#rise up glasses wearers

[parisoonic]

after a long day

#my bf has been roasting me for a week over this image. he just keeps sighing and going 'you did it in watercolour...' #digital watercolours but still very very very twee #who doesn't want a big hairy man to gently take off their glasses #rise up glasses wearers #tf2 #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 fanart #team fortress 2 #sorry i dont usually draw this fluffy i swear

[lovebugism]

u ask for shy!reader here i come holding a request

shy reader who is used to ppl telling them they look better without glasses, only for steve to find out they actually do very much need them, especially to read

so steve finally encourages them to wear them more and make sure to tell them how cute they look with them

hi, angel! thanks for ur request! fellow glasses-wearers rise! (1.4k)

Six months, five days, and twelve hours — that’s how long Steve’s been your boyfriend. Not that he’s counting, of course. It takes him the same amount of time to find out that you wear glasses.

He always knew your vision wasn’t the greatest. You complained about it from time to time — the headaches and the blurriness — but he never thought it was bad because you never made a big deal about it. He figured it was more existential than urgent, the idea that you might need glasses in the future if your eyes ever worsened. 

He didn’t know they were already worse. 

It’s your first movie night together — “the first of many,” Steve lilted when he sat down on the couch beside you, with a bowl of popcorn in his hand and a kiss on your cheek. He liked the idea of that, of having a tradition with you. He liked knowing that a section of his busy week could be carved out just for the both of you.

And it’s not like you’ve never watched a movie together before. It’s just that usually, there are about five teenagers sandwiched between the two of you, not including Robin and Nancy. 

The former always insists on sitting on Steve’s left and only occasionally sharing her popcorn. The latter sits next to you and, halfway through the film, has already managed to convince you to leave with her and do something more fun.

But now, at eight o’clock, tucked tenderly away in your apartment, it’s just the two of you. 

And your terrible, terrible eyesight.

A quarter of the way through Beetlejuice, Steve catches you squinting at the television across the room.

You’re all wrapped up in his arms, lying on your sides on the small couch. Steve keeps you pressed against him to stop you from falling off the edge of it. One of his arms curls around your stomach and the other is balled into a fist to prop up his head.

He looks down at you, already smiling, and with a “Be honest, would you fuck Michael Keaton as Beetlejuice?” on the tip of his tongue. It fades when he notices your eyes are halfway closed.

For a second, he thinks you might be falling asleep. He can tell by your scrunched nose and quirked mouth that it’s something else entirely.

His hand squeezes your hip to get your attention. “Babe? You okay?”

“Huh?” you hum as you turn to him. The furrow between your brows dissipates when your eyes open to their fullest again.

“You’re squinting.”

Your mouth falls softly agape, as though in slight surprise. 

You hadn’t noticed it, really. You hardly ever do, but it’s been happening a lot more recently.

Just a week ago, Nancy pointed out how closely you held her newspaper to your face while trying to read it. After that, Dustin had been trying to show you a new VHS at Family Video but had to come about ten steps closer for you to see what it was.

“Oh. I didn’t realize…”

“Do you have a headache?” Steve asks, bushy brows pinched in concern. “Do you wanna turn the movie off?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No. It’s fine.”

“Is it your eyes again? Can you see—”

“Yes, Steve,” you interject, laughing gently. “I can see the screen.”

“What’s the time say, then?”

“I can see,” you argue in a non-answer.

“Humor me.”

You huff. Then squint again.

The red numbers below the TV stand are mush. Your eyes try hopelessly to focus on them. With what you lack in eyesight, you make up for with confidence. “Nine… Thirty-six…” you answer with a nonchalant shrug.

Steve sputters out a laugh that fans against your cheek. He shakes his head in pity. “Babe…”

“What?”

“That’s not even close! It’s eight-fifty-five!” he chuckles with a pink smile and sparkling honey eyes. 

You roll your eyes at him in response. He leans down to kiss your cheek when you turn away from him again. 

“You gotta make an appointment to get your eyes checked, babe. You can’t just go through life not being able to see anything—”

“I have glasses,” you mumble.

“What? Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since, like, middle school,” you shrug. “I just don’t wear them.”

Steve, halfway offended, gapes at you in response. “…Why didn’t I know about this?”

“’Cause I don’t like wearing them. They make my eyes look funny. I hate it.”

“Where are they?”

“In my bedroom—” you answer absentmindedly, then whine when he starts to get up. “Steve, don’t! I’m comfortable!” 

“I’ll be right back,” the boy promises.

