightest by his own taste. 
He pecked her nose and she sighed. “I could sleep a bit more.”
He smiled, “Me too.”
He let her go just enough for the both of them to get under the sheets again and snuggled her when she came closer, hiding her face on his chest.
They drifted off asleep almost instantly, and so it felt like in the same breath they woke up. They were startled by the knocking loud sounds on the door and she pulled away to blink at him in bewilderment. He had a quizzical eyebrow raised and she had her brow creased, completely dumbfounded.
A woman started yelling in Korean and Angie’s expression became almost comical as she sat up, trying but unable to understand a single word. Namjoon sat up too.
“Late! Late!”
“I’m coming! One minute!” Angie finally yelled, and then it quieted down. It had worked, whoever it was left. “What the—”
“She says you’re late, the bride is asking for you.”
She turned to him, then blinked — of course he understood that. She frowned and searched for her phone, “We just drifted off a minute ago, how—”
She gasped and jumped off the bed in two seconds. She had missed calls, and Hyejin had sent her a roll of messages. She played the last audio.
“Angie! Where are you?! I don’t know if I should be concerned or angry, should I call the police?! I need my bridesmaid, I’m almost done and you’re not here! I’m going to cry, please don’t disappear on my wedding day!”
“Shit, shit, shit.”
Indeed it was almost ten in the morning. She turned to Namjoon, who was now getting up with his phone in hand.
“They’re looking for me too.”
“How the heck did my alarm not ring?” Angie groaned.
“It doesn’t matter,” he reminded her, holding her arms. “I’ll leave you to get ready and go and do the same.” She shuddered and nodded. He was so fucking sexy just calming her down like that and focusing her on what mattered. “Will I… see you later?”
She smirked, “If Hyejin doesn’t kill me or kick me out, yes.”
He smiled and turned to search for his clothes and put them on. She grabbed her phone and tapped to record an audio.
“I’m so sorry, Hyejin, my alarm didn’t go off. I’m going to shower and I’ll be there in ten minutes. Stay calm, I love you.”
She sent it quickly and turned to the man in her bedroom. She felt butterflies in her stomach and swallowed them. She probably shouldn’t, she was an adult and she knew how those things went. Still, he wasn’t out of the room yet and she was too tempted. 
So while he bent over to put his shoes on, she walked up to him and held his jaw for him to rise back up. She kissed him softly and he stood up by himself, supporting her arms as he did.
Then she pulled back with a small smile. “I’ll see you soon.”
Namjoon nodded and saw her disappear into the bathroom. He shook his head to get the image of her lean back and perky ass out of his mind and turned to leave. Her shower started just before he closed the door behind him.
He rushed down the corridor and used the stairs to go up to his room. He was super fast and ignored the people in the corridor, even though the chances that they were any of the guys were high. He needed to get ready quickly, he also didn’t want to stress Hyejin or miss anything. It was a special day for her and he definitely wanted to be there, they were close friends.
He showered and got ready as fast as he could. He was putting on his gray blazer when someone knocked hastily on his bedroom door and he ran to open it.
On the other side, Jin had wide shocked eyes. In fact, six pairs of eyes were gawking at him.
“Hi guys—”
“He’s here!” Jin yelled, despite the others being equally aware.
“He wasn't here before,” Hoseok frowned, confused.
“Where were you?!” Jimin asked with a scoff.
“Were you hiding somewhere hyung?” Taehyung asked.
They were barging in the room as if searching for something and he had no chances to say anything.
“Where would he hide?” Yoongi whined, with a puff. “Let’s just go, the wedding is in thirty minutes.”
“Yeah, I want to catch breakfast,” Jungkook rubbed his hands together.
“We just had breakfast,” Hoseok raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, right, you missed breakfast,” Jin turned to Namjoon and pointed it out with a shrug.
“Well, you know, second breakfast,” Jungkook said slowly.
“What are you, a hobbit?” Jimin laughed coming from the bathroom with Taehyung. Were they looking for something?
“No, but these things always drag on,” Jungkook pouted.
“That’s very true,” Jin agreed. "We're going to be hungry."
“We’re going to be late,” Yoongi groaned, rubbing his eyes.
“Where were you anyway, hyung?” Jimin asked, seemingly confident he couldn’t find anything suspicious in his room.
“What do you mean where…” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck while heading for the door. “Let’s g—”
“Why is your bed still made?”
The room quieted down and everyone turned to look at Taehyung, who was standing right beside the bed eying it suspiciously. They all could see in an instant that he was correct, his bed was perfectly made.
Namjoon scoffed, “What do you mean? I always make the bed when I wake up.”
“That’s true,” Jungkook murmured and Yoongi nodded.
“But this perfectly?” Taehyung insisted.
Jimin jumped on the bed and raised something above his head with a victorious chant, “Ah! The chocolate is still under his pillow!”
Everyone then turned to Namjoon to complain.
“It would have melted.”
“What melted, it would have fallen.”
“You should have eaten it.”
“No one leaves the chocolate there.”
“The bed is too perfect, just me jumping on it made more of a mark than your sleep.”
“If you were here before, why didn’t you respond when we came to call you for breakfast?”
“And why did you not answer your phone?” Jimin added, remembering it suddenly.
The room quieted down for a few seconds and most eyes fell on Namjoon, who just frowned in confusion. 
Thankfully, Jungkook rubbed his chin and tried, “Maybe he was in the shower…”
“For an hour?” Taehyung scoffed.
“His hair is wet right now, you just showered right?” Jin smirked playfully.
Jin’s question was the last straw and Namjoon just sighed, turned, and walked out the door.
“We’re going to be late.”
The guys whined after him, with Taehyung closing the door behind them all before yelling across the corridor, “Where did you sleep?!”
Namjoon’s eyes widened in a second out of sheer embarrassment before he groaned and turned to go down the stairs with the other six trailing him. He could not be stuck with them in an elevator right now and he needed to burn the energy that stress was causing.
It’s not like he couldn’t tell them, he thought, as they exited the staircase towards the lobby. He quickly rushed to the balcony of the hotel that led to the garden where the wedding ceremony would be held. There, fortunately, the class and formality of the event quieted the others down. He hoped it would distract them enough as he walked quietly to the beverages table and got himself a coffee. 
He could tell them, but he wondered if it was correct to do so. He didn’t kiss and tell, that would be rude of him. Additionally, she would be there at the party and if they met her, it could be weird if they knew. What if they said stupid things or insinuated something, he would die with the embarrassment not to mention he wanted to see her again. 
I’ll see you soon.
He blushed and it wasn’t from the hot coffee. He wanted to see her again.
“Seriously, hyung.” He turned and Taehyung was there, reaching to grab a coffee too. “I won’t tell anyone, but the curiosity is killing me.”
Namjoon licked his lips and looked around them. There were definitely too many people there, so he started walking as if nonchalantly wanting to walk the gardens. Taehyung followed him.
“Hyung! Trust me, I just—”
“I wasn’t in my room, alright?” Namjoon turned suddenly, almost spilling both their drinks but Taehyung stopped in his tracks before they could clash.
Taehyung grinned widely, “Ah, I knew it!” He was so giddy he would be jumping right now if it wasn’t for the drink. “Who is she? We saw you with a girl yesterday, you guys were talking.” Namjoon groaned and pressed his temples. The lack of sleep was making his head hurt. “Is it her?”
“Excuse me.”
Both men turned, one with panicked eyes, the other with a pout.
“We’re rounding up everyone for the ceremony to start,” the lady told them politely with a bow.
Namjoon bowed back and took the opportunity to drag Taehyung along, “Not a word of this. I’ll tell you, but not now. Please, let’s keep it quiet.”
He gave him a pleading look and Taehyung smiled, “Not a word, hyung. You can trust me.”
They went straight to their seats on the bride’s side, second row, all to themselves. Most people were already there and ready.
“Where were you?” Jin whispered in a scolding tone.
“Coffee,” Taehyung answered sheepishly, sipping on his paper cup. Jimin eyed him suspiciously, but Taehyung had the most angelical expression on.
Namjoon was unaware of this however because his eyes were avidly searching for someone. And luckily for him, he didn’t have to wait long. Music started to play and people started making their way down the aisle. He nodded at the groom and some groomsmen he knew. Everyone bowed when the parents of the groom passed, then the mother of the bride. And finally, there was someone that passed that stole his breath away.
Angie was wearing a dark blue dress that delineated her curves beautifully. Her blonde hair was falling on her right shoulder in delicate waves and her cleavage was deep, though not too flashy. She was smiling the whole time, and the corners of her lips twitched when her eyes finally fell on him. He had no idea what kind of face he was making, but only when she passed by him did he blink and break the spell. 
Hyejin was of course stunning and nearly crying in happiness as she passed by her friends and family, and Namjoon felt his eyes wet at the sight of her. He glanced to check on the others and everyone was smiling the same, only Yoongi looked down for a moment while Hyejin was left by her dad to her fiancé at the altar. 
The ceremony was beautiful and everyone cheered and whistled when they finally kissed as husband and wife. The tables for lunch had been set on the other side of the garden and everyone made their way there after passing by the bride and groom to congratulate them.
