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#also i was thinking about that if we’re in a dream whose dream is it and i think it’s narrow minded to say that it has to be yours. because
r3starttt · 3 months
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Cowgirl! Abby
a/n: I know shit about cowboy/girl stuff so let’s pretend everything makes total sense and it’s accurate to real life
Warnings: slight nsfw at the end
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- cowgirl! Abby who first saw you on a class you took to learn how to ride a horse and Immediately offered to be the one to teach you
- cowgirl! Abby who couldn’t stop staring at you when she helped you get on the horse and whose hands would hold yours until you kinda took them off because she wouldn’t let you go
- cowgirl! Abby who tried to act all confident but got extremely ashamed at what just had happen so couldn’t really focus on anything else anymore
- cowgirl! Abby who would praise you a lot for every small progress you made “just like that” “doing so good” and wouldn’t leave your side
- cowgirl! Abby who couldn’t stop smiling by how much you were struggling but also by how much progress you we’re making
- cowgirl! Abby who’s extremely kind with you and would answer all your questions with the most pretty voice you’ve ever heard
- “Is this supposed to hurt so much?” you complained, rearranging yourself on the saddle “if it hurts then you’re not doing it properly” you could see her approaching to you, her eyes locked in yours and her face a bit sweaty “you need to have a straighter posture”
- cowgirl! Abby who sees you getting tired and sweaty and insists you should take a break
- cowgirl! Abby that can’t stop flirting with you during your break and ends up giving you her number for future classes ofc
- cowgirl! Abby who finally invited you out after probably the fifth class
- cowgirl! Abby who felt completely enamored by everything about you after the date and knew you had to be the one
- cowgirl! Abby who invited you to a horse ride with her and did everything so you would go with her on the same horse
- cowgirl! Abby who felt extremely nervous by your touch on her waist
- cowgirl! Abby who took you to me most pretty valley you’ve ever seen and asked you to be her girlfriend
- cowgirl! Abby who told you how much she loved you only after a month of dating even though she was already planning a whole life with you the day you started to date
- cowgirl! Abby who thinks is hot as fuck whenever your riding a horse and can’t take her eyes off of you
- cowgirl! Abby who compliments you in the most sexual way posible but pretends it’s not on purpose “good girl” “atta girl” “doing so good baby”
- cowgirl! Abby who loves neck kisses and back hugs
- cowgirl! Abby who can’t let her hands off of your body and loves to put her hands on your hips and ass no matter the place
- cowgirl! Abby who definitely fucks rough but always makes sure you’re pleased and cared
- cowgirl! Abby who loves the way you taste and makes sure you know it
- cowgirl! Abby who leaves you with very visible hickeys so that “everyone knows who you belong to”
- cowgirl! Abby who adores making out and does everything to get what she wants
- cowgirl! Abby who always reminds you how much she loves you and spoils you a lot
- cowgirl! Abby who takes you to the valley she asked you to date just to do watch the sunset
- cowgirl! Abby who tells you how fucking gorgeous you look with the sunset light
- cowgirl! Abby who won’t admit how bad she dreams with living in a farmhouse with you and your horses. Watching every sunset together and going on rides every day.
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sturniozo · 3 months
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Savage Love
Matt Sturniolo x reader Mafia AU
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Summary: After a night out with her friends, Y/n wakes up in a hotel bed with a handsome stranger with no memory of the night before. Pieceing together what she can, she finds the man she woke up with wasn’t just some stranger, but the most powerful man in New York.
A/N: I’m basing all of my mafia knowledge on watching the god father when I was six and that one episode of community with the chicken fingers. Other than that I have no clue how mafia works so this might not be as good as you hope but hey I tried. Tell me if you want me to continue this though! I had fun writing it!
Masterlist
I never go out with my friends and I felt bad about it for a long time. But today, Emma convinced me to go dancing with her at a club in New York. I’ve been in the city many times, as I live just outside of it, in a small apartment above a bookshop. But the city of New York still terrifies me, especially at night. There’s a rumor of a secret organization that controls just about everything in the city, and if you cross the man at the top then you’re done for.
Of course, these are just rumors and haven’t actually been proven. I have nothing to fear, right?
Now I’m sitting in front of Emma’s vanity mirror getting ready as she does my hair.
“Oh you should totally wear it down! Curl it a bit, let it hang over your shoulders. You might hook up tonight, you never know.” Emma teases as she messes with my hair. I finish curling my lashes and then turn to her.
“I don’t think I’ll hook up at all. I’m just not the type.” I shrug and stand up, switching places with Emma as she sits in front of her vanity mirror to do her own makeup.
“Well, I am the type.” She says as she starts with contour. I walk into the bathroom and plug in the curling iron to heat it up.
“You can hook up with any guy you want.” I say to Emma. “Just make sure he wraps it. I don’t want to be an aunt so soon.” I laugh.
Emma and I have been best friends since fourth grade. She’s my polar opposite, although we have the same dreams. We’re both journalists writing for a small newspaper outlet right outside of New York.
Emma’s the type to do things we’re doing now almost every day. She always tells me about all the big parties and exclusive events and venues she’s attended. She’s talk to, and slept with, many of the biggest people in multiple industries to get information for her articles.
I take a different approach. My stories come from the smaller people. The homeless and the struggling. I try to bring attention to the lower class of America.
I bet you can guess whose stories get published. Hence why I live in a small apartment above a bookshop, and Emma has a penthouse.
“God, I know. I can’t handle having a baby now. I’m only 20 for Pete’s sake!” Emma laughs and sets down her makeup brush. She turns to me and says “But I need to sleep with someone big and important tonight. I’m dying here, I haven had a story published in almost two weeks!”
I sigh. Two weeks is nothing. Try five months. I’m basically just a consultant at this point.
Emma turns back to the mirror to finish her makeup. I check the curling iron and it’s nice and hot, so I begin to curl the ends of my hair. Just a little curly at the edge.
Emma gets up from the mirror and starts shutting off lights and electronics around her penthouse. I unplug the curling iron and walk into the front room to put on my shoes and grab my purse. Emma shut off the last light and we walk out of the penthouse. She locks the door and we get into the elevator, going down to the front desk.
Emma has an Uber waiting for us. The great thing about Emma is, no matter how much more she has than me, she always gives and never asks for any in return. It’s always been this way. She’s the sweetest friend I’ve ever had. She’s also the most ruthless journalist I’ve ever met.
We get into the Uber and the driver starts for the city. It’s a long drive, one that me and Emma use to our advantage and try to find out who’s the most important person attending the party.
“Oh my god!” Emma says after a long silence of us just looking at our phones.
“What is it, who will be there?” I ask frantically.
“Matt Sturniolo!”
I look at her, confused. “Who’s that?”
“Who’s that? WHO’S THAT? Matt Sturniolo is only the most powerful guy in New York!”
“That can’t be true, how come I’ve never heard of him?”
“Because you focus on who can help the lower class. He can’t help them, it’s not in his power.”
“Then he doesn’t have much power.”
“Oh, he has power. He has all the power. It’s his rumor that he’s the one who controls all the important somebody’s in New York. I gotta make it my mission to sleep with him. God, I bet he’s good in bed.” She says to herself.
I let out a laugh. “What story do you plan together by sleeping with him?”
“I want to know if the rumor is true, duh!” She laughs and lightly hits my shoulder.
We arrive at the venue. It’s large and the music is blaring. We step out of the car and I lean to Emma and say loudly so she can hear me over the music “The most powerful man in New York is gonna be here?” I laugh. “This doesn’t look like a scene you’d catch someone so important in.”
“Trust me, he’ll be here. Steph said so, and she’s always right!” Emma says back. She takes my hand and drags me through the line, showing the bouncer a VIP pass for both her and I. They let us in and Emma immediately drags me to the bar.
“Two vodka martinis!” She says to the bartender. The bartender nods and begins our drinks. I turn around to look at all the people dancing. Men in half dressed suits grinding on women in the shortest dresses. This is what Emma does every day? I understand the appeal, but the loud music and the flashing lights just aren’t for me.
We get our drinks and Emma takes me to a table to sit down at. “So what do we do now?” I ask.
“We mingle!” She shouts and raises her hands in the air.
The rest of the night that I can still remember was filled with drinking and Emma talking to numerous people, always asking about the guy who’s name I can no longer remember due to my copious consumption of alcohol. The last thing I remember was talking to a tall, handsome, dark haired man with beautiful light blue eyes.
~
I awake with a pounding headache. I raise my head from my pillow and slowly open my eyes, groaning from the pain. I look around and realize, this is not my bedroom. This is not Emma’s bedroom. I have no clue where I am. I scan the room and my eyes fall on a strange man sitting on the couch. I gasp and he looks up at me.
“Good, you’re awake. I was wondering if I’d have to drop you at the emergency room.” He laughs to himself.
I sit up fully in the bed. “Who are you? Where am I?” I ask frantically.
“My names Matt, and-“ I stop him
“Oh my god.”
“It’s fine just-“
“Oh god what happened?”
“Nothing, I-“
“I was drunk!”
“I know, that’s why I-“
“Tell me I didn’t. We didn’t.”
“Would you let me fucking speak?” He yells. “I didn’t fucking touch you, okay? You were dancing on a table and your friend had gone home with some guy so I got you a hotel room. You could barely stand and you just passed out on the bed.” He finishes with a huff.
I stare up at him in shock. “So we didn’t”
“No. We didn’t.” He pauses. “But we could.” He says with a smirk.
A blush appears on my cheeks and my breath shakes “What?” I ask
“Well you’re an attractive girl, I wouldn’t mind it.” He laughs. “But I have a meeting in an hour, so it’ll have to be another time. Want my number while you think about it?” He asks and before I can answer he hands me a card. “I got an Uber waiting for you whenever you’re ready to go home, it’s already paid for. Just do whatever you need to before you leave.” He says, clearly insisting I shower and eat. “And tell the driver where you need to go. Don’t forget to call, doll face.” He says before leaving and closing the door behind him.
I look down at the card he had handed me.
‘Matt Sturniolo.’ With an address and phone number.
Tags: @stargirlsturniololover (the one who came up with the idea for Mafia!Matt) @sturniolobessed
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izalemon · 2 years
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Would you do yandere male elf x reader smut
Yandere m!Elf x f!Reader | SMUT/NSFW/⚠️18+
All His
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Warnings: non-con, dub-con, obsessiveness, oral, face sitting (not in the way you think), forced relationship, forced marriage, drugging, bondage
Summary: after finding a portal which leads to a world you’ve only seen in fairytales, you befriend a powerful elf whose obsession with you only grows as the days for by
🔞18 YEAR OLDS AND UP🔞
Author’s note: Thank you for the ask! This is the first one I’ve gotten and I really appreciate it! NONE OF THE ART OR PICTURES ABOVE ARE MINE!!! Also, yet again, there is a difference between fantasy and real life. It is perfectly fine to have rape fantasies so long as that’s how they stay, fantasies. (Or role play) Rape is one of the worst things that can happen to someone so please be careful out there loves❤️ stay safe and don’t go through mysterious portals you find in your grandmothers’ attic.
You never really believed in magic or fairytales or anything alone those lines. So how exactly did you end up here?
On a balcony, dressed in the finest cloth, looking over a magical forest filled with creatures you’ve only see in a dream…or in this case, a nightmare.
Your husband…no…your abductor…stood behind you. You could feel his breath on your neck while his hands held on to your hips. It had been nearly a year of being held by this…creature.
You still remember the first time you met him. It was so clear, so vivid, it was like looking into a mirror. And a mirror it was. A mirror in your grandmother’s attic that is.
You were only meant to spend the summer at her place. Keep her company while she got herself settled into her new home after her retirement, help her move in, and how did that turn out?
Well…after you saw her sneaking up to the attic with, at first a large wrapped object and next a cloth, you decided to do some snooping. And what do you find? A large mirror with a big white cloth over it.
So…she moved a large mirror up two flights of stairs, unwrapped it from the moving foam, only to hide it away in an attic and cover it up again?
I’m sorry but that just didn’t sound right to you. I mean what was so special about this mirror that she would hide it away like this? Something obviously.
And something it was. After you inspected it you found out it lead to some other world. Of course you found out by tripping into it but who needs to know the details? You ended up in a forest, one filled with the most vibrant colors and plants you had never seen in your life. You wandered around until you came across a man. A rather tall man. He looked to be well over 6 foot. 6’6, 6’9 perhaps? More even? He was dressed in elegant clothing fit for royalty.
You explained to him your situation and he seemed to know what you were talking about.
“Oh, yes I know her! Your grandmother did you say she was? Wow, I hadn’t even realized how much time had passed.” He laughed. “Here, I’ll explain everything to you while I have someone set up your way home.”
He told you how your grandmother used to travel through the portal to his world for research. Apparently the two never got along since she would constantly be breaking entries onto the palace grounds to explore. You found it quite comical that she would do something like that, given how stingy she was about rules in her own home.
Whilst he took you through the town and towards the palace, you noticed how everyone was much taller than you.
“You aren’t human…are you?”
“No, I’m afraid we aren’t. Although our races share similar qualities, we are much stronger and live for much longer. Some of us have their theories that we’re more intelligent, but nothing’s been proven.” He told you.
“Oh…so you’re…aliens?”
“I wouldn’t say that since this technically isn’t on another planet, just another dimension. We call ourselves elves.”
“Oh! Like from the Lord of the Rings? Or D&D?”
“Um…I’m not familiar with your media. What is it exactly?”
“Oh, never mind, you probably don’t have them in your dimension.” You sheepishly replied.
And with that, you had made friends with a prince of the Elvish world.
For the next few weeks you would travel to his world and hang out with your newly made friend for a few hours, and return back through the mirror he has in his palace, which drops you off in the forest in your world near you grandmother’s home.
He enjoyed your company much more than your grandmother as far as you could tell. The big giveaway was that he straight up told you.
The two of you were sitting in his large library while you scanned through the vast amounts of other worldly literature while he enjoyed a glass of red wine.
“Your company is far more enjoyable than that of your grandmothers’.” He told you.
“Oh, what makes you say that?” You asked him.
“You’re easier to manage. And you aren’t trying to steal my things.” He chuckled fondly.
“My grandmother tried to rob you?”
“Many times.” He said, standing up and beginning to approach you. “Haven’t you asked her about it?”
“Um…well, no. I didn’t want her to find out I was snooping through her things.” You admitted.
“Hm.” Was all he replied with while he took another sip of his wine.
You proceeded to visit him throughout the whole summer. You wanted to know more about his world. And you wanted to know more about him. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you started to grow feelings for him. Something you would obviously never say out loud. He was from another dimension and was of another species. Although the two of you are of similar intelligence it doesn’t change the fact he’s clearly not human.
When you first started to feel this way to stopped visiting him for three days straight in an attempt to gain control of what you were feeling. But when you returned after your small break, you came back to him rather, so to speak…pissed off.
“Where were you?!” He demanded of you.
“I was busy so I thought I’d just…stay home.”
“I was worried. What if something had happened to you?!”
“Nothing happened! You don’t have to worry!” You told him.
“Just…next time you do that…warn me? Please?” He asked.
“Well what if I’m sick? I can’t exactly predict when I’ll be ill.” You said, giving him a hypothetical smugly.
“Then climb the few flights of stairs you have in your home and come here! I’ll take care of you.”
“You? And just leave my grandmother?” You asked him.
“I’d…I’d…Ugh, listened I’d rather you be here and taken care of under my supervision than worrying about you in another world.” He admitted.
Your heart seemed to skip a beat. You turned away blushing and just nodded your head, worried that anything other than the simple gesture would give away the affect he had on you.
Ever since then you never missed a day.
That was until the end of the summer, when you had to return back to your home.
“You’re leaving?” He asked.
“Yes…the summer is over in my world, and I can’t live with my grandmother forever.” You explained to him.
“How long…how long will you be gone?”
“I’m not sure, I didn’t make any other plans to return for as long as I did. But whenever I visit my grandmother I’ll visit you as well.”
The two do you were sitting on a balcony at a small table. He had stopped eating whatever it was he was dining on and simply sat and stared into space.
“You…you can’t just leave like this!” He pleaded with you.
“We both know that this has been coming for a while now. I…I have a life to get back to.” You told him, trying to make him understand.
“What? Was…was I just a vacation? You thought you could just walk into my life and then leave? You can’t just do that to someone! Make them care and just ditch them.” His voice was rising, he was growing desperate.
“What do you expect me to do? Stay here forever? You live for centuries, I only live a few decades. If I do stay I’ll only be taking up a fraction of your life. I would be like a pet, and I don’t want to be someone’s pet.”
“No! You wouldn’t-just…please think about this? Please…” he begged.
You sighed. It hurt you to hurt him like this, but you knew if you kept on living a fantasy you would eventually lose your mind. As much as you cared for him…you needed to get back to your world. Plus, you wouldn’t even be able to survive here if you stayed. You couldn’t digest the food properly, the medicine here doesn’t have an affect on you, and you were far more vulnerable to sickness in this world, sicknesses that couldn’t be treated in yours or theirs. The two of you weren’t even of the same species. How could you stay?
“I’m sorry…I hate to leave on a sour note but you just don’t understand. I can’t leave everything I’ve ever known for you.” You told him before getting up and beginning to walk away.
But you were stopped, he had grabbed your wrist and stood with you, refusing to let you leave that easily.
“Marry me.” He simply put.
“What?”
“Marry me. Please. I love you. There are ways we can extend your life. We have witches and wizards who we can seek the help of. Please…I…I don’t want you to leave me. I can’t bare to see it.” He admitted.
“I can’t marry you.” You whispered, turning away from him. “I…I care for you…but we aren’t even from the same world. Like I said,” You pulled your wrist away. “I can’t leave everything I’ve ever known.” And with that you turned away.
You traveled through the mirror portal that was held in the palace and appeared in the forest next to your grandmother’s house. You were upset you left him like that, you had hoped he would have taken it a little better, but you supposed even that was too hopeful.
That night, after you had packed up all of your things, said your goodbyes to your grandmother due to the fact you were going to be leaving earlier than she would be up, and set up your flight back home, you laid down in bed and attempted to fall asleep. Of course guilt was eating you alive. You felt so bad for leaving him like that but you couldn’t just drop everything for a guy you had only met two months ago.
But he didn’t see it that way. No, not at all. In his eyes you were the only one fit for him. He had never grown so close to someone in such a short amount of time. He had to have you. He needed you. He wanted to marry you. He didn’t care if you were human and that you lived significantly less than him. He’d be damned if he couldn’t find a way to extend your lifespan.
But first he needed you here, with him, in this world.
Of course he would have to also get items like food and drinks from your world due to the fact you couldn’t eat anything from his. It was a shame since if that hadn’t been the case he would destroy the portal which lead back to your world so that you could never leave him.
An inconvenience for sure, but a necessary one.
Since you weren’t coming back to him, he’d just go and get you. He brought a strong chemical that would keep you asleep while moving you along with a few of his guards in case anything unplanned came up.
But luckily nothing like that happened, and now you were safe and in a deep sleep on his massive bed.
Because of the chemical you slept much longer than usual and he watched over you every second he could. When he was busy he sent guards to watch over you and would send them away as soon as he came back.
When you woke up you were frightened and confused but he soon calmed your nerves. Of course you only began to panic once more once you realized he had kidnapped you and wasn’t planning on letting you go any time soon.
“You can’t do this! I don’t want to marry you! And I certainly don’t want to stay here!” This was apparently the wrong thing to say to him.
Unbeknownst to you, the man apparently had a temper that he managed to hide very well before, but once you said those words to him you realized just to what lengths he would go to make you his.
You didn’t remember falling back asleep. You didn’t remember him drugging you, but you certainly felt it. You felt it in every part of your body. It felt heavy, as if your limbs were being held down by immovable weights.
But it wasn’t just the work of drugs that was holding you down, oh no, there were leather traps buckled around your wrists and ankles, chained to the bed frame.
And…you were only in a bra and panties.
“Have you woken my love?” A voice cooed from the end of the bed, snapping your attention away momentarily from your vulnerable state.
You tilted you head up and saw him standing there. Dressed in all white wearing a see through material that left nothing above the waist to imagination.
You felt your heart thump in your chest. What was he doing? Oh god what was he going to do to you?
“You don’t want to marry me you say? Hmm. Well let me give you a little history lesson my love.” He told to sweetly, as if he didn’t have you tied up to his bed, only dress in your undergarments.
“In my culture,” He sat down next to you. “When two individuals…get intimate…it is seen as binding their souls for eternity. You don’t necessarily have to have a ceremony to be wed, you just need to…oh how would you humans put it? I believe you refer to it as…‘fuck?’”
You cringed and turned away.
“Of course we don’t need to use that verb.” He said, almost panicked that he had made you feel uncomfortable, well…more than you already were. He gently took hold of your chin and tilted it back to him. “I personally prefer the term, ‘make love.’ That’s more what this is isn’t it? Making love…becoming one…”
“Please…don’t do this. I…I’ll marry you, I’ll never leave here again…just…please don’t defile me.” You sobbed.
“Defile you? You think that’s what this is? Why would you refer to such a beautiful act of love as defilement?” He questioned, obviously offended by what you had said.
“We have a word for what you’re about to do to me. To take me without consent. It’s called rape and it’s one of the worst crimes you can commit it my world. So touch me and I swear I will never love you and will never submit to your will. I will scream and struggle so much that neither of us will enjoy it.”
He stared at you…silently.
Then he laughed. He started laughing. Laughing at you, laughing at the situation. Why on earth would he be laughing?
“Oh sweetness. Trust me…this won’t be…what do you call it? Rape? Whatever. Either way…you’ll want it soon enough, I suppose the drugs just need a little longer to kick in.”
What? Drugs? Did he drug you with even more shit? What was it? What would it do to you?
“What drugs?” You dared to ask.
You felt his hand on your chest, beginning to travel down your body. You shivered when it ghosted over your stomach and towards your hips. Only to find its resting place on your clothed cunt, pressing a finger against your clit.
“Ah-!” You yelp. Why did it feel so good? It’s never felt that way before, so why now?
“Oh? Did that feel good? Then I guess the drugs have kicked in. They just needed a little jumpstart.” He chuckled innocently.
No….no they were sex drugs?
You pulled at the chains, desperately trying to wiggled your way out. Out of the restraints, out of his grasp.
“Stop! Stop please! I beg you!” You cried. “I’ll marry you! I’ll marry you please!”
“Oh yes you will.” He uttered, shifting his weight over you and down. His voice sounded further away. “You’ll marry me tonight, when I’m deep inside of you and your begging for more.”
“No.” You couldn’t look at him, you shut your eyes tightly and turned your head away.
“Of course…you need to be prepped first~”
You snapped your eyes back open when you heard that, you didn’t even have time to react completely before he pushed your panties aside and dug in.
Your back arched and your eyes felt as if they had rolled all the way back into your skull. Never had you felt this way before. The drugs obviously were affecting you in a way your body relished but your mind continued to reject it.
His tongue danced around your lower regions. He bit at your thighs, ghosted his tongue over your clit, circled the bud with his wet flesh before sucking on it gently at first before building up to a harsh suck to the point where he was hollowing out his cheeks. And just as you were about to cum he’d stop and repeat the whole process over again.
“Stahh…st-UNG! No! No pleahh…uh! Ah!” You begged breathlessly.
“There’s no point in resisting when it’s clear how much you enjoy it.” He laughed, mouth still partly attached to your pussy.
You couldn’t deny the overwhelming sense of euphoria that coursed throughout your entire body. Nothing had ever felt this good before. Just how much of that drug did he give you?
After continuing to edge you for the next few minutes, minutes which felt like hours to you, he finally stopped and sat back up, staring you down with once kind eyes that had turned into one of a predator.
“Oh my sweet, sweet bride.” He cooed at you, tucking a wet strand of hair that had been suck to your face behind your ear. “You have no idea what you do to me do you?”
“Please…” You sighed.
“Please? Darling, you’re going to have to be more specific than that.” He teased, smiling down at you.
“I…I can’t-!” You cried out. A few more stray tears managed to seep out of your squinting eyes.
“Hmmm…poor thing. You just need to release. These drugs really must be annoying you. Making you feel so needy and sensitive, but I just won’t let you get there. I’m making it sooo difficult for you to fully be able to enjoy yourself…aren’t I?”
You struggled against your binds, you were unable to respond, all you could do was cry. The drugs were clouding your mind, to the point where the only thing you could think of was him. Him and the things he could do to you.
“But before I can cater to your needs dear…” he began. “I’m going to need some help myself.” He leaned down to whisper the last part in your ear, sending shiver down you spine.
You watched as he began to unbuckle his belt. Oh god…what now? You didn’t think you could take any more, yet at the same time the drugs in your system made it feel like you were going to explode if you didn’t get enough. All of these confusing thoughts and emotions swirled around in you mind, clouding your judgment even more than before to the point you hardly noticed him straddling your chest, tilting you head upwards and slipping his cock inside of your mouth.
You whimpered worriedly.
“Shhhh…relax dear. I’ll return the favor soon enough. But for now you can take care of my problem before I take care of yours right?” He asked you innocently, even giving you a little head tilt.
He began to gently rock his hips into your mouth, sliding his aching head and shaft in and out of your unhinged jaw. He felt absolutely blissed out.
Here you were, all his for the taking. The one who he loved so much, who he fell for so quickly. His bride. His little innocent bride who was all his to corrupt. All his to take. And god, you did not disappoint.
Your mouth felt so good. It was difficult for him to keep a consistent pace, but he would. He didn’t want to cause you any strain and made sure to go slowly and precisely, always with a purpose.
“I…I…oh god~ oh god darling-!”
You felt his hand reach out and grip at the base of your head, pulling desperately at your hair. Even now, even with him filling your mouth to its limit, somehow the drugs were even making that feel good. You awkwardly began to bob your head with his movements, you just couldn’t take it. You needed stimulation. You needed him to finish so that he could get back to you.
And with just a few more shaky thrusts, he pulled out of your mouth and came in a small hand towel he had grabbed from the bedside table. His breathing was heavy and his cheeks were crimson red.
He wiped off a bit of excess that had spilled onto your cheek, making sure his filth didn’t obscure the beauty that was your flushed face. A face that would look even more beautiful once he was buried deep inside of you, fucking you so intensely that you wouldn’t be able to remember your own name. So passionately that your eyes would cross as you came so hard that your back would arch up into his body so that your only support was your shoulders and his hold on your hips. He wanted to be the only thing that could ground you in a time of such intensity.
Yes…yes that’s what he would do. That’s what he would do for you. It was only fair after everything you’ve done for him.
He leaned down and kissed you deeply, rolling his body and hips against your own.
“You did so well for me. Now be good and don’t make a fuss while I return the favor.” He commanded before taking off your bra and panties, having to rip them due to the restrains. But it’s okay, he would just get you more. He would get you anything you wanted. You were his bride after all. His wife. His cute little human, so small and weak compared to his tall elvish body.
His little human,
…all his.
…his
…his.
“OH-oh…fuck!”
“Ahh! N…no…I…I….”
Your words mixed with each other’s as he plunged deep inside of you. A deep red coated over both of your faces. You turned away…you couldn’t bare to look upon him while he was violating you like this.
But he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you.
As he thrusted in and out, moving your bodies together, as if they were one. Like they were always meant to be one.
The chains jingled from above you with just how passionate his movements in and out of your body were. Hitting just the right spot each time within you. He needed you to feel as good as he did. He needed you to feel the way he was. And he would, whether you thought you liked it or not, because deep down he knew you did. He knew you loved it.
How could you not?
The sounds you were making proved his point. You were practically singing. Your sweet, angelic voice ringing in his ears, singing a song only the two of you would ever hear. Telling a story only the two of you were in.
He needed you. He needed more of you.
“God! You’re killing me!” He moaned out.
He grabbed the underside of both of your knees and began to press them down, towards you head as far as they would allow, until the chains stopped him.
He huffed, reaching over to snap the chains before continuing to push you knees down towards your body, just enough for you to feel a slight sting.
He began to bounce his hips on top of your beautiful body even harder. You could practically see small hearts in his eyes.
You had given in a while back. What more could you do? The drugs were obviously too strong to fight, and even if you did find the will power to…you were still tied down by your wrists and dealing with a being of inhumanly strength as shown when he snapped the chains like it was some cheap string. He could snap you in half if he wanted to. He might even, considering how unbelievably hard he was pounding into you.
Plus…it’s not like you could form coherent thoughts anyways. The only thing going through your mind was him and the immense amounts of pure euphoria coursing through your veins.
It was exhilarating.
And it soon reached and all time high.
You came hard.
Harder than you ever had before, and you weren’t sure if it was because of he drugs or him. Perhaps both?
Either way, you let out and ear bleeding screech that was muffled with his lips on top of yours again.
The two of you came at once, he had been holding it for a while, waiting for you…to share the experience with.
“I do.” He whispered into your mouth after slightly pulling away from the kiss. Your lips still brushed ups against each other.
“Wha…what?” You asked breathlessly.
You didn’t have any more strength. Your muscles were heavy, you probably couldn’t walk after that, and even if the chains were taken off…you weren’t going anywhere. You could barley shift your head.
“Say it…say I do.” He whispered to you again, lightly grabbing at your jaw.
“I…I do…” you complied, finally letting the sweet release of sleep overtake your body after giving him what he wanted.
He just stared at you. Your peacefully at rest body, underneath him…he could do whatever he wanted with it. But for now…he would simply clean up the mess he made in between your thighs, not wanting his filth contaminating your body longer than it needed.
And with that night you shared…you were his ever since. You haven’t left his side, he hasn’t left yours.
And despite you being his wife…it felt much more like you were his personal prisoner…who he made love to every night and so cruelly made you enjoy it each time.
Who made sure to give you all the affection a lover could ask for. How cruel.
5K notes · View notes
geminiwritten · 1 year
Text
hold on ; billy butcher
fandom: the boys
pairing: billy x reader
summary: you’re the youngest member of the boys and you hate that butcher insists on calling you ‘kid’ so you show him in more ways than one that you are not a child
notes: this is very weak, but it was kind of good writing practice because i definitely don’t write a lot of action (i’m so sorry if it sucks)! as always, please let me know what you think!
warnings: a lot of swearing, google translated french, age gap (not specified, but inferred) guns, violence, a dagger, explosion, descriptions of wounding (please don’t read if any of this is triggering for you!)
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word count: 4310
Butcher is an asshole. You knew that from the moment you met him. He is rude, and brash, and impulsive to the point that made you believe he didn’t have an angel on one of his shoulders, only two antagonistic little devils. You often found yourself itching to dig your fist into his face, especially when he called you by the stupid nickname he coined the moment he met you. Kid, or The Kid, if you weren’t in the room. It vexed you beyond belief, and you knew exactly why.
Butcher is an asshole, but he’s also fucking gorgeous. He’s tall and broad, and his voice is so delicious, it often finds its way into your filthiest dreams. To say you were obsessed with the man wouldn’t be an overstatement, and it was no secret, everyone but Butcher himself knows it. You’ve wanted him from the moment you met him, but then he went ahead and called you ‘kid’ and you quickly realised that he didn’t see you as anything more than one of the boys. The youngest one of the boys.
“Are you okay, mon amour?” Frenchie asks, nudging you with his shoulder.