He shoves the covers down and climbs over your legs to get off the couch. He presses another kiss to your cheeks before he goes, like he can’t stand the idea of not kissing you every chance he gets.

He finds your glasses in a thin leather case in your desk drawer. They’re simple, rounded things — rimmed with silver and pretty in their minimalism. He rushes them back to you with a boyish excitement fluttering like a butterfly in his chest.

No one’s ever been this thrilled to see someone in a pair of glasses.

He beams at you when he hurries back into the living room.

You’ve already sat up against the back of the couch, not nearly as comfortable without Steve holding you. Your knees are brought up to your chest, the knitted blanket through over them and bunched at your lap. You meet his grin with a childlike scowl.

“Here. Put ‘em on,” he says, motioning the glasses to you.

“No,” you whine, flopping your head back against the couch.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Steve laughs. “They’re just glasses.”

“I don’t like them!”

“Why?” 

“‘Cause they make me look weird!”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, ask everyone who’s ever seen me in them,” you retort, halfway pouting. “I got made fun of for, like, six years when I wore them to school. Everyone called me Turtle until I graduated.”

A grin pulls at Steve’s lips. “Turtle?”

You nod shyly, looking at him through your lashes and trying not to smile back. “Yeah. ‘Cause I looked like Toby Turtle from Robin Hood—”

Steve doesn’t mean to laugh. It just sort of comes out. A big, boyish, hearty chuckle sputters from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Don’t laugh!” you scold, giggling alongside him.

“Well, now you have to put them on.”

Steve inches toward you with the glasses in hand. You don’t protest when he slips the sides over your ears and uses the knuckle of his forefinger to push them up the bridge of your nose. 

He steps back to admire you with a grin. Your girlish pout has returned to you, but it doesn’t look nearly as intimidating when you’re blinking up at him with unusually large eyes.

He shakes his head down at you. “You’re the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen, you know that?”

“Don’t lie,” you grouse. “I look like a bug.”

“Correction: the cutest bug.” 

He laughs when it makes you glower. 

He steps to the side and points to the clock again. “Can you see the time now?”

You look at it, then back to him. “Yeah… ’S Time for you to go home,” you deadpan.

“When’d you get so mean?” Steve lilt, beaming at you as he settles on the couch again. 

The two of you absentmindedly crawl back into your original positions. He lounges behind you and clutches you to his chest again. “You used to be so nice, Toby Turtle—”

“Don’t,” you protest, halfway smiling despite the glare you give him. You look almost owlish behind the thick lenses. "It's not funny."

“I’m just kidding, babe,” he promises. He sprinkles kisses to your face and laughs into each one. “I love them. I swear.”

“I’m glad someone does,” you murmur.

Steve pulls back with a grin, toeing the line between sincerity and mischief. “I’ll show how much I like ‘em later,” he teases quietly, squeezing the outside of your thigh where his hand rests. “I have a feeling I’m gonna have a lot of fun with these tonight.”

Your face heats at his words. Your nose scrunches, feigning disgust as you push him away.

“Perv,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and turning so your back is pressed against him again.

“I thought Toby Turtle was supposed to be nice—”

“Steve!”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x shy!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

[theiloveyousong]

okay. do interact: second eldest daughters, teenagers who are unashamed of being weird, band kids, people with too much grief for how young they still are, poets, adults who still sleep with stuffed animals, caffeine haters, people who stay up to watch the sun rise, improv comedy lovers, glasses wearers, people full of love in their heart

[pieroulette]

L♡VE $CAM – part 1

2023 | 18+ | 13K | ONESHOT × 3 PARTS | DARK ROMANCE TROPE

> short teaser <

With the fancy outer cover of the book being the prince saving his damsel in distress from the cruel, harsh world; it's only wise to assume that the inner pages consists of "happily ever after". However, rip the pages off and take off your rose-coloured glasses and see that the prince was never a prince, and the damsel in distress won't always be a damsel in distress.

GENRE slow burn romance, comedy, angst, character-driven story.

WARNING scammer! heeseung, prostitute! reader, reader is a bad bitch, prostitution, degradation, manipulation, red flags idk, Heeseung has a rotten view on women in general, messed up beliefs, and more to be updated on the next parts—also just in case, since it's slow burn don't expect any smut in PT 1 lol.

The little boy drew on the surface of his blooming world with the mighty sword within his fingers, swaying it up and around with a wide big grin on his face as a low volume of the sunshower emitting outside the huge glass window right beside him—the vibrance of the sun shone on his world, furthering the beauty before his very eyes. “Pretty, pretty!” he exclaimed in utter grin.