As people who stood up front, BTS were one of the first to approach them. Namjoon was behind Yoongi in line, who seemed to want to avoid the moment, but Namjoon wasn’t having it. He knew Yoongi hated feelings, but it was an important moment for Hyejin and—
“You look beautiful,” Namjoon heard Yoongi say quietly. 
Namjoon thought it was weird that was all Yoongi said, instead of congratulations and lots of happiness on your marriage. His eyebrows jumped at the way Yoongi and Hyejin were just staring into each other’s eyes, and he looked away quickly. Whatever story they might or not once had just ended, and he felt for Yoongi. Namjoon knew he would never say anything, no matter the words that crossed his mind right now. 
He looked up in time to see Yoongi’s pressed lips as he walked away, and then Hyejin’s eyes filled with tears. Namjoon stepped in quickly to hug her and hide her from the world, and she took the opportunity instantly.
“It’s okay,” he whispered against her head, kissing it. She was grabbing him for dear life. “You look stunning, like the brightest of stars, the most perfect flower.” She sobbed once in his chest and he kissed her head again. “We’re all happy for you. We support you no matter what.”
She chuckled and pulled away, cleaning her tears quickly. “Yeah.” She swallowed, “I’m just emotional today.”
He nodded and reached for her hand then kissed it. “We love you, don’t forget that.”
Hyejin smiled, but her lips trembled. Namjoon was ready to move along but Hyejin tightened her grip on his hand and pulled him to lean in, “I’ll say this quickly before I lose the chance to. You and Angie are my closest friends. You guys are a match made in heaven. Don’t hurt her.” He pulled away with wide eyes and she smirked, “Don’t worry, I told her the exact same thing.”
She squeezed his hand and then let it go. He pressed his lips as he processed all those emotions and walked to join the rest of the members at their lunch table. 
The party dragged on, and by the time everyone was celebrating and having lunch together, the seat to the right of Namjoon and the left of Jungkook was still empty.
“Who the hell is ‘Angie’ anyway?” Jungkook read with a stutter.
Namjoon pressed his lips as they all dug into the food. He wasn’t sure how to answer that—
“Hi again.”
All seven men stopped eating to see the woman dragging the chair to sit down. She smiled at them with individual nods, smiling a little wider to Jungkook as she sat beside him. Namjoon pressed his lips at this, he wasn’t sure how to take that smile—
“Did you have any trouble making it in time?” She leaned in to ask in his ear, and he immediately felt a blush creep in on his cheeks.
“No, I was fine,” he whispered back in English, trying not to combust. Fortunately, none of the others could understand them. “You?”
Angie puffed as she got ready to taste the appetizer, “Hyejin almost bit my head off.” She hummed at how good it was then smiled. “I hope you don’t mind, I had to tell her.” She looked worried as she waited for his reaction. “It was a survival instinct.”
He grinned, “I understand. She sounded… authoritarian when she, uh… commented about it.”
Angie’s eyes widened, “Oh no… Did she…?” He nodded and Angie sighed. “I'm so sorry. Damn it, I didn’t imagine she would bother you about it.”
He chuckled, “She told you the exact same she told me.” Angie tried eating a bite as she pondered on what to say. “She seems rather protective of us.”
She grinned, “She does, doesn’t she?”
They were interrupted when celebrations started among tables with people giving their speeches and Angie stayed quiet. Despite being a bridesmaid, Hyejin knew why she didn’t want to do a speech — she didn’t speak Korean. She was there to support her best friend, but she knew she wouldn’t really partake in the party.
Namjoon was sweet and translated most of what was happening so she wouldn’t feel left out, and she was thankful. She could sense the other guys’ eyes on her and she decided to become even more invisible.
She lost track of time, they were waiting for dessert when the man on her right side drew her attention.
“Who… are you?”
His English was probably not good, but she smiled at his effort. “I’m Angie,” she answered, bowing shortly.
“I’m Jungkook,” he answered, with a hand on his chest. “Who…” He looked over at Namjoon and she opened her mouth, then closed it.
Her Korean was truly rudimentary so she tried remembering. She knew the word for friend, but she was stomped on how to explain—
“You can say it, I’ll translate,” Namjoon offered with a smile.
“I don’t want to bother you,” she answered with a pained smile.
“You’re not.” 
His eyes didn’t rest on her like she hoped they would, and she tried not to feel discouraged. 
“I’m Hyejin’s friend. We were roommates for six years in college, so we became pretty close.”
He translated it and all the guys hummed. Another one asked something.
“Jimin asks if you’re also a physician.”
“No, I’m a physicist.” She smiled, then chuckled at their confusion. “Close, but not quite the same.”
She asked about them and was surprised to find they were all singers and idols. They were all very good-looking, but then again so was everyone in Hyejin’s entourage. It made sense because her father and now husband worked in the music industry, but it was always shocking to meet someone seemingly normal but who was truly so rich and famous.
Which reminded her of who she had slept with last night. She kept chatting with them while in the back of her mind, she considered this. Namjoon was too great, it was hard to believe, but then again not that much. He was smart, sensible, polite, hot, and a good lover. She almost scoffed in disbelief, how was he still single? But he had to be, if not for Namjoon not saying anything, at least Hyejin would have when she told her they had spent the night together. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names,” she smiled. “Jungkook,” she pointed at the man on her right, who smiled.
One by one they presented each other and she tried not to give it away, but her eyes fell back on Yoongi. So that was the famed Yoongi. She didn’t mean this musically, of course, she didn’t know anything about that.
They chatted and when the party progressed and they got up to get drinks, she smiled and let them go. She was surprised when Namjoon came back with a flute of champagne for her.
“Thank you.”
He nodded with a smile and sat back down.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” he answered, sipping on his wine.
“Do you know anything about Hyejin and that guy, Yoongi?”
Namjoon raised his eyebrows, “Well… I mean, I know something but…”
She leaned towards him and whispered, “Will you tell me? It’s a big mystery to me, it’s the only guy she ever spoke about in college.” Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “She clearly liked him, but when she came back here I guess she chose someone else. It always confused me.” 
Namjoon looked down and nodded as Angie smiled at Hyejin dancing with her dad.
“This is a secret, I think I’m the only one of the guys who knows,” he started and she zipped her lips closed.
“My lips are sealed. You and I are the only ones that know about this, then.”
He nodded. “We grew up together, she’s Jungkook’s age.” He eyed Angie, suddenly realizing that she was also Jungkook’s age. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and he shook his head. “Yeah, so I have known her the longest since I was the first to join the company, and she reminded me of my younger sister, so we became close. Then Yoongi joined and she was struck. She was only fourteen but she crushed on him hard. For years, she hung out with all of us, but she was head over heels for him.”
Angie chuckled, “You mean getting all quiet and red around him?” He nodded. “I’ve seen that, but only in passing. She dated in college, but it was never really serious. She was always hung up on someone from here,” Angie continued with a sad shrug. “One time she got drunk and wailed about the ‘cream’ incident.”
Namjoon was shocked, “You know about that?” She nodded. “You have to tell me!” Her eyebrows jumped. “No one knows what happened, Yoongi never said anything. It’s probably the only secret they both kept from us. Or at least from me.”
She eyed him with squinted eyes, “Hmm, are you trustworthy with such sensitive information?”
His jaw dropped and then he sat up straight, “I thought we were sharing secrets…”
She grinned, “We are… You’ll keep it a secret?”
“I’ll take it with me to my grave.” He promised with a hand over his chest, then his eyebrows puckered. He had said that before.
“It’s silly, really. Basically, when she was eighteen, before she came to the US, she found Yoongi in the kitchen with a can of whipped cream. I think they played for it or something, but it basically exploded on them and covered them up. She was really worried about upsetting him, so she tried to clean him up and I think things got heated. She might have removed her shirt, or his, I don’t remember, but I do know that he grabbed her by the shoulders and firmly pushed her to stand away, then he ran off.” Her smile vanished as she remembered Hyejin telling her this. “She regretted never confronting him about it, or telling him how she felt.” Namjoon stayed quiet. “She saw that as a rejection, but she never had the guts to confirm it.”
“We never knew about that. We only ever saw them covered in cream and they both refused to say anything about it. We even thought they were dating, but they both denied it.”
“I don’t think they ever dated,” Angie commented, glancing at Yoongi sipping on a drink at the bar. “Otherwise she would be marrying him.”
Namjoon nodded with a degree of sorrow, “I agree… I never saw anything that made me believe he might have feelings for her until today. I think he’s suffering in his own way.”
She sighed after they stayed quiet for a while, “That’s so sad… She’s the one that got away…”
“So is he…”
“But why? I mean, they’re both adults,” she frowned, turning to look at Namjoon. “Why did she not go for it when she came back? Was he dating someone else?”
Namjoon’s lips pulled in an attempt at a smile, “No, he wasn’t. He still isn’t.”
Her eyebrows jumped, “Wow, then why? Hyejin knows better than to suck it up—”
“He’s an idol.”
“So?”