You look at the man sitting beside you, dressed head to toe in black with a bandolier slung across his body. The van rattles as it hits a bump, and across from you, MM casts an angry glare toward the driver’s seat.
“I’m good,” you reply, flexing your fingers around the gun laying across your lap.
You were no stranger to the weapon, having spent years training in the special forces before flunking out the minute you found out about the movement for Supes to be contracted into the military. You were furious and scared, and then you ran into an old neighbour whose mother used to be book club buddies with yours – Hughie – and the rest is history.
“Butcher’s on location,” MM says, tucking his phone back into the pocket on his vest.
“Make sure he waits,” Hughie calls from the front of the van. “It’ll take me five minutes to get eyes on the whole building, but he can’t go in blind.”
MM looks at Frenchie, “Are you sure about this?”
“Positive,” Frenchie replies, “They will not be prepared for a raid, and they will have the information we need.”
“And how many are going to be willing to give it to us?” you ask.
He grimaces, “Not many, but I do not doubt your persuasion skills, mon cherie.”
“Persuasion,” you scoff, looking down at the weapon in your lap.
Don’t get it wrong, you weren’t some kind of super CIA motherfucker who should be feared by all, but you were pretty swift when you needed to be. You weren’t overly worried about the mission, not with Frenchie, MM, and Butcher at your back, but you hadn’t properly exercised your training in months. You know you’re going to be rusty, and you don’t exactly know what you’re walking into, but Frenchie does, and he’s confident in your ability.
The objective was simple. Frenchie had some old friends who were keeping tabs on his and Butcher’s movements and feeding them back to someone who was then getting them to Vought somehow. All you had to do was shut them down and find out who their contact was, and probably murder more than half of them in the process. Simple, right? Except for the fact that not even Frenchie knew exactly how many men you were running in on, or what kind of weapons they had.
“We’re here,” Hughie announces, just before the three of you in the back lurch forward with the sudden stop of the van.
You button up the fastenings on your fingerless gloves and check that your bandolier is packed with extra magazines before standing up. MM opens the doors for Hughie, and he jumps up into the back of the van with his laptop under his arm. Frenchie pulls a small stool from the storage cage and plants it in front of the flip down desk as Hughie begins unpacking his equipment. No more than five minutes pass before video images start popping up in black and white squares across the screens.
“Butcher,” Hughie says, tucking his earpiece in, “can you hear me?”
You fix your own piece into your ear before routinely checking the clips and fastenings across your tact suit.
“I can ‘ear you,” Butcher’s voice rumbles in your ear, and you can feel your cheeks flush pink.
“Alright,” Hughie scans the screens in front of him, “they’ve got pretty high tech surveillance, but their security isn’t great. I’m getting twenty-two heat signatures, most in the basement, a couple on the ground floor, and three on the fourth. According to Frenchie’s intel, there are other tenants in the building, so my guess is that three up top aren’t apart of this.”
“The two at ground level are most likely security,” Frenchie says. “There are always one or two of them watching the building’s main entrance.”
“But there’s another way in?” MM asks.
Hughie nods, “Looks like you can access the basement from the back, but that’s probably their main point of access, so you’ll want to find another way in.”
“You tellin’ me there’s one fuckin’ door to this place?” Butcher’s voice comes through the earpiece again, and you have to flex your fingers around your gun to remind yourself to focus.
“The backdoor and the building’s main stairwell,” Frenchie replies.
“Two fuckin’ doors?” Butcher says. “Fuckin’ hell, Frenchie, how the hell are we s’pposed to get out if things go wrong?”
“Nothing will go wrong,” Frenchie states, giving you an incredibly confident grin.
Your stomach twists nervously, but you don’t let it show, returning his grin with a nod and a small smile.
“There are windows,” Hughie says, “but only Y/N will fit, maybe Frenchie.”
“Then we go first,” you look at Frenchie, “through the windows and make sure Butcher and MM can get in the back.”
“No fuckin’ way,” Butcher snaps. “We don’t know what kind of weapons these cunts got, and if you two get overpowered, we won’t be able to get in ‘n’ help. We all go in the backdoor, force our way in.”
Frenchie chuckles, “You are a fan of forcing yourself into the backdoor, Monsieur Charcutier?”
MM snorts while you and Hughie snicker, but there isn’t a sound from Butcher.
“Look,” you say, “I appreciate your concern, Butcher, but we have the best chance of surprising them by slipping in where they won’t expect.”
Frenchie giggles again at your unintentional innuendo.
“Listen, Kid,” Butcher says, sending wave of irritation through your body, “I appreciate your concern, but I ain’t lettin’ you ‘n’ Frenchie get killed for somethin’ as trivial as a bit of intel.”
“I’m not a fucking kid, Butcher,” you bite back, at which everyone in the van startles. “Frenchie and I will meet you at the backdoor.”
You pull your black kerchief up over your nose and crack the van’s doors open, peaking out cautiously before stepping down and into the dark night. Frenchie and MM follow your silent footsteps toward the brick building, skirting around the side until you find the low and narrow basement windows. You point at MM and then toward the back of the building, and he nods before hurrying off.
“There’s a guard waiting outside the backdoor,” Hughie’s voice comes through your earpiece.
You hear a couple of grunts before MM says, “Not anymore.”
“Do you have Butcher?” Hughie asks.
“We’re in position,” MM affirms.
You nod at Frenchie and he gestures for you to go first, so you turn to the closest window. You take a deep breath before crouching beside the window and gripping a lip in the brickwork to help swing your body through. Using your chunky black boots, you kick the window in and follow the momentum with your feet first. You hit the concrete floor with a thud, quickly darting to the side before Frenchie drops down in the same fashion.
“What the fuck?!” one of the men shouts, scrambling to get up from the old and torn sofa on which he sat.
Your hands are on your gun before you can remember thinking about it, and a gunshot bursts in your left ear as a thug across the room fires at you, missing completely. You take aim and shoot his shoulder, making him drop his gun and crumple to the floor in pain. Two more bullets hit the brick wall behind you, and two more of the gangsters fall with wounds in their shoulders. Frenchie is already rushing to the backdoor, and you cover him easily by dropping three more men with pistols and hitting one in the leg who was scrambling toward the stairs. A cluster of lankier looking men cower in what looks like a makeshift drug lab, all wearing rubber aprons and protective goggles over their eyes. You turn away from them and take down another heading for the stairs, watching him fall on top of his comrade before whipping around and firing at a thug who was pointing his gun at Frenchie. The bullet cracks as it hits him in the side of the head, but you don’t have time to regret your aim before someone tackles you from behind. You duck forward, gripping his thick arms before he can strangle you, and use his momentum to throw him onto his back on the floor in front of you with a loud thump.
Your gun is back in your hands as you scan the room over its barrel, a familiar sense a satisfaction quelling your fight mode when you find every assailant either downed or cowering with their hands up. The backdoor creaks open, and MM and Butcher march in with guns up before stopping abruptly at the sight of the pacified room.
“What did I tell you, eh?” Frenchie says, and you hear it more in your earpiece than from across the room. “She is fucking incroyable.”
“Holy shit,” MM mutters, lowering his gun.
Butcher’s eyes are wild above his face covering, filled with an emotion you can’t discern as he stares at you across the dark room.
“Alright,” Frenchie shouts, pulling his kerchief down, “where the fuck is Lafeyette?”
The room stays quiet, but the four of you slowly cast heavy glares across the fallen thugs until one of the timid lab assistants points a shaking finger toward the two men collapsed by the stairs.
“Time to talk you filthy sac de merde,” Frenchie spits, as he and Butcher stalk toward the men.
MM nods at you as he readjusts his gun and widens his stance, guarding the door in case anyone thinks of trying to escape. Your fighter instincts settle at the slight sense of security, and you sling your gun over your shoulder as you approach the small drug lab.
“What are your names?” you ask the men.
Three of them glance at the shortest of the four, and with trembling hands he moves his goggles onto his head, revealing two clean circles of skin around his bright blue eyes.
“I am Gabriel,” he says, his accent thicker than Frenchie’s, “this is Théo, Lucas, and Éliott. They do not speak English.”
“Can they understand it?”
He nods, “Mostly.”
“Good,” you nod and hold your hands up, “I’m not going to hurt you, unless you give me a reason to.”
They all shake their heads vigorously.
“Are you here because you want to be?” you ask them.
“No,” Gabriel replies, and the other three shake their heads again.
“How did you get here?”
“Théo and I came together,” Gabriel says, “without papers, and Monsieur Toussaint said he would get us citizenship. Lucas and Éliott were here already, and they have kept us from leaving.”
You gesture to the bench full of laboratory equipment, “You make drugs for them?”
“Oui,” he nods, “Lucas is a- uh, how do you say un scientifique?”
“A scientist,” MM calls out from behind you.
“Oui,” Gabriel nods again, “he teaches us to cook.”
You frown, “Do you have any family here?”
“Théo has family in America,” he replies.
“Does he know where they are? Can you contact them if we help you leave?”
His bright blue eyes sparkle with hope, “Oui!”
You nod, “Good, we’re going to try and help you, okay?”
You barely finish your sentence before MM screams your name, and you feel the weight of a large hand on your left shoulder, dragging you back and blocking your ability to grab your gun. You crouch under the pressure and reach your thigh holster with your right hand, gripping the hilt of your dagger. You unsheathe it as you turn in a full one-eighty, escaping the assailant’s grasp and sweeping underneath his arm with your dagger outstretched. The blade slashes horizontally right beneath his kneecap, causing him to buckle as you rise to your full height and lacerate his throat. You leap back to avoid the spray of blood and falling body, watching the man slump face first into the concrete floor at your feet.
When you look up, you find every pair of – conscious – eyes on you, a mixture of terror and disbelief written across the room of faces.
“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks, though there is more pride than concern in his expression.
“I’m good,” you reply, crouching down to clean each side of your dagger on the dead man’s shirt before tucking it back into your holster.
Butcher drops the collar of who you assume is Lafayette, and you still can’t read his face behind his kerchief as he stares at you.
“Uh, guys,” Hughie’s voice speaks into your ear, “someone heard the gunshots, you’ve got emergency response on site in less than five minutes.”
Frenchie swings his foot into Lafayette’s stomach before nodding at MM, “Let’s go.”
You turn to the four lab assistants and gesture toward the backdoor. They scramble to remove their protective gear before hurrying toward MM who guides them out. Frenchie jogs past you, but Butcher stops and holds his hand out.
He pulls his kerchief down, “I’ll do it, you get out of ‘ere, Kid.”
“Fat chance,” you scoff, “now go.”
You’ve already got the gas canister in hand, and he knows you’ll pop it before he can argue, so he turns and mutters something inaudible as he stalks toward the door.
With your kerchief securely up over your nose, you release the pin and throw the gas into the room before turning to the lab table. You work quickly, pouring the two vials that Frenchie gave you into an empty beaker and setting it atop a lit burner. In five long leaps, you’re out the door and slamming it shut before sprinting away.
Butcher is waiting for you just around the side of the building, his hand outstretched. You barely have time to grab it before a huge explosion blows through the low basement windows and shakes the entire building. Butcher pulls your body against his, pivoting so that his back is to the blast as it knocks both of you off your feet. You hit the ground and your ears ring, but you don’t feel a single bit of debris hit you thanks to the body lying on top of yours.
“Fuck,” Butcher curses, though his voice sounds distant in your ringing ears.
You look up at him, his face inches from yours and smattered with dust and dirt. The adrenaline coursing through your veins has your whole body on high alert, overly aware of every part of him that is pressed against you.
He looks down at you, his pupils blown wide as his gaze darts to your lips. He licks his own, his chest heaving against yours and your head spins with a thousand filthy thoughts. For a split second, you think he might kiss you, and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation, but then he pushes himself up and offers his hand. You sigh and take it, letting him haul you off the ground.
“You alrigh’, Kid?” he asks.
“I’m not a fucking kid,” you spit, snatching your hand from his.
You run toward the van and leap into the open doors, Butcher at your heels. Hughie slams on the accelerator before Frenchie has even closed the doors, and you instinctually grab onto the nearest thing to steady yourself. It just so happens to be Butcher, and you know not from the scratch of his beard against your temple as you cling to him, but his scent. Warm and woody, with hint of apple-scented soap and whiskey.
You retract quickly and fall into the seat on the opposite side of the van, resting your head back against the blocked-out window.
“What the fuck, Frenchie?” MM exclaims. “You said that would be a small explosion, that it would look like an accident.”
Frenchie grimaces, “I did not account for the other reactants in the lab.”
Butcher sits quietly across from you, his eyes trained on you as you do everything you can to avoid looking in his direction. You focus on your gun, unlocking the empty clip and clicking the safety on. MM and Frenchie speak with the four timid men huddled at the back of the van, asking them a series of questions before deciding where would be best to take them.
After a painfully long drive, Hughie stops the van and Frenchie helps the four men out of the back doors. He tells you all to go back to the safe house and he will be there soon. The rest of the ride home is tense and silent, MM not daring to speak once he sees the irritated frown on your face as you fiddle with your equipment, packing it into cases and locking it in the van’s storage cage.
Once safe inside the decrepit apartment you currently call home, Hughie grins at you, “Holy shit, Y/N, you are fucking bad ass.”
“Thanks,” you mutter, starting on the clips of your tact suit.
“I wish I saw all of it,” MM says, “you’re deadly.”
A small smile quirks the corner of your lip, and you let out a small sigh as you release the last buckle on your Kevlar vest. You drop the heavy thing on the dining table along with your bandolier.
“I’m still pissed that you didn’t listen to me,” Butcher states, at which you roll your eyes, “but you did good, Kid.”
Your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowing at him. “Do I look like a fucking child, Butcher?”
Hughie’s grin vanishes and MM freezes on his way to the couch.
“Do I?” you press, holding your arms out as if to emphasise your attire. “Because a fucking kid couldn’t do what I just did, yet you insist on calling me by that fucking name!”
He doesn’t flinch the way Hughie does, nor are his eyes as wary as MM’s. He remains his usual cool self, though his frown is more curious than irate.
“Didn’t realise it bugged ya so much,” he says.
“You don’t fucking realise much, do you, Butcher?” you snap, before turning on your heel and marching toward the room that was designated yours.
You march inside and slam the door, but a pair of heavy boots are hot on your heels, and you curse the landlord for not installing any locks as the door swings open again.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Butcher demands, slamming the door once again behind him.
You unzip your outer jacket and throw it on the bed, “Didn’t I make it clear?”
“Uh, no, actually,” he steps toward you, “I’m not fuckin’ pissed about the raid, I’m pretty fuckin’ impressed, but you’re still throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin’-”
“Like a child?”
His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest, “I was gon’a say kid.”
You clench your fists in an attempt to refocus your frustration, digging your fingernails into your palms until it stings.
“Look,” he says, “I know you’re capable, and fuckin’ talented with a gun, but I wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick, I was tryin’ to keep you safe.”
“Because I’m so young and stupid?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because I can’t fucking handle myself even though I just prevented all of you from getting your fucking asses kicked?”
He sighs, “I never said you’re fuckin’ stupid.”
“But I am young,” you mutter, your voice revealing more emotion than you intended.
His brows shift into a dubious frown, “What’s this fuckin’ obsession with your age?”
“What’s your obsession with my age?” you snap, “Calling me ‘kid’ all the time and acting like you’re my fucking babysitter.”
“Oh, so fuck me for caring ‘bout your safety, is that it?”
“No, Billy, that’s not it,” you sigh, tearing your gaze from his to focus on unclipping your thigh holster.
“Then what is it? ‘Cause I don’t know what I’ve fuckin’ done!”
Your holster comes loose and you grip the hilt of the dagger with white knuckles, standing straight again.
“You haven’t done anything!”
“Then what haven’t I fucking done?!” he exclaims, unfolding his arms and throwing his hands up.
The little voice in your head splits into a thousand, screaming a thousand different commands at you. Cry, yell at him, throw something at him, scream, hit your head against the fucking wall, punch him in the throat… kiss him.
Your ears, still numb from the explosion, fill with the sound of your thumping heartbeat as you take three quick steps toward him. His height is intimidating, but you don’t have time to regret your decision as your fingers curl into the material of his shirt and pull him toward you. You have to stretch onto your toes, your other hand finding his chest for stability as you crush your lips against his.
For a second, you think you’ve seriously fucked up, but then his mouth begins to move against yours and your knees buckle. His arms catch you, wrapping around your waist and holding your body against his as his tongue slides across your bottom lip. You part your lips with a sigh, and he takes all control, claiming your mouth and wiping your mind of any thought that isn’t him.
In two easy steps, he backs you against the bed, sitting you down without his lips ever leaving yours. He crawls on top of you, straddling your thighs and catching your hands as they find the buckle on his belt.
“Love,” he sighs against your lips, “hold on.”
You blink up at him, slowly coming down from your high, “To what?”
He chuckles, “I meant slow down a sec.”
“Oh,” your cheeks burn, and you snatch your hands out of his grasp. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever fuckin’ apologise for that,” he says, a dopey smile on his lips, “but I don’t know-”
“I do,” you interrupt him, holding yourself up on your elbows.
He raises his brows, “What do you know?”
“I know that I want you,” you reply, “and I know that you want me. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but it fucking feels like it, so please, Butcher… please.”
“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes lingering on your lips before trailing down your body to where he sat. “I know I want you, but why the fuck do you want me?”
You snort, “You’re kidding, right?”
He only frowns.
“Butcher, I have wanted you from the moment I fucking met you,” you fall back against the bed with a sigh, “I don’t know how you haven’t fucking noticed.”
He leans over you, holding himself up with a hand either side of your head. “Why?”
His voice is so deep and his eyes so dark, you struggle to breathe as your clothes suddenly feel like they’re strangling you.
“Because you’re-”
“An asshole?”
You giggle, “Yes, and rude, and brash, but you’re also fucking beautiful.”
His heavy breathing suddenly stops and his eyes widen as they search yours, as if looking for some sense of deception or sarcasm. You open your mouth to reassure him but he swallows your words with a kiss, his lips crashing into yours with bruising force. His mouth moves across your jaw and down your neck, and you whine when pulls away before quickly realising that your high-neck undershirt is in the way. His fingers find the hem and yank it up over your breasts, not bothering to remove it completely before his lips assault your chest, biting and soothing your skin in five separate spots as you writhe beneath him.
He moves down, placing a kiss on your sternum and your stomach, before pausing at the waistband of your pants and looking up with hungry eyes. “You sure ‘bout this?”
His hot breath fans your skin and goosebumps rise in response.
You nod, “Yes, please, Butcher. Yes.”
The buckle and button are loosened in a second, and he groans at the sight of your lacy black panties. He places a hot, wet kiss just above the hem before sitting back and unbuttoning his own shirt. He doesn’t manage to shrug it off though, because you take the opportunity to grip either side of it and pull him back down on top of you. The feeling of his skin against yours makes your whole body clench, and you know you’re kissing him sloppily but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Your fingers find his belt again, struggling to remember how the damn thing works when he pulls away with a gasp, “Hold on.”
You frown, “What now?”
He chuckles, “No, sweethear’, not like that.”
His hands take yours guiding them up over your head until you feel the wood of the headboard at your fingertips.
“I said, hold on.”
END.
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moon-huny · 6 months
Text
Stole the Moon - Chapter Three
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CW: My content is not for anyone under 18. Major language in this one ya'll. Also, smut towards the end. Some she/her pronouns used for reader in this one, and implied afab physicality. Oh, and masturbation. Kidnapping, coercion, imprisonment.
Word Count: 4.1K
Summary: After being treated to a day of R&R, you and Buggy sit down for dinner.
A/N: So, I am like 15 mins late with this one. But look at the word count, now that's content baby! I worked kinda hard on it, so I hope ya'll like. I have never written smut before and it was a challenge. Lmk how I did. I feel confident that ya'll will like it, but you never know. Constructive criticism is for bad bitches so have at it!
There are some OC characters in this chapter. I know OCs can be a bit hit or miss. Do ya'll like em? Should I continue to include them? Don't be afraid to tell me what you think. I am only married to a few ideas in this series that I know have to happen, otherwise I welcome ya'lls ideas.
Oh! and happy kinktober. Okay, that's all, enjoy.
masterlist ✧˖°
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The moment Buggy shut the door the two young women were circling you like vultures. They pulled at your dress and snickered to themselves. The red-haired girl tugged at the ends of your hair and giggled.
“What exactly does captain –” she said.
“Expect us to do with you?” the raven-haired girl finished.
They dressed alike, finished one another's sentences, the way they took up space in a room together read as though they had known each other for a long time. 
“I take it your sisters?” You said, hoping to perhaps gain an understanding of their relationship.
They both laughed at your question.
“You hear that, Lettie?” questioned the fairer one.
“Marie, she thinks we’re sisters.” replied the other woman whose skin was steeped in golden tones.
Being in the same room as them felt like suffocation. As though they spoke a language you didn’t and breathed in air from an atmosphere you could only dream of.
“Come on,” they both said in unison and began to make their way out of Buggy’s quarters. If you thought that understanding them was a challenge, keeping pace with them was just as difficult. 
Exiting through the ornate double doors, the sun had risen much further in the sky than you’d expected. Nearly at its peak, you enjoyed the warmth it provided and would have basked in it all day if given the chance. However, your escorts were making their way back down towards the lower decks of the ship at a quick pace.
As you hurried across the deck of the ship to follow, you took a moment to scan your surroundings. Looking around the deck of the ship, crew mates in various theatrical themed garb milled about. Looking up toward the starboard quarter, you noticed the captain with two other men – one of whom was the swordsman who freed you from your cage earlier that morning.
They seemed to be pouring over a map – the map. He could feel you staring at him. Buggy looked up from the paper he and the two others were arguing over. A slight smirk pulled across his red painted lips. 
Deciding your eye contact lasted long enough, you turned back around to follow behind the strange duo, climbing down into the lower decks after them.
The two women walked hand in hand down the tight corridors. As you passed the turn that would have taken you back to your prison, you just nearly stopped, looked down through the unlit tunnel, and continued on your way.
Upon reaching the destination, the two stood on either side of a thick purple curtain along the tight hallway. The dark haired woman peeled back the heavy fabric and ushered you into the room. In the center was a beautiful, if not marginally damaged, claw foot tub. Glass bottles of every shade lined the walls, stained glass lanterns were the only light source.
“It’s getting cold,” they both said and gestured to the tub. The basin was full of steaming water that smelled of rosemary and mint. You gently pushed past them and floated into the room awestruck by the idea that such a place existed down the hall from your own personal hell.
“We’ll be back soon,” they said in a sing-song tone as they slowly closed the curtain behind you.
///
It is difficult to clock how long you spent pampering yourself in the bath. Even after the water went from scalding to cool, you couldn’t help but mindlessly float and get cozy in the water.
Your thoughts continually slipped back to your captor. His eyes had regarded you with such gentleness earlier but his smile told you he still wasn’t one to be trusted … but those eyes. The way they drank all of you in as though he could never get enough.
You reached up to wrap your hands around your neck feeling the necklace there. His touch could be bruising, painful, enough to make you squirm. But now, knowing he could be so light, and teasing. You closed your eyes attempting to recall the way he gently brushed your skin when he hooked the jewelry around you. You could imagine what that touch would be like lower, and lower, and … you caught yourself. You promptly removed your hands from your body and gripping each side of the tub. 
These thoughts you had for him were nothing but frustrations. To act on them would send you down a rabbit hole you might never crawl back out of. Stopping now was for your own good.
Just as you were leaning back to submerge yourself in the water, an anxiety welled up in your chest, as though a weight were all of a sudden being slowly lowered onto you. A memory began creeping its way back into your mind.
Waves. Terror. Screaming. Fear.
Eleven years old and drowning. The unforgiving sea pulled your small body through its currents. You didn’t know which way was up or down. Your lack of direction caused you to flail about in the surf attempting to reach out a hand and touch the precious air instead of more water.
You couldn’t see anything but the physical memory was there. The feeling of the sandbars scraping your skin as you were unforgivingly cast against them. It was then you remembered reaching out your hand and feeling hair. Then a hand. An arm. A face. Someone was next to you in the water, but they weren’t moving. 
All of a sudden you felt another person wrap their arms around you. A very strong and living presence carried you out of the churn and you remember feeling air hit your lungs as you –
Gasped out loud. Finally coming up for air from just underneath the waterline of the tub. The two women were pulling you up and out by your wrists.
“Oh my god, what –”
“In the east blue were –”
“You thinking!”
As you panted for air and cleared the water from your face, you couldn’t tell which one was speaking. 
“We leave you alone for one hour –”
“And you try to drown yourself in a three foot tub!”
///
“So you aren’t related?” You said, feeling a bit embarrassed that you had to repeat the question.
You were wrapped in a satin robe provided to you by Marie from her “personal favorites” closet. A gesture that seemed kind at first only until you realized that Lettie had ripped a hole through her copy of the red lacy loungewear and now neither of the women could wear it for fear they wouldn’t match.
“You dress so similar, all the way down to makeup and hair,” you continue.
“We’re acrobats,” they said.
Lettie continued, “at first, it was all just a part of our act.”
“But we decided that we liked being as close as possible at all times,” finished Marie. Her ocean blue eyes shone into Lettie’s golden amber pair.
“Even if that means inhabiting the same dress to feel truly synced,” replied Lettie.
Marie was curled up in her lap. The two women couldn’t keep their hands off of one another now that they were seated in the close quarters of their cabin. The space was small yet, crammed with stuff they’d collected. The queen-sized hammock they let you lie on swung on one side of the room. They were sprawled out on a beautiful yellow loveseat across from you. 
Clothing was tossed around the room in various locations. Corsets, garters, stockings and dresses all poked out from trunks and drawers. An ornate gold mirror adorned the wall, a sack full of makeup products was tossed to the side underneath it. 
“You must really love each other,” you said, feeling a pang of loneliness in your chest. You had curled up with a pillow on the surprisingly comfortable suspended cotton. 
“We didn’t at first,” said Marie. “In fact, we hated one another.”
“Marie!” cried Lettie.
So it seems they weren’t always on the same page. At least not enough to always know what the other one was thinking.
“We were … competitive,” said Lettie. “I simply could not stand the fact that she was so talented when she joined the circus. She was outstanding and I hated being upstaged by her.”
“And I couldn’t stand the meat head you had drooling over you all the time,” said Marie. “It really ticked me off. If I ever upstaged you, my love, it was because I knew I had to compete for your affections.”
“There was no competition,” said Lettie. “Once Xander caught on to that, and I realized that I loved you and only you, he was toast.”
Clearly reminiscing on their past was pulling them into their own orbit making them quickly forget your presence. 
“So, what happened?” you asked, pulling them from whatever intimate moment they were about to share.
“I killed her fiance – who happened to be the ring leader's son,” said Marie. 
“We agreed to live the rest of our lives as pirates on the run,” finished Lettie.
The way they held one another, the words they so sweetly exchanged made your heart ache. As they slowly added more details to their love story, it made you yearn for a partnership so full of passion and affection.
///
Marie and Lettie continued to share stories of their adventures far into the afternoon as they dug through trunks, barrels, drawers, suitcases and bags attempting to find something for you to wear. 
Finally they found a suitable dress for the evening meal you were preparing to sit for. The fabric fell around you perfectly, a short and very lacy white dress with wide flowing sleeves. They threw you a pair of dark red suede boots that climbed up your legs to your mid thigh. The beautiful moonstone still sat proudly on your chest.
Maire took it upon herself to tend to your hair and Lettie made herself comfortable in front of you to do your makeup. Nothing too crazy, just enough to hide the exhaustion that couldn't be whipped away in the bath. 
“Your hair is so pretty,” said Marie as she worked her way through the ornate hairdo. “Like a mermaid.”
Lettie’s eyes shot up toward her partner, a look of warning and one you certainly couldn’t ignore. 
“I- I just mean that …” stuttered Marie under her lover's hardened gaze.
As if on cue, Lettie swooped in, “she means that you have very beautiful features, like those legendary beasts. But thank goodness those terrible despicable things have long since died out.”
“Yes! Yes. That is exactly right, my darling. Look! I’m all done!” Marie ran up to the table and grabbed a small vanity mirror to show you the brilliant job she did. 
“And I’m done as well so it would be best if you start heading up towards the kitchen, yes?” said Lettie.
“You won’t come with me?” 
“Sorry dear we –”
“Have a few things to attend to,” they said, ushering you out of the room.
They waved at you from their room as you made your way back down the hallway.
Once you were out of earshot, Lettie could feel that Marie had something to say.
“What is it?”
“I can't help but feel like we’re sending her into the mouth of a predator.”
Lettie sighed and made her way back into the cabin, “it’s just the way he wants it done, Marie, I am not going to interfere.”
“Really? We already touched her, we weren't supposed to do that, remember?”
Lettie sighed, she knew the red haired girl was right.
“I know, my love, I know,” said Lettie. “But telling her? Hinting? Leading in such a way as to help her remember her past? That’s too risky.”
Marie was shutting her out, crossing her arms and looking out the door after you. Lettie floated over to her partner, she cupped the other woman’s pale white hands in her own warm brown ones. 
“I love you,” she continued. “We worked so hard to find this crew, to escape our old life.”
“I’ve killed for you,” replied Marie. “If I followed every rule, you would have been bed and wed to that loathsome strongman and I wouldn’t be holding you every night.”
“I think we’ve done enough, Marie.”
“And I know you don’t think that’s true.”
///
Entering the kitchen, a beautifully carved table was set with dozens of bronze candle holders each cradling a different colored stick of wax. The soft glow of all the tiny flames kept the center of the space well lit while the rest of the kitchen faded into darkness.
All of a sudden, you heard the door slam shut behind you. Jumping at the sound, you turned around to see a hand pushed flat against the heavy door. 
“You kept me waiting.”
Turning back around you saw the pirate captain leaning back in his chair, his feet crossed and kicked up at one end of the table. He was studying a goblet of wine before taking a sip from the decorated cup. His disconnected appendage floated past you and connected itself back to its rightful location.
“Patience is a virtue,” you reply calmly. 
You were starving, the food laid out on the table looked too good to be true. Fruits and fish and rice and all the things your empty stomach groaned for.
“Well, it isn’t all bad if it means my acrobats take the time to make you look like that,” he flirted back. 
Clearly the dress was doing wonders for you. You caught him gazing at the length of your legs and the small expanse of your exposed thigh right were the lace of your dress and the tops of your boots left just enough to the imagination. 
“Hungry?” he questioned. “Cause I’m starving.” 
You made your way to stand by the smug man. His eyes drunk you in as you approached him. Placing both your hands on the table next to him, you began your line of questioning. 
“I need to know what you want from me,” you demanded.
“Oh honey, what don’t I want?” 
“Cut the shit, clown,” you bit back. “The map you showed me four days ago. What’s it to and why did you need me to recognize it?”
He sighed. “Why don’t you eat first? You must be so so hungry.”
“No thanks to you,” you said.
“I’ll tell you about the map, just eat something first, yea?” He nodded toward your seat at the other end of the table.
Finally deciding to relent, you followed his direction and sat at the other end of the table. The plate before you held some of the most delicious food you’d ever seen. A grilled tilapia, no, mahi mahi, you really didn’t care what it was, it was edible. 
Hesitantly you took a first bite, then another, and soon you were devouring the food in front of you. You don’t think you’d ever eaten so fast in your life.