A tiny chime echoes through the house, coming from the doorbell itself.

He turned over his shoulder to greet his mother but was taken aback by the unusual sight; his mother carried a rather solemn aura, a stark contrast of how she used to everyday. That was one thing, however the perfect picture he had always been patient to wait for everyday was ruined by the empty hollow spot beside his mother.

His mother went to the kitchen, sitting quietly after she was done with pouring herself a cup of tea. It was different but little Heeseung stayed silent, fiddling his fingers as he also sat back to his usual spot—beside the couch, pencil colours brushing the white paper emitting through the disquiet atmosphere.

A fair hour had passed within a blink of an eye, yet his mother stayed in the same spot not budging even a inch resembling a lifeless doll. It brought an uneasiness in the little boy, searching for a way to soothe such an atmosphere yet he doesn’t how. How?

His round, joy-filled eyes beamed upon a thought—picking his mighty sword back to his little fingers and started to adorn a new piece of canvas with little doodles.

“Mom! Look.. what I draw!”

A huge castle stood brave, strong and still on the hard soil ground. It carries this prestigious aura looming yet the beautiful lawns were decorated with brightly coloured and blooming flowers—yielding a perfect mixture of a strong home yet warm and gentle or more so like a pair of arms wrapped around you—strong and gentle. Peeking through the open windows with the tied up curtains flowing gracefully, through the plumpy soft bed; a princess sat in her big, giant castle all alone by herself in hopes for her prince to come and save her from the witch caging her inside that place. But to her surprise, an armour came into view standing before her eyes as she slowly looked up to the wearer; a gentle smile adorning his lips—a warrior came for her instead. It was as if the canvas came to life. Their feet begin to gently rise, fall, spin, and halt—and the whole process repeats again.

Flipping through the pages, surfaces the image of the princess grabbing the warrior's extended palms. Little Heeseung was ecstatic observing his mother, his little fingers clutching on their own along with the colours popping up on the princess' dress. Little did he know, the colours weren't doing its wonders in the reflection of his mother’s orbs.

Hollow, hollow it was.

“This is mom and dad!” the little boy explained.

His mother sighed through his nose before looking up. "Heeseung-ah. ." He didn't hear much of it or rather his surroundings was consumed by the rain overthrowing the sunny clouds—to him, mother’s voice being submerged in the growing ocean.

It was suffocating despite the fact he didn't know what was suffocating, he just couldn't reach for the air even though the air was there. What was mom saying? He forgot though, like the child he was as the next day came and he continued his next piece of drawing. Still wondering where his father was as another spiral loop of forgetfulness consumes the little boy as soon as he gets back to his new piece of drawing to show to his mother—in hopes that such expression won't surface on her face again.

His mother would never say a word of compliment yet she would turn the drawings he gave into a wooden frame—hanging it on the yellow wall of their living room. A silent love. Soon the walls were adorned with many, many frames—each consisting of mundane yet simple days of the princess and warrior’s together; the princess and the warrior eating together for dinner. Next day, a drawing of the princess's hair being brushed by the warrior. Next day, the warrior brought a pet fish for the princess and together they raised it.

How long has it been? Has it been a week? A month, or a year? Today's dinner was lacking. The plates once had a big fish on the plate yet today it is smaller in size and has a lesser portion of rice. He stayed silent though, maybe today was just a different case.

“Mom, when’s dad going to be back home?” His question was met with silence yet notices the brief pause of his mother from taking the spoonful of rice—she stretched out her hand to rub the boy’s little ones.

“Soon.” a reassuring smile surfaces amidst the solemn dining room.

Only a bowl of soup. Next day, there's only a small portion of food and it was only him who was eating, his mother was just sitting with him urging him to eat. Why? What's happening?

Today, he was starving but still had the same beaming energy to finish his drawing before the clock strikes, signifying his mother's return.

A soft chime echoes.

Bringing his piece of canvas to show to his mother with happiness, though it ceased to exist when not only did his mother appear—the empty spot beside her was consumed by an unfamiliar face. Tall, big and burly. Was that his dad?

“D-dad?”

"This, your kid?" little Heeseung twitched against the deep voice, not at all the gentle voice he remembered. This wasn’t his dad. How many months had it passed without the familiar presence he’d been yearning for?

An abashed laugh emits from his mother as her hand brushes the man's arm, "Don't mind the boy, he won't disturb us."

"Hm, boy. Why don't you go outside and have fun with your friends then?"

"I don't have friends.”

Little Heeseung stood still as he observed the enclosed white patterned door—the door in which his mother went in through with that man—a room he still remembers his father going in through once before. The boy’s attention fell upon the pit patter of rain falling outside.