He pressed his lips and looked down, “It’s just too complicated. They’d never have a normal relationship, and it would be a lot of pressure for her.” He raised his eyes and he wished it wasn’t hurting him that much to say those things. “She probably never asked because he would have to say no. Even if he wanted to say yes.”
Angie’s expression was pale as one of her eyebrows was lowered in subtle disagreement. She could understand what he was trying to say, but she refused to buy it.
“I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit.” Her tone was soft. “Look at him, do you think it was worth it? We talked about how success turns into emptiness. I told you that not all sacrifices are worth it, and I’m not a renowned billionaire star.” She paused. She was frowning despite not wanting to be harsh on him. She just utterly refused that thought. “If it’s like this for me, I can’t imagine how it is for him.” She looked away at Yoongi and then at Hyejin. “I hope no one else goes through the same thing.”
She dragged her chair and got up, and he stuttered to say something but was too late to stop her. He saw her walk away in between all those people and he felt powerless. What could he say? Maybe she was right. Having seen Yoongi and Hyejin grow up together, he surely would have wished it was them getting married today. In a parallel universe, maybe they were. And it was sad to think Yoongi was not as happy as he could have been, but—
“She’s pretty.”
Namjoon turned to see Yoongi sitting on Jin’s spot. Namjoon passed his hand through his hair but nodded. There was nothing to say other than agree.
“And she seems interesting too,” Yoongi mused quietly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t spend hours talking to her like no one else exists.”
Namjoon pressed his lips, unsure of what to say. “When did I—?”
“Last night,” Yoongi answered. “And today, but you said something that upset her.”
Namjoon puffed and rubbed his face. What the hell was happening with him lately?
“We were discussing you, actually,” he admitted, eying his hyung.
“Me?”
“Yes. And Hyejin.”
Yoongi held his eyes then looked down at his drink and Namjoon reached for his. He wouldn’t say more than that, they were discussing secrets after all.
“I love her.”
Namjoon almost choked and Yoongi scoffed.
“Don’t act like you didn’t know, you were probably the only one who ever noticed.”
Namjoon nodded slowly, “How are you?”
“Miserable,” he answered with a smile, then downed his drink. “I’m burying my heart today.”
Namjoon grimaced but didn’t know what to say. “Things could have been different.” Yoongi scoffed and pushed his empty glass away. “Do you regret it?”
Yoongi heaved a deep breath, “I always wanted to be successful, to have a legion of fans. To have money and comfort. To be recognized for the genius I am.” Namjoon hid his smile with his glass. “But losing her… might be the only regret in my life.”
Yoongi’s eyes were intense and had a pain contained in them that made Namjoon instantly worried. He didn’t remember ever seeing his eyes like that, though it was true that Yoongi was the most reserved of them all, especially emotionally.
“So be confident,” Yoongi told him with half a smile. “Whatever you feel or want to do, be confident. You can do it.”
“Guys, you’re not dancing!” Taehyung neared them with the rest of the gang.
“I’m not dancing,” Yoongi scoffed.
“Me neither,” Namjoon agreed with a forced smile.
Angie got back to the table and sat in her spot after giving them a small smile. The guys restarted chatting, but Namjoon couldn’t pay attention. He hadn’t turned to see her or talk to her, but her quiet presence there burned his back. There were things left unsaid between them, he just really didn’t know what he could say.
“You have something on your neck.”
He frowned at the male voice speaking in English and turned back. All men did, in fact, only to see someone familiar talking to Angie.
Jin tried to call him, “Taesun!” 
But he was dismissed quickly with a nod. Jungkook muttered something about him being in his spot, and Taehyung agreed quietly.
“What does he want?”
But Namjoon let out a deep breath. He knew exactly what he wanted. Hyejin had asked him to make sure he wouldn’t harass Angie so he should have expected it.
“Taesun—”
“I’ll be with you guys in a minute, okay?” He gave them a half-caustic smile before turning back to Angie in English. “Did you notice? Right here.”
He meant to reach the skin where her shoulder met her neck and she leaned back to dodge his hand with a frown. By doing this she almost bumped into Namjoon, who caught her shoulders gently. She felt supported by his touch, but that was her fight and she shouldn’t bother him.
“Sorry,” she bowed quietly without looking at him before turning to Taesun. “Yes, I know.” Her tone was dry as if she was being bothered, which she was. 
He smiled, maybe choosing not to see it. “Did you hit it somewhere by accident or something?”
Her lips curved, “No, I’m pretty sure it was intentional.”
Namjoon had decided to turn halfway towards his bandmates, who were listening to the conversation unapologetically despite not understanding it entirely. He couldn’t help a smile at the snarky tone of her voice, and he hid it under his hand.
“Will you dance with me?”
Namjoon’s lips pressed at the wanton tone of Taesun’s voice, and he closed his eyes. After the last words between him and Angie, he would understand it if she accepted and—
“I’m sorry, I really can’t.” Namjoon’s eyes jumped to her head, unable to hide his interest. “You see, last night I hit more places than my neck, so it would be really uncomfortable to move.”
His hand was covering his face, but anyone could tell he looked concerned. Did he hurt her somehow?
Yet Taesun chuckled and shook his head, “I got it, I got it. It’s a pity, but maybe you’ll change your mind later.”
Her lips curved in a polite smile, but she turned away quickly to grab her drink and dismiss him. The others might have not understood a word, but body language and tone of voice spoke volumes. Jungkook immediately moved once Taesun stepped away to occupy his rightful place beside Angie, and Taehyung followed him. They both leaned worriedly and quietly asked her if she was okay. Taesun was married, and his attitude was really distasteful.
Jin and Hoseok immediately bit the bullet and jumped at the opportunity to distract him. 
Yoongi was supporting his head on his hand when he asked quite loudly, “How’s your wife doing?”
Taesun only gave him half a smile before excusing himself.
“How can Hyejin share the same tree branch with him,” Hoseok wondered aloud.
“I need another drink,” Yoongi said, getting up.
The others seemed to decide to follow when they eyed Namjoon, who was staring at the table in front of him while trying to decide something. He was the only one not moving away and Taehyung smacked Jungkook’s shoulder amicably so the youngster would be assured that leaving them alone was okay.
Namjoon reached for Angie’s hand on her lap and she turned to him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she assured him with a quick smile.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“But you just said you’re uncomfortable moving.”
He was fully leaning into her now, fixed on her glistening eyes and quite alienated from the rest of the party.
“Yeah, I am with him.” She underlined with clear aversion before her features softened. “I would be comfortable with you, however.”
He smiled and it reached his heart. His dimples were showing.
“I can’t. Too many eyes.”
“It’s just a dance.” Her smile was fading as she understood what was happening.
“I doubt I could keep my hands off you.” His mouth spoke faster than it should have, but it was truthful. He was nothing but himself, he was confident.
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
Their eyes were locked as they let the silence surround them. His hand was still holding hers on her lap, he was definitely too close not to be obvious to any bystander and life… He only had the one.
“When are you leaving?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
He nodded with a sad smile, he only could have hoped.
“Would you… have time to be with me?”
He was caressing her hand before he looked up to her eyes.
She was grinning, “Hyejin is leaving on her honeymoon tomorrow. I have all the time in the world until Monday.”
He nodded, “Then stay with me.”
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galazry · 4 months
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Finally... a glance...
pairing: best friend!scaramouche x gn!reader genre: modern au; friends to lovers; unfortunately, this is not angst; semi-crack? tbh i threw away all my logic while writing this. content: he finally confessed his feelings... at the worst possible way. before you could even answer, scaramouche had already run away. now you're left alone to wonder... how much of an idiot are you? cw: you get to learn how stupid both scaramouche and the reader are, also kazuha is here and is so tired with how his friends are acting. word count: 2K (I had a bit too much fun while writing this haha...) a/n: sequel to "Look at Me!". tbh i was planning to make a sequel that leads to an angsty ending. Don't worry, I'm not bamboozeling you guys this time 🫶 ALSO I'M SORRY THIS TOOK A LONG TIME I WAS SO BUSY 😭😭😭
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It's been a week since Scaramouche confessed his feelings for you. Your aloof best friend for 5 years confessed that he had been harboring affection for you for the longest time. To be honest, you were quite baffled once those words poured out of his lips. Never had a single thought of him being infatuated with you crossed your mind. Hell, you even thought that if you were the last person on earth, he wouldn't even catch any feelings for you.
Oh, how you were proven wrong.
It's been too long since you've seen his figure. Seven days too long. None of the messages you've sent had been read, nor did he pick up any of your calls. His classmates knew nothing of his whereabouts, nor did he attend any of his classes. You even tried to go over to his apartment as you were sure he would be in there, but your knocks were met with silence.
The rest of your friends and classmates noticed how the usually lively atmosphere around you had gone gloomy. Currently, you were in the cafeteria, twiddling with your spoon, food untouched. You didn't really have an appetite as a heavy sigh left your lips. A week had pass and you were still trying to process everything that he had said; how Scaramouche had done everything to gain your attention, but all his efforts didn't bear fruit. You thought that all the things he had done were normal since you both had been best friends for a long time. Maybe it was why you didn't suspect him harboring feelings for you–
"Hey, [Y/N]. May I sit here?"