“Drink something, you’ll choke,” he commented, still maintaining his relaxed posture in the chair. He notably hadn’t eaten a thing. If you weren’t so consumed with stifling your hunger, you would have assumed everything on the table was poisoned.
Having him order you to do something with such cool confidence would typically make you enraged, but this command was more of an invitation, one you happily took. You picked up your matching vessel of wine and gulped it down. It was like nothing you’d ever tasted. Sweet and smooth and just rich enough to sit warmly in your stomach.
You quickly made work of what was in the cup. Then stood and reached for the rest of the bottle in the center of the place setting. Uncorking the top with your teeth, you threw your head back and chugged.
All the while he watched you. Gently lifting the cup to his lips to sip the very nectar you so intensely swallowed down. When you finished, you steadied yourself on the edge of the table and panted, hand still wrapped around the neck of the bottle, your eyes flicked upward to catch his green ones staring back at you.
“The map is to the Grand Line,” he said, holding eye contact. He placed his cup down and moved his body to fully face yours. “There is a river that travels up a mountain. In other words, it’s impossible to traverse it, unless you have a strong ship – or you know how to cheat it.”
You continued to watch him, eyes dark as he finally explained what the map was for. You knew about the Grand Line. Everyone did. There were monsters and pirates and some of the fiercest dangers you could think of.
“And why do you need me?”
He stood and made his way to you. In the candle light his features were so sharp. The shadow of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks emphasizing gorgeous cheekbones, his deep set eyes darkened in their sockets despite their bright color. The red color of his nose matched that of his lips which looked so much softer the closer he got. He leaned into the side of your face.
“Oh baby, there are a lot of reasons I need you,” he said whispering in your ear. 
He placed a gloved hand on top of your own on the table. It was so much larger than yours and he was so warm. The absence of his coat and hat made him look so much more relaxed, his muscular arms fully displayed. Maybe it was the alcohol in your stomach making its way through your bloodstream, but you began to feel lightheaded.
You slowly turned your head to face him and he followed suit. His seafoam eyes made contact with your own. His lustful gaze sped up your heartbeat. His lips were parted and you could feel his hot breath on your own, so painfully close but not close enough.
“My question for you, gorgeous,” he whispered into the space between you. “Do you need me?”
Your face shifted from a testing confidence to a pleading look of pure want. Your eyebrows pushed together and your eyes morphed from a darkened tease to a blown out lust.
“Oh good,” he purred. “Why don’t you say it, hmm?” His other hand came up to pet goose bumps on the skin of your arm. His fingers leading from your hand, up the back of your forearm, and softly drawing a line until he finally reached your shoulder, your neck, your cheek where he cupped your face.
Turning his head he went straight for the soft spot he knew would make you relent, nipping and pecking the soft skin there. His soft words and lips combined with the scratch of his stubble was enough to make you wet. 
“Say it baby, just tell me how much you need your captain.” he growled into your ear. 
Through the haze of lust and alcohol, you felt a defiance rise.
“You …” you gasped out.
“Yeeess?” he hissed.
“Are …” you continued.
Panting between words, his hand drifted down to caress your thigh and slowly pushed the lace of your skirt up so he could grip your bare hip.
“Not my captain,” you snarled. 
Placing your hands on his chest you pushed, hard. The shock of the action was enough to send him staggering back.
“You fucking little witch!” he yelled.
“And what the fuck are you going to do about it?!” you shouted back. “You gonna fucking kill me?! Oh wait, you wouldn’t –”
Your rant was cut short by his forearms detaching from his body. One pulled you by the wrist back into your chair and the other grabbed a small rope from across the room. You kicked, screamed and fought but he was stronger than you. Once you were bound by your wrists behind the chair, he stalked back toward you. Crouching down in front of you to knee level.
He peered up at you from his position on the floor. If it weren’t for the white hot anger coursing through you, his new orientation could have easily filled you with need.
“You’re a difficult woman,” said Buggy. What he wouldn’t tell you was that, from this position, he could smell your desire, and it was intoxicating. He inhaled and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down to hide the guttural moan he wanted so desperately to let out.
“Good thing I like a challenge,” he reached behind himself and pulled out a red smoke bomb. You immediately recognized it and began to fight against your confines yet again.
“No, no, no, Buggy no,” you warbled out.
“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” and with that he squeezed the little round pouch. As it disintegrated in his hand, he made his way to the door.
Leaving the kitchen, Buggy caught the attention of Cabaji, the only other crew member walking on the deck of the ship this late at night.
“Watch her,” said the blue haired man, pulling his bandanna off his head and heading at a quick pace to his cabin.
Cabaji had questions, tons, but he could tell that now wasn’t the time. The green haired chief of staff walked into the kitchen and saw your sleeping form draped over yourself in the chair, bound and half your neck painted in red.
///
Buggy slammed the door to his quarters. His long hair fell all around his face in a disheveled curtain of electric blue.
“That little fucking whore!” He threw his papers across the room, wiping his desk clean of all that was on it.
“God what I wouldn’t give to just ruin that, fuck, to absolutely snuff the rebellious spirit outta her, god damn it!” 
He was still hard and frustrated from teasing you. Recalling your little panting breaths – not yet moans – sent even more pulsing desire straight to his cock. The fire in your eyes when you defy him, what he would give to just crush it and force you under him.
The growling moans he bit back before now so casually fell from his lips. He let out a light chuckle and spread himself out on his throne.
He thought back to the softness of your skin where his lips grazed you. How he knew you’d feel like that all over the rest of your body. And god, your smell. The perfume you wore still lingered on his cotton glove. He pulled the white garment off his hand with his teeth while his other hand squeezed where his hardened member swelled beneath his belt. 
 “Oh, fuuck ~ ” he moaned.
Both of his hands made quick work of the metal buckle, he pulled his dick from the confines once he got the zipper down. Gripping the angry shaft, his tip already leaking precum, he knew he wouldn’t last long.
After swiping over the slit and collecting his slick with his ungloved hand he tugged quickly on his cock. He could only imagine your beautiful curves and the sweet little face you made when you wanted him.
“Oh shit, good fucking girl, yes, yes, pull on this dick, fucking make me cum.” he growled out. His eyes fell shut and his head rolled back. He imagined what it would be like to eat you out, to have you ride his face and rub your sensitive little clit on his nose.
He’d make you come again and again just to hear you, something he still hadn’t gotten the pleasure to discover. Would you be quiet, whimpering and whining like a little kitten and cumming with a sweet and soft little shudder around his cock? Would you be loud and vocal like his own personal whore, your tight pussy squeezing him like a vice when you came?
“Fuuuuck baby, when I get inside you, fuck, when I get inside you I won’t fucking stop god fucking damn it,” he rambled out, gripping his dick tighter. “Fuck. Fuck. I wanna, princess, fuck, baby your captain wants to cum. Make me cum. That’s right, yes, good girl, such a good girl f’ me make me cum.”
He was incoherent, completely drunk on his own pleasure and the thought of you. After a few more lewd tugs on his cock, he came with a groan that almost sounded painful. He sat back in his chair panting and coming down from the high you filled him with.
He slowly regained consciousness and raked his hands through his long hair. The makeup on his face long since smudged and sweated down his face. He cleaned up and tucked himself back into his pants. 
The ship would be docked tomorrow, looking out the back window, Buggy could see land and, as if on cue, the crew mate in the crow’s nest shouted the all familiar phrase of land ho.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚
taglist: @tokoyamisstuff @mommymilkerfanclub @chaoticqueen33 @tootoomanycats
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silkjade · 1 year
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in the moment we’re lost & found
Featuring— albedo, kaveh, zhongli, dainsleif ⤀ gn!reader, reincarnation au but also a some soulmate au vibes (?), dark / light academia themed a/n: i picked charas i thought would suit the aesthetic cus my favorite flavor of reincarnation au has to do with art and museums / luv history + art + museums + galleries !
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— 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎
as an up-and-coming artist, albedo is a rising star in teyvat’s art world, but lately he’s been haunted by a face he sees only in his dreams. it’s unclear, and it drives him insane that he can’t quite make out all the details of this mysterious figure. albedo, whose artwork is notoriously lifelike, knows that something just isn't right; something is missing and he can't quite grasp it. countless times, he's tried to translate the idea of you onto paper, and countless times he's ripped out pages of his sketchbook, the abandoned drawings left crumpled in random corners of his studio, of his house, of his room. they say the mind is unable to create faces of its own so where did you come from? it consumes him— the way you replay in his head once he closes his eyes, as if he'd somehow stolen the memories of somebody else. perhaps this is what the tortured artists sing of when they descend to madness, haunted by an absent muse. at least… until the fateful day he sees you out on the cobbled streets of mondstadt. you pass by quickly, the moment as fleeting as a shooting star, and something in albedo clicks. he doesn’t have time to think, he just moves. his muse is here now within reach; how can he risk letting you slip away?
— 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇
careless collision, staggering steps… you snap your eyes shut as you try to mentally prepare yourself for the utter humiliation of falling into the akademiya fountain. except it never comes. your eyes flutter open, and are instantly met with just about the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. however, his expression is one of shock, as if he’s just as surprised as you are of his own actions, and truth be told, he is. because he seemed to have been able to watch the scene unfold, even before the other party had bumped into you. because kaveh is sure something had come over him, with the way time appeared to have stopped and his legs moved of their own accord. like his body was suddenly able to predict the future, or that it was the work of some absurd sense of muscle memory. even so, the weight of you in his grasp feels uncannily familiar. in a good way. it feels right; it feels like he had waited his whole life for this moment.
and suddenly you're hyperaware of how close the two of you actually are— but also of how safe you feel with his arm wrapped around your waist, or of how his large doe eyes seem to peer into your very soul, the carmine hues dancing with renewed life. you really can't shake the overwhelming feeling that you've met before, that perhaps this isn't your first time around at all. and so you have to ask, “have we met before?”
"no, but I'd like to again."
— 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈
you quite literally walk into zhongli, knocking his documents out of his hands and all across the marble floor of liyue’s national museum. zhongli sighs without looking up; he had spent the better half of a day organizing contracts and paperwork for a loan agreement to inazuma, though he supposes he should share in the blame for not watching where he was going. hundreds of years have passed since the immortal ex-archon worked as a funeral consultant; these days, zhongli opts to spend his time surrounded by artifacts of bygone times and bygone people. but when he looks up, his golden eyes widen and his blood runs cold at the sight of you in front of him. he freezes, as if time seems to have stopped for the both of you. his focus shifts back and forth between you and the painting across the room: a seemingly ordinary portrait, dated from around the time of the blonde traveler. still, whenever asked, he can confidently say that it’s his favorite piece, even in this house of invaluable artifacts and monuments to heroes, even among all the rich antiquities teyvat has to offer. and here you were in front of him, a perfect match to the painting's subject. the one whom he had once held so dear before being torn away by the hands of time, is now kneeling on the floor in front of him, frantically trying to gather the scattered documents, of which he had long deemed irrelevant. he feels his impenetrable stone heart flutter for the first time in what feels like a millennia because it’s you. he's sure of it. it's you, it's you, it's you.
— 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐅
ever since your move to mondstadt, you've started having satin dreams of knights and castles, false flowers and fictional faces; dreams that undoubtedly end in war and destruction because everything shifts. castles crumble, faces morph— it becomes a nightmare so vivid it feels more akin to a memory than a dream. but through it all only one thing remains constant in that, in every iteration, you always fall in love with the same blonde man.
wandering the tranquil halls of mondstadt's national gallery, you find yourself before The Destruction of Khaenri'ah, a painting tragically beautiful in it's depiction of the ancient nation's condemnation by the heavens. you feel your eyes threaten to water, the ache in your chest an indication that the same anguish you've felt in your nightmares, has now sunk its claws into your heart. it's the first time a piece of art has moved you like this. so much so that you’re rooted in a trance-like state until someone beside you clears his throat, snapping you back to reality. he himself also gazes at the painting although his arm is outstretched; a handkerchief in offering for your tears. it isn't until your fingers brush against his that the blonde man turns to meet your gaze. shades of cerulean, bluer than the depths of the seas, all a mere backdrop to the stars shining in his eyes. stars that match the ones sitting in your own eyes. your heart skips a beat at the revelation. it's him, the man from your dreams. he’s real.
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TAGLIST ;; @meimeimeirin @mixed-kester @salmonthepan @hcbnkdf @moonrolling
(send an ask to be added/removed. if you’re bolded, it means I cannot tag you; your blog might be hidden ! )
© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform
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ultrone · 8 months
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─ ౨ৎ ‧˚ witch!gf!lottie whose parents forced her to get back into her meds right after getting rescued from the wilderness, but stayed in touch with her spiritual side.
─ ౨ৎ ‧˚ some random hcs
“what’s this rock for?” “it’s not a rock, y/n, it’s a crystal 🙄”
literally harassed you into giving her your birth information in detail, and ended up memorizing your entire birth chart and looking up what everything meant.
“lotts, why did you hide a rose quartz under my bed? we’re literally dating already 😭”
once, she ghosted you for an entire day because she had a dream where you were flirting with someone else, and she swore on her life that it was a prophetic vision and that it was actually going to happen 🙄 obviously, she couldn't go 24 hours without being near you, so she drove over to your house in the middle of the night with a defeated expression and a pout, wanting to cuddle you to sleep.
“we got the empress card! we’re getting married!”
unfortunately for you, her intuition got so good that she always knows when you’re lying 😭 like don’t even bother trying.
whenever she comes over to your house, she cleanses your room with incense. she also placed an amethyst, a pink calcite, and a prehnite under your pillow so that you never get nightmares about the plane crash ever again.
made you stop talking to misty cuz “her vibe was off” LMAOO 😭
you're convinced that she curses anyone who tries to flirt with you ☠️☠️ once, a girl flirted with you at a party and wouldn't leave you alone until lottie intervened. the monday after the party, that same girl was suddenly absent from school for a week, supposedly due to a severe case of food poisoning, even though she seemed perfectly fine just two nights earlier (the night of the party). coincidence? don’t think so 🤨🤔
got mad at you for stealing her pendulum to cheat on one of your exams as a desperate last resort for not studying LMAOO
"it doesn't work like that, y/n," she said with a sigh. "but look! it spun in circles when i asked if the answer was 'c,' and i got it right," you replied in defense.
whenever you're feeling unwell, she rubs essential oils on the aching body part and prepares herbal tea to help you relax. she’s still learning about oils and herbs, though, so you find it adorable how she stands in the kitchen with her little handwritten journal, flipping through the pages until she finds the remedy that will help you, and then prepares it for you 😭
“get away from me, my girl’s a witch she’ll hex you 😒”
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xoxomoonlightxoxo · 3 months
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P&C | Ch. 17: Ruin Our Friendship
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➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist
With my breath hitched in my throat, my body is restless, turning under the soft covers as faint whimpers escape my parted lips. Eyes closed, I can see Jungkook’s silhouette standing by the fireplace as his body tenses upon hearing my footsteps get closer. Reaching for his shoulder, his skin is cold, ice cold. Something's off. 
“Koo?” I whisper, gentle with my touch. 
“Peaches,” his voice is soft, eyes sparkling with yellow hues from the fire as our bodies melt into each other's embrace. 
“Where were you? I waited,” he says, gliding my hands up to his chest, pressing them against the pounding of his heart beating. 
“Waited? I was right here the whole time,” I whisper with a stutter as my voice shakes from the confusion. 
“No love, I was here, you were gone,” he smiles faintly, looking deep into my teary eyes before caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. 
“Jungkook, I don't get it. What's going on?” I cry out, eyebrows furrowed as my stomach ties into a knot. 
“I miss you more than I can bear Mira, but we had our time together. I have to let you go now,” he says dearly, resting his forehead on mine before focusing his gaze on my lips. 
“Koo stop it, you're scaring me. Please, just tell me what's going on?” I scream, tightening my grasp around his torso as I pull us closer. Unable to hold back the tears any longer I feel them roll down my face as I rest my head on his chest, it's warm, really warm, but this time, I feel no heartbeat. 
--
Gasping for air my chest heaves up as I scream out of my dream before looking around to check for Jungkook’s presence. His curtains block any light coming into the bedroom, fueling the panic rushing through my body from each empty space my hands touch until I can finally feel him. 
“Shh Miraya, baby, what's wrong?” he inches closer, pulling my shaking body into his arms. Wiping the sweat off of my forehead he places a few strands of my hair behind my ear, eyes searching mine. I was a mess. But, the mere realization that it was all a dream made me feel more at ease, and as my breathing slowed down my focus was now on his concerned expression.
“Koo, please don't leave me,” I whisper, cuddling into his chest as his hands tighten around my waist. Looking up at his soft gaze, my eyes swell with tears thinking about the way I almost lost him. Confused by the words coming out of my mouth he leans his head closer to meet my eyes once again. 
“Peaches, I’m right here, what’s wrong?”
“I had a dream. You said you had to let me go now and that you waited for me while I was gone?” I shake my head trying to recall the details from that scene, as the aching feeling in my heart intensifies. 
“Baby, please try to calm down now. It was just a nightmare, I promise,” Jungkook says softly, hands still caressing my pale skin. Cupping my face in his palms, he rests his forehead on mine before pressing a deep kiss on my trembling lips. 
“Let’s go shower, ok?” 
Rinsing the soap off of me, Jungkook is gentle with his touch, leaving a trail of kisses on every inch of my body. Turning towards him, I glide my arms up his defined chest before intertwining my hands in his soft curls. Looking at his soft gaze, my heart is at ease. I’ve said this before, but when we’re together everything just makes sense. Nothing feels forced or rushed, but rather natural. It’s funny because, three months ago, neither of us knew of the other’s existence. Now, Jungkook’s presence in my life is the closest thing I have to a home. 
If everything is so perfect, why does my heart's aching feeling hurt so bad? Even when we are inches apart, I fear the distance between us. Have I gone mad? Maybe. I was never good with commitment, feared being tied down, but also, craved the need to belong to someone. Not as an object but as someone whose whole world fits into someone else's. Meeting Jungkook was a step closer to that desire as our souls moulded into one. So, for now, I will cherish the moments we have together, suppressing the haunting voices in my head that feed off the anticipation of our ending. 
--
Placing a kiss on my forehead, Jungkook unbuckles my seatbelt before opening the passenger door. While my back pressed onto the glass, his hands rested on either side of me, leaning in closer as the smell of his cologne filled the small space between us. Searching my eyes, his gaze softened. 
“Me and you, baby,” he whispers into my ear, nibbling on the soft skin as I feel the flush rise up my cheeks. Watching my flustered state, a grin forms on his face. 
“Stop babying me,” I try to say with a straight face, before bursting into a soft smile. I can’t even hide it, as he truly does have an effect on me. Whether I like it or not, Jungkook has become my weakness. 
“Try to stop me,” he grins with a wink before leaning into a deep kiss. Connected again, my breathing is slow, hands now resting on his leather jacket. 
“I have to go, Koo,” I manage to let out in between the kiss as his eyes stay focused on my lips. 
“Just a little longer,” he whispers, gliding his hand down to my waist as my breath hitches in my throat. Enjoying the moment, Jungkook smiles into the kiss, thinking about how he got me exactly where he wanted. Close to him. 
-- 
Jungkook’s POV
It’s been hours since I dropped Mira off at her dormitory, and since then I can’t stop thinking about her whimpering body in my arms as she begged me to stay. Nightmare or not, something in her mind has fueled this deep-rooted fear, but why? I’ve never been good at showing my affection, which is why my past relationships were short-lived and I take full responsibility for it. But with Mira, it seems that my heart is working overtime to make up for the lost possibilities. I should be the one begging her to stay because if she leaves I fear that I might actually have to consider adopting five dogs and settling down in the middle of nowhere. Mira has become my favorite feeling and she doesn’t even know it.  
Turning in my bed, the thoughts in my head are louder than bombs. Everything reminds me of her as the smell of her perfume stains the soft sheets. This place has become as much of a home for her as it has been for me. So, as I check the time and notice the clock hit 10 pm, I’m saddened by the fact that I can’t even see her because she has her clinical today with Tae. Lucky bastard. Seeing no point in laying in this empty bed staring at the ceiling, I decide to go out for a late-night drive to clear my head. 
Feeling the wind on my face, I speed towards the one place I can always find peace in, my safe escape. As moonlight shines down the road across the bridge, I remember the first time I brought Mira here. She didn’t have to, but she kept me company. Deep inside, that’s all I’ve ever wanted, someone to share the sunset with. 
Reaching for my wallet, I pull out the snapshots we took at the photobooth as my eyes focus on her flushed cheeks. I never noticed, but her left eye squints a bit more when she smiles. My sweet Peaches, I think to myself as my eyes swell with tears. Caressing the film, I can feel my throat suddenly tighten making it harder to breathe. Unclasping my helmet for a moment, I gasp for air as my vision gets blurry, prompting me to slowly lose control of the handlebars. And just like that, the last thing I remember was seeing the flashing headlights ahead. 
-- 
My body aches as I head towards the water fountain. God, today has drained me and I wish for nothing more than to be in Jungkook’s warm arms right about now. Day after day, the idea that nursing is an excruciating major is solidified in my head. I know that God gives the toughest battles to his strongest soldiers, but please, believe me, this battle is one more irritating patient away from being not mine. Nonetheless, my so-called break is short-lived as I feel my pager ring, ushering everyone in my cohort to head toward the emergency unit. 
“Male, possibly in his early 20s, suffered an injury to his head following a motorbike accident west of the Oceana beach,” one of the paramedics states, rolling in a person from the ambulance as I squeeze past the crowd of nursing students and staff. 
As my eyes scan the motionless body, my heart sinks to my feet upon the realization. It’s Jungkook. No, no, no, no, please God, no. Letting out a series of cries, I rush towards him, fighting back the hands pulling me from his side. 
“Miss, please stay back, we need to check his vitals,” one of the doctors says, searching my scattered eyes as tears roll down my face. 
“No, no, no, please, I can’t leave him alone, please,” I beg, falling to my knees as my cohort supervisor rushes to calm me down. 
“Honey, everything will be fine. They’ll call you once visitors are allowed, ok?” she says softly, caressing my palms as we slowly walk towards the nearest bench beside Jungkook’s room. 
--
It’s been about an hour, but it feels like time and my life has stopped since I saw Jungkook’s pale face. His head was bleeding, there was actual blood running down his face. God, why are you doing this? Staring at his room number, 9223, I can’t help but smile thinking about how that was the first day I met Jungkook. On the 2nd of September, at Jimin’s welcome party, as our paths crossed my life was changed forever. Reminiscing those memories, my mind went blank, muting the outside world as I failed to notice the nurse calling out for me. 
“Miss? He is all ready now,” she says with a soft smile, before opening the door for me. Taking in a deep breath, I thank her before finally stepping inside. 
“Peaches,” Jungkook lets out, his voice softer than ever. His form looks small and vulnerable under the hospital sheets as I run towards his arms, melting into the embrace. Pressing my head onto his warm chest, I feel the tears rolling down my face, as he caresses my hair. 
“Miraya, baby, please don’t cry,” 
“Don’t tell me not to cry when I saw you lifeless an hour ago,” I snap, gasping for air as my heart begins to ache again. 
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, lowering his head, eyes focused on my trembling hands. 
“Koo, what happened?” I cry out, moving closer before searching his eyes, which have swelled with tears. 
“I don’t know, it happened so quickly. But, the doctor said that it shouldn’t be anything more than a mild concussion. However, they’re still waiting on my CT scans,” he explains, hands fidgeting with the IV tubes. Softening my gaze, I place a soft kiss on his forehead before meeting his eyes once again. 
“You got me worried sick, Koo,” I whisper before our moment is interrupted by a group of doctors in charge of Jungkook’s case. Walking in, one goes straight to check the vital machines and another puts in a new IV bag, as the last one focuses her gaze on me. 
“Miss, what is your relationship to Mr. Jeon?” she asks, her tone is strict and to the point. 
“I’m just his frie…” I stutter before hearing Jungkook’s voice bud in. 
“Girlfriend. She’s my girlfriend,” he says confidently, caressing my palms with a smile.
“Alright then, well, it seems that Mr. Jeon will have to stay overnight as we are still waiting on a few more test results. Until then, please rest and feel free to call the nurses whenever you need anything,” she says looking at the both of us before ushering the staff out of the room. 
“Peaches, it’s late, you don’t have to stay,” Jungkook lets out, gaze focused on my lips. 
“I’m not leaving you, Koo. Clearly, you can’t live without me,” I giggle, even harder upon seeing his bunny teeth. 
“You’re right, I need you,” he whispers, pulling me in closer before placing a soft kiss.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, and I guess now is as good of a time as any,” he says softly, taking in a deep breath before looking back at my eyes. 
“The funny thing is that I wasn’t even looking when I found you. Truthfully, I had no intention of getting involved with someone romantically again, or at least not for a little while. But, once I met you, I knew exactly what I wanted,” Jungkook explains, laying my hands on his chest. 
“I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I love you, Mira. I’ve been loving you this whole time,” 
Feeling my throat tighten, my breathing slows as my chest begins to heave up. Noticing the flush rise up my cheeks, Jungkook searches my scattering eyes, which are now unable to keep contact with his.       
“You don’t have to say anything, I just need you to know,” he whispers softly, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand before letting out a soft grin. 
“I ... I’m gonna go get you some water,” I manage to let out with a faint smile, before rushing out of the room, escaping the suffocating feeling. God, Mira, what is wrong with you? Why can’t you just confess your feelings to him? It’s not like you’re lying, of course, you love Jungkook. Then, why is it so hard to say it? Shaking my head, I make my way towards the cafeteria before my thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice. 
“Mira? Mira, how are you?” Hanbin says, waving me over to the empty table. 
“Oh, hi Hanbin,” I say quietly, mind still not completely present in the moment. 
“Jeez, Jungkook really got you worried sick, huh?” he chuckles, analyzing the dried tear stains on my face and scrubs. 
“Yeah …” I let out a small laugh, before attempting to get back up as he does the same, offering to walk me down the hallway back towards Jungkook’s room. Before I could reply, his hand rested on my back, helping me get back on my shaky feet. Noticing the change on my face, Hanbin is quick to retrieve his hand as a grin forms on his face. 
“You do love him, don’t you?” he shakes his head.
“Sorry?” I say, my tone more serious and deep now. 
“Jungkook, you love him, don’t you?” he asks again, and although my initial reaction was to tell him to mind his own business, at that moment, it finally hit me that I've never loved anyone as much as I loved Jungkook. 
My moment of epiphany, however, was yet again interrupted by none other than Jungkook himself, as he stood by the entrance of the cafeteria. Holding onto the IV drip bar, his grip tightens upon seeing Hanbin next to me. Looking back at my form, the poor fella excused himself before giving Jungkook a teasing smirk.
Stoned face, Jungkook made his way towards my timid body before sitting on the bench next to me. As I tried to do the same, his grip around my waist tightened, pulling my form onto his thighs. Ignoring my helpless yelps of protest, his gaze was heavy, eyes focused on my lips. 
“Peaches, can’t we just ruin our friendship?” he pouts, letting out a deep sigh. 
“Haven’t we already? I don’t know many friends who occasionally sleep with each other,” I tease, leaning closer as our lips remain inches apart. 
“That’s true, but … ouch,” Jungkook whimpers, breaking our eye contact as his hands hold onto his aching head. 
“Mira, it hurts,” he screams in pain, before falling onto the ground. 
“Koo! What’s wrong? Someone help! Please help!” I yell out in panic, eyes searching for staff as Junkook’s doctor and her team rush through the entrance. 
“Miss, please move back, we need to get him back into his room immediately,” one of them tells me, as they place his weak body onto the hospital stroller. 
“What? Where am I? Who are you?” I could hear Jungkook’s voice shout at the staff, his voice trembling with fear as if he was unable to recognize the familiar faces. 
“What’s going on? Please, just tell me,” I beg, trying to catch up to Jungkook as one of the nurses stops me at his room. 
“Mr. Jeon’s CT scans came back. The head injury turned out to be more serious than we initially thought, and it is now affecting his memory,” she explained, as the entrance shuts closed. Feeling my stomach tie into a not, my heartbeat raises as I bang on the door, demanding to be let in. But, it was too late, and as my eyes met Jungkook's for the last time, they swelled with tears. Everything I was afraid of happening, happened. And just like that, I lost him before ever saying how much I loved him back.
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Previous l Continuation
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forlornkiller · 10 months
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I think this ending was so good for this show because it keeps everybody in a state of motion. We’re able to almost picture or envision what the future is going to be like for them because some cycles are destined to repeat but each character has such different destinies you know? this show is so amazing every scene has so much to unpack…. im only gonna choose a couple moments but I hope they resonate
comparing Kendall and roman……. I think we all knew that roman was abused by Kendall growing up but in previous contexts, it seemed like he had changed…. at least yelling at Logan for his direct abuse but to see Kendall do that to Rome was fucking heartbreaking man . tears in my fucking eyes like he does not. deserve this. nobody fucking deserves this and fuck Logan Roy and every fucking abuser that willingly and even gleefully chooses fucking abuse. kendall seemed resigned to his fate to abuse his brother but it’s just not true man. maybe there was more sorrow than glee in his abuse but only maybe. and either way it’s not fucking right. The acceptance of their nothingness is different yet the same…… so many things are different but the same do u know what I mean ?
Kendall, with protection, but never able to do anything again is a fate i can accept for him. It was really interesting to see how their relationships with other people were again and may I just say. I think it’s quite incredibly clear what Kendall and Stewy had and currently flirt with…… i love that but I hate that for them. As delulu it might be for Stewy to think he can save Kendall, he totally thinks that and who knows . maybe some cool fuck shit happens and Kendall’s able to keep one relationship in his life he cares about. but I guess we won’t see .
Oof going back to Roman’s dig about Rava and her kids…….. i think his relationship with them is so fucked and there isn’t enough time for repentance. He spent so long holding onto a dream that was never real and not even worth having in the end, and knowing that so much of his life was around this one thing. seven years old to now….. maybe some intense psychotherapy and retrospection for years is what he needs. it’s probably the only thing he’s gonna get
,, and in this sense I almost wonder if Connor and Kendall are closer than ever as eldest boys. Connor was never offered the dream, and he never became anything. Kendall is what happens when you offer it and it disappears, making u realize it was never really there in the first place. Might’ve been something, but definitely isn’t now. I also think reducing Connor to nothing is not a fair characterization but he’s not really something either.
Shiv……… i wish there was a way free for her. I’m not the greatest at imagining shiv futures but I somehow see purgatory yet nothing at all. She got the deal, she didn’t get CEO and her reputation got a bit fucked but she’s still married to the CEO. whose baby she’s pregnant with. And who she doesn’t like, i don’t think. Because hurting her has been the way she understands love, i think she’s more into Tom than ever and i think she needs him. He holds a lot of power but in the end he offers love one way, she doesn’t respond that way and they stay together but apart. I can’t tell anymore if it’s real or fake. I think Shiv believes what she said, that once you say all the worst shit to each other you can still be together but part of that is WANTING to be together. If you say all the worst shit and at the end don’t know if you want to come back, then I think you shouldn’t get back together. They just keep making bad decisions. Sometimes relationships are best when both people realize how close they are is not how close they actually want to be or should be. Tom offering his hand in the car…….. she called him a phony and I think I agree. There might’ve been love there.. an opportunity to win love but Shiv doesn’t fight for those things, she takes them as givens. A lot of the tragedy in succession is about timing. Bad things happening right when things were getting good, maybe. The consequences of their actions meet later actions and become perfectly destructive. Okay i got distracted back to shiv and Tom i can’t tell who is trapping who with this baby. I am incredibly sad for this future child and wish that Tom got out now, fuck waystar royco and take his piece of shit and go!!!! but they’re in too deep now.