Sun rose up in the sky, the door pushed open as he waited for his mother per his usual routine—he was met with the sight of his mother being with a man again, however this time it was a different face. Next day, next day, next day. Different days, different faces, yet it was vivid in his mind—the pale dusty green paper that all the men placed on his mother’s hand.

Till the day of his 15th birthday, a big fat expensive cake was presented before him on the table. Balloons, and cards of heartfelt wishes were splattered all over the table along with presents. Behind him, there stood the yellow painted wall adorned with numerous frames—a stark contrast of what was before him—an unfamiliar face on the end of the table, whose arms were tangled in his mother's.

Disgusting.

Heeseung saw nothing but red as he grabbed the guy's arm, twisting it and bending it so hard to the point he's screaming.

"S-stop! I beg of you! Please stop!" your desperate voice had him frozen for a second. Pathetic, fragile, weak, and petite. You were all those words.

A woman in a sly attire appeared with her arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in a way that she finds the entire commotion amusing, her voice heightening sparks a stark contrast from her sultry face. “What in the actual fuck is happening here?!”

Everyone halted at once, snapping their heads to the woman.

Heeseung observed from his side eye as you stuttered, being unable to form coherent words, patted your back in hopes to soothe you.

"Hm, who are you?" a question directed to Heeseung himself yet before he could answer—came out the cries of pain from the men themselves. "I bought her with my fucking money and say, why don't you tell it to this bastard, that girl—" he pointed at you with eyes shot wide open in rage, "She belongs to me now."

The woman didn’t have to hear the entire news to understand the weight of the situation before her; the battered, ragged form of the men and your shuddered form in a tall dashing man whose arms were wrapped around you, rubbing you as if you were his lover, despite the obvious trickles of blood seeping out from his cheeks—amused she was as she can't suppress her stifle laugh.

"Ah, ah. How amusing. I didn't know our dear (Name) would have a fair bunch of guys lusting after her isn't it?" she glances at you, “The name’s Yunjin in case you’re curious. We’ll have to settle this in a humane way, everyone.”

"So fucking what now?" The men spat out.

The woman spinned around her heels, motioning for you all to follow her as she let out an audible chuckle, fingers beneath her chin. "What else could be the perfect way than solving it with extra money?"

A huge manor stood tall and firm on the hard ground almost resembling of that a castle yet the overall vibe; the dusty grey walls, splattered dark stains on the pillars and corners of each wall, the extravagant colourful lights flickering around the board hanging on the main entrance— truly living up to its name—a brothel fitting for such a situation— dark windows with some of them left open for cool breeze to flow in through, several women ranging from all sorts of age had their backs leaning against the grey cold wall with their hands stretched out as if to lure men into their respective quarters—those that smells old reeking money and insatiable lust.

It was Heeseung's first time to ever be in such a place but the smell, the thick perfume, bold powders, the disgusting lewd sounds echoing throughout the space, the alcohol, women throwing themselves upon other men and so on — was all too familiar. A long, deep aisle stretched out before them which led them to another hallway with closed doors on either side—private quarters that were obvious for a reason.

They went through a vast room with its ceiling high up in the air, resembling of what seems like a ballroom yet engulfed in the same vibe as the main entrance–there stood a woman in black exquisite attire yet contrary to Yunjin, her attire was somewhat modest.

"Hm? What brings you back here again, darling?" Heeseung noticed the question was no one but for you whose heads were hanging down the entire time.

Yunjin leans closer into her ear—the woman gasped in a somewhat exaggerated manner, "Ah, ah. Then what's your name, child?"

"Lee Heeseung."

"Then may I ask why do you have to stick your nose in someone's business? I do not see where you have to do such a disrespectful thing."

“I just can’t bear to see them touch her like that.”

"So you want her?" A smirk grow on the woman's lips.

"Yes."

"But I already fucking bought her!—"

She raised her hand instantly, motioning for them to stay silent.

"Oh dear, did I hear that right? Don't you think it's a waste of money to buy a used product? They already bought her with their money. Besides, we had other girls you might find more interesting than (Name)."

"I don't care. I'll bring her with me, tell me how much they paid for her and I'll double the amount." Heeseung repeated. "Just tell me how much you want."

"Perfect." The woman's dark red lips tugged up in the slightest grin. "5,000 won. They paid 5,000 won. How much can you bargain, dear?"

"Make it 7,000 won then." a series of gasps followed.

"Fuck as if I'll let you," the man bares his teeth, "9,000 won."