You begrudgingly lifted your head to the source of the familiar sound that had interrupted your thoughts. Kazuha. You nodded and your friend sat across from you.
"You seemed down in the dumps lately. Not only that, Scaramouche is nowhere to be found. Did you both had an argument of the sort?"
Leave it to Kazuha to sense the change in the atmosphere around you. You let out a sigh as you kept poking at your food. Not wanting to tell him the full truth, you only answered him briefly.
"No... No, we didn't."
"Ah, I see.”
You both continue to eat your food in silence – well, specifically, it was Kazuha who was eating his food, while you kept twiddling with your utensils. After a bit, you decided to break the silence. After all, this was Kazuha, one of your closer friends who, more you would sometimes confide in. Not as much as you did with Scaramouche, though.
“Actually… I guess we kind of did…? Scara kind of…” You take a deep breath, before muttering, “confessed to me…”
“Oh? Congrats to you both then. He finally had the courage to confess to you after harboring his feelings for you for so long. I don't see the reasoning for you to be so down in the dumps.”
Kazuha smiled, as if the words you said wasn’t a surprise to him. You, however, had your eyes as wide as saucers with the reaction he had given you. How did the platinum-blonde knew that Scaramouche liked you? The look on your face tells him that he was missing a big chunk of the story. Putting down his spoon, he leaned closer towards you and asked, “[Y/N], you did accept his feelings… right? This is what you have always wanted, no?” You slowly glanced away, not wanting to answer his question. Suddenly, to you, the trees outside looked that much more interesting as it swayed with the wind.
“[Y/N].”
“Look, I was shocked, alright?! The fact that the feeling was mutual was a complete shocker to me! And before I could process everything and answered him, he bolted right off!" You groaned, finally starting to spill the beans towards your friend, who suddenly felt his shoulders getting heavy.
“Oh dear…” Kazuha sighed as everything finally clicked into place. Even without you telling him the full details, he could already guess what had transpired between the two of you. He had always thought you both were a pair match in heaven and the event that had transpire prior really sealed said fact.
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“This is why I told you to stop discussing your so-called ‘crushes’ in front of him.”
“Well…” After telling him the full story of what had happened that day, your friend could only let out a long and tired sigh as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt—the way you kept talking about the people, he knows you don’t have crush on in front of Scaramouche, and the way the indigo-haired confessed to you—he could only form a rueful frown on his face. “You know I’m stupid with these kinds of things and I thought if… you know…”
Kazuha knows. He knows how you thought that if you discuss your so-called 'crushes' with Scaramouche, you could discern if he has feelings for you as well. In addition to that, you also thought by making him jealous enough, your best friend would confess to you — which he did, though it didn't really end like how you wanted it.
"[Y/N]... Why couldn't you just be straightforward and confess your feelings for him...?"
"And look like a fool and possibly ruin our 5 years of friendship if the feeling wasn't mutual?!"
Kazuha massages his forehead as he remembers the conversation he had with Scaramouche weeks prior before the incident. He too had asked the indigo-haired why he didn't went up and be straightforward with his feelings. Scaramouche was, after all, infamous for speaking what's on his mind. In spite of that, Kazuha got the same answer like the one you gave him...
"There's no way I'm ruining my friendship with [Y/N] if the feeling wasn't mutual! Only an idiot would do that!"
To concur, you both really were a match in heaven— being total idiots oblivious to each others feelings and poor Kazuha was stuck in the middle. With a sigh, ruby orbs looked at you.
"So... What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know... Scara wouldn't even open the door for me-"
You stopped mid-sentence and stared at Kazuha. Before he could get a word out, you leaned towards him with a glint he knows so well. This can't be good...
"Kazuha... Your apartment is next to Scara's... right?"
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A week.
A week long he had taken absence from attensing any of his classes. Scaramouche felt like his world crashed into him the minute he ran away from you. That wasn't how he wanted the confesion for you to go... There should have been flowers, or homemade cookies, anything.
The indigo-haired layed on his unmade head, constantly and silently cursing himself for his cowardly actions. He was about to mope some more when he heard a faint knock. At first, he ignored it, thinking that it was either you or Kazuha. Although, the knocks grew louder and louder, and even more desperate that, with a sigh, he got out of bed and walked towards the door.
Peering through the peephole he saw no one, yet the knocks kept coming. There was even a voice that kept calling out his name where was—
Indigo orbs dilated when they say your figure, on his balcony, pounding on the glass door, calling out his name. Without missing a beat, he immediately pulled you into his apartment. "Are you crazy?! How did you get into my balcony?!"
"From Kazuha's balcon-"
"FROM KAZUHA'S BALCONY?!?!"
He didn't gave you any time to reply as he began to check for any bruises or injury you may have suffered as you did your irresponsible stunt. All the while, he kept running his mouth, saying how you could have gotten hurt, and that he would have a talk with Kazuha for letting you do said stunt. Once he was sure that you did not suffer any injury, his hand immediately pinched your cheek. "[Y/N] [L/N]... What gave you the right idea to jump from his balcony to mine, hm?" Scaramouche asked with a smile, effectively sending chills down your spine. With a gulp, you answered him with as much confidence as you could muster.
"You kept avoiding me. My text, my calls, my knocks. Every time I try so hard to reach out to you, you constantly block out my efforts. So I had to do what I had to do. Even if the risk was great, as long as I get to talk to you that's all that matters." It was his turn to advert your gaze. Dropping his hands from your cheek, he then rubbed the back of his neck. Was it from shame? Or was the fear of you rejecting him now back to gnaw at his heart? The indigo-haired didn't know.
"Look, I know what you're going to say; That you have no feelings for me, I get it. No need for this whole stunt just to reject me," He let out a sigh, still holding onto the illusion that you never once hold any feelings for him. It was now your turn to prove him wrong, and to apologize for the misunderstanding that almost rift your friendship and potential relationship apart.
His eyes went as wide as saucers when your lips brushed against his. Soft. That was the only think he could think off once you pull away, the smile he had always adored and cherish now on your face. "I have feelings for you too, Scara." Suddenly, the dullness of the world around him became vibrant and colourful. The fluttering of the butterflies in his stomach could definitely cause a storm. This must be a dream, there's no way, in his mind, that this was all real. Or maybe it was some sort of cruel joke the heavens is playing on him.
Seeing the confusion reflected in his eyes, you explained to your best friend — how you actually had fallen head over heels for him; how you faked all your crushes to instigate a reaction from him; how you wonder if his aloofness was a sign that your feelings weren't reciprocated, but never did you once gave up. You wrapped everything up with an apology, that you could have done things better, and that you were ready to face a rejection from him. "After all," your hand cups his cheek, caressing it gently with your thumb, "this whole thing started because I wanted to make sure that you did have feelings for me. So, if your feelings for me have faded away, I would understa-"
"Idiot." He intercepts you mid-sentence, pulling you in for a hug. "You're stupid... Can't believe that you are a total idiot... Maybe this is the reason why you could never beat my scores... Always taking the most difficult and strangest route of them all." You were about to complain and ask about the correlation about academic scores and your current situation. However, the rare smile on his face as he looked at you as if you're his entire world completely shuts you up.
"But... I guess you're my idiot now, huh?"
.
.
.
You finally finished telling the story of how both you and Scaramouche started dating. The children, that you both were babysitting, had happy smiles on their face as your lover groans in embarrassment at the story. To the man, it was a cringey story, yet he never did once try to stop you from telling the kids about how your relationship with him started. He loved seeing the smile on your face, and if he had to endure hearing the same story over and over again, so be it.
Scaramouche wouldn't admit that he too, at that time, had been an idiot, for causing such a scene. Well, in the end, you both still got together and that's all that matters. Not to mention, you both have a fun story to tell to everyone as an added bonus.
Once the children's parents picked them all up, you both then snuggled on the couch. A soft humming filled the room as you gave Scaramouche a quick peck. "Hey," you started off and he immediately knows where this conversation is going. "One day, love. Right now, I want to savour these quiet and tranquil moments with you before this home of ours becomes lively and we have little spawns running around." He let out a small chuckle, holding your hand as his thumb traced the ring on your finger.
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eavee-ry · 4 months
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i actually have some questions regarding island of the slaughter as I'm wanting to do a sequel/spinoff fanfic but I want to make sure not to mess up your vision.
Are the spirits trapped to certain parts of the island unable to move about or are they able to move about the island freely (they just can't get off)
Are they hostile and bloodthirsty towards everyone that enters the island now like the man that killed them or was McLean just marked for death because he was the one that caused the whole situation in the first place?
(to kind of go with the above) if say a castaway were to end up on the island would they need to follow the rules to avoid risking the spirts' wrath or was that all essentially and elaborate prank to mess with Chris's head before doing him in in?
Are there any canon Island of the slaughtered ships I need to keep in mind?
Could someone in theory repair the spirits?(unsew Owen give Heather a body al la reverse headless horseman ect.)