Switching to tomgreg 🤩 sucking the dick of white supremacy, but maybe making changes internally about how things are done. Tom is better than Logan on most levels I think, and great at his fucking job. Will he be able to counter Logan’s legacy with his own consider his part in advancing Logan’s? Wash his hands free from sins?? i don’t really think so but I think he might want to…….. i always have hope like a dumbass hehe but yea I have been wanting Tom and Gerri team up since the beginning on season 4 and while it’s sad to not see that in action, im glad it’s a definite future. I think she’ll see that Tom can actually be competent. Okay sandwiching Tom and Gerri with Tom and Greg, that sticker shit was fucking cute and I totally thought they were gonna kiss before that. Their fight was so fucking funny LOL i did genuinely enjoy watching that. Fed my tomgreg soul for sure 😌
In regards to mattson (and then I’m going back to Gerri and then I’m gonna SLEEP!!) i think what he wanted with his numbers happened, them getting lost in the deal dazzle? It went through and now everybody’s fucking rich. The thing is idk all the legal business stuff so is this gonna fuck everybody over in a couple weeks to months? No clue but for now Mattson’s kinda on top of the world. I really don’t like him tho hehe i hope he gets smashed to death by a pile of his own blood bricks. I wonder if Tom will actually be his front man, or try to kill him at some point too? The urge to serve is so strong in him…… but do I firmly believe that with a healthy kinky relationship with somebody PERHAPS GREG. he would be able to fulfill that and also rule the world? Absolutely man it’s just abt balance 😌 my belief that the acceptance of bdsm would fix so many things in our society & in succession is unshakable okay don’t question me. ANYWAYS
Gerri….. a queen as always. Roman pining from afar is so sad so tragic reminding himself of her with every drink he drinks and thought he thinks. One of THE biggest regrets and him saying that he’s nothing, that all the sibs are nothing? I think in this moment it’s true. I can feel how that is truth for him. With Gerri’s brief flashes of emotion during the funeral ….. i have hope. Succession aside, i really believe have faith in love and its power to save lives & transcend death. I think what they had bw them was real, and with the scripts as well I don’t think that connection was faked. What makes my heart hurt is that in the past it seemed like Gerri was the only one in the room who cared if he was hurt. She can’t necessarily protect him but she sees him. He doesn’t have that, the three sibs don’t have anybody that really loves & knows them enough to be able to deal with this trauma but I don’t think hope is totally gone. I’m an optimist in the end
God this is fucking long I’m a wordy person but overall? GOD i love this show!!! I really think they ended it at a great spot in this way where things keep going. Nobody’s story ever really ends, it feels like it does and to the person living their story it might but being able to watch their lives? You realize that it doesn’t end. I think Jesse’s commentary on the fear behind ending Succession here is super valid though, because there is a message here that is ultimately anti capitalist. If we were able to really see, at length the way we’ve seen the first cycles, how their cycles continue I think it would really wake a lot of people up to how things operate in this society. The longer this nation goes on, the longer the abuse this nation was founded from goes on. I’m going to end here but wow this show has given me so much to think about when it comes to love, abuse, capitalism, society & American culture as a whole like goddamn. What a show man what a show
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moonttaeil · 1 year
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trust fund baby; pt. I
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▶ Pairing: Doyoung x reader. 
▶ Word count: 25k.
▶ ; very angsty; part of a series but can be read as a standalone; doyoung is rude; I don't remember the main triggers I'm so sorry; talks of violence; substance consumption; slow burn; NSFW at some point;
THE TRUST FUND BABY – DOYOUNG – This guy is everything a fraternity’s dreams are made of. He is always decked out in designer gear. Every. Single. Day. We get it, you have money and are probably a business major. He’s the most confident person in the room because he knows nothing can touch him thanks to mommy and daddy’s money. Humility is probably not something he practices very often, so don’t be surprised when he acts like he owns the place (and his parents might actually own the place).
Doyoung’s hand was tightly grasping the phone while he talked with his father. His designer button-up shirt was neatly ironed and looked good on his slender body, his hair always in check and his aura giving out the fact that he had everything under control. Well, almost everything. 
“But father I—“he tried to speak, just to be cut off by his father’s voice through the line. He sighed, nodding while he still listened to his words. “Okay, I understand what you’re trying to say, but don’t you think I have to at least—“, but he was cut off again. 
His mission to persuade his father into not making him meet yet another of the daughters of his associates was unsuccessful once again. He looked out of the window of his room, just to see his frat brothers preparing everything for the party that they here having tonight. His father’s voice was still talking through the phone, but he had already shut his voice out. “Okay” was the only thing he answered to whatever he had said, giving up on changing his father’s ideas. 
Having the luxury life Doyoung was used to have, it came with different consequences, just like having to agree with everything his parents said. “Doyoung, you need to take private riding lessons”, when he was seven. “Doyoung, you need to know at least four different languages”, when he was twelve. “Doyoung, you should, and will, be taking piano classes until you finish high school”, when he was fifteen. “Doyoung, you will major in business so you can take the reins once we’re gone”, when he had to choose what to study in college. 
He always obeyed what his parents told him to do, but maybe this was taking it too far. They were choosing who he had to date, and probably who he had to marry one day. The rage he had felt inside of himself was building ever since he wanted to drop out of piano lessons because he thought it was boring, but they didn’t let him. 
Doyoung has always had different interests than his parents. Instead of horse riding, he had always wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle. Instead of knowing four different languages, he had always wanted to travel around the world as a backpacker. Instead of piano lessons, he had always wanted to learn to play the electric guitar. 
But the stern look on his parents’ faces, and the threats of leaving him without a penny from his inheritance, made him too afraid to even think about rebelling against them. 
“Doyoung, we need help with the drinks” Taeyong, one of his best friends on the frat house, popped his head through his door, making Doyoung snap out of his deep thinking. “Yeah—I’ll be there in a second” he nodded back at him, as he opened his wardrobe to change his clothes. 
The fact that Doyoung was in a fraternity was also part of his parents’ job. His father was part of that same fraternity, and so was his grandfather. It was funny the day he appeared to apply to enter, because everyone knew whose surname he proudly wore. 
At the end, everyone knew who owned the house where the twenty one brothers lived in and threw parties constantly. 
He looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom. He ruffled his dark fluffy hair, making it messy. He took off the formal clothes he wore on campus and threw on an oversized t-shirt and some jeans. 
Those were the times he felt normal. When they had a party, when he was around his frat brothers, or when he just acted like a normal kid who wasn’t drowning in money, those were the times he felt most happy. And he tried to seize every moment, knowing that the time was limited. Once he finished college, his limited freedom would be completely gone.
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The loud music made your head hurt once you entered the house. This was the first time you attended a fraternity house party, and for now it wasn’t something spectacular. “Okay, but do we know someone here?” you asked your best friend, whose eyes were already set on every boy that passed by her. 
“No, but we’re here to make friends Y/N” her voice shouted over the sound of the music blasting on the speakers, and you just shook your head. The Greek life on campus wasn’t something you were interested into. You always thought these people had too much money to enter a fraternity, for what? To brag about how much they could spend on a party for hundreds of people? It was ridiculous. 
Making your way over where the drinks were, you felt a hand creep on your butt. Turning around quickly, you caught the person who was responsible for such actions. “What the fuck—“you shouted, and the boy in front of you just smirked, winking one eye at you. “If you ever touch me again I’ll make sure to chop off your hands, you got me?” you pointed an accusing finger at him, making his eyes widen at your words. 
You felt your friend’s hands on your forearm, dragging you back. “What the hell was that Y/N?” she spoke, still holding you while you both walked to the kitchen. “What do you mean—he was touching me without consent” you shouted back, now very angry. 
“What if you stopped being so defensive and maybe—I don’t know, let yourself loose a little?” she asked giving you a cup with some liquid you couldn’t recognize. Your eyelids had a heavy dark make up on, that contrasted with your eyes when you rolled them back. “I’m trying but that doesn’t mean I’m letting some spoiled brats touch me whenever they want” you spat back, drinking from your cup. 
“I understand perfectly what you’re trying to say, yes” she nodded, also sipping from her cup. “But not everyone here is bad and malicious” she laughed back, and leaned on the counter next to you. “Do you see that boy over there, with the snapback?” she pointed at a tall boy whose dimples were showing while he talked. 
“His name is Jaehyun, and I’ve heard around that he’s—let’s just say he likes to take control in bed” she nudged at you, a sly smirk appearing on your face. “And do you see that one over there?” she now pointed at another body who had a little ponytail and a wide smile. 
“His name is Yuta” she spoke close to your ear so you could hear her perfectly, “oh don’t tell he’s the one that—“ you started to speak but shut yourself up when you saw her nodding in approval, a smirk also displayed on her face. 
“Maybe this party is fun after all” you added, your eyes set on the different boys around the room. 
Having a life full of freedom was something that your parents have taught you ever since you were little. You wanted to go and play in the mud? Go ahead. You wanted to paint the walls of your bedroom with your bare hands? Yes, of course, that’s a great way of letting your creativity flow. 
You’ve never had someone telling you the things you couldn’t do, and because of the great example your parent were to you, you had achieved many things in life. Your passions changed constantly, but the effort and love you put on every single one of them gave off its benefits. 
That’s how you entered college, majoring in art. Some people said that it was worthless to study art, what would you work on afterwards? They would always ask. But that’s not something you were worrying about, at the end, maybe you weren’t even alive by the time you had to look for a job. Living on the present, as you liked to call it, you almost never thought about what your future plans were, or what you did a year ago. That something you couldn’t change, either way. 
After hours on the party, and maybe too much drinks for you, you were finally letting yourself go. Happily chatting with everyone around, laughing and flirting with every boy that had the chance to speak with you. You loved the attention, and the fact that you always acted uninterested made it more fun. 
Walking back to the table where the alcohol was still, you tripped over somebody, pouring the rest of your cup over your clothes. “What the fuck?! You should watch where you’re going!” you shouted at the tall boy who had bumped into you. 
His eyes narrowed at you, “watch your mouth” he threatened, looking down at your damp clothes. “What--? Do you see this?” you tried to take the shirt far from your body, as the alcohol was making it feel sticky on your skin. “Yeah I see—I’m sorry, maybe you should look where you’re going too” he simply answered back, shrugging his shoulders mindlessly.
It made your blood boil inside of your veins as you clenched your hands. The alcohol wasn’t making it easy to control your rage, nor the words that were about to leave your mouth. “Excuse me?!” the screech of your voice made him narrow his eyes. “I believe you’re the one guilty here, so I don’t understand the attitude”. 
Wrinkles appeared on his face as he couldn’t understand why you were screaming after he had apologized. Some people had turned their faces to look at your wide eyes and head looking up at the mysterious boy in front of you. “Look, I said I’m sorry—don’t make a scene in front of everyone here” he leaned down a bit, trying to keep the conversation between your two. His breath hit your ear as he spoke and it made you shiver, which you couldn’t understand at all. Blame it on the alcohol, Y/N, the little voice appeared on your mind. 
“I’m not making a scene—“ 
“Oh?” he smirked, and turned his head to look around the room. Your eyes followed his, to just realize that a lot of girls had a really angry expression on their faces and some boys were looking funny at you. “Look I don’t care—“ 
“You sure?” he asked again, now trying to make you even more angry. You knew it, just by the look on his face, you knew he was having fun. “I don’t know who you are—and I don’t want to know, but you should watch your attitude with people who you don’t know at all” you threatened him, you index finger accusing him. The black haired boy raised a questioning brow at your threat, and took you’re your finger. “And you should learn some manners, pointing at people? That’s rude” he laughed. “Look, you can stay—you’re cute, but—“he stopped, biting his lip as he looked around the room, “if you make a scene again, you will have problems” he was the one to threaten now. 
The tone of his voice made all of your blood drain from your face. He had a stern expression on his, not a sign of emotion could be seen. And you felt fear for the first time that night. His aura was not something you were accustomed to, and you knew he was dangerous. Not gang member dangerous, no. You knew he was way too smart for that. He did not play. 
His stone-cold eyes found yours for the last time before he moved, leaving you speechless and alone. 
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Your hand trembled as you were holding the brush. Your eyes were set on the canvas in front of you. All white. No colour. It was empty, just like your head. You took down your hand and placed the brush again on the little table that was on your right side. This has been the third day of not painting. And this project was due—twelve hours. 
A loud and annoyed sigh left your mouth as you let your head drop back, eyes closed tightly. “What the hell!” you shouted frustrated. This has never happened to you before. Your imagination was wild all the time, the ideas had always flowed perfectly from your mind to your hand and onto the canvas in front of you. Then what the hell was happening to you now?
“Hey Y/N” Xiao Jun, your flat mate, entered your room after hearing you scream for the tenth time that day. You didn’t even answer back as he neared you to also look at the plain white canvas in front of you. “I see you haven’t really advanced anything on this project” he patted your shoulder. “And mister obvious appears once again” you answered laughing, making him smile down at you. 
“What’s wrong?” he asked sitting down on your bed, his elbows leaning on his knees as he looked up at your worried face. “I haven’t seen you this blocked in like—I don’t know, ever since we were ten?” he laughed. “I don’t know I’m just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just don’t have anything on my mind” you looked down at your empty hand, and then at the white canvas in front of you. 
“How long have you been like this?” he asked you again, and you avoided his eyes. Xiao Jun was someone you really appreciated to have in your life but both of you didn’t really—match on personalities. It was like day and night. Like the sun and the moon. Like water and fire. You had first met him when you two were seven year olds, on your first day of school. He had seen you doing all kind of crazy stuff and always tried to stop you before it was too late. Let’s just say that he was the—brain on the friendship. 
“I don’t know maybe—two, three days?” you murmured, still avoiding his eyes. “Has something happened to you lately? Maybe something that had made you feel nervous, or scared or—“ 
“No!” you were quick to fire back, “I’m not afraid of anything, you know that” you answered standing up from your stool, taking off the stained clothes you always used to paint. He sighed as he looked at your naked body, changing in front of him. You were so used to his presence, that it was something completely normal. At least that’s what you thought. 
“You know—it’s normal to be frightened of things Y/N, we’re all humans” he tried to speak calmly. “Yes, but nothing has happened to me lately, so don’t worry” you turned around to smile at him. His eyes were narrowed at you, he had never seen you being so defensive. He had never seen you so irritated and frustrated. You were now tying your hair up on a bun as you looked at yourself in the mirror, he stood up to stand behind you, looking at your reflection. 
“Don’t tell me you got rejected” he smirked, cautiously studying your reaction. Your eyes widened and so did your mouth. “What! No!” you quickly answered, turning around to hit him on the shoulder. “What was that for?” he whined holding his shoulder. “Don’t be a pussy, I didn’t even hit you that hard—“
“Where are you going?” he asked as you were now taking your jacket. “Somewhere to inspire myself” you answered. “You’re going to get drunk on a Wednesday?” he asked following you out of your room. A laugh escaped your mouth as you felt his steps behind you, “Why? You want to come?” 
He stopped to look at you put on your shoes, his body leaning on the wall. “No, I’m the responsible one, remember?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t make me laugh Xiaojun” you answered, still struggling to put on your shoes. “No but really, a class mate is coming in like—“ he looked at his watch with narrowed eyes, “—thirty minutes and we have to finish a project for class, and he’s a bit—“ he looked at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. 
“An idiot?” you asked him, putting on your jacket. “No, he’s too much of a perfectionist” he answered, his arms still crossed over his chest. “Well, I’ll try to come after midnight so I don’t bother the business men in the house” you shrugged smiling. “This is also your home, you won’t be bothering anyone” he tried to reassure you. “I know dumbass, I don’t know who mister perfect is but I’ll be back home for dinner, and do you want me to bring you something?” 
“I’ll text you later”
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The sun was setting, painting all of your surroundings a deep tone of orange. You were walking for about two hours now, alone. Your hands were on your pockets, and you just tried to take in everything around you, from the buildings to the people. Nothing made you really think, nothing made you really excited. Instead of finding the little details that made your heart thump in your chest with new ideas, you just found everything to be plain and boring. 
You sighed again and closed your eyes, stopping in the middle of sidewalk. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself, the only thing you could see with your eyes closed was his face. The face of the boy who didn’t even flinch at your words, the one who didn’t give you a second look before turning around after threatening you with simple words. 
“Who the hell are you?” you whispered, finally opening your eyes. The golden sun that bathed everything orange was almost gone, the darkness of the night slowly falling on the streets you were walking on. Once again, it was unsuccessful for you to find inspiration. Your muses were gone ever since your encounter with that stranger, who unconsciously had turned your life upside down. 
You dragged your feet slowly, not wanting to go back home to just look at the white canvas. Almost all hope of finishing that project for tomorrow was gone. Maybe if you just painted a simple—no, you knew you were not a simple person, and so did your professors. They had always praised you for not being conventional, for taking risks and doing it your way. 
But this? This was something you have never experienced before. 
You took out your keys and opened the front door, sighing. Maybe it was the best to paint something simple, pretty with great colour scheme. “I’m home” you shouted, announcing your arrival to your flatmate. “We’re in the living room Y/N” you heard Xiao Jun’s voice resonate on the walls. We are? You asked yourself, it was almost 10 P.M., what the hell was his classmate doing here still?
With a tired and annoyed expression you entered the living room. Your feet stopped moving as you saw the back of who you supposed it was Xiaojun’s classmate. His black hair and broad shoulders. Your breathing hitched and your eyes widened. “Oh, Y/N you’re already here? We were just giving the final review on our project” Xiao Jun turned around to smile at you. The boy sitting next to him turned around to look at you too, and that was the moment your whole world crashed down. 
“What the hell are you doing here?” you grimaced when your eyes met his. His eyebrows shot at your harsh words and so did Xiao Jun’s. “You know Doyoung?” he asked you, pointing at his classmate. “Doyoung? So that’s mister perfect’s name?” you asked and moved to sit down on the couch opposed to them. 
“Y/N—“Xiao Jun tried to stop you, but your eyes were set on Doyoung’s face. 
“No” Doyoung stopped him, smirking. “Y/N, right?” he asked, looking back at you. You could just nod at him while your eyes travelled on his face, taking in every detail. “Me and Y/N met in a party my fraternity was throwing three days ago and we had a little—misunderstanding” he chose his words wisely. 
“Misunderstanding?” you murmured repeating his words. “But everything’s fine now, isn’t it?” his tone of voice changed unexpectedly. He had used the same tone of voice he used on the party. His eyes were cutting through you and for some reason you felt small around him. Words couldn’t come out of your mouth and you felt your palms getting sweaty. 
Standing up quickly you ran out of the room, unable to keep looking at him anymore. The loud sound the door made when it was closed made both men flinch in their seat. “Hey Y/N—“you heard Xiao Jun shout behind you. “What the hell is wrong with her?” you could hear his words again, confusion tainting them. 
Your back was glued to the door, your palms at each side of your body. Usually you didn’t lose control like this, so easily. But he managed to make you go crazy with every simple word he muttered, how was that even possible? How did he do it? Closing your eyes, there he was again. His face waiting in the dark to appear once again in your mind, his narrowed eyes and sly smirk, he had made his way into your life and now it seemed like you couldn’t make him disappear. 
With a deep breathe you opened your eyes again. You were safe. You were in your room. Everything seemed normal, it felt almost like a bad dream. Losing composure like that wasn’t something you used to do, why now? The white canvas was still waiting for you at the end of your room, it was almost as if it was laughing at you. How pathetic, a boy appears in your life and he does not only make you go crazy, he disables you to do what you most love. 
Their voices could be heard from the other side of the door which you were still leaning on. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning so we can give it a final touch, is that alright with you?” Doyoung’s voice was stern, almost as if he was a parent scolding his child. You couldn’t hear Xiao Jun’s response, he didn’t manage to do well in front of people who were more intimidating than him. 
“And—“ Doyoung’s voice made an appearance once again, “—I’m sorry for what happened with Y/N” a scoff followed next, “I thought we left everything clear at the party, but I guess she’s still pissed at me for no apparent reason” 
For no apparent reason? You were fuming. Almost ready to go out and slap off his beautiful face that smirk you’ve seen so little times but memorized perfectly in your mind. But if you got out there and made a scene again, he would think he won over you and your little patience. “I’ll try to apologize the next time I see her” his voice appeared again, and Xiao Jun’s little laugh was next. Apologize? 
You were so confused. What made him think he would see you again? Why did he want to apologize if there was no apparent reason to be mad? Why was he so obnoxious? With your hands still on each side of your body, you sat down rigid on the stool in front of that damn white canvas. Enough was enough. You couldn’t let a stranger make you lose control like this. 
Taking a deep breath, again, again and again. You finally picked up the small brush and prepared all the colours you wanted to use. Maybe this was your mind making it all up, but if you didn’t finish this, if you let the frustration Doyoung has created win over you, it would mean he had won. He had won a battle he didn’t even know he was having with you. 
“That bastard—who does he think he is?” your hisses filled the room as you changed your clothing into something you could freely stain. Xiao Jun entered the room without you even realizing. His presence was sometimes like a shadow. “I swear if I see him again –“ 
“So he was the one who rejected you?” 
His words made you turn around in surprise. Your eyes were wide, and your ears were starting to get red because of the embarrassment. “Who said he rejected me?” you defended yourself, still mad. The smirk on his face made it obvious he didn’t need any more information about the situation. 
Doyoung hasn’t rejected you. Has he? No. that’s impossible, you didn’t even make a move on him. He simply poured all of his drink over you by accident. But he didn’t give you a second glace, that’s also true. That hasn’t happened before, right? Was that the problem? Was it because he had completely ignored you as a woman? Was that the reason you were going crazy? Because a boy ignored you?
“I don’t know what you’re thinking about, Xiaojun, but whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it” you decided to let this slip by. You didn’t need his judging eyes on you. “Don’t worry, it’s not because of you. Doyoung’s too much into studying to even think about girls, you’re not the problem Y/N” he said before leaving your room. 
Your eyes were still wide, the stained clothes you used for painting sessions were tightly wrapped around your hands. Your heart was thumping in your chest, how did he know what were you thinking? 
You let yourself sit down on the stool again. Your shoulders were still tense, and so were your hands. You wouldn’t be able to paint if you were this tense, it wouldn’t work out. Closing your eyes again, there he was. Waiting for you to close your eyes so he could appear. “I’m going crazy” was the only thing you could say. 
“Okay then—if this is how my mind wants to play games on me, let’s play” you whispered before picking up the brush again. If he was the only thing you could think of, then he would be the subject of your project. 
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The clock was ticking on the wall as you were waiting for your professor to finish with the lecture. You hated this, you only liked the classes where you could put on practice everything he teaches on the boring lectures. You managed to zoom out of the class again, thinking about nothing and everything. Your eyes were focused on the pencil on your hands. 
You made it twirl between your fingers, your bored expression too obvious. People started to move around you and you realized that class was over. Finally. 
“Y/N” the professor called you before exiting. You scrunched your nose, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you daydream in his classes, was he pissed about that now? “I wanted to talk to you about your last project” his words were firm as he looked around some papers. Your heart stopped in your chest. Was he talking about Doyoung’s portrait? 
“What about it? Is it that bad? It’s my first time trying out a realistic portrait, I’m aware it’s not completely—“ 
“Will you let me talk?” he stopped you, all your blood draining from your face. “Yes, sir” you muttered quietly, too embarrassed to even look at him anymore. “I was going to praise you on how good it was” he spoke again, looking up at you from his seat. The surprised expression on your face made him smile back at you. “And I was going to ask you if you would let us include it into the exposition we’re making in two weeks on the gallery” he explained again. 
His words entered your mind but they made no sense. Your professors had always praised you on your work, but it was the first time someone has asked you to include your work for an exposition. “It would be auctioned afterwards, so if you don’t want to do it I’ll understand”. 
You couldn’t answer to anything he was saying, too shocked to think about everything that was going on. So first he appears out of nowhere, he ignores you, he haunts you in your mind, and now, on top of everything, he was the one responsible for you to finally have the chance to hang your work on an exposition? He really made you go crazy. 
“Professor” you finally spoke after a heartbeat, “can I think about it first? As you said, it’s my first portrait and if it’s going to be auctioned later on, it would be a great loss for me” you tried to sound sad, almost as if you wanted to cry. His eyebrows shot up in surprise because of your reaction, “yeah, of course—take your time” he quickly answered. 
“Thank you” was the only thing you said before stomping out of the room. Your legs moved quickly around campus, you needed to get home first. Talk to Xiao Jun. Cry out your frustration, and then make a decision. You didn’t even know why he made you so mad, you didn’t even know him. You had only spoken to him two times. Y/N, what’s wrong with you? The little voice inside of your head made an appearance. 
“I don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me” you hissed back. 
“Y/N!” You heard someone shout behind you, making you stop. Turning around, you narrowed your eyes to catch who was calling you out. Xiao Jun’s face appeared as he was making his way to where you were standing. But he wasn’t alone. 
Doyoung’s strong tall figure was walking by his side. He was taller than Xiao Jun, but he was as slender as him. Both men were dressed up nicely, their hairstyles on check, just like their faces. They were the epitome of perfection. And that bothered you, a lot. “Where were you going in such a hurry?” he asked once he was in front of you, Doyoung silently standing by his side. 
“Oh—home” you answered, unable to look at him or Doyoung. “Home? You never hurry to go home” he laughed, trying to catch your gaze. “It’s because I have work to do—another project” you tried to explain quickly, feeling too awkward to be around them. “Oh, what did you do for your last project?” He asked again, and it bothered you how talkative and quirky he suddenly was. 
“I didn’t do it—I couldn’t concentrate” 
“Oh, Xiao told me about it—was it because of the little argument we had?” Doyoung was the one to talk now, a big smile appearing on his face. As if he knew he had won. “What? No, no—I just—it was a very difficult project and I couldn’t find inspiration to… finish it” you lied through your teeth, feeling guilty to be lying at your best friend. 
“Well, I’m sorry for that—and, if you’re still bothered about that… I apologize for my behaviour” he spoke calmly, his eyes never leaving your face, as if he was used to apologizing for things he believed he wasn’t guilty for. “I—well…” you tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come out. Well, this really did feel awkward. 
“Oh Y/N, Doyoung’s parents have a gallery nearby—I thought you would like to go and check it out sometime” Xiao was the one to break the tension, trying to make you calm down. “Yeah that’d be—nice” you tried to sound friendly, but you still couldn’t believe how Doyoung apologized again. Why did he behave so differently? It seems like he wasn’t the same boy who bumped into you at the party. Perhaps he was drunk? No, that couldn’t be possible, he maintained his composure just like now, and the only thing that changed was his tone of voice. 
“They’re also having an—“
“Look boys, I’d love to stay and chat but I really have to get home now—“you were speaking as you were slowly walking backwards, running away from them. “But—“ 
“I’ll see you home Xiao!”
When did you start running away from people Y/N? The little voice inside of your head asked. I’m not running away from--, but you were. You were running away from him. Why were you so scared to be around him, this has never happened before? 
The way back home was filled with arguments between you and the little voice inside of your mind. Why did you even think about it so much? Why did he make you feel so uncomfortable? You didn’t even know him, damn it. 
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Home felt lonely without Xiaojun. Slumped down on the couch, you had your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you, mindlessly playing yet another episode of a stupid drama you decided to watch just to clear your mind. But nothing made you really forget about him. Were you really going mad?
A deep sigh left your mouth as you slouched even deeper on the couch, your head between your shoulders, a position that would probably lead you to have real bad back pains in the morning. “What is wrong with me?” you muttered out loud. Your phone was lying down next to you, you took it back up. No notifications. No calls. “Were did my social life go?” 
Your mind wandered back to your room, where yet another white canvas was patiently waiting to be painted. Remembering back when you painted Doyoung’s portrait, you felt really frustrated for that being the only thing that your hands were able to transfer from your mind to the canvas. Your finished that damn portrait in less than five hours, that being your very first portrait. 
The look he had the night you met him. That’s the only thing you were thinking about when you were deep into the painting session. His harsh yet simple words. The fact that he didn’t give you a second glance that night. How he threatened you. Nobody has spoken to you that way before. 
The painting was nice. The colours were great. But it was nothing spectacular, why did your professor want it to be hung on the gallery? It had nothing special. You had hundreds of painting better than that one, and none of them have had that recognition. 
Was it because you really let your mind do the work, instead of your hands? Was that even possible?
That’s it. You were officially going mad. 
With a quick movement you sat straight on the couch. “I’m not letting that little fucker ruin my spirit!” your words came out harsh, resonating on the walls of the living room, mixing themselves with the sound that was coming out of the television. 
The sound of keys opening the front door made you lose focus, turning yourself around to finally greet Xiaojun. “You’re back home?” you shouted as you stood up, tripping over your own foot as you made your way to the entrance. Your own excitement of having your best friend back home, someone to talk with about this damn problem that was eating you alive. 
What you didn’t expect was to not only hear his voice, but the voice of that someone who has been tormenting you for the past week and half. “I’ll be ready real quick, just—oh, Y/N, you’re here” Xiaojun’s smile greeted you when he saw you wrapped up in a blanket waiting by the entrance. 
“Where was I supposed to be?” you asked incredulous, totally ignoring Doyoung’s presence in your house. 
His smile slowly dropped. “Well, is Friday night—I thought you’d go out” he quickly spoke as he moved past you, entering inside of the house. “Doyoung! Make yourself at home, I’ll be ready in ten” he said without looking back, directly entering his room. 
You were left alone with him at the entrance. His eyes were set on you, his aura calm. He proceeded to take off his shoes, but you didn’t take your eyes off of him, narrowing your look at his every movement. “Look, I can wait here if you’re not comfortable with me entering—“ 
“No, you heard Xiao, make yourself at home” you quickly stopped him from talking, turning back and entering the living room once again. It was Friday night? Why are you home on a Friday night? You asked yourself. You were the outgoing one, why was Xiaojun suddenly going out on a Friday night?
“My brothers are throwing a party tonight, you’re invited… if you want to come“ Doyoung announced sitting down on the couch next to yours, trying to catch your eyes. But you were not having it, your own eyes glued to the screen in front of you. “Only if you don’t make a scene like last time” he scoffed under his breath, this situation was clearly funny to him. 
“I’m good, but thanks” you quickly answered, making the tension between you two grow bigger. “Why are you like this?” he asked, his tone of voice still calm. With furrowed eyebrows, you maintained your eyes looking straight. “Well, you are clearly behaving like a little girl” he spoke again, now looking also at the screen. 
“Who do you think—“ 
“You’re behaving just like the last time” he looked back at you, successfully catching your eyes. “But now you’re not throwing a fit, you’re just trying to ignore me… tell me, is it because I make you nervous?” the smirk on his face was showing up again, and that made you want to brush it off with a punch. 