"10,000 won."

"15,000 won!"

"18,000."

The commotion had the entire people round the space with eyes ogling at the never-ending uprising price.

"This is the last one, 65,000 won!"

"150,000 won." Heeseung looks at the man with contempt, “If you aren’t still satisfied then i’ll give you 500,000 won and an additional 20,000 more if you leave us the fuck alone.”

“Fuck, I wonder what you see in her.” Yunjin covered her eat-shitting grin with her hand, seemingly pleased by the entire situation.

"THE FUCK?!" downright shock etched all over their face, unable to believe the ogling amount spread before their eyes.

"So? Can I take her with me?" Heeseung asked with one eyebrow raised, as if the 6 digits weren’t a tad bit of a hassle for him.

"Sweet, it's a deal then." The woman answered, "However I prefer cash instead of a meaningless piece of card. You do know how this little organisation of ours works, right?"

A brief pause had Heeseung in a thought, looking down he did before answering, "Fine."

"Perfect, perfect! Look, the time is fairly 3:06pm. Make sure to bring it by 5pm or else we can't guarantee she would still be here. Time equals money, dear sir."

Heeseung spun his heels to face you with eyes trying to comfort you, closing the distance between you as he spoke, "I'll be back, wait for me."

You nodded, blinking in uneasiness. "P-please.."

With that, Heeseung went off. His form disappearing into the sea of crowds. Your eyes glued to the distance, wondering if he'll do as he promised.

"Wait— you can't be serious?! How about my fucking money??" The men won't shut up since then.

"There's still plenty of beauties residing in these quarters, gentlemen. Consider checking some, who knows you might have a change of heart?"

"I don't fucking care. I want her." The man pointed at you with bare teeth.

"If you still don't understand—what we have here is nothing but a business, sir. Whoever pays the highest amount of money shall get whichever and how many maiden they please to— and you obviously don’t have one."

"Do I look like I give a shit?!-"

BONK!

“Agh! Agh! Yunjin stop!”

Sighing through her nose, “Quit it will you? You’re becoming too invested in your roles for fuck’s sake, Jake.”

“We can’t help it, duh.” Jake puffed, then turned to face you in beaming eyes. “Madame! We did good right?! We could get an Oscar for this, fuck they should hire us.”

You gave him a thumbs up before looking out from the door once again and that simple gesture of yours brought a big smile on Jake's face and on the others—they bow with an immense respect for you before leaving.

“Yunjin! You could hire us to act for you next time then!—"

"Bish— for what?"

Hm? Would he come or not?

Twirling your hair round the tips of your fingers as you leaned against the doorframe, observing the sea of crowds waiting for that particular stranger. Would your plan fail or work? One, two, step forward, step backward you did as you spun around on the centre of the manor, your battered brown skirt flowing in a circular motion as your hands stretched wide open.

Would he come? You couldn’t care a bit less as you still had a fair line of men waiting to kneel before you.

Dawn painted over the once blue sky, replacing the feathery snow clouds with gold-veined ones. Sea of neon lights flickers through the stretched out line of the town—a low volume of flamboyant music spirals along with human’s desire to hide in this town—a shelter where humans shed off their outer layer of skin.

The woman in black attire approaches from behind you, “Madame, he’s here.”

“Hm?” fingers beneath your lower lip as the corners tugged up to kiss your growing smirk. Well, he had dug his own grave with his own hands. How pathetic. Meeting his dreamy eyes fixated on your form, replacing your bold fingers to fiddle the hem of your sleeves, looking down to avoid his intense ones.

You didn't expect it a tad bit that's why it gave you a fair surprise when he came in through the main entrance, his tall frame and dashing aura, with a suitcase in his tight grasp. Was he that enamoured by you? Who knows? There's still a fair amount of time to confirm such suspicions as much as you're compelled to believe it, after all you don't need him to like you—you need him to fall in love with you till he's willing to surrender his body, his soul, his heart and most importantly—his money.

“I told you I’ll come back.”

“H-ha, sir! Thank you for saving me.” Your soft ones hold onto his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Your eyes hold utmost sincerity in it, gasping when he looks back at you with his intense ones. You gulped your throat, "Thank you for saving me. I'm really .. bad at this, I really don't know how I can repay you."

Meticulous planned lies, the same lies you uttered to people or to be exact, men — those with ogling eyes laced with lusts, hands dying to grab a woman's body, lips that won't wait for an immediate contact. Playboys, old men, nerds, boys next door, those that held an angelic appearance—you played them all. How embarrassing. This man before you was no different, he'll be at your mercy sooner and later. Likewise, a fair amount of time should be wise to take this seemingly gentleman down to his demise.