Sorry for all the questions I just want to make sure I get this right. 😅
Okay you really are invested with IOTS TYSMM
1. The spirits are able to move around freely, but their designated places are like their home (or spawn point idk😭)
2. The campers weren’t familiar with Alejandro nor Sierra, but still, they may come as hostile if they feel threatened— so yeah, pretty much anyone who would enter the island would be at risk of dying in the campers’ hands if they break their boundaries (Chris is their #1 target though)
3. Same answer as #2!
4. There aren’t any ships canon in IOTS but Duncan and Courtney! I’m quite fond of NoCo in the story though, but it can be viewed as a friendship or more.
5. No i like bullying them
6. I know IOTS is “all over the place” since it was just a thing I made for fun, and I understand if people get confused! I just really like it when viewers can interpret some of the open-ended stuff
also I love the theories that you guys made! they’ll never be confirmed though since I gave up on the series now😥
also i’ve seen people say Alejandro and Sierra were the killers even though they first arrived on the island with Chris (you can make AUs of it dw, just don’t claim it’s true😭)
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brailsthesmolgurl · 7 days
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RETRIBUTION
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SEQUEL TO DAMNNATION. kindly read the prequel to get a better idea on the story's direction. I know I promised an alternate ending, where angst is not involved, but I want to prolong this pain for you masochists :> Enjoy this long, hefty, and incredibly hurtful read. But, it is okay my lovelies, I shall have a good-comforting parallel-universe ending written for you guys this week. SOOO pls do keep up with my profile :)
The legend goes on, with the God of the Sea failing to protect his beloved. His fate was decided for him by his people, but now, he shall take fate upon his own hands and remake his own endings. But, does fate falter? Even to a God?
Warnings: Angst Angst Angst Angst, Spoiler to Rafayel's Lore and I put in some of my own zesty twists to the lore, Deaths and Bloods and some okay maybe not some descriptive gore.
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Rafayel walked across the sandy paths of Lemuria, in his human form, with his beloved laid peacefully in his arms. Rafayel did not even bothered to shift back into his merman form as he wanted to dedicate the mundane's death to his people. Or rather, to show how much he loves her, by being a shadow of her, a human, walking amongst Lemuria. A promise he had always given her.
"You promise to show me Lemuria someday right?" He remembered the way her face would light up when he tells her stories of Lemuria. From how Lemurians had sourced for various kinds of sea stones from different parts of the ocean to build their homes to how Lemurians were created, to what do their daily routines consists of and many other kinds of stories that a man could ever dream of hearing from an actual Lemurian.
There was not a moment that y/n was ever bored of it. Instead, whenever he visits, it naturally became a conversation starter. Y'n would ask him of the most random things. "So do Lemurians possess any gardrobes?" Rafayel nearly spat his tea out, snapping his head towards her when she mentioned about toilets as they were having snacks in the middle of the night within her chambers. "Or perhaps they just do their business wherever they are allowed to---" Before she could even finished, Rafayel would have his hand on her lips, to silence her before she continue ruining his appetite for the rest of the night.
The swipe of his fingers on her pale lips reminded him of those days. She is no longer smiling now, eyes and mouth closed, her skin looked ghoulish under the water, skin reflecting light whenever the lightning above struck the surface of the sea. Rafayel's face is a sheet of calm demeanour, but the soul that lays beneath the hunk of this man is a roaring sea, just like how he summoned for the storm before he stepped foot into the vast ocean.
Fishes and various kinds of sea creatures that used to swim along the pathways are not seen nor found within miles of Rafayel's sight. None of them were brave enough to be within his presence as they knew the aura that Rafayel had emitted. It is no doubt that sea creatures are much smarter than Lemurians. Every step he took made the sea creatures scattered further away, burying deeper into their hideouts, scared for their lives.
Rafayel stood in front of his kingdom, eyes pinned against the marble white towers that he calls home. Cheers and laughters could be heard from the banquet hall, where the Lemurians were probably herded, awaiting for his return for a grand celebration towards the revival of Lemuria. But Rafayel was far from a celebratory mood. "We have arrived, my love." His voice monotonous, no hints of happiness nor giddiness, nor sadness, nor disappointment. Just numbness. A man with feelings bears empathy and sympathy, but, a man without feelings bears emptiness, null and void of all emotions.
He continued his course, holding onto y/n tighter in his arms. He had the initial thought of wanting her body to rest within his chambers before he commits bloodshed. But, having an audience might not be a bad idea. Instead, Rafayel wanted this. He knew that she could not be able to tell nor see, nor to be there to stop him, but he wanted her soul to watch him commit this, to execute damnation upon his kind. All he wanted, was to show her how much he loves her, to the point he is willing to do this, to be a mad man.
The heavy doors leading to the banquet hall slowly opened with a chant of a spell. Rafayel's eyes staring straight ahead, his once two-toned irises had now dissolved to be a dark maroon colour. His guess was right, all of the Lemurians were gathered within this hall, laughters and conversations filled the environment. But, almost abruptly, the laughters and conversations seized, and Rafayel could care less about the whispers that started to take place within the silence.
It did not took long before some of the Lemurians sensed something was off and they started swimming towards the heavy doors. Rafayel chanted something under his breath and the doors slammed right in front of their faces. The ones who tried to escape were shocked, but none of them made their move to question why the God of the Sea had a dead girl with a gaping orifice on her chest within his arms and why did he chose to present himself in a miniature form of a mere mortal. Practically the size of an ant compared to the average 2m Lemurians surrounding him.
"Your highness!" Arvia was initially cheerful, emerging from the crowd before he spotted the girl the God was holding onto. He stopped in his tracks, wanting to turn back before he felt a strong force pulling him towards Rafayel. Arvia faced Rafayel, eyes bulging when the invisible force coiled around his neck. "Your highness.... please!" The young merman coughed, the crowd watching in horror.
"You were the messenger weren't you?" Rafayel asked, eyes looking past the young merman, not even sparing him any last bits of attention.
"I was only...executing...what...was being....told..." The merman replied, his breath getting more restricted by every passing second. "I did...not...know...of...the ceremony. Please...I just want to save---"
"Your highness, no!" A mermaid appeared from the crowd, with blonde hair curling like tendrils on land, hazel eyes staring at the young merman before darting over to Rafayel's figure. She happened to be Arvia's mother. "He did what he have to...To save us all." Her sentence made Rafayel's right eye twitched slightly, fueling the God's wrath even more. "Then," Rafayel turned his head and angled it upwards to stare at her right into her eyes. His dark eyes could quite literally burn a hole through her soul as she finds herself talking back to a God. Not just any God at this moment, for he has taken his stance as a vengeful God. "Should it be justified? That I am only doing this to save my beloved?" Before the mother could even say anything, Rafayel only exhaled his breath and Arvia's head immediately got cut off clean by the invisible force. The head's eyes blinked a couple of times, floating upwards towards the surface, while its body sank onto the sea floor, twitching as it goes down. Blood seeping out into the ocean waters, creating symbols guided by the waves.
Lemurians within the banquet hall went into immediate panic, screaming and screeching, wanting to leave the banquet to save themselves. Rafayel looked up, watching as the Lemurians tried to flee. Like a bunch of fishes trapped within a fisherman's net, pushing against one another and fighting for whatever that is left for their puny lives. His voice was hushed, but clear enough to be heard within the hall. "Don't worry my people, you shall only feel the hurt that I had felt." And all of the screams halted.
...
Amund dragged himself across the sea floor, a trail of blood painted by his very own body fluids. The man was in agonizing pain, nearly to the point of passing out. Just a while ago, he was getting all cozy within his own chambers before he heard loud screams that travelled through the sea rifts. But it did not took long before it stopped so he took no mind to it, figuring it was just another norm for those celebratory parties. Not segregating the mischievious ones from the docile ones, that is just an invitation for a mishap to happen at a party.
He heard a swoosh coming from the side of his house and his door slammed open to reveal the God of the Sea, in his mundane form, covered in splatters of blood from head to toe. Amund's jaw dropped when the screams finally registered into his head. The screams may just be caused by this man standing right in front of him. The very girl Amund had tortured set securely within Rafayel's arms. Rafayel's unusual calm demeanour is not part and parcel of his personality, which further solidified Amund's questions to himself.
"Your high---" Amund was literally smashed through the walls of his house and the merman landed roughly onto the sand pile behind his house. Rafayel walked through the hole, eyes still hollow and face expressionless. "Pleas---" Another slam through another wall. And this repeated for a couple of times, until Amund was laying on the sandy pathway in the village, blood pooling out of his mouth. He tried to escape, pushing himself up and trying his best to get his tail to wag so he could generate enough momentum to give him a boost off of the ocean floor.
"It was a fairly easy instruction." Rafayel spoke, finally. Maroon eyes boring into Amund's skull. "And yet, you failed." Rafayel knelt down, showing Amund the girl he was holding onto the whole time. "You had deeply failed me, Amund. And you had failed Lemuria." Rafayel stood back up on his feet, licking his lips and looking back towards the towers that he had walked out from. "For what you had done to her, death would only be the easy way out for you." Rafayel's eyes turned a darker shade and Amund let out a blood curdled scream, begging for his highness' mercy.