“What makes you believe you—out of everyone in this world, would make me nervous?” you laughed back, way too tense. “Well—I wouldn’t like meeting someone who knows how to put me in my place with simple words either” he showed a full smile now, totally opposite to his harsh words. 
The sound of the television was totally muffled in your mind. You clenched your hands under the blanket repeatedly. “You did not put me in my place” you tried to sound harsh as he did, but it clearly came out weak. 
“Sure”
The shrug of his shoulders really made you lose it. As you opened your mouth, ready to let out all kind of barbarities, Xiao exited his room. “I’m ready” he announced as he still brushed the hair out of his eyes. The tension between you and Doyoung could be easily felt, and Xiao noticed it quickly. “Um—Y/N, you’re coming with us?” he asked, trying to ease the atmosphere. 
“No, those frat parties are too boring for me” the answer was simple, but it was directly addressed to Doyoung. 
“I thought you were having fun last time, with all those men around you” he was quick to answer, a sly smirk on his face again. It made your blood boil, why? Because he wasn’t one of those men? “I haven’t been to any still, don’t spoil it for me Y/N” Xiao intervened again, already making his way to the entrance. 
“Don’t black out Xiao, I’m not going to get you!” you threatened from the living room, only earning a couple of laughs from the two of them. “I’ll take care of him Y/N” Doyoung spoke again, and his voice was the last thing you wanted to hear. 
And then, they left. 
“Damn it!” your fists punched the couch underneath you. “How does that little fucker know what I’m thinking about all the time?” you asked yourself standing up. 
Distraction. That’s what you needed. 
You made your way back to your room, where the white canvas was waiting. “I have to clear my mind of him” you spoke softly, sitting down on the stool in front of it. The colours you wanted to use were ready, the brushes were also sorted out. But your mind was blank. “What now?” you asked yourself, looking down at your hands. 
“Are you two going to cooperate or no?!” you screamed at them. “Okay—I’m really losing it” you sighed. Closing your eyes, you decided to be the one cooperating this time. “There’s no use to force things, right?” you spoke softly as Doyoung’s eyes appeared in front of you again. 
You took the brush up. If this was going to be this way, you had to at least clear your mind in some way. You didn’t care if it was another portrait of him. You just had to calm down, clear it out, and then move on.
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Doyoung’s head hurt like hell as he walked around the house full of people. The music was too loud, increasing the pain of his headache. His eyes were red and glossy. He didn’t have to drink that much that night, he was now regretting it. But he always did that after an argument with his parents.
“I’m not meeting anymore bratty rich girls father!” he had finally snapped that same evening. He was talking on the phone again, of course his father wouldn’t come to see him. They haven’t seen each other since the school year started. “Doyoung, you will do as I say” his voice came out stern, making Doyoung’s blood freeze in his veins. 
“I believe that’s something too private for you to decide on it” he had answered back, ready to finally win this battle with him. He was tired. Tired of being thrown around like a rag doll, forced to do everything he hated deep inside. “Oh” his father let out a laugh from the other line, “don’t tell me you have a girlfriend? I thought you were too focused on your studies, maybe you’re not focusing enough, huh?” he had asked. 
“What if I did?” Doyoung asked back, pushing his limits to the end. “Then you’ll have to end it” 
His father’s words kept repeating over and over again as he made his way to his room upstairs. Everything was spinning around, he couldn’t focus his gaze on anything without the room turning upside down suddenly. “You will do as I say, Doyoung”, those words kept tormenting him for the last twenty years of life. 
He finally arrived to his dark room. The sound of the music blasting outside was now muffled by the walls, the only source of light were the neon lights they had put outside on the yard. His body fell down on the bed on the centre of the room, his forearm quickly falling on top of his face, covering his eyes. 
“I’ve been doing as you say all my life father” he murmured to himself, holding back the tears. Was it because he was drunk? Was it because he was frustrated? Was it because he was sad? He didn’t know. But all he wanted to do was to cry. He has never cried before, it was forbidden. Men don’t cry Doyoung, they confront the situation, his father’s words made their way back into his mind. 
He had been building up the anger inside of his chest for the past years, successfully holding himself as a man, like his father had said. But what he didn’t know is that, all the anger he was holding inside had a date of expiry, and it may have finally come time for the bomb to stop ticking. It was about to explode, and it was about to destroy everything his father had created out of nothing. 
“I’ve been doing as you say all my life—it’s time to change the rules of the game, father” he muttered one last time. 
No tears were felt. He held himself together. Once again, he let all the anger build up just to let it all out at once. “This is the end, father”. 
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It was two A.M. And you finally put down the brush. It was Doyoung again. He was the one looking at you from the other side of the canvas. His dark eyes were the one cutting through your soul. You didn’t know how you achieved that look, but it scared you. Was it like that the last time you saw him? Were his eyes so tormented the last time you spoke with him? Or was your own mind playing games with you?
A deep sigh left your lungs as you kept looking at the painting. Have you really failed to see his real expression when you were in front of him? Was he really sad? You had too much questions, and all of them bothered you to no end. You shouldn’t be worried about a damn stranger, you should be out with your friends partying, not in your room painting a portrait of someone who seemed to be living a hell of a life. In a bad way. 
Your hands trembled as you kept looking at him. Your mind must be playing games on you. He seemed calm and collected every time you saw him, he didn’t seem sad nor miserable. Why did you paint him like this? “This is stupid” you said taking the canvas and leaving it on the floor, leaning on the wall next to your bed. “I shouldn’t have done this” you spoke again, looking down at the painting. 
As you changed your clothes you thought again about your professor’s offer. Maybe it was a good idea to expose one of your paintings, and maybe someone would buy it. But again, who would want a portrait of a stranger hanging on their wall? Well—there’s weird people out there, you nodded to yourself. 
“I shouldn’t worry too much about it” you spoke again, now lying down on your bed, your eyes fixed on the ceiling above from you. “Let’s just try to sell it and ignore him forever”. 
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A week had successfully passed and it seemed like Doyoung visit less your mind. But Xiaojun made sure to bring him up whenever he spoke about something about his classes. How convenient for him to be his classmate.
“Are you going to come with me tonight?” you asked him as he entered the house, later than usual. His eyes snapped up with surprise. “Tonight?” he asked again, confused. Your heart stopped for a second, you were excited to go to the exposition in the gallery with him, but again, he shouldn’t be ready to go with you whenever you asked him to. “Oh—oh my god, the gallery!” he screamed, suddenly remember his mistake. 
“Oh god Y/N! I totally forgot about it!” he made his way towards you, his arms open as he embraced you with his slim body. “Don’t worry Xiao—it’s okay, damn it you’re suffocating me” you fought against his arm to set free. 
“I can’t come—I have a paper due tomorrow and I haven’t finished it yet” he apologized. The sadness in his eyes was clear, and your heart felt heavy of guiltiness when you saw him like that because of you. “Hey—look at me” you took his face in your hand to make him look at you, his eyes moving to look at you. 
Your faces were close. Too close. Suddenly it seemed like you had forgotten how to breathe properly. His eyes were travelling from yours, down to your lips and then back up. The same pattern over and over again. 
His arms were still around you, his hands still on your lower back. It was hard to mute the loud thumping of your heart against your chest. You forgot what you were about to tell him. It was the first time you both were this close without joking. His face was serious, and so was yours. “Y/N…” he muttered, and his voice made you snap out. 
What are you doing Y/N!?, the little voice inside of your head appeared, an alarm going off. What was going on? No- no, this was wrong. Slowly you moved your face to the left, breaking the eye contact. “I should get going—“you spoke back, his hands falling from around your body. 
His head hung low and he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt awkward, you could feel it. It broke your heart to see him like this, to know you were the one responsible for his hurt. “I’ll be back soon! It would be great if you left some leftovers for me, mister perfect!” you screamed from the entrance, trying to ease the tension that had built between you two. 
“Yeah, will do” he responded as he made his way back to his room, without giving a second look. 
Your heart broke every time you reminisced that time. That time when Xiaojun finally made a move, after month of you telling him to do what his heart told him to do. He had talked to you about this girl he liked. He had a beautiful smile, was a very outgoing person and her ideas were marvellous. He never told you it was you he was talking about. 
Until that day. His heart broke when you told him you didn’t feel the same way. But he tried to cover it up as it didn’t make his heart shatter to the ground, leaving traces everywhere. It was sad. Damn it, it was like going through hell. He distanced himself a lot from you. 
A whole year without talking with him went by until he finally decided to reappear again, telling you he had moved on. He had forgotten about you. Telling you that everything was like the beginning of your friendship. And you decided to give him a second chance, knowing deep down that he was lying. He was lying to maintain some kind of contact with you. But breaking all kind of relationship with him would be worse. 
“Why do you complicate things so fucking much, Xiaojun” you whispered to yourself as you were making your way to the gallery. Your legs took you to the gallery as your mind was still occupied thinking about your flatmate, and who you thought it was your best friend. 
Finally arriving, you saw a lot of people inside. Too much people for your liking. All of them would see your portrait? Suddenly your palms became sweaty. You entered the place and the anxiety in your chest grew bigger. All of their eyes would judge your painting? The painting of a stranger? 
Your brows were furrowed as you made your way between the people inside. They all were dressed in fancy suits and dresses, all of them giving off that they had money. A lot of money. What kind of gallery was this? 
The more you walked inside, the bigger the place seemed. You looked around the walls, all of them covered with paintings. You could recognize some of the paintings of your classmates, others were completely unrecognizable. But you couldn’t spot your own. Maybe they decided to not hang it at the end. Of what you could see, there wasn’t any portraits. No one had painted a portrait, it would be too strange if there was a portrait of a stranger hanging on this exposition. 
“Ah, Y/N I’ve been waiting for you to arrive!” 
Your professor’s voice made you turn around. His big smile was shining bright, as the proud look on his face made it clear he had a successful exposition. “I’m sorry I’m late” you apologized, your eyes still wandering around the walls trying to find your painting. 
“No, don’t worry! You’re just in time!” he reassured you after seeing you nervous. “What? You’re looking for the portrait?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Yes—but I do understand if it’s not hanging, after all it’s just a stranger’s portrait and it would be weird if—“ 
“A stranger’s portrait?” he stopped you, a real confused look on his eyes. “What do you mean a stranger’s portrait? Y/N—that portrait speaks to me, his eyes… the hurt, the sentiment—honestly, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. I’m really glad you decided to risk it with a portrait, you haven’t done anything like that before” he praised you, which only lead to your nervousness to increase. 
“Wha—“
“Come, let me show you” he said leading you to the other side of the gallery, “that portrait has taken all of the attention tonight Y/N”
“All of the attention?” you repeated his words, unable to believe what he was saying. He lead you to one of the walls were people were crowded around to look at the painting hung there. “I can’t believe someone could express so much in so little” you heard someone mutter. “The look on his face—this is real art” another voice said. 
“Isn’t that the son of the Kim’s?” someone else asked. “I think that’s him—but, why is the look on his face so tormented?” 
“The son?” you muttered, confused by that last conversation you heard between strangers. You arrived to stand in front of your own painting, but you couldn’t recognize it. Yes, you had painted it. Yes, your hands were the one holding the brushes. No, you didn’t remember him being that sad. It struck you like a lighting. 
His eyes were red, just like in the party. His hair was messy, his skin was pale. It was true, the painting was talking to you. The painting was telling you how miserable he felt inside. “A real masterpiece, Y/N” your professor’s words made you snap out back to reality. “I hate to say this but I don’t think this is—“ 
“Great painting” someone said from behind of you, his voice too close to your ear. Your heart skipped a beat, and it seemed like the place became smaller with too many people inside. It scared you to turn around. To turn around and face reality. To face the person who had praised you on your painting—no. On their own portrait. 
He stopped to stand on your side. His body stood tall next to you, his broad shoulders back and his chest out. He clearly had presence, and suddenly you felt too small to stand next to him. Too scared to even respond. “I never thought I’d see a painting of myself, that’s something my father would order—you know, just like the old times” he laughed, trying to ease up the tension. 
“I’m sorry—this wasn’t supposed to—“ 
“What are you sorry for?” he arched a brow, finally turning his body to look at you, taking away the attention from the painting. “It is nice to know I’ve struck you like this, I didn’t know I had such an influence on people” a laugh left his chest. There he was again, making you angry for no reason. 
“It may be a portrait but…” you looked at him, and then back at the painting, “clearly it’s not the same person, Doyoung”. 
His expression changed, his face turning back to look at the painting. “I see the same handsome face”. 
“No” you simply answered. It didn’t make any sense. The vulnerable, miserable, sad boy in the painting wasn’t the same egoistic, confident, rich boy that was standing on your side. “I took your face, that’s true—but, the feelings the painting is showing, I believe you’ve never felt them before Doyoung, that’s why it’s not the same person” you finished. Angry and frustrated. 
He went silent. It was hard to breathe. His presence was still strong. You looked up to him for a quick glance, just to see his eyes fixed on the portrait, his jaw clenching and his eyebrows furrowed. He looked concentrated on the painting, as he was trying to feel what the painting was feeling. But how could a rich kid, who had always had everything he wanted, ever feel sadness? That’s impossible, you thought. 
“You won’t feel what he’s feeling, even if you look at him for five hours” you spoke again, making his eyes snap back at you. He didn’t answer. You shut him up, completely. 
“Son, have you found the famous artist who drew this masterpiece” a strong voice was heard from behind Doyoung’s back. His face was still stiff, and so was his whole body. “Yes, father” he answered, his eyes still set on you. 
Your eyes widened at his words. He moved to the side, letting you see who you supposed were his parents. Doyoung was a living copy of his father. He was tall and slim, his eyes had the same almond form and the sternness of his face was also there. On his side was standing a woman with a beautiful face. They both were beautiful, indeed. No wonder Doyoung looked like that. 
“Let me introduce you to the artist of my portrait” he spoke calmly, his eyes still set on the painting. But he wasn’t looking at it, he was thinking about something else. Finally he moved his face to look back at you, “This is Y/N, the artist and—“ he took a breath before looking back at his parents. 
“—my girlfriend” 
Your eyes widened. It was like looking at a mirror, their expression shocked as yours. “What—“you tried to speak, but words were stuck in your throat. His father still had a serious expression on, but his mother smiled kindly at you. “So it was true” his father mumbled, looking down at you. 
“Why? You thought I was lying?” Doyoung answered back with confidence. It surprised you how scary that man seemed, and how brave Doyoung must be to confront him that way with his words. “So you’re an artist?” his father asked, his eyes looking directly at your soul. 
The only thing you could answer was a nod of your head. “And that’s all you do? You live off your art?” he asked again, his tone of voice was no longer friendly. It felt like he already despised you. “Well I’m still a student—“ 
“But you plan on living off of this?” that last sentence was followed by a scoff. The situation was so surprising you totally forgot where you were, or who you were. You blinked twice before looking again at Doyoung, who decided to intervene. “No one knows what life holds for us, right father?” he tried to protect you from his harsh words. 
But why was he protecting you if he has been the one to get you into this mess? His girlfriend? What the hell was wrong with him? “I believe there’s a misunderstanding—“ 
“No, Y/N” Doyoung interrupted, his hand falling on your lower back as if he was going to lead you somewhere else. “Please excuse my father, sometimes he forgets he’s not at the office” he spoke quietly, already turning you around to leave. “I’ll see you later, father” he finally said before pushing you to walk. 
His hand was burning against your clothed skin, just the pressure of having it there made your legs feel weak. As you two were finally on the other side of the gallery, you turned around to snap his hand away from your body. 
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hissed under your breath, your eyes wandering around the full room. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you about the plan before executing it” he readjusted his tie, also looking around the room in case he saw his parents again. 
“Wha—the plan? Maybe you should’ve started by asking me if I was okay with following the plan—whatever that plan is!” you hissed back, your eyes so wide they were about to pop out. “Oh, don’t make a scene” he repeated his words again, and your palm really itched to slap him across the face. 
“What do you mean by that? You just introduced me to your parents as your girlfriend and we don’t even know each other!” 
“We do know each other, we’ve talked before” he said back, his eyes now as wide as yours, as if he was stating the obvious. “Are you crazy? Is that it? Doyoung, you don’t know someone because you’ve talked with them two times!” 
“Well you painted a portrait of me—I think that’s more than enough evidence that we do know each other”
“I already told you that’s not the same person I’m talking with!” 
He took a step closer, his intimidating presence making an appearance once again. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, as you had to tilt your head up to look at him properly. “Look Y/N…” he started to speak, his voice low in order to keep the conversation as private as possible, “just roll with it for tonight—we’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? Do me this one favour, and I’ll owe you one, that’s a real big deal” he nodded.
It really exasperated you how annoying he could be. “Why are you doing this?” you asked him, your eyes narrowed at him. “I can’t explain it right now—“ 
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t understand. Just like you don’t understand that your painting and the person you’re talking with are, in fact, the same person” he finally said, moving his body away from yours. 
People started to move around, leaving the room where all the paintings were hanging. “Just act like you are my girlfriend, and we’ll see about it tomorrow, can you do that for me?” he spoke again, moving around to stand back on your side, his hand sliding once again on the small place on your lower back. The tension was so big you couldn’t even respond to his question, only answering with a light nod. 
Both of you made your way another big room, where everyone was gathering around. It was time for the auction. Doyoung stood by your side in the middle of the room. “Are you going to bid up for the paintings?” you asked nervous. His straight face was impossible to be read, his eyes fixed straight ahead. 
Your eyes caught his parents, they were at the front of the room chatting with another older couple. “I’m not really into paintings but—“he spoke taking your attention away from his parents. The more you looked at his father, the more they looked alike. “—I’ll try to piss off my father” he finished. 
“Why? That sounds stupid” you quickly snapped back. That was very rude for him to say, at least that’s what you thought. You had deep respect for your parents, the one who had raised you freely, letting you experience life to the fullest. “You might understand soon” was the only thing he answered before the man standing in front, next to one of the paintings, raised his voice. 
“First of all, I want to announce how grateful we are, in the name of the whole department of art of the university” he started his speech, “of course, we wouldn’t have done this without Mr. Kim’s help and gallery, we’re also very grateful for that” he directed his words to Doyoung’s father, who just nodded at him. 
“So this gallery is--?” you tried to ask, but Doyoung answered before you could even finish the question. “Yes, my parents own this place, just like almost the rest of the university” he spoke softly, careful to not be heard. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked incredulous. 
“Oh, so now our relationship is strong enough for me to talk to you about my parents?” he grinned looking down at you, remembering the argument you both had just moments ago. Gritting your teeth you decided to not answer, he was wining this game again, and he was unconscious he was playing at it. 
“Just forget about it” you murmured, just when the auction started. The first painting was sold for five hundred dollars, something you wouldn’t have even imagined, it was a painting made by a student, right? Who were these people? Why were they here? You kept asking yourself, as all of the paintings were being sold at a fast pace for really big numbers. 
“Next painting is a portrait!” the man that was leading the auction raised his voice again, making your eyes snap ahead to look at your work. “I bet all of you recognize the young gentleman on this one” he laughed looking at the painting and then back at the crowd, earning a few comments and smiles back. “Okay, who wants to start this?” his smile grew wider when he saw hands being raised up. 
“A hundred!” someone shouted from the other end of the room. 
“Two”
“Three fifty here!” someone else attacked back. 
Everything was going too fast for you to even proceed all of the information. They were going to pay so much money for a simple portrait? 
“A thousand!” a strong voice appeared from the front of the crowd. You recognized that voice from your first encounter. The look on his face was the same animals had on when they were on a hunt. It was scary. “I double it!” Doyoung shouted from your side, making your eyes grow wide.
“What?! Two thousand for that simple portrait?! Doyoung are you crazy?!” you hissed at him, your palms sweaty. His eyes were on his father. It was obvious they were on an internal fight, and none of them wanted to lose. “Two and five hundred!” the father answered back. “Make it three thousand then!” Doyoung attacked back. 
Their faces were straight as usual, none of them showed any emotion. He had definitely learned that from his father. He must’ve been trained to do that, it was impossible for a human being to be in such a serene state of mind when he was bidding up with such amount of money. “This is a fight between father and son, ladies and gentlemen! Who will give more!?” the leader of the auction appeared again. 
“Five thousand” the older man’s voice was still going strong, only earning a smirk from Doyoung. “Ten!” he said back, raising his hand again. Your heart was beating so fast inside of your chest you felt like it was about to explode, it was about to jump out of the cage that your ribs were forming. “Oh god you really have gone mad—this… this is not okay” you kept muttering, but he wasn’t listening. His mind was somewhere else. His mind was racing against his father. 
“Woah, ten thousand for his own portrait! He must like himself too much then, right?” the leader of the auction tried to ease the tension that was building in the room. Their presence was big, bigger than anyone else is in the room. They both stood tall, their chest and head raised. None of them was backing out on this. “Fifteen!” his father said back, his eyes set on Doyoung’s. 
Fifteen thousand dollars for your mediocre portrait? You definitely had to stop this. Taking Doyoung’s hand in yours you took his attention away from the situation successfully, his surprised eyes looking down at you. 
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but—this is getting out of hand” you hissed at him. His eyes were set on yours, just to travel down at where both of your hands met. “Sixteen!” he shouted back, his eyes set on you this time. “Why--?”
“Eighteen!” the older voice shouted over the crowd. 
Your hand was firm on his, grasping even more with his every movement. “You don’t have to do this Doyoung—“you tried to stop him, this was ridiculous. It just proved how much money they had to spend on stupid things like a mediocre portrait made by a simple art student. “You wouldn’t understand Y/N…” he whispered before raising his head ahead one more time. 
“Twenty—that’s my final bid!” he spoke, making the crowd around you murmur, mixing the inaudible words with gasps. His father and he exchanged hateful looks, filled with desire of fight. “If there’s no one else taking that bid up—“the man who stood at the front next to your painting took a brief moment to let people talk, but no one would rise up that bid. 
“Mr. Kim is the one taking this beautiful portrait of himself back home! Thank you!” 
“You have definitely lost your mind—“you murmured, still amazed of how much money he decided to pay for that. If you knew it before, you would’ve told him you had another one back in your room, waiting to be destroyed. Twenty thousand was a big amount of money, more than anything you could`ve imagined to ever earn out of a painting. “You should be grateful instead of whining so much, Y/N” he interrupted your train of thoughts once again. 
“Grateful?”
“I just gave you twenty thousand dollars, now you’re the one who owes me a favour”
His words were harsh. His eyes were cold. He was, indeed, heartless. “You have to be—“
“No, I’m not kidding” he stopped you once again, his eyes moving forward, at where his parents were making their way to where both of you were standing. “Tomorrow, when I get the chance to explain everything…I hope you accept the deal—think of all the money as an extra. If you don’t want to do it, it’s fine. I understand”
How could a person be so cold? He was basically paying you to be his side chick for whatever turbulent plan he had in his mind. What did he want so much? He had everything, money, a family, a bright future. Why was he so mad at the world surrounding him?
“Good job son” his parents arrived to stand in front both of you. His mother had her hand around her husband’s arm, tightly grasping at it. Her expression was calm, a sly smile appearing. “You had the courage to not back out on such a tense situation—I’m proud”
What? Proud? He was proud his son just wasted all that money on something you did in five hours? How could someone be proud of that? “You kept yourself collected all the time, you didn’t show any sign of weakness. Good job” he praised him one last time before nodding his head and making his way out of the room where the auction was still going on. 
“Proud?” you whispered as your eyes followed their figures that were already making their way out. “That’s the third time I hear those words coming out of his mouth” Doyoung said, “third time? This year?”
“Third time ever since I was born” 
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You were nervous as you took another step closer to the house where you first met Doyoung. Unlike the last time, you were going there with the daylight. It was a huge house, too big. How many people lived there? You still didn’t know anything about his fraternity. Your heart was beating loud in your chest, why were you so nervous to meet with him again?
After the events of the prior night, your mind couldn’t stop racing with all kind of theories about what Doyoung wanted to achieve with this silly plan of his. You couldn’t sleep properly, and that was obvious because of the dark circles under your eyes. Even the concealer couldn’t do a good job covering them. 
Ringing the bell twice, someone finally opened the big door of the house—or mansion. You didn’t remember it that big. “Who are you?” a slim boy standing in front of you asked. His face was gorgeous and that took your breath away. “I’m—well I actually—“ 
His eyebrows rose up and a cheeky smile appeared on his face. “Don’t be nervous, who did you come to see? Jaehyun?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t who Jaehyun is”, that answer surprised him. “Oh—I’m sorry, he’s usually the one bringing girls home all the time, I just thought—“ 
“Well you thought wrong” you answered quickly, suddenly all of your nervousness leaving your body. Did he really think you came here just to fuck one of the brothers? Did you really gave off that vibe? “I’m here to see Doyoung” you said after the awkward silence that had set upon both of you. 
“Doyoung?” 
“Yeah—I’m Y/N, I don’t know if he has mentioned—“ 
“Oh my god Y/N! I totally forgot you were coming today, yes come on in! I’m sorry I mistook you as one of Jaehyun’s fuck buddies!” he quickly apologized for his prior comment, taking you by your hand and leading you inside of the house. “I’m Taeyong” he introduced himself, that cheeky smile back on his face. 
“Yeah well I came—“ 
“Yes, we all know you were coming today but I totally forgot about it, just go upstairs and the third door is his bedroom, he must be there” he pointed to the big staircase leading to the second floor. “Why did you all know that I was coming?” you asked before turning around. 
“Doyoung never invites girls home, so it would be very strange you appeared out of nowhere. He decided to warn us, in case we kicked you out, you know” he explained, his ears turning red in embarrassment. 
Without much questions, you decided to let it go. It was strange, but the situation you were currently in was stranger. Knocking twice on the third door, Doyoung appear from behind of it. “I already thought you wouldn’t come” he smiled at you, politely letting you inside. 
It wasn’t a surprise his bedroom was so clean and tidy. His walls were white, matching with the bed covers. Everything was kept minimal. Everything was placed perfectly. It had nothing to do your messy room, where the brushes and colours were sprawled all around, some of your clothes were laying down on the floor and it was way too filled with all kind of paintings you didn’t know what to do with. 
“I’m sorry I’m late” you apologized, already feeling nervous around him. It wasn’t the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous, well—maybe that could be another factor to it, but you have discovered that the one thing that made you nervous about him was his presence, it was like every time you talked with him—he tried to negotiate. He didn’t hold any small talks, he didn’t talk about the weather. He was direct, clear and organized with his words. 
“Don’t be” he smiled again, “please, take a seat” he pointed down to his bed, as he sat on the chair he had in front of his desk. “So—will you finally tell me why you threw me at the wolves like that last night?” you tried to keep yourself together, not letting him know that your hands were sweating. 
“Look, I don’t if you’ve noticed but I… well, I don’t have the best relationship with my father” he started to explain, and you decided to let him talk, it would do no good if you interrupted him with sarcastic remarks. “But lately—it has become too much for me. He’s now trying to set me up to date people who I don’t even know, you know… his associates daughters”. 
Your eyebrows were furrowed at his explanation. “That’s horrible”, you really did feel sorry for him. For the short amount of time you’ve been around his father’s presence, and for the short conversation you two had, you could already know he wasn’t someone easy to get along with. He must’ve pressured Doyoung through all of his life. 
“That’s why I need your help, Y/N” his eyes rose to look directly at you. “It may sound stupid, but confronting my father by bringing home someone I know he won’t approve, is the best way I can finally show him that I won’t keep doing as he says”
“How are you so sure he won’t like me, he doesn’t even know me” you tried to laugh out his harsh words. “Because you’re not the type of person that he likes to be associated with” his statement came out calm, as if it was something normal to say. As if it was a sin that his son would ever think about dating some who wasn’t as rich as him. Blinking twice, you couldn’t believe what you just heard. 
“I know that sounded wrong but it’s the truth—at least for my father” he tried to fix his poorly chosen words. “Doyoung I think you have to look for another—“ 
“No, it has to be you!”
“Why?”
“Because I already introduced you as my girlfriend”
“Well, if you had asked me before doing such a stupid thing we wouldn’t be into this mess!” you attacked back, deciding on not backing out on him again. “Don’t raise your voice at me, we’re having this conversation as civilized people” he kept his tone low, and it was now that you realized that your fists were clenched on your lap. 
He really did a great job making you lose control. “Look—“you stopped to take a deep breath, “I know that your situation must be difficult and—I’m sorry you have to live this way, but maybe you should just let it go and… I know he will understand that you don’t want to do whatever he says without making all this lie up”
“You don’t know him Y/N” he leaned back on his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Heck, I don’t even know him. I only know Mister Kim the business man, I don’t know him as Mister Kim the father”
It broke your heart the way he spilled all of those words filled with hate. His eyes were lost now, as if his mind was wandering back to some other time when he was a little boy. You cursed yourself for being such an empathic person, deeply feeling how hurt he must feel now. “Doyoung—“ 
“I told you last night I wouldn’t pressure you on doing something you don’t want to, I’m just asking for one chance” he tried to persuade you again. His posture changed, now his elbows were leaning on his knees. Your heart was beating fast, as fast as the thoughts racing in your mind. 
You had definitely lost you mind, Y/N, you said to yourself. 
“How much time do I have to pretend to be your girlfriend?” you asked softly, gaining back his attention, accompanied by a big smile spreading on his face. “Will you really do it?” he asked again, as if he was scared you would change your mind on the last minute. “I’m giving you one chance, I owe you one, remember?” a smirk appeared on his face after your words slipped from your mouth. 
“Great! They’re going on a little get away this weekend, they asked me to bring you with me” he was now standing up, looking for his phone. “Oh, great! Holidays!” you cheered, maybe this wasn’t that bad after all. “And where are we going?” 
“Paris” he answered back, making your eyes go wild. “A little get away is going to Paris? What kind of holidays do you have then?” your voice came out pitched, way too shocked with the situation. He finally turned his body around to look at you again, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. “We have a house in Paris and we sometimes go there if we feel stressed out, it’s really nice there” he explained, only making your mouth open wider. 
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been to Paris before”
“Well, of course I haven’t been to Paris before!”
“I’m sure you’ll love it, maybe you can get inspired again and paint another portrait, who knows.”
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“How come you started to miss your family out of sudden?” Xiaojun asked. His body was leaning against your door as he looked at you packing your suitcase. “And why are you taking such fancy clothes if you’re just going back home?” his questions were starting to irritate you. 
“Is it a crime to miss your family? And—why can’t I dress nice for once? I don’t have to walk around oversized tees that are all stained!” 
“I’m not saying you can’t dress nice… you look good on everything” he said still following your every move with his eyes. How were you supposed to answer to that? It only reminded you of the time he sacrificed his feelings just to keep being by your side, even as friends. 
Both of you were going back home from a party. It was dark and cold outside. You tried to fight the cold by bringing your jacket closer to your body. Xiaojun’s house wasn’t far away. You were sleeping there because your parent would be too preoccupied if they knew you were going to a party even still being underage, it would do no good. “I’m so tired” you whined, dragging your feet. 
“We’re almost there” he answered suddenly placing his arm around your shoulders, trying to keep you warm. 
You two have known each other ever since you can remember. Having him by your side made you feel protected, just like an older brother. His love and support has always been there, and you took it for granted. 
“I think I feel something for you, Y/N” he had said that same night, lying down on his bed next to you. Your heart was about to explode because of the sadness it felt, knowing very well that you couldn’t say the same back to him. 