You observed as Heeseung's eyes softened against your nervous acts—almost wanted to melt before your quivering, fragile form; head hanging down, your hands trembling against his fingers as you tugged it. Of course, you'd spent years refining such petty acts designed to make men fall for it.

An audible chuckle akin to an angel's whisper, feathery and gentle hits your ears. "I'm only doing what is right to do."

"B-but why me?" You asked, "The-there's plenty of other girls inside. Why don't you save them too?"

Heeseung wondered how dense you could be to ask such a folly question, but suppressed the need to voice it out. "I’m afraid my wallet will turn dry in doing so."

Your expression screams ignorance and naivety.

Well, does he even need to wonder with your overalls? Yet, it was your fragile form that had him wanting to save you. Probably. In fact, that wasn't the only reason. “Don’t worry, someday someone will save them too.” or perhaps never, Heeseung thought to himself.

“M-may I know what’s your?..”

“Oh shit, I forgot to introduce myself didn’t I? Heeseung, Lee Heeseung. What’s yours?”

"Sr. Heeseung?.." you repeated his name under your breath—silence, silence it was that you forgot to answer back.

"H-Hey?"

"Oh? Uhm yes?" You pressed your lips in a tight manner.

"Care to give me your name?"

"(Name).."

"Pretty name, I wonder how did you even get to a place like that? It doesn't look like you're a local around here, anyways."

You look down, and he notices you fiddling your fingers between the hem of your dirty old skirt.

"It's okay, you don't have to answer."

"I was sold off."

"Oh. Thats— that's fucked up." Heeseung exhales, looking up to the sky before taking your hands in his, much to your surprise, “You don’t have to be scared anymore, you’re safe with me.”

Safe.. huh?

“W-where are we going? Sir?”

“I don’t have any idea yet but for now let’s go back to my apartment.”

You pursed your lips in a nervous manner.

A gentle giggle emits from the man, “Don’t worry, I can’t possibly let you live on the street, though.”

The conversation eventually died down as the cascading silence engulfed the entire space—silent yet serene it was with the dense greeny forests coming into view, the road filled with sorts of vehicles surfaced, the beaming green light alarming the drivers to go in through to all sorts of directions, the passing yellow vehicle with children in their little hops spilling out as an old woman guided them to a straight line, the low volume of cafes and speakers were emitting from afar, the lovely scene of the sun setting from the surface of the sky as it's deep orange hues painted the street the road, and a few minutes later a tall high buildings finally came into view.

You looked out from the window feigning amazement with your mouth hanging apart much to Heeseung’s amusement as he pulled up the car in the parking spot and a security guard approached to check his ID.

“Come.” he reached out his hands for you to take as you stepped off from the car. “This is where I stay.”

“Woah.” you exclaimed as you observed this luxury high-end apartment.

Heeseung taps a series of digits through the door’s handle—sadly, you were getting tired feigning fascination over the entire course, suppressing the need to roll your eyes when he guided you inside his apartment.

"That— That's so amazing!" your mouth gaped. “I-i’m sorry, it’s my first time.. My place is so deep in the village. I don't always have the chance to go out, it was a chance that only lucky ones had."

Heeseung couldn't suppress his chuckle, eyes crinkling in obvious amusement. "There’s no need to say sorry, I could understand why. In fact, I couldn’t guarantee I won't act the same way as you."

You gazed at all the expensive furniture, almost brushing your finger against the decorations on top of it before halting immediately.

Heeseung noticed your hesitance, "Don't worry, you can touch it."

Your eyes sparkled at his given permission and you immediately stroked your finger against the cold and exquisite material of the object, marvelling at its meticulous patterns — a masterpiece of a craftsman.

"Got a thing for this type of stuffs?"

"Hm. . Yes." You nodded somewhat ecstatic. “It’s so pretty..”

Heeseung went inside his room, pulling out a piece of shirt and pants that surely would look oversized on you—apologising in advance as he placed it on your shivering ones, "This might look big on you but I promise we'll get some for you tomorrow."

Eyes widening in fractions, you shook your head as you pulled your hands up. "T-there's no need to! you've already d-done so much for me, I.. really don't know where to keep my face already."

An audible chuckle escapes from his lips, looking down in mild amusement. "You're so adorable."

"Eh?!" you gasped.

"I mean?—"

A loud ring emits up in the air, interrupting him much to his annoyance. “I’ll take this phone first, just take a look around okay?”