It has been a while, with Amund crawling on the sea floor. Dirt and rubble trapped under the old man's nails. Some of his nails however, were ripped off due to him being tossed around---his failure to hold onto anything to slow down the impact, caused some of his nails to be ripped right off of his fingertips during the impact---with Rafayel's invisible force whenever he tried to plead for the God's mercy.
Rafayel had managed to pluck out the merman's scale, piece by piece. Lemurians scale are used to make lethal weapons not only on land, but also in the waters. Yet, they are the hardest to harvest as pulling off ONE scale would equate to a human ripping off their whole scalp in one go. So, one could only imagine the pain Amund is going through currently. Amund could barely crawl, eyes swollen from the sand that had entered his tear duct and hoarse voices turned into silenced croaks.
If Rafayel was not holding onto his beloved, he would have easily been the one to pluck out Amund's scales one by one. Rafayel's blinding rage had deluded his mind, as he watched the merman who is the reason behind his lover's death. "She was going to be my mate, my lifetime mate, for this upcoming season, do you know that?" Rafayel scoffed, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.
"But you had to just test my patience, and my capabilities as the God of the Sea. Hence, what you had experienced today, shall never equate to the pain you made me go through. For you had taken my fate, my people's fate upon your own hands." He gave Amund a good kick and the guy groaned in agony, facing down as he regurgitated blood. "What I did today, was nothing but a mere taste of what I am capable of. AS A GOD." His last sentence carried a strong surge of disgust, his bloodlust psyche temporarily separated his status between Amund, an ordinary merman and himself, which is made to be a God.
"I curse...curse her." He managed to choke out and Rafayel's eyes widened, immediately leaping forward to grab the merman's head to face him. The merman croaked out his very last laugh, taunting Rafayel's actions and the last sentence of his was spoken in Lemurian, a rendition of a chant to curse y/n to be reincarnated into a sea witch.
Rafayel's blink of an eye sparked his evol, and he stood there, watching the eternal flames that was casted on Amund burn the merman from what was left of him into a pile of dust, waiting to be consumed by the planktons that lives within the sea water's ecosystem. Tears unknowingly flowed down his cheek and trickled onto his lover's face. The show is over and so is his wish to see her to be a mundane again in her next life. Rafayel held her corpse closely and tightly to his body, soft sobs finally leaving his lips as he faltered to the sea floor.
...
Hundreds of years has passed. And hundreds of years, Rafayel had travelled the seas to search for her. To at least sense any signs of her presence. Ever since the massacre, Rafayel was tied down by his own guilt, for not only failing to protect his lover, but also being the sole reason for the extinction of Lemurians. How uncanny, a legend that tells the tale of a God seeking vengeance upon his own kind just because they had killed his one and only lover. That tale would surely be pure nonsensical or would and could possibly generate pure hatred from anyone who hears it.
Rafayel could care less, like how he heard the screams of his people in their very last moments, the sound of blood and tears splattered across the once white and pristine walls that they were confined within. The sound of Amund begging not to be killed---with his throat slowly giving up on him---the last curse that he uttered and the last sounds that had bubbled from him when he was lit up with Rafayel's evol.
A hint of humming caught his ears and the man stopped his movements, ears twitching in directions to catch onto the tune. A tune only he has ever whistled. With a gesture, dolphins came surrounding the God in circles, by command. "Find out the source for me, yeah?" Rafayel asked and the circling dolphins chirped in return before they dispersed into all directions.
Rafayel's heart skipped a beat, out of nervousness? He had no idea, he still has not gotten used to the idea of his heart being whole again. Because his heart has only been whole only when he was with her. He does not need a whole heart, he only needs her to fill in for the whole of his heart. And for that moment, he shall forever await.
One of the dolphins returned, whistling back to catch the God's attention. Rafayel looked up, and without hesitation, grab ahold onto the dolphin's fin and he was led towards the source of the humming. The dolphins brought him through the kelp grounds, where his people would usually come by to forage for food when they migrate to the northern side for warmer waters during the changing in seasons.
The dolphin led him to the side of the cliff, where it plunges down to the deepest part of the ocean. Creatures beneath those waters are indespicable, and no Lemurians had ever dived that deep. And that includes the God of Sea himself. The humming came again, this time further confirming that the source of the sound came from down below. Rafayel turned around to look for the dolphin, but the poor creature had left him all alone the moment it dropped him off here.
With a deep breath and a puff of his chest, the purple haired God swam deep into the dark waters below. All of his senses heightened to the max as he himself would not expect what he might encounter. Legends were told that there lives a sea serpent so huge that it could engulf the whole world if it awakes. And that was the only legend that still kept Rafayel on edge till now.
His fear dissipated almost instantly when he spotted a faint light in the far distance within the dark. You see, Lemurians although are half-fish and half-man, they do not possess infrared vision that allows them to see in the depths. Within the depths, Rafayel's flames do not work as well as this is the place where Gods are not exactly welcomed. He sped up his swimming when he noticed the light bounces further down into the dark. Pause. Then the light comes back up, but this time, at a very high speed.
Noticing a huge shadow, Rafayel turned and immediately started charging full speed towards the cliff again. But due to the darkness of the waters around him, the God found himself entrapped in the darkness, bumping and hitting himself against the cliffside. The bone-crushing, chomping sounds that came from behind him made him not-one-bit curious to see what was actually chasing him. Right when he was about to be gnawed by a creature, he heard a voice calling out in a language he had not heard of and he blacked out.
...
"I think he is waking up." A voice whispered next to Rafayel. "His eyes are fluttering."
"Is it? Oh yeah, he does look like he is awakening." Another voice intruded, deeper, but not enough to be known as a man's voice.
Rafayel slowly opened his eyes, before he was met with two snailfishes. One with a red while another is tinted with a blue hue. His eyes darted in between the two fishes as he was trying to comprehend if they were the ones talking earlier.
"Good morning." The red one spoke and Rafayel gasped, moving away from the fish. His pupils blown out as he was shocked. He has seen fishes all of his life, but he had never encountered talking fishes. EVER. But making spells to make fishes talk is definitely a skill only a sea witch possesses. This gave Rafayel a thought, maybe she felt lonely down here so she made herself some friends.
"You scared him Red." The blue one spoke this time, and it swam closer towards Rafayel, using its spiny fins to mimic how a mundane would usually talk. Gestures, as what was taught to the snailfishes, is a common courtesy of good body language to humans. But given the snailfishes had never been in contact with any humans, they took the closest resemblance to what their highness looked like. Rafayel looked just like a human to them.
With parted hair and two eyes, a nose and a lip. He is obviously a human to their knowledge. "We are not going to hurt you." The blue fish gestured it's small fins in circles, speaking slowly for each word, afraid that the man before it would not understand them. "Our master ask us to care for you as she went out to gather some food."
"Who is your master?" Rafayel asked as he sat up, kindly hoping that it was the girl he had awaited for many years. "Where is she?" His excitement made him winced, his head still hurts, a side effect of a sea witch's spell.
The feel of the water temperature shifting made the two snailfishes swam off to one of the tunnels. Rafayel took this time to observe his surroundings. Contrast to the dark waters he was in just now, he is currently in a cave like structure, with huge seaweeds and some pebbles laid out beneath him and a sea lantern hung up at every corner of the cave to provide some decent lighting. For a moment, he did not believe that he is in a sea witch's abode.
The walls had paints on them, some forming artworks of the seas above, and some were writings written in what Rafayel assumed to be sea witch's language. Rafayel stopped at one of the drawings, it was a rough sketch of Lemuria. Seeing the sketch, his breath hitched in his throat. The past memories of his massacre surfacing again but he forced it down. Not willing to show weakness in such a foreign territory. Below the sketch, there were symbols that Rafayel could not read. But he decided not to further crack his head.
The fishes returned and Rafayel's heart dropped to the bottom of his tail when he was met with her. The girl who he had always been waiting, the girl he had committed massacre for, the girl that had made him suffer with loneliness for the past hundred years. Y/n is now in front of him, but other than human legs, it was swapped with a black and singular long tail, resembling one a Moray eel has. Her once brunette curls took on a much darker shade, the same as the waters below here. The curse happened after all, for she had became the sea witch of the depths.
"You are awake." Y/n spoke and oh how he missed her voice. The voice that produces the best laughters and asked the most silly questions. Yet, with this version of her, her voice held none of those characteristics he remembered. It was deadpanned, the lack of emotions nearly made Rafayel winced. With his lack of a response, the sea witch looked towards both of her friends. "Does he happen to be a mute?"
"He spoke to us just now, but more like engaged us in a question or two." The blue snailfish chirped, swimming back to the side of Rafayel. The same fin that used to make gestures came to give a pat onto Rafayel's cheek and the merman turned to look at the fish in question. Seeing Rafayel's reaction, the fish hurriedly swam back to its master. "He is a human as you described right? Right, master?"
"Not quite, Blue." Ironic, Rafayel thought. It is very ironic of her to name things exactly based on the way they looked. It has always been a habit of hers. She placed the seashells she had harvested neatly onto the floor and she swam over to have a closer look at Rafayel. "I think, his origins are of a mermaid." Her eyes are now a different shade of colour, black irises match the shade of her pupils. Another staple for a sea witch. "I apologise for the black out you had to experience earlier on. I had to cease the Angler Fish from rising towards the surface as I did not want it to disturb the ecosystem as of above."