You weren’t brave enough to talk it out. You were just a coward who decided to run away from the situation, pretending to be asleep and acting as if nothing had happened, as if he didn’t place his heart in your hands for you to just crush it by ignoring him. 
Your ways separated that night. Both of you knew you weren’t asleep. Both of you knew you had heard him very clear, but you didn’t have the courage to confront the situation. 
“I’ll be away from a weekend only, please don’t destroy the house” you warned him, closing your suitcase. “Oh, you’re not really the right person to say that” he answered laughing, already leaving your room and making his way to the living room. “I have already apologized five times about that party Xiao! Will you were forget about it!” you whined following him around. 
It was one time he went back home and you decided it was a great idea to have a little gathering with friends. Which turned out to be worse than a frat party. “I forgive but I don’t forget Y/N” his laugh filled the room. 
“Anyways mister perfect, I’ll be back on Sunday night so I hope you welcome me with a nice homemade meal” 
“I’ll be waiting you like a loving husband waits for his wife to come back from a business trip”
“Don’t be so dramatic” 
As much as you wanted to play it cool, you were actually nervous about the trip. You were travelling to another country with someone you had met two weeks ago. It was good to be a free soul but wasn’t this too much? You could totally hear your mother’s words: if your heart wants to do it, go for it, it will never lie to you. 
Yes, it will never lie to you but did your heart want to go? You still didn’t know what Doyoung has done to you, ever since the first time you saw him on that party. His eyes had followed you around, his voice appearing in your mind. 
The second portrait you painted was still carefully hidden in your room behind the shadows of other bigger paintings. You tried to make it disappear by placing it somewhere you couldn’t constantly see it. It was more than enough that you couldn’t make him leave your head, you didn’t need his face around your room too. 
Maybe you should give it to him after the trip. That would be the end. 
He was waiting in his car outside your building. As usual, his outfit was clean perfect and it made you feel insecure to walk around him. It was obvious both of you were from different worlds, different social circles, different mentalities. This trip would be a difficult one. 
“Good morning” he greeted with a big smile on his face, irritating you how calm he was about the current situation. “Morning to you too” you quickly answered, trying to avoid him. 
“Are you ready?” he asked as both of you were already in his car, making your way to the airport. “I don’t know—are you?” you tried to sound confident, but your shaking voice made obvious how insecure you felt about it. “Don’t worry about anything Y/N, I’ll make sure to not put you in any kind of awkward situations. They planned this trip because they wanted to meet the person I’m dating and that’s all”
“Please don’t forget the fact that we’re not actually dating, god—I don’t even know your favourite colour” 
“But you shouldn’t be nervous about the simple things, we just have to come up with a great background story and that’s it!”
“Have you ever dated someone Doyoung? It’s not that easy to show feelings for someone when you’re not really in love! Are you aware of that?” 
“I’ve seen first-hand fake feelings Y/N, my family made sure to teach me that ever since I was little”
His words caught you off guard, making you feel terrible about snapping at him that way. You’ve never met someone with so much money. You’ve never talked with anyone who lived the life he lived. You didn’t know anything about him. 
It saddened you to know his family had neglected him all of his life, taking decisions for him and making him feel that way. But, once again, who were you to be worried about him? About his well-being? You weren’t even friends. Didn’t he have female friends who could help him out? Was he that desperate to fight his family that he had to ask a stranger for help?
The silence that fell upon both of you was awkward. You could clearly hear your heartbeat, but then again, there wasn’t a coherent answer to what he had said. The only thing you could do was to feel guilty about your words. 
“Black” he said out of sudden. You titled your head to the side to look at him. His eyes were focused on the road, his right hand on the shifting gear and his left arm relaxing on top of the steering wheel. “My favourite colour is black” he spoke again, briefly meeting your eyes before turning back to focus his attention on the road. 
“Okay, let’s just do this. What’s the plan?” you asked him, ready to leave that short argument behind. You didn’t know why, but you wanted to help him out. “Easy, we met because of a friend—let’s just say Taeyong, you met him back in the house, right?”
“Yeah”
“Well we met because of him, we both had the same interests and we just clicked, easy as that”
You couldn’t stop the laugh that left your mouth when you heard those words. “You know we don’t have the same interests, right? No one will believe us”
“Well, then we can just improvise” 
What’s the worst thing that could happen? It was a win-win situation at the end, you had the chance to travel for free to Paris and have a relaxing weekend with nothing to think about. Well, nothing besides the lies you had to come up with to make his parents believe both of you were deeply and madly in love. Feelings you were also unfamiliar with. 
When you both arrived to the airport your palms were already sweaty. To think you had to stand in front of his father again made you want to throw up. There was a tight knot in your stomach and it didn’t help the fact that you already knew how harsh his words would be. 
Doyoung helped you with your suitcase, as he only had a little bag on his back. “Why aren’t you bringing clothes?” you asked surprised. “I have a full closet there, don’t worry” he answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world. How much money did these people have? 
He walked by your side with your suitcase. Both of you spotted his parents on the entrance of the airport, his father in a suit and his mother in a beautiful summer dress with black shades on. Doyoung’s fingers laced with yours and that simple move made your heart flutter in your chest. 
“Good morning mom” he greeted her before turning to the other side, “father” he nodded his head at him. “Sweetie you have bags under your eyes, aren’t you sleeping well? Do you want me to call Dr. Jung to treat those dark circles?” his mother spoke worriedly. She preferred to treat those instead of asking him why wasn’t he been sleeping well? 
“Good morning Y/N, it’s nice seeing you again” she was now directing her attention to you, a kind smile on your face. “Good morning Ms. Kim” you greeted back, smiling after Doyoung’s hand grasped harder at yours. “Mr. Kim” you also greeted his father, who didn’t even look at you. He really knew how to make someone feel awkward. 
“Is the plane ready?” Doyoung asked. 
“Yes, they’re all waiting for us” his mother spoke again. It looked like Mr. Kim wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation that morning. “Shall we?” she asked again, turning around and making her way inside the airport, closely followed by her husband. 
“Are we late for the flight?” you asked worried. “No, the plane is waiting for us, don’t worry” he spoke with his head high. “I shouldn’t talk much with your father right? Looks like he’s not in the mood”
“He’s never in the mood” he scoffed, his hand still holding tight on yours. “So I should avoid him all weekend?” 
“No, he won’t let you” he stopped suddenly, making you stop by his side. “Just don’t let his words get to you Y/N” his eyes were now focused on you. He was talking serious, way too serious for your liking. “What do you mean?” 
“Well, you saw it back on the gallery, sometimes he can be a little—too direct with his words” 
“You mean he can be rude” you let those words escape your mouth before your mind could proceed with them. Your eyes widened and so did his. What you didn’t expect was to hear him laugh loud at your words. “You’re right, he’s rude” he nodded before turning around. It calmed you to know at least he knew the truth about his father.
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When Doyoung told you that the plane was waiting for you, you didn’t exactly expect it to be really waiting for you. His family’s private plane was ready to take off as everyone was taking their seats inside. 
“Why are you so nervous Y/N? Is it your first time flying?” his mother asked you finally taking off her shades, a small smile on her face. You furrowed your eyebrows at her, did she really think that only rich people could fly around to other countries? “No—it’s not my first time, but I always get nervous” you tried convince her but she only nodded her head, the smile still on her face. It creeped you out a little that small smile? Why was she smiling?
There wasn’t much conversation to hold with them, and it really made you feel awkward to be sitting there in front of them. Doyoung was by your side, his hand still holding tight on yours as he was a reading a book. It seemed like he didn’t want to let you go, as if you would spill out the truth if he didn’t protect you in front of them. 
“If you excuse me, I’ll be in the back resting” his father was the one who broke the silence that made you feel so uncomfortable once the plane had already taken off. He hadn’t said a single word to you ever since you met that same morning. He was a cold person, and his son was the same. 
“So tell me Y/N, what do your parents do for a living?” his mother spoke calmly, her every word dragging the next one form her mouth. Doyoung’s eyes snapped up as if he knew what was coming next. “My mom is a painter and my dad’s a lawyer”. It wasn’t a lie that you felt small between both of them, their aura filling the whole place. 
“A lawyer, that’s a good profession. Why did you decide to follow your mother’s steps?” she really looked interested in the topic. “Mom I think—“, “what’s wrong Doyoung? Is there something wrong with me asking about her parents?” she was quick the shut him out of the conversation, her once warm eyes now cold as stone. “No” he muttered before looking back down at his book. 
“My parents have always taught me that I should do whatever makes my heart happy—whatever keeps me going in life, and I’ve never been interested in books, I would rather spend my free time drawing and painting instead of studying” 
“But you still managed to enter the same university as Doyoung, that’s impressive” her words made you doubt about if that was a praise or she was just being sarcastic. “That’s because of the scholarship I got, I applied and they were impressed by my paintings” you tried to hold yourself together. 
Doyoung’s hand was still tightly grasping at yours, his eyes clearly not focused on the words written in the book he was holding with his other hand. “You saw her painting of me, right mom? What do you think about it?” he intervened again, bothered to be left out of the conversation. 
“It was good” she answered, “although you could clearly see it was the first time you painted a portrait, am I right?” her eyes moved quickly between you and Doyoung. “Well yeah- I don’t believe it’s good either” 
“Why did you portray Doyoung that way though? It seemed like you didn’t know the person you were painting, it has nothing to do with our son” she remarked, making you think how you said those same things to Doyoung back at the gallery. All of her words were carefully chosen and that made you think that she was way more dangerous than his father. 
“I painted it when we met” you simply answered, “we didn’t know each other that much yet, I just tried to portray his face, the feelings on that painting are not his” 
“That’s what I thought” she finished saying, repositioning herself on the seat. Her shoulders relaxed as she moved her head to look out of the little window of the plane. “We’ve always tried our best to make Doyoung happy by giving him the best in life, it wouldn’t make sense if he was as miserable as you portrayed him in that painting”
Doyoung’s eyes were fixed on his mother, his mouth closed in a thin line. He was holding himself back to not answer something he would probably regret later on. The more time you spend around that family, the more you realized how fucked up they were. 
You placed your other hand on top of his trying to calm him down, his attention moving away from his mother to be entirely focused on where your skin touched. It must’ve been hard to grow up for him, and your heart broke every time you thought about it. 
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Nothing much happened in the flight to Paris. His mother stayed in front of both of you all the time, so you couldn’t talk with Doyoung about anything either. It gave you time to think about the situation. 
His parents were convinced they had raised a young happy man, when in reality he despised them. They were convinced Doyoung has had everything in life, when he was missing on the best part. It shocked you how much you realized from a single conversation with his mother and from what you’ve talked with him. 
He had never had someone love him. He had never felt a motherly hug on a rainy day, or how it feels to have someone take care of you whenever you felt sick. He had never had that, and it saddened you to know that’s the reason why his heart was stone cold, or at least that’s what you thought. 
Another thing that occurred to you is that, even if this plan turned out fine, would he be able to live without his parents support? Would be he able to make decisions on his own? After stealing a few glances of him concentrated on the book he was reading, you realized that behind that façade of a perfect man, whose life was all under control, there was a scared boy who didn’t know how to manage any of his life problems.
He has never had the chance to confront any difficulties in life. That could be good, but not at the extreme he was raised. He doesn’t know what humility is, for him is normal for own five houses in different countries and to have a plane that can take him around whenever he wanted. He was totally disconnected from reality. 
Would he be able to confront the hard reality of what life is really like outside the perfect bubble his parents had built for him? Was this just a rebel action that he would regret the rest of his life? 
You didn’t know what to think anymore. Everything was fine before stepping on that damn party, before Doyoung spilling his drink on your clothes. Everything was perfect for you. Damn you, Doyoung, the little voice in your head curse loudly. 
“We will see you back home, honey” his mother said before entering one of the two cars that were waiting for you at the airport. “Why are they taking another car? I think there’s plenty of space for us there too—“ 
“They’re like that. They don’t like sharing a ride with strangers”
“Who’s coming then?”
“What do you mean?” 
“Well you said they didn’t like to ride with—“ 
“Oh, I was referring to you”
Your eyebrows shot up when you heard his words. “I thought—“, “they haven’t accepted you still Y/N, and that’s the plan”.
Entering the car you were still shocked because of what he had just said. “I thought you wanted to—“, “I want them to know that I will do whatever I want from now on, and that includes that I’ll date people who they don’t approve of, that’s why you’re here”
“So… my mission is to annoy your parents?”
His eyes got wider hearing those words, but he took a moment to think about it. “You could put it that way—yes” he answered titling his head to the side. “Why didn’t you say that before, I won’t hold back anymore then” 
A smirk spread on his face while he was riding back to their house. “Don’t make a scene though” he commented, bringing back the words he has said to you thousand times before. You rolled your eyes at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “if you really want to annoy them you have to let me make a scene, it won’t work if we play this game by their rules”
“What happened to you? Just hours ago you were nervous to step on a plane with my parents and now you want to make them go crazy on you?” 
“I just don’t like when people think they’re better than everyone else just because they have money” you quickly answered, making him shut up. He knew better than anyone else that he behaved that way as well. Could he handle you, then?
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The city was indeed beautiful. More than what you expected it to be. As Doyoung was driving down the road to his house, you just kept observing everything out of the window. It was a warm sunny day, the streets were filled with people and cars, every open place was a beautiful sight and so were all of the public gardens the city had. 
A smile spread on your face when you realized that what people have been saying was all true. The city was awake. The city interacted with its citizens. The atmosphere of the place was way different from everywhere else you’ve been to before. You couldn’t help but feel your heart full of joy, full of happiness and love, just because you were on that city. 
“Beautiful, right?” his voice stopped your train of thoughts, making you turn around and look at him. The sun made his dark hair shine and his skin look paler, but brighter. “I’ve never been in a city like this one before” you softly said, turning back to look out of the window. You wanted to memorize everything you could from it, just like you wanted to memorize the emotions you felt that very moment. You’ve never felt like his before. 
“The first time I came to Paris was when I was ten years old” he started to speak again, but this time you didn’t take your eyes off of the sight in front of you, letting him talk while you kept observing. “I don’t know if it was because of the streets, the people… the ambience, but I felt like—“ he stopped, his eyes were looking straight at the road but you knew his mind was travelling back in time to when he was a young ten year old boy stepping for the first time  here. 
“I really felt like the city was awake” he said. Had he read your mind? Your head titled to the side to look at him again, briefly forgiving about the beautiful buildings you were passing by. “I felt like it was the city the one that marked the pace of people’s lives, not the other way around. It was the city who chose the people who were allowed to live in it… I know it’s a weird thought but I felt like that” 
The smile that had spread on his face was a small one, but you knew it was sincere. “I know what you mean” you commented back as you turned around to keep looking at the landscape. “I don’t know what it is that this place has, but ever since we entered it I knew it was special”, it was a mere mumble coming out of your mouth but Doyoung managed to catch your every word, smiling at himself. 
When you arrived to his house you couldn’t help but gasp at the big mansion that was staring back at you. It was all white house, with big beautiful blue roof, very Parisian. His parents’ car was already parked at the entrance, where he also parked his. 
“If you want, we can get changed and go back downtown and I can show you a few places” he proposed as he was taking out your suitcase from the back of the car. “Wow—that’d be great” you couldn’t help but feel amazed by everything that was surrounding you, hoping that the way you were feeling lasted long until the weekend ended. 
Having the great luck of not crossing paths with his parents inside of the big house, he led you to his room. It was no surprise how big it was. Also with white walls and tall ceilings, it had a minimal decoration, just like his room back in his frat house. “I hope you don’t mind if we sleep together, it would be weird if my parents knew that you’re sleeping in a different room—you know, since were a couple now” he laughed, making you relax a bit. 
“No, that’s fine…” you answered walking around the big room. 
You never knew all of the great places a city could have. You two had been walking around town for three hours. Nothing could wipe the big smile on your face and the surprised expression whenever Doyoung told you something about the history of the city. 
He was also happy, or at least that’s what it looked like, you thought. He walked around with you showing you every place he could think of, talking to you about how the buildings were built, why there were so many public parks with such beautiful nature. It was the first time you felt like Doyoung was relaxed around you. 
“Have you ever thought of living here?” you asked him as both of you were walking by the seine river with an ice cream in hand. He furrowed his brows, looking at the river by his side. “I have” his answer was honest, you were waiting for the reason why he wouldn’t do it. “But my parents wouldn’t let me—they say this city is not for me” he explained. 
“That’s the reason? What does that even mean?” you asked confused and he laughed at your expression. “This city was made for dreamers, Y/N” he suddenly stopped to look at the shining river, painted in all warm colours because the sun was already setting down. “They say that I couldn’t live here because I have to focus on being successful in life and this city will make me lose my vision” 
Instead of looking at the beautiful sight of the river in front of you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. His tall body standing still, his head high and his eyes lost in all of the memories he had made every time he had come here. “You know” you spoke, your eyes still set on him, “my mom always says that people should do whatever makes their heart beat fast in their chest as if it’s dancing behind your ribs”, and he smiled at your words. “If the life you’re having right now doesn’t make you feel that way, Doyoung…” 
“If we follow the same metaphor your mother said, I can say my heart dances to a slow beat when we’re back home…so, it’s not as bad as it seems” he answered, smiling back down at you. but it was a forced smile, the relaxed Doyoung you had seen all evening had disappeared with simple words, replacing him with the same Doyoung you met days ago in that frat party.
“I’m sorry for asking, I should have brought that up…”
“Don’t worry about it, really” he tried to reassure you. “Want to go back home? It’s getting late and I’m sure you’re tired”. 
He told you to not worry about him, when his mood clearly changed from what you were accustomed to see all evening. It wasn’t like looking at the young free boy that led you around town to show you all of its secrets. Instead, in front of you was a young man whose face was emotionless, eyes cold and mouth closed. He didn’t show anything. 
It was like you had reminded him that this wasn’t his life. And it would never be, not because he didn’t want it, but because he couldn’t have it. And you knew that was the first time Doyoung has wanted something that his parents couldn’t give him, and they didn’t want to give him. 
They didn’t want to give him his freedom. And that’s what hurt him the most. 
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“Remember to not let my father’s words get to you” he reminded you as you both made your way to the dining room. “If you let me make a scene I’ll not let his words get to me” you smiled big at him, finally earning a laugh. He had been serious and silent ever since that conversation in front of the river just an hour ago. So, hearing that laugh again made you relax. 
“I let you make a scene but if I think it’s too much I’ll stop you” he warned you at which you could only roll your eyes. “No one can stop me once I open my mouth” you said and his hand quickly caught your wrist, making you stop in front of him abruptly. 
Suddenly he was close. Too close. He was looking down at you, his eyes piercing through your soul. He was still holding your wrist but you didn’t dare to move away. Something made you stop everything, just like it stopped the world revolving around you. “Behave” he warned again and this time you could feel his breathe closer, or did you imagine that? 
Why was it that he could change personalities so fast? How did he do that? You kept asking yourself. “C’mon, they’re already waiting for us” he said passing by, letting your wrist finally free. What was that? Why did he—?
“Y/N?” He asked as he turned around to wait on you. “Yeah I’m sorry—“ 
Get yourself together Y/N! Your mission here is to annoy his parents, not to stand dumbfounded every time he does the thing!, but how did he managed to shut you up with one word only? 
“Did you like Paris, Y/N?” his mother was the first to talk after dinner was served. You were still looking down at the table, why did they need so many cutlery? Three forks? For what? “Ah—yeah, it’s really a beautiful city” you tried to talk back to her but your mind was still panicking on which fork was the right one to use. 
“We bought this house when Doyoung turned ten because we knew it would be a good place to bring him just to let him relax” she started to explain, and took the first fork on her right in order to eat her meal and you decided to copy her. Doyoung must’ve noticed your expression and how quickly you copied her movements because of the smile that slowly spread on his face as he watched you from the corner of his eye. 
“But I think we’ll be selling it soon” his father’s voice made an appearance, making all of the eyes in the room set on him. Doyoung had a shocked expression on, his eyes wider than ever. “Why would you do that?” he asked. “Because we don’t need it anymore, you’re already a grown man who has to focus on the last of your studies and also the company” he spoke without looking up at his son. As if his words weren’t bullets that were directly shot at Doyoung’s chest. 
“But—isn’t it too soon for me to enter the company?” his eyes were now between his father and his mother, who both had the same serious expression. “I was your age when your uncle and I first opened the company, so I don’t see where the problem is” the older man commented again. 
“But I haven’t finished college yet and I planned on doing a master’s degree afterwards—“ 
“That’s too much time, I prefer you make mistakes in the company now while I can mend them for you” he answered, not paying any kind of attention at Doyoung’s face. “But if you’re so sure Doyoung will make mistakes why don’t you let him learn first and then work?” you were the one to speak now, interrupting the family conversation. 
Doyoung’s hand quickly landed on top of your thigh as his eyes turned to look at you serious. He was telling you that it was not the best moment to make a scene, but your heart felt otherwise. “I mean—it’s obvious you don’t trust him enough to take the reins, why don’t you let him study hard and understand very well what he has to do” you tried to explain yourself since no one in the table seemed to understand why you spoke. 
“Y/N, have you ever had a job?” that was the first time his father directed a word towards you that day. His elbows were now on the table, as his hands were folded before his face. “No sir but I—“ 
“Then, I suppose you have no idea what it takes to build a company out of nothing… wait that’s nonsense, you’re an art student, I’m sorry this conversation will not lead to anywhere—“ he smiled down at his plate as he kept eating. 
Doyoung’s hand grasped at your thigh, signalling you that this was the time to shut up. “It’s true that I haven’t worked yet but my parents do, and they may have not have the amount of money this family has but I they made sure to teach me what hard work meant” you kept your head high as you spoke, your eyes still set on his father. 
“Hard work? From an artist like your mom?” he scoffed, but that made your blood boil. “Yes, hard work, since she managed to keep pursuing her passion while raising me, and I can assure you that’s not something easy” you answered back, Doyoung’s hand grasping tightly on your thigh, but you were not about to lose against his father. 
“She didn’t do a great job raising you, as we can see” he shot back, looking straight at you again. “Who sets the standard?” you asked back. “Well, a hopeless dreamer with no manners, what else could we expect from you? Doyoung, I really thought you had better taste in women” his father completely ignored your question, now attacking his own son. 
“I believe this is enough” his mother intervened as she set down her glass of wine. The room went silent, and no one looked up from their plate. Doyoung still had his hand on your thigh, his eyes set on the table. You could clearly see he was scared of his father. He wouldn’t ever stand up for someone else in front of his father—hell, he wouldn’t even stand up for himself. You really did feel sorry for him. 
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“That was completely unappropriated” was the first thing you heard after entering Doyoung’s bedroom that night. 
“What? Your father’s way to say that my mother is a failure? I believe the same” 
“No—well yes, that wasn’t good either… but I’m talking about how you snapped back at him” he turned around to face you, his face was the same as the first time you met him. He was mad. “I thought you said—“ 
“I said I would stop you and I tried” 
“Oh, you were stopping me? I thought you were just playing kinky” you tried to ease the conversation, knowing it would only lead to an argument. You walked pass him to enter the bathroom, but he followed you quickly around. “Don’t play stupid on me Y/N” 
“Look Doyoung, maybe it was not my place to speak since it was a family matter but that matter changed once he decided to attack on my own family, which I will protect and stand up for every time someone tries to speak about them—you should take example from me instead of your parents, don’t you think?” you asked him before shutting the bathroom door.
Your hands were shaking and so were your legs. His wide eyes as you were saying that last thing was the only thing in your mind. You had shut him up. For the first time it was him, and not you, the one left speechless. Was he mad? Was he furious? You didn’t know, and you weren’t impatient to know either. 
Looking at your reflection on the mirror you were happy to see the brave girl you once were to come back to life. You didn’t regret anything you said tonight. They will see who you are truly, and maybe you could help Doyoung. One way or another, he could learn something from you, and maybe finally setting free from the chains his parents had set on him. 
Your hands itched with the need to pick up a brush and fill a blank canvas with all of the emotions you were feeling on the inside. That’s something your mother had taught you, every time you felt overwhelmed, the best you could do was to paint and leave all of your emotions there, not thinking about it anymore. 
But you didn’t have brushes nor a canvas with you, so you were left with the storm of thoughts and feelings on the inside, making your hands still shake as you finally exited the bathroom. The room was dark, the only source of light were the lights of the backyard that entered the room softly, falling upon Doyoung’s body which was already on the bed. 
His forearm was above covering his eyes and his other hand was laying on his chest. His chest rose and fell with a slow rhythm, making you believe he was asleep. His body looked relaxed, and you prayed it was that way. 
You slow let your body lay down next to him, trying to keep the distance between you two. It was uncomfortable to sleep on your back as you were used to sleep in all kind of positions, but never on your back. With a sigh you moved around and finally positioned yourself on your side looking at Doyoung. 
“What is your favourite colour?” his voice came out almost inaudible, barely above a whisper. Your eyes opened wide as you looked at his face, which was still covered by his forearm. You didn’t expect him to ask you that, but for some weird reason it made your heart beat faster than before. 
“Green” you whispered back. 
“Why”
“It relaxes me, it makes me feel safe. All of my paintings when I was little were based on the colour green. It is also the colour I imagine every time I feel anxious and it helps me calm down” 
You explained, at which he didn’t question back. “Why is your favourite colour black?” you were the one asking this time. “Because it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just the mix of everything else you have in the colour scheme—it’s turbulent and chaotic” 
The thought of him being mad at you quickly disappeared because of the tone of his voice. It was not strict, or serious. He was just talking and explaining just like he had done that evening while both of you walked around the streets of Paris. 
“I apologize for what happened before” he softly said again, finally moving his forearm away from his eyes, but he kept them closed. “I will try to stand up for you next time something like this happens” 
“Doyoung—“
“You were right Y/N, that’s something I can learn from you”
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Much to your surprise hours passed by in a rush when you were with Doyoung. You both spent the whole Saturday out of the house, away from the hot tension that had built up into the house where his parents where. You didn’t know why, but after that brief conversation with Doyoung the night prior, it felt like everything that had happened before was just a bad dream. 
None of you mentioned the argument that led him to confess how he felt towards your move on his parents, and you were grateful for it. Maybe he wasn’t that bad after all, right? The one thing that you noticed is that he acted differently around his parents and away from all of the pressure they put him through. When he was only with you his mood was lighter, he laughed regularly at your remarks and sometimes at your jokes, but the best thing out of everything is that he let himself go. 
The controlling aura he thought he must have all the time because of his father, slowly but steadily fell off during that Saturday, being replaced by the image of a simple boy who was enjoying his day out. And you loved every second of it. 
“If you had a little bit of knowledge about art you would know the story behind the Giaconda!” you argued with him after you both exited The Louvre. “Then what’s the story behind it, miss i-know-it-all?” he asked making you furrow your eyebrows at the nickname he decided to use on you ever since you both entered the museum. 
“As you already know Leonardo painted it back in 1500, but he never considered it to be complete and that’s why he never gave it to his commissioner” you started to speak as you were both already walking again side by side next to the sienna river. “Why?” he asked confused. “That’s the mystery that revolves around the painting” you responded with a smirk on your face. 
“It is still not known who the person portrayed on the painting is, but there are a lot of great theories about it. Some say it corresponds to Lisa Gherardini, being her the second wife of Franceso del Giocondo, but there are far more interesting theories than this one” you spoke freely, being this topic one of the many you’ve had to write about in college. 
His eyes were truly interested in every word you said, listening closely to your explanation. “There is a theory according to which the subject is Leonardo himself, there are a lot of similarities between the painting and the his face and that would also explain why he never gave it out to the commissioner” 
“Well that’s an interesting one, I’ve never heard about it. But everything you’re saying are just theories, right?”
“Well yes, the reason why the painting is so popular is because of the mystery that holds, the smile, the eyes—everything behind it creates an aura of an enigma around it” you spoke quietly now, as your walk slowed down. “I believe with people happens the same” 
He completely stopped to look at you with narrowed eyes. “How’s that?”
“We’re often attracted to people whose aura it’s just like that because our need of knowledge about them is too powerful, what are they hiding? Why are they hiding? Who are they hiding it from?” you kept on explaining looking straight at the beautiful sight of the river in front of you. “But sometimes the disappointment behind all of that mystery is bigger than the challenge itself, that’s why people should be careful on who they choose to approach… and it’s not always easy to identify the signs”
The soft wind blowing made the landscape in front of you even more gorgeous to look at. You knew that you had to return back to Paris someday, and give this dreamer’s city a try. Doyoung stepped to stand by your side, his eyes glued to your face. 
“Were you attracted to me because of that?”
That simple question made your blood freeze in your veins. It was in that moment when you realized how close he was standing to you, and you were not brave enough to turn around and face him. “Who ever said I was attracted to you?”
There you were again. Running away from the situation, like a coward. But now it was different. It was not Xiaojun, and you were not sure if you were attracted to him or not. Maybe he was right, maybe he was not. But there was something you couldn’t deny, ever since the first day he entered your mind and decided to stay.
“Your reactions to me did” he answered quickly. 
“Doyoung I don’t know what—“ 
“That’s why you painted that portrait” he stopped you again, and you just couldn’t help but look up at him. His eyes had turned back to being cold. “Because you thought that if you painted me… you could just live by the fake image you could build up about me… you were too scared to approach the mystery so you decided to create the answer behind it yourself” he spoke quietly, as if he had thought about the topic for days. But it couldn’t be. 
“I don’t—“ 
“Just accept it” he pushed once again. His right hand fell on the lower part of your back as he made you turn around to completely face him. This wasn’t good, he was way too close. Your bodies were way too close. “Just accept it that you couldn’t stop thinking about me ever since the day we met” he repeated. 
You could just accept it and risk it. You could just be honest to him, and to yourself, for once. But was it worth it? Your mind was running wild but his hand was still holding you still in front of him. He wouldn’t back out, and you knew it. His father had shown him to stay strong and confront the situation, something you have always avoided. 
Maybe you could learn something from him too. 
“I can’t accept a lie” you lied yourself. 
His hand immediately fell from his place and you missed it before a second even had passed. You held your breath as he held your gaze. Something changed. His aura changed. Did you ruin it? Probably. Why did you do it? You had no idea. It was your first instinct, to not show him your true emotions. Why?
Because you were scared. Who has felt that way before towards a stranger who they had met in a frat party? That’s just madness. It couldn’t be true. Could it? Then why was he right? How did he know you couldn’t stop thinking about him? Why was this situations so cruel for you?
Closing his eyes for a brief moment he opened them again. “I apologize” he softly said. You had lost the young free Doyoung you had spent the day with, and now you were greeted by the narcissistic rich man Doyoung, someone you hated. “I won’t bring that up again, it was a mistake. Please just—forget about it” he finally added before stepping to the side, making his way back to the car. 
Your mouth fell open ready to call him out to stop walking, ready to let him read you like a book, just like he has been doing all this time without you even realizing it. But it was too late. You had lost him, and you didn’t know if you could bring back the real Doyoung from the shadows. 
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No more words were shared between you and Doyoung after that last ones in front of the river. You felt uneasy about it, and thought deeply on how to mend your own error but nothing seemed good enough, at least not for him. It wasn’t easy to deal with Doyoung, you never knew what he was thinking or which would be his next move, it was impossible to catch him off guard. 