You nodded in an ecstatic manner, observing his back as he disappeared into the corners of the walls. A low sigh, eyes darting around the space—softened ones growing into a menacing gaze.

In this vast spacious living room—that interior was somewhat really baffling for you. It wasn't your first time to be in such a place, even more so the place you've been in before was much bigger, marvellous and higher in status than this one.

Not that it matters now anyways.

With your expression growing disinterested in each passing second, you sighed dejectly as you halted your steps before a painting. He must have bought this a few years ago, what a great taste.

But too bad, too unfortunate — stroking the painting slowly at a delicate pace, he won't have much money in his pockets to buy anything like this anymore.

Crossing your arms as you tilted your head to one of the drawers, being aware of any hidden devices inside the apartment — you scanned the place and as expected, there's none. Truly, your experience in that place has given you a fair skill with a fair price.

Your eyes fell on an open box of a luxury watch inside it, holding the need it in between your fingers, scoffing that you'll have to take it slow and nice before even proceeding with your first move. Frightened that he might be suspicious of you real quick and you can't risk that.

Patience, patience.

Patience, patience.

After all, a human being's demise is his own impatience, an inability to bring into one's composure is an approaching deathbell.

“I told you we’re done, there’s no need to consider anything further.” Heeseung bares his teeth with the phone beneath his ears, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance despite how he tried to make his voice as civil as possible. “Fine then, one last meeting to settle everything.” hanging up, he lets out a long deep sigh before turning to the direction from where you’re from—the corners of his faint cherry lips slowly tugging up in a mischievous smirk.

“Why is there a need when I have you right here wrapped round the tip of my finger?” says Heeseung as he walks back to where you are in a leisure manner, head tilting down and eyes gleaming in sinister plans.

Baffling it was, as always, his tricks often worked. "(Name), was it?" Your name tasted sweet in his lips, on the tip of his tongue, and like that his cherry lips tugged up in a mischievous grin and his eyes squinting in amusement.

Getting the money was no hard task for him for it was years worth of cultivated money, obviously from the girls he had fooled.

He went through all that trouble only because he was fascinated by your naivety, different from most girls he fooled or encountered. You were so dumb and absolutely untainted from the dirty stains of this world that he wanted to be the first person to show you the true colours of it. Bored of the same patterns and criterions of his previous victims, he desired for a whole new different toy and it just happened when his eyes laid on you.

The moment he sees you in that pathetic form of yours, the desire to completely ruin you arises inside the depths of his rotten heart. It grows even more when the head of the brothel confirms your innocence, the fact that you were only sold up until a few days ago, that it was today you were bought. You reminded him so much of a particular someone.

He himself was never that prince nor warrior everyone wanted to be. He's fed up, fed up of being thought of as one, fed up with the way all these girls lust after him and nevertheless he still took bliss in it. Always wrecking their dreams apart and shattering it because he likes to see it. No, he just doesn’t like it. He completely loves it.

Ah, what a sweet luck he got to be bestowed with another toy to play with, another pretty toy to rip apart and show to her that the world isn't as pretty nor as colourful as she wishes to.

He's bored. He had a lot of bucks inside his pockets, a result of his scamming people or ladies to be exact, he needed something to toy around with for awhile. And you happen to be his perfect toy; an innocent lady with a fairy tale dream for this world. Heeseung doesn't think he's so evil for showing you the real canvas of this disgusting world, after all he's doing you a favour.

"Thank you for saving me?" Heeseung scoffed in amusement, "You'll thank me later."

Lies, lies, what could be more sinister than a bunch of lies woven together in a disguised form of your favourite fairy tale books?

“Hey.” The way your eyes shot up, rosy cheeks and trembling lips had him almost baffled but suppressed his grin from growing any further. It was only a few minutes that he left you here and yet he already fucking missed it, excited to his core to start his plans in ruining you but he should take it slow, he thought. For where is the fun of rushing? “So- how was it? Got any paintings that caught your sight?’

“H-hmm! They’re all particularly nice. I couldn't choose.” your head hangs down avoiding his gaze.

“I guess I can take that as a compliment then?” Heeseung smiles down at you, his hand finding its way to rub your arm as if to comfort you. “Hey, it’s okay. Wanna grab something to eat?” he said as he extended his hand out for you.

You were so painfully shy, cheeks burning red, eyes looking down to avoid his gaze, your fingers tucking your hair behind your ear every now and then, your wavering form as you can't keep your feet from shivering ever so slightly, hands interlaced in front of your tummy as if to give yourself a slight comfort. Every expression surfacing from your face is ruining Heeseung's patience that he wanted to just ruin you right now.