"Do you know of my name?" Rafayel asked, a glimmer of hope shined in his eyes as he really wished for her to remember at least a slither of memory of him. For he had been her one and only lover in her past life. But with the way she raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, his hope got extinguished like a fire that could not be ignited.
"What do you seek for, Lemurian?" Y/n swam back towards the pile of sea shells she had collected and she grabbed one of the bottles from above her shelf. Examining the shells one by one before placing them into the bottle, only the ones that has spots on them would be chosen while the other would be tossed aside and the two snailfishes seem to be having a feast with the leftovers.
The turn of her head got her to look him right into his eyes. The warm glow emitting from the sea lantern casting a soft glow on her face. Just like the time when he held her in his arms, on top of the rock. He tore his eyes away from her, his cheeks burning from how affected he was from her gaze. But he answered her. "I came here for a potion. A potion to cure me from my wandering heart." ...
It took y/n 100 days, a cycle between 50 days and 50 nights to produce the potion that Rafayel had requested for. Shortly after the interaction, Rafayel had returned back to the shallow seas, as he could not bear to watch the love of his life not knowing him for who he is and who he was to her.
His last words to her before he departed to the shallows was, "Once the potion has been completed, I shall meet you at the sea stacks by dawn. The one far north." He said, index finger pointing towards the said direction. His eyes does not meet hers before he left. That was how heartbroken he was. His heart wearing him down day by day as he waited for the potion to be crafted.
During the 100 days of wait, he kept going back and forth between the waters and land to keep himself occupied. But the land served him better as the mourning of the princess had ended long ago. When the princess went missing, the King sent out every single one of his troops to search for the lost princess.
Rafayel purposely placed her back onto the sea stacks so she could be found easily. Knowing the God, he would have kept her by his side even if she were to be nothing but a bag of bones, but he knew, her people would want to know of her whereabouts. Even if it would only bring them to her corpse. He could not give himself anymore liberty to take her away from her people, like how he had singlehandedly perished the people of his kingdom. He did not turned his head back at all once he had left her there, swimming away in full speed so that he would not be discovered and caught, and to save himself from crying anymore.
The beloved princess' death was mourned by all. Every citizen within the Kingdom's grounds were in tears, regardless if its a man or a woman, an adult or a child. That was how loved she was. Her people mourned for her for nearly five decades, and that was how long Rafayel refused to surface and to walk on land. Every time he closed in to the shores of her kingdom, the sounds of the cries of her people would strike his ears. He became so used to it that he would visit the same place every day, by dusk, just to silently cry and mourn with the people of her kingdom.
He would not even go anywhere near his kingdom either. For it was filled with the bones of his people. The people that he used to cherish, that he would always go back to. But now, all he returns to, is a dead and eerie silence. The bloody stains of his people had now hardened, taken over by sea crustaceans as Lemurian blood offers a lot of benefits to the sea creatures. If any Lemurians lived past that day, Rafayal would definitely earn the title of 'The God Who Went Deranged'.
The day has finally came, where they shall rejoice by the sea stacks. Rafayel was already waiting there since dusk, body floating above the waters, facing up towards the bright skies painted in pastel yellows and reds. Blobs of clouds that seemed so edible Rafayel wished he could fly instead of swim. A bunch of bubbles surfaced next to him and he slightly turned his head, watching as she emerged from the waters, holding two vials in her hand. Her face expressionless and cold as the first time he had met her in this life.
"Here." She handed him one of the vials and he took it, repositioning himself from having to float, to facing her directly. "Are you sure this is what you desire?" Her question caught his attention, his mixture of lilac-lapis orbs stared into her obsidian ones. "Because your memories will be perished forever, do you know that?"
Rafayel looked at the vial, the contents of the fluid is watery, and takes on a sheen of coral-like pink. "My mind is set." His eyes caught her again. "This is what I had desired when I met you that day." His words although does not hold any meaning to the sea witch, but it held meanings that one could never fathom, within the God of Sea's memories.
"This is usually done between two, one to forget while the other to contain the forgotten memories." She explained, holding up the vial to her eye level as she continued. "And since you do not have anyone you want to consume this with, I shall be the one to contain your forgotten memories."
As expected, Rafayel knew she was going to say this. He had never once mentioned anything about the Lemurians being extinct. Neither did she asked. Always putting people ahead of herself, her nature still seeped through from her past life that it has easily become one of her core personalities even till now. Rafayel silently sighed in his own mind when he looked at this woman in front of him. The lover that he had sworn his life to, became the lover that was seemingly a stranger to him.
"We shall consume this together, and with a chant of a spell, hence the void of the memory shall take upon its place." Rafayel pulled the cap open, mirroring her actions and they drank the mixture together. Rafayel winced at how bitter the content tasted but y/n seemed unaffected, as sea witches are not equipped with a sense of taste as most of their potions tasted wicked as their personalities had always been portrayed to be. "Well enough to start?"
"Hu-Ayr-Tey Ta-Fa-Fu-Lei." Rafayel chanted and he watched as y/n's eyes widened. Finally, a reaction from her. Not in the way he had hoped for a reaction of course. You see, Rafayel, being God of the Sea, although had never travelled through the deep waters and had never knew of the Sea Witches' language, but the spells equipped by the sea witches were born out of a God's nature. Should there be benevolence, there shall be malevolence. Just like how Rafayel's massacre is a proof of a God's malevolent nature taking place physically, a sea witch's spells are born out of a God's mentally twisted nature.
"What have you done?!" She held onto her neck, feeling herself struggling to breathe as her neck is closing up on her. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" She raised her voice, looking at him with anger that starts to paint her face a shade of red. "How do you know of this spell?!" She was in disbelief, eyes shooting daggers into the merman in front of her. Rafayel showed no amusement though, his eyes although were entirely focused on her, his heart crushed.
Fate in general, creates thousands and millions of possibilities towards one's ending. For a God, fate should easily be nothing but a just another miniscule issue within their palms. But for Rafayel, the moment he fell for a mundane, was the moment he signed a blackmail for himself. He has to gamble with fate now, just like with any other mere mortal. The only advantage he got is that he could look into the near future to help him better plan out his upcoming course of actions.
This happening now, marks one of his course of actions. The fate he had chosen was to kill y/n with his own hands, so she could be reincarnated to be a human in her next life. Then, he could take place as a man, on the land, seeking for her love and attention, just like how a mere mortal would. Yes. Rafayel, the God of the Sea, would risk his status of being a God just to be a human, just to be with her. "This is the only way." He spoke to her, as he watched her slowly lose her memories to swim, her tail, now a pair of legs, flailing clumsily in an effort to save herself.
The spell that he had uttered, does not only make her forget her own identity, but it makes her forget everything, wiping everything off of her memory and giving her a clean slate. A reincarnated soul would always remember bits of their past lives, that is how deja-vu and realistic dreams come about. But this spell would wipe her memory of her past life as well. As bad as it sounds, Rafayel sees this as the only viable way for him to live his next life, having to protect her. All the other courses of action, would only lead to more bloodshed and he grew tired of it.
The tears came flowing again, watching his beloved struggle to breathe as she started to choke onto the seawater that is rapidly entering her lungs. Rafayel could only watch, he could not interfere as it would ruin the course of her next life. Heart wrenching, gut punching, every other word of torturous feeling would describe him perfectly at this moment.
Y/n reached out her hand to him, desperately looking at him and clawing for him, seeking for his help to drag her out and onto solid land. But his refusal seemingly made her accepted her fate. Her pupils then slowly stopped moving, her body slowly stopped thrashing and twitching as she continued descended deeper into the waters. A scene that reminded him deeply of Arvia during his last moments.
Once the bubbles had stopped surfacing out of her agape lips, Rafayel swam down as fast as he could, and he held her cold body in his arms again, closely studying her very last moments. Her eyes were opened, in a state of shock and acceptance, lips blue like the shade of his lapis-coloured eyes, tail had now taken form into two legs, her body stiff and hollow like how she was when he first found her in the past 100 years. The curse was finally broken, but it also broke Rafayel. With shaky breaths, he uttered. "In your next life, I promise you. I promise. You shall only ever hear of my name as to be Rafayel. I shall no longer...be the God of the Sea."
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Parallel Universe Ending is Out: Salvation
I love doubling the damage sometimes, this one-shot had became somewhat of a small series. I enjoyed using a bit of my gore movie visual experiences within this piece of writing. Thank you for the ones who wished for a sequel. I hope this makes you bawl your eyes out.
But do not worry, I am already starting on a not-so-angsty ending that takes place in a parallel universe. I don't think this series would continue on as I think it is best to leave it to you lovelies' vast imagination.
As usual, any requests you want me to write? I can write it for ya :)
Have a good day and pls cry for me lovelies :)
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coralinnii · 9 months
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❋ If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋
feat: Lilia genre: mild hurt/comfort, slow burn romance note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Lilia ver, no pronouns used, Lilia is depicted as his older appearance with long hair, human!reader, mentions of minor injuries unintentionally inflicted on reader, 1.6k word count 
I liivvveee! For now, anyway. I still have my job projects and finals are upon me but I finally found some time to myself so I hope you enjoy another addition to the Villain/ess!series. I might end up failing a class but I know it’s not the end of the world for me and I really enjoyed the class so I wouldn’t mind retaking the class.