“I know we’ve avoided my parents today and I’m sure they’re pissed off because of that” he said just as he parked the car in front of his house. “If last night’s topic comes up again please… don’t intervene, Y/N” he asked sincerely looking at you in the eyes. It looked like he wanted to deal with this by himself, but would he be able to do so? 
What you noticed last night is that he was afraid of sharing his opinion about the important matters with his parents. That’s why they always took every possible chance to decide on his future, because he was too scared to say no. But, could you blame him? 
“If not—please…” he spoke again, just as you thought he had finished. “If you get the chance, please make a scene”. You could catch a small smile on his mouth but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “I’ll try my best” was the only thing you could answer. 
“Aren’t you coming?” he asked as you stopped yourself from following him inside of the house. “I want to take a moment—I’ll see you in a minute” you tried to smile but all you needed was some time alone, without Doyoung’s strong presence around you that didn’t let you think properly. 
The sun was setting down and the colour scheme reflected on the house’s façade was truly beautiful. It calmed you down to look at all the warm colours, but it also reminded you on how tonight was the last night you could help Doyoung. And you couldn’t do it only “making a scene”, like he said. There was more to it. 
“I thought you were already inside with Doyoung, I understand you both had a nice day today, right?” his mother’s voice made you turn around abruptly. Where did she come from? “Yes, we’re a bit tired after all the walking around” you tried to smile politely at her, but you knew she was the worst of them all. 
She walked slowly to stand by your side and also look at the colourful view in front of you. “I don’t know where you appeared from Y/N, but I know you won’t be staying for a long time” she spoke but her mouth barely moved. “Ms. Kim I don’t think—“ 
“Please hear me out” she started again, this time turning to smile at you. It was almost a kind smile, a smile that a mother would give lovingly to her child. Doyoung was right, he was used to fake feelings because that’s everything he knew. “When we return back home, you will leave Doyoung’s side and never look out for him again”
Out of everything this was the last thing you thought you’d hear. “You are both clearly from different worlds, and we both know Doyoung can do way better than you, at least that’s what he deserves”. You never thought it would hurt that much to hear those words. 
“This is not a threat Y/N, it’s a warning. If you want to do him good, leave him alone once we return back home” she smiled one last time before taking a step forward to leave your side. “I won’t” faintly slid from your mouth, making her stop. 
“Excuse me?”
“I want to do him good that’s the reason why I won’t leave him alone” the words left your mouth so fast your mind didn’t even proceed them. “You will regret what you just said” she responded and continued to walk towards the house. The beautiful colours you were admiring moments ago were already gone, leaving everything into the dark. 
Maybe she was right. Maybe you were sacrificing too much just to help him. To help a stranger. 
The sound of the door closing behind you made Doyoung snap his eyes open. He was laying down on the bed, waiting for you. “I already thought you ran away back to the museum” he joked but you couldn’t even smile back at him. You didn’t know why his mother’s words affected you so much. “Doyoung, do you think this is the best for you?” you asked making his eyebrows shot up in surprise. 
“The best for me?”
“I mean—you’ve always had them decide for you, do you really believe you’re ready to take action on your own?” you asked him stepping to stand in front of him. He quickly sat up on the bed, his head titling up to look at you. “Where’s this coming from?” 
“I was just thinking that…maybe they do want the best for you, that’s why their making their best to teach you about the company and…setting you up with different girls” you explained, unable to even look at him in the eyes. You couldn’t believe yourself. “I thought you were against all of that? Y/N what—“ 
“Maybe you get lucky and one of those girls is actually someone good to you… someone good for you” 
“You want to stop this?”
“All I’m saying is that you should think it through… really think about it” 
He stood up to stand tall in front of you, but once again close. Your eyes were set on his neck, unable to look up at him. “I’ve made the decision Y/N, if you don’t want to help me on this one I understand, I told you from the start that I won’t push you into doing things you don’t want to. But this is something I’ve lived with all my life, and I think it’s time for a change”.
You finally looked up at him, just to see the same person you once painted. 
Doyoung sat by your side once again on the dining table. His father and mother were sitting across from you, both with stoic expressions on. No one dared to talk while waiting for the food to arrive. The look on his mother’s eyes was mortifying, and you knew it was all because of your answer back. Thinking about the positive side of the situation, you’ve already taken the first step on helping Doyoung out while talking with his mother. 
“What do you plan on doing after college, Y/N?” to your surprise it was his father the on to start the conversation this time. That question took you aback, you actually had no idea what you wanted to do after college. “I want to travel” you chose on taking the easy way tonight. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well that’s nice, but don’t you have a plan? I mean…if you and Doyoung are still together it won’t be good if you leave to travel around the globe while he’s working and paying for all of that, right?”
“I never said Doyoung would be the one paying”
“That’s impressive then, how do you plan on doing it?” he scoffed, his hands folded in front of his face. “I plan on working while studying and save as much as I can, then leave everything and go”
“Leave everything and go? That’s risky, I believe only brave people can do that” his mother was the one to talk now. 
“I think it’s a good plan” Doyoung spoke suddenly, which you didn’t expect at all. “It’s a waste of time, you can always do that once you have your life sorted out and you have a stable economic background to do so without worries” his father answered back looking at Doyoung. 
He quickly shut up after hearing that. “Anyways, I also plan on opening my own store and with some luck, my own gallery” you tried to move on with the conversation. Doyoung had the guts to answer one time to his parents, but never twice. “Oh a gallery? That’s nice, but you need a good fund to start with” his mother smiled again, and you knew that one smile wasn’t a kind one. 
“Everything can be done if I work hard enough”, you were not letting them win this one. “It will only be successful if the paintings are good—if you plan on doing that with portraits like the one you exposed in our gallery, well…” 
His father’s eyes were determined on finishing you on this one last dinner.
“You didn’t like it? Then why did you try to buy it?” you asked with a curious look on your face. 
“Because Doyoung was impressed by it, and I thought it would be nice if I bought it for him, even if I didn’t like it” 
“I didn’t know you did things like that for your son, most times you don’t think if he would like what you have for him or not” you quickly snapped back, and Doyoung’s hand was back on your thigh trying to stop you. “We always think about his likings and well-being” his mother was the one to answer now. 
“Really? Was that your intention when you were trying to set him up with all kind of rich girls? I thought it was because you didn’t want him to be around people with less money than him, you know… from different worlds” 
The room fell silent after your last statement. “I won’t let you disrespect us like this in our own home” his father’s tone of voice changed completely. It frightened you now. Did you cross the line? “Father please—“ 
“We all have different opinions about the topic, I believe I haven’t disrespected anyone now”, you tried to keep yourself calm. “You can state your opinion as long as it’s not attacking us directly” his mother responded. 
“This only show’s how little you know your son, and it’s sad” you made them shut up, Doyoung’s hand still on your thigh, but you weren’t going to stop now. “You will never know the amazing young boy he is because you’ve forced him to grow up as a man too fast. He has never had a free childhood, he has never had the chance on making memories with his friends as a normal kid, because of you”
“Y/N—“Doyoung tried to stop you. 
“I know that maybe I’m not here for the long run, but while I’m here I will support him on doing everything he wants to do and I won’t impose him my own decisions, just like you, as his parents, have done all of his life” you finally said, standing up and stomping out of the room. Yes, maybe you did cross the line. But you couldn’t stop. 
The anger that had built inside of your chest was too much to handle anymore. You had to let it out. The room you shared with Doyoung suddenly felt small and the air in it didn’t feel enough. 
“What was that?!” he entered, harshly closing the door behind him. “What?! Me defending you in front of your parents?!” you answered back with the same tone. You were not having it anymore, you’ve let him guide this game you were both playing, but it was time to change the rhythm. 
“I tried to stop you but you kept talking shit Y/N!” 
“I kept—?! I only said what you’ve been thinking your whole life Doyoung! I had the courage to do it”
“Because you don’t know a damn thing!”
“What is wrong with you?! You asked me to do this!”
His fists were tightly clenching on his side. “Why are you so afraid of everything, Doyoung?” you asked him after getting no response. His eyes were lost again, and you moved forward to be closer to him. The scoff that he let out took you by surprise. “I believe you’re not the right one to talk about being scared of confronting the situations” 
“I confronted your parents, something you haven’t done in your whole life”
“Yes, because you haven’t lived with them Y/N!” He snapped back, his eyes getting glossy with tears. “You have had a simple and slow life Y/N, you don’t know what it feels like to be constantly thrown around to learn things you don’t need just because you could be judged by other people! You don’t know what it feels like to grow up lonely, because you had no time on making friends, or just because your friends were like every other rich old man! You don’t know what is like to grow up without being loved!”
His words were harsh on you but he didn’t plan on stopping. “I don’t know what love is Y/N, I haven’t received that from anyone in this world, not even my parents! But you know what? At the end of the day they’re everything I have, and if I push them completely away from me I would lose it all, do you comprehend the situation now Y/N?” 
He was leaving you speechless. Of course you hadn’t imagined the situation from his perspective. You were just a selfish person who thought that making a scene like that one would be something heroic. You had definitely crossed the line. 
“Doyoung I’m—“
“No, don’t tell me you’re sorry!” he stopped you, taking a seat on the bed. His head was on his hands, covering his face, but he was still holding back his tears. You didn’t know how to react, nor what to do. 
“You know what I’ve learned after all this years, Y/N?” he asked. He looked up at you, his eyes red, but no tears were seen. “That you need a lot of courage to let yourself be loved”. Those words hit you right in the chest, and you were not ready to receive the bullets. “A courage that can almost be heroic” 
You knew he was talking directly about you. He had turned the tables. He had change the game after reading your mind. He was unconsciously trying to win. “Most people can’t give nor receive love because they’re cowards, Y/N. Because they’re scared of failure. Like you.” 
Your lower lip was already quivering, but you had to stay strong. “You’re ashamed to open yourself to another person or surrender to them because you’re scared that they will discover your secret” he scoffed after that line, “the saddest secret that every human being has inside of them: that you can’t live without love. Everyone is afraid of that.” 
You took a step closer to him and stood in front of him. His head was still between his hands. 
You hated it. You hated the situation, you hated his words and you hated him. Your only argument was that he was right. He had caught you from the start, he had seen what’s behind your eyes from the very first moment, that’s why he knew how to behave around you. 
You took his chin with your finger to make him look up at you. “I accept it” was the only thing you said. His eyes trailed up your body to finally meet with your eyes. “I accept the fact that I wasn’t able to stop thinking about you ever since I met you”
His eyes were shining, but no emotions were shown. With a deep sigh you decided to risk it all. You’ve been running away for too long now, you’ve been a coward all of your life. And you wanted to prove him wrong. 
Moving forward you placed one leg on each side of his waist, sitting down on his lap. His hands fell automatically on your waist, as if they’ve been there all of his life. You were still holding his face between your hands, but he didn’t give any sign of wanting to move away. “Everything you said…you’re right” you whispered. 
Both of your faces were too close. With a simple movement you could finally kiss him. That’s when you realized for how long you’ve longed that feeling. His eyes moved from your eyes to your lips constantly, but he wouldn’t move. “You’ll stop being a coward?” he asked, directly daring you to be the one taking the first step. 
In a heartbeat you moved forward to let your lips fall on top of his. You didn’t know if it was because of all the rage you both had inside, but it wasn’t a soft nor tender kiss. It was hard, full of passion and… hurt? His hands moved quickly, making you move closer to him, totally closing the gap between you two. 
His hold was tight, as if he was afraid you’d run away now. You could barely breathe while kissing him because of the hurry he had on savouring every moment. He made sure you knew whose breath you were breathing, where you belonged. 
Your hands were tangled in the back of his head. You’ve never felt like this making out with anyone before. He made your body move on top of his while his fingers were moving up and down your back. 
His mouth moved from yours to start kissing your neck. His body was pressed even harder against yours as you were still on top of him, making you feel his chest against yours and his back muscles with your own hands. 
You could feel his dick grow hard through his pants. Not wanting to waste any more time he turned you around to let you fall on the bed, him positioning himself on top of you. You were already feeling too aroused just by making out with him. His eyes were closed as he slowly made his way down your neck, making you stand up to take off your shirt, quickly followed by your pants.
His hands were running up and down your legs, but his eyes still closed. As he took off your panties you knew you were already soaked, and with a simple peck on your pussy your legs trembled. It would be too much to handle if you let him indulge there. 
Taking his head with your hands you made him finally look up to you, crashing your lips again against one another. His clothes were quick to follow behind yours, as both of you laid down naked, both of your bodies completely glued to one another.
Without a word being said you both only maintained the eye contact, and that was more than enough for you. He slowly slip into you, but steadily found the rhythm. Every powerful thrust inside of you pushed the headboard of the bed hard against the wall. The pain at the beginning was undeniable, but the pleasure of him being inside of you felt too good. 
The sound of the wetness of your centre and the heavy grunts and breaths were the only thing that filled the room, his eyes never leaving yours. You didn’t know what he did to you, but you had never felt like this before. 
One of his hands moved to rise more one of your legs, getting a better angle, and as much as you hated it you knew it wouldn’t be long before he threw you over the edge. “Doyoung—“ 
But he shut you up by crashing his lips once again against yours, also muffling your cry out after reaching your climax. 
Both of your chests were rising and falling with deep breaths. He was still on top of you, and your hands were caressing the back of his neck. A thin layer of sweat was covering both of your bodies but you didn’t want him to move away, ever. 
Suddenly, the heavy breathing turned into a soft sob. He didn’t dare to look up, but you could feel the wetness of his tears on your neck. All of his muscles were tense, and you could feel that he couldn’t hold back anymore. 
Hugging him even tightly you kissed the top of his head as you let him rest there on top of you, letting all of his emotions pour out of his eyes in form of tears. “I’m here Doyoung” you whispered to calm him down, but you also knew he needed to let everything out. 
“I’m here for you”
With your every word his tears fell down harder, his hands holding you tightly. He was scared. He also took the risk by opening up to you, and now he was scared you’d be the one to leave. 
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None of you talked about what had happened the night prior when you both woke up the next day, naked and tangled in each other’s arms and legs. He wasn’t distant, but you knew his mind was somewhere else, concentrated on something else. 
“We’re going back home today” he announced still in bed, his forearm covering his eyes, at which you could only nod with your head still resting on top of his chest. “What will you do when you go back?” he asked, but nothing was clear now. You didn’t expect this to happen. “I don’ know”, he smiled at your words but didn’t respond. 
It would be a lie if you said your head wasn’t a mess. The flight back home was filled with silence. Doyoung was once again reading one of his books, with his right hand tightly grasping at yours. You didn’t know what would happen from now on, but you also didn’t want to overthink it. You both had finally found someone who you could open up to, but was it that easy?
He didn’t mention anything about it either, making you feel uneasy inside, but you also didn’t want to pressure him. The frustration inside was growing fast but you couldn’t let it win, not now that you’d found him. 
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But just when you thought you’ve found him. He was gone. 
I still don’t know how to react to everything that happened this weekend, I can only say I’m sorry. I’ve felt neglected my whole life and you were the one that opened my eyes completely, Y/N. You don’t even know how grateful I am for you. 
After I left you in your house on Sunday I couldn’t sleep that night. Everything felt different for me, as if you had changed my point of view. There were a million thoughts racing in my mind, and they all had one thing in common: you. 
But I know I cannot be the man that you need by your side right now, in this moment. That’s why I’m sorry. I still have a long way to run before I reach you. You’ve managed to show me, in such a short amount of time, that I should do whatever makes my heart dance inside of my chest. And we both know that my life was miserable here. But I’m trying to change. 
That’s why I’m turning back to Paris. My parents weren’t happy about it, of course. But I promised them I would work for the company from there, and at the same time I’ll focus on finding my own true passions. My own path in life. 
I know this sounds selfish. And it is. And I’m sorry about it. But I also feel like this is my only way to grow up as a person, and as the man you deserve to have by your side. 
I’ve never told you this but…you’re the first girl that makes me cry. I’ll never forget that, hope you don’t either. 
I can’t ask you to wait for me, and I won’t. That’d be crossing the line and making you suffer even more (this is not easy for me either), but I hope you forever remember me and that night we shared. I hope you forever remember that I gave you my heart there. And I don’t plan on getting it back. 
I also returned you the portrait. I hope the day we meet again I don’t look like it anymore. I hope you can portray me again, but this time as my true self. As someone happy and confident, someone who has succeeded in life on his own way. I hope you feel proud the day you do it. I really do. 
You are a brilliant person Y/N. I have never met anyone like you. And I know you will go far in life. Please, don’t forget about me. Please, think about me. Please, don’t let me die in your memory. 
I’ll be waiting for you, forever, in the dreamer’s city. 
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You both lived in different worlds. You both had different views of life. But sometimes those things are the ones that bring people together. Doyoung reaching out for you to help him will completely change your life—something you didn’t expect to happen. And you helping him out will completely open his eyes to what the real world looked like, what the world outside of all the money and luxury he was accustomed to was. Maybe you both could learn something from one another in this journey to the dreamer’s city. 
311 notes · View notes
adandelioninspring · 7 months
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Hiya, Yannick! I have a question that I've had since I first watched the boot of RTC you're in, was Ricky's hat a just a design choice or did it have meaning?
ps: you're genuinely the best Ricky Potts ever, you probably get this all the time but as a trans, queer, disabled youth who loves RTC I felt seen when I saw you on stage :-D
Hello, friend!
First, thank you. I never expected to hear back from the people this was all for, but I always did it for you and everyone else like you and myself who never had a chance like that to dream big. There are parts of that experience I haven’t been public about because I don’t want to distract from the importance of physical accessibility, but this is a story worth telling. And you asked for it. So we’re gonna discuss how the hat was not a choice, but a racially charged dilemma.
If you’re reading this, Princeton lawyers, it’s all “alleged” uwu you can keep thinking you’re innocent it’s all “hearsay” live laugh love you’re the best!!! Keep up the good work erasure is great and we love you for that!!
If you’re not a lawyer, keep reading.
Important context - I am an indigenous/person of color whose hair is somewhere between a 3C and a 4A curl type (feel free to google a curly hair number guide for reference), which means a lot of the time it has a mind of its own, and sometimes it’s an Afro situation where the kink needs more air, sometimes the curls are coily-er and look like Slinkies (old school toys that are basically helical springs). I had my hair in double twists when I originally got there, and during rehearsals took them out and was rocking my natural fro look.
So, the time comes to film any projections used for the show, which includes the space cats “dance” sequence during the SABM costume change. I had heard an idea of wanting to do a mow hawk sort of situation or something with my hair, though no one ever talked to me directly to discuss my POC hair and the condition it would need to be in for whatever style they have in mind. So what happens? I come in to get ready for the projections, and the hair stylist sits me down…frazzled. I ask, what is wrong. The stylist starts touching my hair in the kind of way people do when they don’t know what to do with something, picking up pieces with the ends/tips of the fingers and lifting it around to make judgements, letting it fall back to place on its own. If you cannot tell based on my description of this, it is easy to gather that the stylist has not worked safely with this texture before (which is heavily concerning to me given an all Black play was just in that theatre, and this hair person runs everything in that place).
I get told something along the lines of “this is not a workable texture” and asked if they can just spray some water on it really quick for the curls to “come back”. For those of you who do not have hair like me, it is important to understand that that is not how my hair works. So, I explain: I would need to get into a shower, stand under pounding water, apply various creams, massage and condition the hair, then it has to air day, then after that there’s oil, then the finger curling to the portions that decided to stay like an Afro after all of this, et cetera et cetera. I’m basically making it clear that that isn’t possible.
But they are fixated on a certain look, and the projections have to be filmed NOW.
So what does the hair person start to do? Heat. Up. A. Curling. Iron. To. Force. My. Afro. Into. Artificial. Curls. There are several problems with this idea, including the fact that recording this on the projector makes a silhouette we have to mimic every night -I’m a dramaturg ooo- and if the look looks that way because you heat-pressed an afro last minute, we’re gonna have to do this EVERY NIGHT. I won’t be able to mimic it naturally. Which I explain to them. I also ask the stylist, “before you start, I’m wondering where you’re heat protectant spray is?” For context: it doesn’t matter what hair type you have, anyone applying heat to their hair should use a protectant of some sort. It’s not healthy to fry your head, your hair will chip off. So I ask for where this spray is, and the stylist who does every show in this theatre before and after this production looks me in the face and goes, “what is that?”.
At this point, I feel like everything I’ve brought up for constructive feedback has been shot down, so I have no choice but to watch this person fry my head, cover it in pins, and let me go to the recording area. So, I do. And we start recording. But I am unable to focus on the choreography they were teaching for the projections, and my energy wasn’t at 100%. You could say, I was in the middle of an anxiety attack. So, the film and hair people have to leave the room, I try to explain all of this to everyone and start taking the pins out of my hair because I can’t handle it anymore (I’ve faced a lot of bad things regarding my hair and so since a kid I’ve gotten nauseous when these things happen. I was feeling like throwing up so I started taking pins out) and no one knows what to do. So, I get creative after some room deliberation.
“What about a hat? My man’s trying to be noticed by everyone anyways. A big heated-curly mowhawk not getting fun attention from the choir doesn’t add up, and being a cool guy with a backwards cap adds an edge that makes me look like I don’t really care what people think. It’s also something that doesn’t require heat, or stylists. No one has to touch my hair again, the projection stays consistent because it’s a hat, everybody wins?”
The director says she can’t decide without clearance from the costume person, walks out of the room to have a phone call about it, costume person says a hat is fine, ends up designing a new hat for the SABM change so I have one then, too.
I say this not to discourage those who want to dream, or to make professionals feel bad. I say it because you asked, and because I care about you. And anyone who reads this. Because it’s so important to take care of yourself. No matter if you’re being given an “opportunity”, that doesn’t mean you need to stop respecting yourself. That doesn’t mean where you work is allowed to be physically unsafe. That doesn’t mean they get to destroy your natural hair for the sake of a projection. You should always, ALWAYS put yourself before anything anyone tells you “needs to happen” in order for you to get your dream. Just because it’s always been exclusionary, doesn’t mean being hate crimed “needs to happen” in order for you to get to Broadway.
I hope you can still appreciate my Ricky despite the things that almost got in the way of him being able to support you. I hope the fandom doesn’t forget about my Ricky. I hope history doesn’t forget that Ricky was disabled. I hope hair stylists can learn what heat protectant spray is before they learn to use heat tools. I hope you can still dream after all of this, and I hope you know that you are loved and deserve to be appreciated for exactly who you are.
Thank you so much once again, for appreciating my performance, and for asking. I hope you’re doing well.
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thatbanditqueen · 10 months
Text
Basic Training
I Don't Date Soldiers
A new fic, possibly a new WIP, about Elvis' life at Fort Hood. Let me know what you think.
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Summary: Bess is a smart, young secretary working for the Commander of Army Intelligence training at Fort Hood, dreaming of a life beyond the military one she has always known. That's why she doesn't date soldiers, they only break your heart, and she is looking ahead to something better. One Friday night in March, she stumbles in to the new draftee who's turned the base upside down, and in a moment of weakness, decides to try and help him sleep. Just this once.
Warnings: None, fluffy and angst combined, but innocent. For now. There are a lot of typos.
Word Count: 4.8 K
Some notes: Probably good to know the acronyms, every Army base has a chain of command, and at the top sit the Commanding Officer (CO), the Executive Officer (XO), and a bunch of other officers, of different rank denoted by their ascending O rank, from 1 to 10. WAC - Women's Army Corps, established in WWII, their was a sizeable WAC presence at Fort Hood in 1958. Oh, and Killeen is the closest city to Fort Hood and Austin, TX is about an hour away. Also I really wanted this to take place on a Friday night, but also have had Elvis at the base for two nights, so I gave myself creative license to make March 30, 1958 a Friday. Just don't look it up and we'll be fine.
This fic was inspired by the writing prompt:
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Many thanks to my beautiful sister-wives-in-arms whose advice support and love make being an Elvis girl possible and fun, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @missmaywemeetagain and @whositmcwhatsit, from whom I have stolen her trademarked description of Elvis' awkward manner of kissing half on the cheek half on the lips like a goofy weirdo who was never taught how to kiss right so he decided to make up his own style. And thanks for reading and connecting with me here, the Elvis fandom is the best and I love our community!
Friday, March 30, 1958
9 p.m. at Sal's Cafe
Bess pushed her veal marsala from one side of her plate to the other, feeling the vibrations of her fork scrape across the bottom of the plate. The place checked off all the requisite Italian restaurant requirements: checkered table cloth, candle in an old wine bottle, violin player sawing away at a classical reinterpretation of “That’s Amore.” But the brown sauce, and the meat it was congealing around, was inedible. It was the sort of food that begged the question “why not stay in and cook at home?”
“I said, don’t you think, Bess honey? You follow that stuff, dontcha?”
Bess looked up at her friend Dori’s face, realizing she had drifted off daydreaming of a future far away from Killeen, away from her job at Fort Hood, away from the Army, away from officers, like the ones sitting across from them. Away from soldiers in general.
“What, Khrushchev? Well, I think we all knew he wasn’t going to take the threat laying down.”
Dori hit Bess' shoulder lightly, smiling at their dates, two officers from Army Intelligence.
“No, y’all will havta excuse my friend here, she still thinks she’s studying political science in Austin. You’d think a year of civilian life would make her normal again, huh?”
Dori flipped her blonde hair and drawled on.
“No, silly goose, no one here is interested in that Russian stuff, we’re talking about Mike Todd. What do you think poor Elizabeth Taylor is going to do now that her husband's dead?”
Bess tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Dori was right, she read the movie gossip magazines, but her friend’s distraught, serious expression had made her think they were discussing something with a little more gravitas. The recent atomic weapons testing, or Russian political shifts, the stuff at the top of her New York Times front page everyday. But why would any one in the Army want to talk about that?
Bess smiled at her date and tried to focus on the conversation at hand. Later in the bathroom, Dori chided her while applying a fresh coat of lipstick onto Bess’ mouth.
“I wish you would try to be polite.”
“Dori, you know I am breaking my rule here with you. I don’t date soldiers. I have two goals I'm focusing on: get into law school and shake off these twenty pounds. ”
Bess rubbed her hands over her waist.
“Rules were made to be broken, Bessie Pie, and you look great, men like a girl with a jiggle, I think you look like a brunette Jayne Mansfield.”
“Hardly. You’re Mansfield and Monroe rolled into one.”
“Don't sell yourself short. I know you were fixin' to marry that boy last year, and now all you talk about is law school this, politics that. Don’t you wanna get married? We're not getting any younger.”
“I’m twenty three. Same as you.”
“Eggg zactly. Sure, it seems young now, but you're gonna blink and be thirty and single, with nothing but your degrees to keep you company. You already have a good job now. I just know you’d set this law school thing aside if you met the right guy.”
“Of course I wanna get married, someday. But not now. You’re the one in a hurry to quit your job and settle down, not me.”
“I don’t have a job.”
“See, you’re half way there, Doreen. Me, I’m not giving up my goals for Captain Smarmy out there. How did you even meet these ones?”
Dori steadied her self on Bess’ shoulder.
“Stop moving, or this lipstick won’t be straight. I met them outside the PX, I thought they were cute. Arnie knew who you were, he was the one who suggested we all go out. He really likes you, I can tell - “
“Yeah, he was just in my pop's office lobbying for an assignment, he doesn’t like me. He is using me.  There’s a difference, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“So what if he was? Maybe he saw you there and couldn’t get you out of his mind. He’s good looking, smart, he’s already an O3 —”
Bess stopped her friend’s hand, and fixed her hair in the mirror, pushing up her bust and sighing at the rounder curves that had been widening at her waist since she’d graduated from college and settled into a very sedentary, very single, and currently very celibate life living back at home and working for her father. She turned to look at Dori who was waiting to blot Bess' lips with a tissue like the sweet girl she always had been. For Dori, a fresh coat of perfectly applied lipstick fixed all of life’s problems.
“Look, Captain whatever out there is only here for six months or so for training, then he's off to Heidelberg. That’s why I don’t date soldiers anymore. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m waiting for you to catch up.”
Bess gave her dark curls one last fluff.
“How’d you get these suckers to come out on a double date anyway? They aren’t scared of your father?”
Dori avoided eye contact as she smoothed her blonde bouffant and pursed her lips, then looked at Bess in the mirror.
“They don’t know.”
“How do they not know your father is the CO?”
Dori shrugged, then pinched Bess as they walked out of the ladies’ room.
“Don’t tell, ok? Let’s just have fun. What if you fall madly in Arnie? And he asked you to marry him and go to Germany with him?”
Bess snorted as they walked out to the men waiting for them in the restaurant lobby and Dori's eyes took on a knowing look.
“Hmm, so that’s big fat ol ‘no’ to dancing tonight, I’m guessin’?”
Bess nodded.
“Please at least tell me you aren’t going home to work on that boring research project?”
Bess smiled mischievously. “Professor Blotke agreed to help me, it’s going to be my submission sample for Georgetown. Papa took Mama to D.C. with him for his meetings, so I have the house practically to myself. It's just Kay and me, and she’s probably already asleep. I just have to grab a new typewriter back on post, I busted mine.”
Dori shook her disapproving of Bess’ plans for the night, then turned to greet their escorts with her usual vivacious pleasantries. Bess smiled at Dori's ability to interact with the men so casually and intimately, sliding her hands through both of officer's arms as they walked to the car. She considered how different she was from her girlfriend, despite the fact that they were both twenty three year old daughters of career Army officers. Every relationship she'd been in seemed to occur in spite of her inability to feel at ease or flirt with boys.
The conversation turned to recent events at Fort Hood as they walked.
“So,” Dori exhaled, squeezing herself against her date. “Has anyone seen Elvis yet?”
Bess pounded her foot a little harder into the concrete, hearing that name now provoked instant irritation.
“Ughh, no. It’s only been what, three days, and honestly I wish he’d been sent somewhere else for training. All I do is answer calls about him. It is driving me up the wall and I can’t get anything done. He’s turned the whole base upside down. Must have been a hundred cars parked outside the main gate, all scattered around the fields. It’s a security issue. I just —"
“Well, that’s not his fault Bess, and I think it's great. I wanna to meet him, don’t y’all?” Dori looked at the officers on her arms.
Arnie smiled a big dumb smile as he looked at Dori’s bouncing breasts and agreed. “I think it’s good for the Army, boy, I just - I just wish we could get the other enlisted to lay off him.”
“What do you mean?”
Bess felt the pit of her stomach tense as she thought of the thousands of green little boys running around base on edge with no external distractions for entertainment.
“Yeah, the boys’ have been giving him a hard time, shouting out when he runs during PT, or at the chow hall. There’s some concern he hasn’t been coming to eat all his meals cuz a the way they’ve been taunting him.”
Bess sighed, her irritation dissipating momentarily into sympathy as she considered how hungry and lonely Elvis Presley must be. Then she remembered that she was hungry, hungry because all the good restaurants had been filled up tonight by people trying to catch a glimpse of him. Elvis was the reason the only benefit from breaking her vow against dating a soldier, the free meal, had been a bust. She wondered if it was going to be this crazy around town for the next six months while he was here.
“I feel sorry for the poor kid, I do. But I still wish he was some other base’s problem.”
***********************************************************
Back on post, Arnie asked Bess for the fourth time if she wouldn’t like him to come help her carry the typewriter to her car. Then they could meet the others at the night club.
Beth pursed her lips with a demure smile.  “I think I can handle a typewriter, Captain, I use them all day.”
Dori chimed in with a reminder that it was Friday night and they were only young once, but Bess put them off, grinning as she heard Dori exclaim that both men would just have to dance with her all night.
“Two gorgeous officers all to myself,  what eva shall I do?”
Free at last, Bess drove her car to the supply building, and snuck in the back door carrying the type writer that she had been using at home, the big sticker along the bottom reading “Property of U.S. Army” evident as she held the machine under her arm to unlock the door. Bess slipped off her heels at the door so that they didn’t click down the dark hallways, and she easily scurried in to slip the broken machine into the repair center and help herself to a new model, grabbing a few spools of typewriter ribbon and a package of paper on the way out. Balancing everything as she locked up to leave,  Bess smiled at the cool air on her sweaty arm pits and laughed to herself for pulling this stealth operation in a tight green cocktail dress and pumps.
“A better use of this outfit anyway, I’d say.” She muttered to herself, sheathing her right foot back into her white heel with a sense of pride that she’d managed to get in, get the new machine, and would probably be home before 11 p.m. Bess had propped her self up against the building to slip her left foot into the other shoe when she heard a voice behind her call out.
“Uh, hey, need any help there?”
Startled, she almost toppled over, catching herself at the last moment by dropping everything in her hands.
“OWW fuck fuck fuck a duck!
She screamed in pain as the typewriter clanged down on her bare left foot and she almost knocked heads with the tall, gangly soldier who squatted down on front of her at the same time to try and help her retrieve her supplies.
"Oh man, I sure am sorry, listen -"
“At ease, uh Private,” she glanced briefly at the rank on his uniform while straightening up, holding her foot in pain and taking in the view below her. The paper knob at the top of the new machine had broken off completely.
“Fuck, this is what I get, I suppose,” she laughed, looking up find herself across from the shy, inquisitive face of Elvis Presley.
“Oh fuck a duuuuuck.”
Bess forgot about the typewriter, the paper spilled everywhere, the throbbing pain in the left foot she was now holding up and cradling. She didn’t even notice how she was exposing her thighs until she rubbed her foot again and dropped it with a thud, realizing she was about to flash Elvis Presley. He seemed to realize it too, and smirked as he turned his face to look away as some sort of attempt to give her privacy while she smoothed her dress down. Bess did this while clumsily trying to balance between one heeled foot and one bare foot.
Elvis found it very hard to stifle his chuckles as he watched her stiffen, and held out his hand to put her at ease.
“Uh, hey there ma’am, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley.”
Bess shifted and smiled awkwardly, wiping her dirty, sweaty hands on her silk dress and extending her right hand out to shake his. The the same right hand, that had, moments ago, been rubbing her smelly, left foot. Honestly, it seemed like the most polite option, since she decided to act as if the last five minutes hadn’t happened. As if  sneaking out of the supply building past 10 p.m. on a Friday night with her arms full of government office supplies was perfectly normal.
“Bess Schwartz, I’m, uh, I work in the Front Office here. I’m, I’m, I'm the secretary for the Army Intelligence Commander.”
She gasped when Elvis took her hand, the hand cover in her foot sweat, and squeezed it warmly, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.
“Nice ta, uh, meetcha. Imma sorry, uh, for startlin’ ya Miss Schwartz, ma’am.”
Bess shivered in the darkness as she heard herself whisper for him to call her Bess almost incoherently while she watched Elvis drop down in front of her and fit her other white pump over her left foot. She tried to remember how to breath. It was hard.  Hard because she was struggling to subdue  her visceral reaction to Elvis' thumb as it slowly smoothed over the top of her foot, which made it harder still to recover from the embarrassment of getting caught stealing a typewriter. By the most famous person in the world. Bess shut her eyes in disbelief that this was actually happening, and was disappointed when she lifted her eyelids to find that it actually was happening and Elvis was still there. He met her eyes, his finger delicately stroking her ankle.
“There, now, honey, you think you can walk?”
She pulled her leg back and nodded as she scanned the parking lot, the road along and other buildings behind it.
“Mhmm. Thank you, Private. Say, what are you doing stalking around the base right now? Lights out is at 9.”
Elvis bit his lip, looking at the ground as he stood.
“Can’t sleep.”
Bess arched her eyebrow as she started to bend, but Elvis put his hand up to stop her and stooped to gather the paper. He crushed it under his arm as he grabbed the typewriter and ink ribbons, talking slowly and deliberately.
“Well, my first night some jokers went an put shaving cream in my shoes, I ‘spose it gave em a good laugh to watch me run around like a damn fool getting ready for inspection. An well, I ain’t been able to sleep since, can’t bare to, uh, to uh - ”
His voice trailed off, but Bess knew what he meant. He was afraid of looking like poor sport or tattle tale if he complained, and a coward if he just took it. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the bags under his eyes, calculating he must be going on 40 hours without much sleep. Or much food either, if her date was to be believed. Men. Boys, more like. Little boys amusing them selves by torturing this poor kid. This, tall, lanky, kid, who hovered above her and whose large hands made her typewriter ribbon look like a checker piece.
“Yeah, uh, they’re just scared they won’t be able to get any tail now that your here.” She smiled as best she could under the pressure of trying to talk with Elvis smoldering, lonely boy eyes piercing through her.
Bess looked at a passing car just so she could collect herself, then back at Elvis, thinking of the crowds of women lining the gates.
“The men should be thanking you, we haven’t seen this many pretty girls hanging around the base, since, well, since ever. Probably gonna be easy picking, especially for the soldiers who can leave post. Those poor girls hanging 'round outside the gates don’t know you aren’t allowed to go near ‘em for the next three or so weeks.”
“Mhmm, seems like, uh, uh, ya don’t havta go off post to meet pretty girls.”
Elvis bit his lip again, enjoying how Bess became flustered and embarrassed, smoothing the sides of her dress. She reminded herself that she hated him, as she felt the butterflies swarm through her belly and make themselves at home, flitting willy nilly up her spine. Bess also became keenly aware of how hungry she was from skipping dinner. She didn’t have time for his teasing and looked Elvis squarely in the eyes as she spoke.
“I recommend staying away from them, too. Especially the WACs. You’re definitely not supposed to fraternize with other soldiers.”
Elvis looked off at the trees that lined the road to the right. “How bought civilians? Is, um, ah, frater-a-nizin', uh, allowed?”
Bess turned, ignoring the question, though she was unable to ignore the warm, playful flirtation in Elvis’ voice as it washed over her and her chest heaved up and down at a quicker pace. Once again she told herself that she did, indeed, know how to breath. Her annoyance at his line melted away when she returned to his eyes and saw the exhaustion underneath his bravado, instantly regretting what she was about to do before she even did it. Somehow she couldn’t help herself, it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience, watching herself fumble through a simple sentence.
“Listen, I, um, I just had the worst date of my life, at the worst restaurant. Couldn’t eat a bite. You help me get another type writer, and I’ll, I’ll fix us something to eat. Then you can sleep on my couch for a few hours.”
Watching  his eyes light up, Bess felt the need to add. “But no funny business. I’m just helping out a new recruit, doesn’t mean anything.”
For the second time that night, Bess oversaw sneaking a broken typewriter into the repair shop and taking a new one, hobbling as she led Elvis to her car and directed him to put the stuff in her truck.
“Ya live on post?”
Bess patted the passenger seat of her blue Ford.
“Nope.”
“You know I ain’t supposed to leave?”
“Yup.”
“So — what’s the plan, stan?”
Bess turned to Elvis, removing his hand from her knee where it had somehow landed, and whispered with breathy excitement.
“I’m going to sneak you off.”
Elvis quirked his eyebrows as she kept talking.
“I, um, well, I share an office with the CO's secretary, Mabel. Who might actually be the most powerful person at this command. So, as long as I get you back in time for reveille, we’ll be fine. None of these guys will mess with me.” 
“I, uh, I don’ wan no special privileges, I wanna, uh, be treated like any other man, any other soldier. I reckon I better -”
Elvis trembled when Bess touched his shoulder and rubbed it gently, looking up into his face with her big brown eyes, now tender and reassuring. He looked to her like he might cry as he spoke of not being special.
“Look, I would do this for any new recruit. Boot camp, uh. Well. This is the hardest  part of being in the Army. I promise. I’m not offering because you’re famous. I actually kind of hate you, do you know how much trouble you cause my office? So, you should know I’m helping you in spite of who you are. Promise. I would - I would do it for any soldier in your predicament.”
Bess said this firmly to convince herself as much as to convince Elvis. Then she added a friendly wink and drove off, enjoying Elvis’ bemused smile and telling herself not to worry. Underneath her calm, confidence was the nagging thought that, unlike Elvis, Bess knew exactly what happened if some rule-minded officer were to find out that she had snuck Elvis off post. She had a good understanding of rule-minded officers. Like her father. Who, thankfully, was out of town.
******************************
The bacon and eggs sizzled on the stove and Bess flipped them, shyly avoiding Elvis’ gaze from where he was leaning with his back arched against the door jab, his right hip twisted up and his thumbs hanging from his belt loops as he watching her cook.
“So, uh, what’s a secretary doing taking typewriters uh, um, out late on a Friday night an a bringin' ‘em home for, huh?”
Bess shook her head into the frying pan, then met his gaze.
“I , um, I happen to have some very important work I need to do from home. For the General I work for. That’s, uh, why I have a master key.”
“Uh huh.” Elvis’ smirked, nodding his chin as he stuck his hands slowly under his armpits, and lifted one knee up to lean back further against the wall.
“Hand me your plate, dinner is ready.”
Elvis bounced off the doorway and strode slowly over to where Bess stood at the stove, his long arms dangling loosely at his side. He had become more relaxed and confident once they got to her house, after tearing up a bit in the car and telling her how much he missed his parents and home and how he didn’t have any idea what Germany would be like. He had then muttered on about how millions of guys have been through this, so he knew he’d be alright, though the tear dripping down his cheek made Bess think he believed the exact opposite. Now he was behind her, almost a different person, cocky and teasing as his strong arms snaked around her waist to steady her hands.
“Nah, see how the egg is still all jiggly wiggly, Bessie? S’not done, not nearly. Wanna get the bacon good and browned up, so’s there ain’t no more pink left.”
She flushed at the way his breath hit her neck while his words softly compelled her to make his food the way he liked it. The rumble of his voice as her nickname rolled off his tongue was an assault on her sense of decency, and she let his hands linger at her waist for another beat before lifting them off and assuring him that she understood.No jiggly wiggly, no pink. Black. That she learned, was how Elvis liked everything, and everything was what she gave him, as he ate the pound and a half of bacon om her fridge and her last six eggs.
Bess mused that sneaking a fatigued Elvis off post and filling him full of food must be what made him clingy, comfortable and forward when he put his arms around her as she led him upstairs to the guest room. Rubbing his eyes as he plopped on the bed, Elvis grabbed her wrist imploringly and begged her not to leave him all lonesome in a strange house, in a strange town, where she was the only nice 'lil gal to treat him like a real human bean. Sighing, Bess sat at the top of the bed and let Elvis lay his head in her lap, where she stroked his forehead, and, at his request, started to tell him her life story. He had passed out after five minutes, when she had barely finished detailing how her parents met at Coney Island in 1932, three years before she was born.
Elvis' eye lids fluttered closed and he mumbled, “That’s a when I was borned. Aww, Bessie boo, we musta been babies at the same time.”
Bess groaned as she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from him, and stayed there with his head in her lap for another twenty minutes, afraid if she rolled it off her lap she would wake him. She was cupping the back of his head to gently move it off her lap when he thrashed around and called out the name Satnin. This led Bess to give up and lean against the head board, reconciling herself to a night sleeping sitting up with the most famous rebellious heart throb soldier in the world calling out for his mama in her lap.
Elvis’ hands moved first at the sound of the alarm, roving over Bess tummy and breasts  before he opened his eyes to the smacks of her hand hitting him off her. Somehow she had been pulled down into his arms over the course of the night, and she jumped up, commanding him to get his boots on while she ran down stairs and made some coffee. She prayed her younger sister hadn’t heard the alarm. Still wearing the dress from the night before, Bess watched Elvis gulp down his black coffee and chomp down the bread and cheese she had thrown at him to eat in the car. Loudly. With an open mouth. Wiping the crumbs from his mouth, he put his arm around her and squeezed.
Despite sleeping in his arms, Bess felt a shock and jolted at his touch.
“Just so we’re clear,  Mister, uh, Private um Presley, uh, this was just a friendly, patriotic gesture. I wasn’t, uh um, trying to seduce you.”
Elvis arched his eyebrow, his expression one of amusement and incredulity at the idea Bess thought of her behavior seductive. The way she had hesitated spitting out the word ’seduce’ so earnestly was adorable and endearing.
“OK, honey, you’re the boss, jus do me a favor and call me Elvis, huh?”
She nodded, eyes forward in concentration as she felt him squeeze her shoulders even tighter. She left it there, and found herself relaxing and leaning back into him after a few minutes with a sigh. She couldn't help it, it was an instinctive response to the way his fingers widened and began to tap out a rhythm on the side of her arm. Everything felt good, and their two bodies melded together in the dusky morning twilight for a spell until a gate came into view and Bess jerked up to throw Elvis’ arm onto the car seat with a smack, not noticing how he, too, stiffened with trepidation.
She stopped around the block from Elvis’ barracks and met his strong, uninhibited bear hug with her body, letting him press the air out of her lungs and kiss her cheek.
“Hey, Bessie Boo, I,uh, I can’t, I don’t even, I uh, I hate to leave you, honey, I ain’t even had time to tell you what I want to say, what -”
Bess put her finger to his lips, feeling his breath as she shhhed him. His brows were furrowed and he frowned, not wanted to leave her car and return to the barracks. She rubbed her hand up his chest reassuringly.
“You only have five minutes to get into your bunk, Private Pres - Elvis.” She murmured. “Now, go be a good boy, I have an idea, for how to help you sleep in the future.”
“Hmmm, sounds fun.” A naughty expression played across his face, his jaw hung open and he waggled his eye brows.
Bess realized the insinuation and hit his arm.
“Not that.”  She cocked her head towards the road. “You better go.”
“Huh, usually girls are tryin to run after me, not run me off.” She hit him again as he teased her. “Ok, ok baaaby. I’m off like a gun.”
Elvis face twisted into a crooked grin, and Bess felt like the sun was rising in her car, the earth was suddenly brighter when Elvis’ blue eyes beamed down at her and he kissed her goodbye. It was a light, sweet kiss aimed at her mouth but somehow missing and hitting the crease of her lips.
It had been, what, a year since she had been kissed? Bess kept her eyes closed, just enjoying the soft, tingling sensation of  his mouth crushed into her face. Elvis’ hands gripped her tightly, one hand on her neck, the other at her back, and he moved as if to kiss her again. In a brief moment of clarity, Bess realized she had been fighting her attraction to Elvis all night. It had been gradual and immediate, and she felt very different being close to him then she did when she saw hm in the movies or on the TV and radio. At the back of her mind she could hear all the reasons she shouldn’t kiss him. She pushed her hand up between their lips.
“Um, hey, look. Think we could just be friends? I, uh, I have a rule. I don’t date soldiers.”
Elvis sat back, a quizzical expression softening on his face into a smile as he rubbed her shoulder.
“Sure, Bessie baby, friends. Got it.”
He clicked his tongue and grinned, shooting her a thumbs up. Bess nodded, unable to stop the flutter of her heart as she watched Elvis’ long legs carry him forward as he jogged around the corner to his bunk, pausing to look back over his shoulder at her with a goofy smile as he waved goodbye.
“Fuck a duck.” She heard herself mutter, as she put her car into gear and drove home to shower and get Elvis Presley out of her head.
***********************************************************
Chapter Two: Moo Moo & Tupelo
If you enjoyed this and want to read more, comment, reblog, and let me know what you think and if you would want to be tagged. Tagging a few of you on here who read my stuff, but DM or comment if you would rather not be ;)
@doll-elvis @richardslady121 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @father-of-2cats @everythingelvispresley @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @moonchild-daniella @notstefaniepresley @louisejoy86 @amydarcimarie @kingdomforapony @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @18lkpeters @literally-just-elvis-fics
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Hey Raven, how are you, ask, what do you think of the theory that Yuu and Silver are siblings (I had read this theory but I don't know which user was) that when they were babies they were separated,
Lilia found Silver and Yuu went to another world, somehow they must have met before as Silver said that he felt like he had met Yuu before
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Hi hi! ^^ At the time of writing this response I’m actually feeling a little sick but I’m sure that I’ll have recovered by the time this post goes live! As for the theory… I don’t have any particularly strong thoughts on it other than, “it’s a fun idea, but probably unlikely in the grand scheme of things”.
I think the devs wouldn’t go out of their way to give Yuu any big components to their backstory (as they would interfere with the “self insert” nature of Yuu as a vessel for the player character). Making Yuu a sibling to a main cast boy would be major since it would recontextualize many relationships (particularly for Silver and/or Lilia yumes), and that wouldn’t be a… good move to say the least 💦 I maintain that the devs wouldn’t want to jeopardize the relatively “blank slate” or OC-friendly appeal of Yuu’s role in such a way. (Yes, I realize this is an answer that I give very often. The reason I repeat it so much is because I strongly believe this is a core part of the TWST experience.) It would also potentially call into question the backstories we’re presented with of other interpretations of Yuu in the manga and light novel adaptations.
It’s true that Silver says he feels like he has met Yuu before! The conditions of his UM also stipulate that he can only enter the dreams of people who share a bond with him. Since Silver appeared in Yuu’s dream in book 7, this this would support the “they’re siblings” theory. What’s unclear here, however, is where Yuu’s dream ends and where Mickey’s dream begins (since it’s implied their dreams are linked). Mickey has dialogue at the end of book 6 stating that he has seen a boy with silver hair around before—but Yuu has never mentioned seeing Silver wander in their dreams.
It’s possible that maybe Yuu saw Silver around campus before, and that’s where their recognition comes from. The issue is that such a thing wouldn’t form a super strong bond (certainly not a bond that matches Silver’s relationship with Sebek or Lilia, two people whose dreams they do enter), though I guess the strength of the bond wad never specified as a condition for Meet in a Dream. If the “Silver and Yuu are siblings” theory was true, then the same logic still holds, no? Assuming they’re separated at birth (because Yuu has no memories of Twisted Wonderland), Silver wouldn’t have any real bond to speak of with Yuu to establish a solid dream connection. If Yuu and Silver were siblings separated far later in life, why wouldn’t Yuu remember Twisted Wonderland and why wouldn’t Silver (or Lilia, for that matter) recall growing up with/raising them?
Just. A lot of logistical or timeline details would come into question 🤔 Maybe I’m not getting the full scope of the theory since I’m being asked about the concept alone rather than to look at any evidence or implications provided which support the theory.
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thatgirl4815 · 6 months
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Intimacy & Communication (Ep6)
Once again, there’s been a lot of talking, and a lot of talking within said talking, and now all hell has broken loose. Everybody is in shambles. I'm in shambles. We're all in shambles. And it will only get worse from here. 🥲
*Note: Since this meta is slowly becoming a series, you can find the other metas here
SandRay
I suppose we have Boston to thank for Sand and Ray’s communication issues; prior to this episode, I think they’ve maintained a reasonably healthy communication style—even if it was destined to implode at some point with the whole “We say we’re friends but we feel like more than friends.” I think Boston has just sped things along at an uncomfortable rate.
It’s interesting because Sand and Ray’s closeness is solid when they're alone, but the moment their relationship is known, it's immediately thrown into turmoil. It's also upsetting that Sand, someone we know to have a very direct approach to communication (not unlike Ray), is very closed off in Ep6. I'm thinking specifically of the Pool Scene (a label that should not be confused with the KinnPorsche Pool Scene™, whose name shall live in infamy).
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It occurred to me while rewatching this scene that this is one of the only, if not the only, time we see Sand and Ray talk about anything but their relationship to each other. They haven't often mentioned the other characters because up to this point, the drama hasn't forced them to.
That fact alone gives this scene a certain chill. There's no sign of their usual flirtiness. And Sand is noticeably resistant to Ray's efforts to straighten things out since the fight with Boston. Sand is lost in his own anger, in feeling used by Ray and unwanted, and that reaction is reflected in every part of this scene. Ray clearly reads between the lines on what Sand says about Mew, and once again wants to speak directly about it. He knows Sand is bothered, even when he says he isn't. Whatever casual "We're just friends" comments Sand used before are clearly not at play anymore. Ray and Sand both know that Sand cares, long before Sand is direct about it--
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This scene shows a bit of a flip in terms of how both Ray and Sand respond to each other, specifically when it comes to honesty. Ray is the one who has just blown up in anger, and he's the one lying, calling Sand a whore who only wants his money, who doesn't have honest dreams, etc. But Sand is direct this time. No jokes or flirts. It's an admission that both Sand and Ray have known about, but it's something that Ray needs to hear, because a) he hears it so little in his life and b) because the more lonely he feels, the more reason he has to get in his car and risk himself.
Excited to see where this goes with Sand comparing his relationship with Ray to Ray's relationship with alcohol next ep. In any case, I'm glad Sand is aware of the position that he is in. All of these characters are very cognizant of their situations.
TopMew
Top and Mew pose a stark contrast to SandRay in that they go from seemingly very solid communication and intimacy to very negative. My key takeaway from their plot line this episode is how Mew keeps his anger over Top's infidelity buried until they're in bed together. Which, from an entertainment standpoint, is just glorious. From a communication standpoint, it seems to bring everything full circle.
Sex has caused a lot of tension in Top and Mew's relationship. It's been a power play from Mew when he's withheld it, but last episode we saw that barrier finally break. But Mew takes back control here through the truth, and he effectively turns the tables on Top, calling back to the very thing he had hang ups about in the first place: sex.
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We already know how Mew views sex. And we also know that Mew has gradually transformed Top's view of sex as something to build emotional intimacy. So for Top to have hooked up with Boston is like a slap in the face to all of that careful development. When Top had sex with Boston, the act alone seemed to confirm that Mew isn't enough for Top.
It's also worth noting just how quiet Top is in the last scene. He takes the blows, which is a good sign, compared to what we get from Boston. I compare this scene between Top and Mew with the one between Ray and Boston, where Ray admits to knowing about Boston and Top's hookup--Boston gets defensive immediately, rattling off excuses. But Top just takes the hits from Mew.
Top knows he was wrong. Boston knows that others think he's wrong, but I don't think he genuinely thinks there is anything wrong. He knows Mew won't get over it easily because that's just how Mew is--uptight, moralistic. Boston's own morals are incredibly loose, just like his approach to relationships. On the topic of morals, I'd say Boston and Mew's are on opposite sides of the spectrum.
BostonNick
Nick tries time and time again to be someone special to Boston, and time and time again Boston makes it clear that he doesn't care. From Boston telling Nick that he wants to spend time with him before he leaves, to harshly telling his friends that he isn't in a relationship with Nick--right in front of Nick--is just heartbreaking. (Seriously, the scene of Mew kicking Boston into the pool can't come soon enough.)
We get some insights into Boston's upbringing with the introduction of his father, who seems to possess a very similar mindset to Boston's. I could go on a whole other rant about this, but Boston approaches everything loosely because he thinks he won't face pressing consequences. He's going to leave the country, so if he screws some people over and makes some enemies, what's the harm? He'll be gone soon enough anyway.
I could also go on a rant about the glaring hypocrisy of Boston saying he can't be friends with someone who would record him...I go back and forth between thinking he's a cunning manipulator and a stupid college kid. Surely he must see the hypocrisy there...but if he does, he probably doesn't care (as with most things).
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I've compared Nick to Sand before, but Nick has been shut down by Boston on countless occasions, and yet he still stays. For Boston, who has proven time and time again that he enjoys manipulating people, ruining relationships, recording his friends, and sleeping around. Nick knows all of this all too well. And yet.
Nick, I'm starting to lose some sympathy for you. Leave. Him.
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teecupangel · 9 months
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I had this dream where an assassin has this slitted smile and when I woke up the first thing I thought was "the slitted mouth assassin???" and I was only thinking if that assassin was a ghost or just had a slitted mouth, so now I wanna know what happens if they had a slitted mouth and it can be any assassin you want I just want slitted mouth assassins scaring the crap out of people
When I read this, my first thought was the urban legend/folklore of the Kuchisake-onna, a woman whose mouth has been slit from ear to ear and would ask people if she was beautiful and if they keep saying yes, she’ll disfigure them the same way, but if they say no, she’ll kill them (usually cut them in half).
Honestly, I vote on Desmond having to deal with this sort of thing as part of “I survived the Solar Flare of 2012 but at what cost?” AU idea. He could also keep wearing a mask (like a face mask or a full on mask) to hide his slit mouth.
Of course, an alternative would be…
The scar-boys (Altaïr, Ezio and Desmond) could be the ones to get slit mouths instead of their canon lip scars.
Now, the common route would be for them to get their slit mouths during the time they got the scar on their lips (like, we’re just exchanging the scar for the slitting) but, if I may suggest an alternative for each:
Altaïr could have gotten his as a punishment for his failure in Jerusalem from Al Mualim himself. It’s a clear show of his failure and Abbas never misses the time to remind Altaïr of that. He’s not allowed to cover it up in Masyaf or in any of the bureaus but he can cover it up (he has to, he’d be easily recognizable if he doesn’t) whenever he’s traveling or performing any tasks and missions for the Brotherhood.
Ezio got his when he accepts Uberto’s invitation to come inside after giving him the documents. He’s grabbed by the guards and maybe Uberto slits his mouth as punishment for being an annoyance and it’s only Rodrigo’s “stop playing around and kill him” orders that made everyone pause long enough for Ezio to get away. He still fails to save his family and his slit mouth is a constant reminder of how he failed his family and how he believed himself to be so stupid to fall for the enemies’ ploys. He hides it most of the time with a fabric of some kind but, when he assassinates people who had a hand in the conspiracy, he pulls the fabric down to show his slit mouth to tell his target how they had created the monster they see in front of them.
And then… there was Desmond…
Who didn’t have a slit mouth…
Until…
One day, during one of Desmond’s few breaks from the Animus, Lucy realized that Desmond hasn’t returned from his ‘walk’ and Rebecca checks the security cameras. They see Desmond just sitting on what used to be Ezio’s room and Shaun makes a snarky comment about how Desmond must have fallen asleep sitting down, or he’s being a spoiled brat that wants someone to get him (Rebecca and Lucy just sigh because they know Shaun doesn’t really believe that, and he’s just being snarky for the sake of being snarky).
So Lucy goes to get him but freezes when he saw the blood coming from the unsheathed hidden blade on Desmond’s left arm.
For a brief moment, flashes of Clay’s death shook Lucy to her very core, making her hands tremble and her skin pale.
Then she called out, “Desmond?”
And Desmond turned to look at her with mouth slit from ear to ear like a mockery of a vicious smile. As blood dripped on the floor, Desmond asked calmly, “Lucy…”
“Do I look like them now?”
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kay-elle-cee · 5 months
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@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 26 || 891 Words || Read on Ao3 I took a lot of liberties with this one lmao —
Taking great care not to snap any twigs, Lily slowly makes her way from her troop’s cabin to the dying campfire, sitting on a slightly damp log and wiping again at the residual tears leaking from her eyes.
She knows she’s not supposed to be out after curfew—if one of the camp counselors were to find her, she’d be in big trouble. But the nightmare that startled her awake was also preventing her from falling back asleep, and she wanted to deal with her embarrassment alone and away from her bunkmates should any of them wake up.
What kind of twelve-year-old has nightmares at sleepaway camp? 
Her eyes stare fixedly into the dim embers of the fire as she wills any negative and scary thoughts to burn with them. After a few moments, the oppressive weight of the dreams begin to lift just in time for a rustling on the other side of the campfire to douse her in new terror.
I’m sleepwalking, she thinks, immediately latching onto the excuse should one of the counselors emerge and begin to scold her.
Only it’s not a counselor who emerges from the treeline on the other side of the campfire, but a boy. A boy who looks around her age—with wildly messy hair the color of the night—whose eyes go wide in surprise behind his glasses.
“Oh!” He glances behind him nervously, and Lily uses this opportunity to wipe the last bits of moisture from her cheeks. The last thing she wants is to be made fun of after trying so hard to be alone. The boy looks back at her, and she realizes instantly that she hasn’t done a good enough job at hiding her sadness. “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” she answers with a nod, dropping her eyes from his to stare back into the dim light of the fire. “Just needed some air.”
“This is a far way from the girls’ cabins.”
“It’s midway through camp, so I guess I could say the same thing to you.”
“Oh, well…” the boy looks behind him again, almost in contemplation, before turning and smiling at her excitedly. “Can you keep a secret?”
Lily doesn’t know why she does it, but she nods, something about the boy’s excitement easing that terror that’s gripped her since she woke up. He takes a few steps towards her, throwing one last look behind him before focusing on her.
“We’re going to scramble all the signs around in the common areas!”
Her brows knit together. “Why?”
This seems to have taken some of the wind out of the boy’s sails. “What do you mean why? It’s funny!”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess that could be funny.”
The boy blinks, shifting his weight between his feet. “Are you sure you’re alright? Why’d you come out here, anyway?” Lily’s opening her mouth to parrot her earlier answer and he holds out a hand to cut her off. “And don’t say you needed air—you could’ve just stayed by your cabin for that.”
Well crap. She hesitates, eyes flitting between the boy, the dim fire, and the sliver of moon visible above the treetops. Finally, she sighs, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I had a…nightmare.”
The boy doesn’t tease her, as she finds herself expecting. Instead, his brows furrow and he nods understandably. “Oh, yeah. I used to get nightmares all the time. Don’t have them as much anymore, but some of the boys in the cabin woke up the first few nights here.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Yeah. The rest of us got up and turned on some loud music to drown out all the bad thoughts. Some of the boys just jumped around to shake out the feelings, and then after about five minutes we went back to sleep.” Tilting his head to the side, he considers her. “Have you tried that?”
“My whole cabin’s asleep…I can’t really…” her face reddens again, and she’s thankful for the cover of night to hide it. “I don’t want them to make fun of me for having bad dreams.”
The boy looks at her thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t think they’d make fun of you, but if you’d rather do it here, I’d be happy to help you.”
Her face is absolutely scarlet now. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“There’s four of us—I can show up a little late.”
She considers it. Considers jumping around to non-existent music in the smothered light of the campfire with this boy she doesn’t know, who’s looking at her hopefully, like he can fix what’s wrong with her.
She almost says yes.
Instead, she shakes her head, an embarrassed smile curling her mouth up. “No, I should get back before anyone notices I’m gone.”
Shrugging, the boy grins. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, you can always come looking for me.”
Lily can’t help but to laugh quietly. “Change my mind? We’d be skinned alive if anyone knew we were out this late! Besides, I don’t even know you.”
“Oh right. Name’s James.”
“Well, Name’s James, thank you, but I think I’ve got it under control.” Lily takes a few steps back in the direction towards her cabin before stopping to look over her shoulder, where she sees James watching her with a funny kind of smile. “Thanks again, though. And good luck with your prank.”
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