Yeaa...this did not end up as domestic fluff
WARNING: This part has kinda hard-to-read topics regarding children and childrearing. Sometimes parents, guardians, caretakers and/or other children accidentally get injured by a child and the child doesn’t know how to get over that. We never want to blame the child for these mistakes but we want to make sure they can learn to avoid such mistakes again. This is an odd case since these are fictional non-human characters and some people can view Lilia as too harsh or see MC/reader as too lenient. I’ve seen parents approach this concern differently and honestly to me, the next course of action is never easy to figure out without truly discussing with the child and those involved.  I'm not saying whose method is right or wrong, I just wrote what would be the best course of action in this scenario. You might have your own opinions or approaches. Read at your own risk
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A lot has happened since your first visit to the Vanrouge household. Lilia surprised you by taking both of you into his home, protecting you while helping to raise the young Yung. He offered a room to the small dragon and one for yourself (though Yung still prefers to sleep in your bed with you). 
Speaking of Yung, he was still wary of Lilia and his servants, choosing to hide himself in your embrace or behind your legs. He refused to speak to anyone and if he needed something, he would whisper into your ears and being the pampering type, you would oblige. 
“Dear me, he seems to have really imprinted himself on you” Lilia chuckled casually but then he quickly hardened his gaze and the conversation turned more serious. “However, if he does not grow out from this phase, he may end up unable to control his dragon side and hurt himself or you” 
This worries you as you know due your knowledge from your previous life that Yung will grow to be very powerful but he fell victim to his own strength and destroyed himself with his power. 
Distressed, you begged Lilia to give his guidance as the former guardian of the Dragon King and with a playful smile, he gave an offer to you. 
“Very well, I will be his guide. But as a fair trade of service, why don’t you become my attendant? This would occupy your time and perhaps young Yung could use this to be a little more independent?” 
And thus began Yung’s days of torture as your new job constantly took precious time from him by Lilia. Yung can no longer ask for walks with you because you’re needed to look over some paperwork with the duke. Nights where you would lull him to sleep were getting less and less as Lilia requested your assistance in looking over some schedule details before the new day. And even when Yung gets to hang out with you, Lilia would almost always be there to monopolize your attention. 
At first, you decided to trust the young(?) duke and his tactics since you did come to him for his guidance anyway. Despite the rather playful demeanor he seems to have, Lilia seemed so confident to you and assured you time and time again that this is a rite of passage of sorts for fae like him and Yung since powerful beings like them must learn self-control before anything else. 
But self-control continues to elude Yung and it wasn’t long before the cute little dragon decided enough was enough.
“Wuv is mine! Mister duke go away!” 
To the best of his ability, Yung wrapped his short arms around your waist as he screamed at the duke. If Yung was any normal child, his growth would have been unprecedented as he was already walking (to chase after you and Lilia) and speaking fairly comprehensible sentences (to yell at Lilia). But as a fae, this was a typical growth spurt, quickly growing stronger and bigger than a typical human to ensure his survival. His physical strength was more obvious to you right now as the young child was unintentionally tightening his grip on you which started to hurt. 
“Yung, l-love” you tried to speak but it came out as a short gasp as the small fae ignored your call. His hands, while small, kept digging through your clothes and into your skin which made you wince slightly. You tried other means of grabbing the young one’s attention but all was moot as all of Yung’s focus zeroed in on Lilia alone, his eyes glowing a slightly menacing color and a glare reminiscent of a dragon ready to defend his territory.
“Sigh…you are still a foolish child” 
In an instant, the pain in your sides lessened as you found yourself in the arms of the duke instead of Yung’s hold. Both you and Yung were shocked by this sudden change of the situation. How did neither of you notice Lilia as he somehow managed to rip you out from the young dragon’s grip without his notice or harming you in the process? 
“Are these the skills of an experienced fae?” 
After looking over you for any major injuries, Lilia sighed again with slight disappointment, reminiscent of a father figure upset with a child that nearly broke something precious. “How can you protect your treasure when you can’t even protect them from yourself?” 
Following Lilia’s previous line of sight, Yung’s heart sank when he saw the torn fabric of your outfit. With his extraordinary senses, he caught glimpses of red lines across your skin through the ripped clothing. He instinctively reached out his small hand to you but saw his nails were longer and sharper, like talons of a dragon. 
He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. 
Yung broke into tears as those words cycled in his head, haunting him for his crime. You were instinctively pushing yourself from Lilia by the sound of his cries, running to enclose your arms around the poor fae child, holding him while softly giving words of comfort. 
“Love, I’m alright. It was an accident, I know that” 
 But Yung continued to sob and he apologized profusely, his voice getting sore from his cries. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Lilia stood still behind you, watching silently as you continued to console your child, wiping Yung’s tears and holding his small, shaking hands. 
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Night came and Lilia visited you in your room once the family doctor was done tending to your scratches. The head of the manor immediately called for the doctor but you refused to show your injuries while Yung was still panicking over the incident. It was only when Yung calmed down and stayed with him until he fell asleep in his room. You kept your smile as you downplayed your wounds, not letting Yung blame himself.
When Lilia entered your room with your permission, he shocked you as he said something unexpected. 
“I’m sorry.” He even bowed his head to you, showing the sincerity of his words.
You replied with confusion in your voice. “Pardon? What for?” 
“I expected that Yung was getting possessive of you but I didn’t think that you would get this hurt in my attempt to distance you two. I should have intervened sooner” 
Lilia held this guilt throughout the day, ashamed that he roped you into his little test for the dragon fae. He knew raising a powerful fae will be a rough journey, taking his experience from caring for Malleus. But if Lilia were the one to get hurt, it would be but a scratch that would heal in an instant. Whatever Yung would do, Lilia can handle it with ease. 
But you weren’t fae. You were a human that bleed at the lightest touch from his kind, that break much too easily, and perish much too soon. 
“You should leave this manor” Lilia stated with an uncharacteristically serious tone. “I will find a comfortable inn for you to stay in and provide other essentials until you can find another living situation to your liking” 
“Wait a minute!” You jumped from your seat, your mind thrown for a loop. “I can’t just leave, what will happen to Yung? It'll break his heart! I didn’t mean to inconvenience your grace and your plans but I’ll be care-“ 
“Do you not understand the dangers of your situation?” Lilia’s tone was ice cold. “You nearly bled from what Yung thought was a childish hug. What if he were to get angry one day and suddenly knock you unconscious? He is not a mere human child but a fae, and a strong one as well. You are a human that may die by his own hands” 
Silence filled your room as the weight of Lilia's words sink in.
You won’t lie, Yung’s nails were painful and your wounds still sting even after treatment. In the story from your past memories, Yung’s power will be on par with the current Dragon King, with the power to move mountains and call upon flames that would leave nothing in its path. Yung will continue to grow stronger and nothing you, a powerless human, can do that will be able to stop him. 
But still… 
“I stayed silent because I didn't know what would be good for Yung. But damn it, I love that child! As long as he needs me, I’ll be there for him” you locked eyes with the long-haired fae with determination. “He’ll become stronger, but he wouldn't hurt others. He is a happy, kind child"
"And how will you ensure that?"
"I will be there to make sure he stays that way” you made a bold choice, but you're confident in this. You were confident in your little Yung that he will go against his ending in that story nonsense of your previous world.
Crossing your arms, you made another bold comment.
“Besides…you still agreed to guide him. So, this will be a team effort” You were testing your luck but you assumed that should anything like today happen again, then you could always hide behind the great general Vanrouge. That's a team, right? Being able to depend on them during tough patches?
But Lilia stayed quiet and chose to simply match your stare with his. It was intimidating to have such an attractive man look at you with such intensity but you held your ground. You puffed out your chest and refused to look away from Lilia’s admittedly beautiful ruby-coloured eyes. 
Then…Lilia giggled. 
“Lilia, the renowned general…giggled….and it was so cute?!” 
You were taken aback when you saw a soft smile crept onto Lilia’s lips, so different from his mischievous grin whenever he scares you from behind during work or the confident smirk when he wins a round of a card game that you introduced to him from your original world. You were upset, offended even that he would giggle at your proud proclamation to care for Yung. But wow, he was really attractive doing so.
Not noticing your conflicted expression (or choosing to ignore it), Lilia placed a hand on your head, closer to your forehead, then moved slowly to caress your head. His touch was so gentle, careful not to scratch you or add unnecessary pressure. 
“He’s good at holding back his strength” you thought, only having heard the stories of the unbeatable general. Lilia is a playful man but his power is impressive even among other fae so this gentle side of him was a pleasant surprise to you.
“Goodness gracious, I wonder if this is where Yung gets his audaciousness from?” Lilia had a shine in his eyes as he kept his gaze on you, almost as though he was captivated by what he saw. “I look forward to your cooperation then, teammate”
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