Taking his hand once again as you look into his eyes, not surprised that he’s going this far for this fake innocent persona you had on you. Afterall, this persona was a bait meticulously curated for such a person. Turning his back around you and a disinterested look splattered on your face—rolling your eyes up to the ceiling and eyebrows pulling up. His back holding the expression that mirrors yours as he guided you to the dining room.

Eyes that held fake affection, lips that sang flattering lies, touches that screams absolute affection and yet the heart and mind conspires in each others' demise. You two were well trained in this department, after all.

'I wonder how many days it would take to ruin you?'

“Oh shit.” Heeseung hissed after pulling the fridge’s door open, his back bent down as his head pushed inside searching for anything before fixing his posture upright.

You raised your eyebrow. “Is there–?”

He spun around brushing the back of his neck in an abashed manner, letting out an awkward laugh. “Sorry, I think I forgot to fill up my fridge.. My work had really put me through and through..” a lie, Heeseung snickered inside.

Your hands immediately shoot up as you shake your head, laughing. “It’s okay! It’s okay! I’m not that hungry anyways.. —It-it’s fine! Sir, you’ve really done so much in letting me stay the night here.”

“Uh..” Heeseung looks up to his cupboard and a bright smile adorns his face, “Would you mind a bowl of ramen then? Have you eaten it?”

Dripping raindrops hit the tall window before the dining room, gliding through and through till it hits the edges. The mixture of rain and the aroma of the boiling ramen was weirdly comforting. You rubbed your hands, pulling down your sleeves to cover your fingers.

“Here!” you turned to Heeseung as he placed the bowl of hot ramen before you, the spoon and a pair of chopsticks on both your sides. He then took his seat after placing his as well.

You took a brief sniff, eyes lighting up. “It smells so good!” taking a spoonful of soup and the twirled ramen on the tips of your chopstick onto your tongue. “The ramen tastes so good!” you exclaimed as radiant as ever. It did taste good, you thought.

“Right? Ramen is the only food I've been eating these days.” Heeseung smiled, “It’s my favourite too.”

“Isn’t th-that somewhat unhealthy?”

“Hm? It’s fine though, why bother to cook so much if you only eat alone, right?”

"I can see w-why.." you took another small sip from your spoon, indulging yourself in this tasty ramen.

Palms of his hands beneath his chin as his sparkling eyes observed you as you eat, he couldn’t help but find you endearing though. Endearing you were, as if you were going to break if you were given a cold harsh glare or a one touch would make you crumble apart in fear. How sweet, he thought—but how grateful could he be to be given such a entertaining sight—a toy—to play with and mess its contents onto the floor?

You almost choke on your food when you notice his eyes on you, wiping the corners of your mouth with the napkin from the table.

Heeseung eyes softened and muttered a small apology, telling you that it was just a tiny habit of his to observe someone while they eat or do something, that it was just.. “It’s just endearing to watch.”

Fuck. Such a cheesy line. You muttered within yourself. A coherent sentence a fool would only believe. Keeping the gentle smile on your lips as you kept on your shy demeanour. Son of a bitch thought he could fool me, you muttered on the back of your head as you smiled at him as you took a brief sip from the glass.

Heeseung had arranged the guest room for you before going off and telling you a simple goodnight much to your hidden displeasure and yet you kept the abashed smile on your face as it was simply your job afterall—to fool the living shit out of him and dig his cascading sea of money.

Through the mind of Heeseung however,

It won't take much time to make you succumb to him but he prefers to keep it slow, because where's the fun in revealing everything so quick? He wanted to see you rot in his touch, observe your innocence crumbles before his hands, fucked up expressions over your sweet dumb face, your trembling body writhing under his. Slow, fucking slow till he gets inside deep inside you.

His own personal toy, an ill-thought with a stark contrast over his gentle caress over your hair and cheek.

You weren’t asleep apparently, wondering if he’s about to do his first move but it gave you a mild surprise when the side of the bed was empty, the doors were closed and this bizarre serenity engulfing this room baffles you at most. You sighed through your nose, going through all your plans for tomorrow. Another day, another day.

Morning breathes its way through the sky once again. 8 o’clock strikes. Birds chirping in their own unique melody.

Today was the first morning. The first step of your plans in making the boy fall for you even harder than yesterday, you thought so as you stretched your arms upwards, pulling off the blankets from your body before standing up, looking around until you saw a sticky note on the table.

I’m out for groceries, i’ll be back before dawn. So don’t worry and make yourself feel like you’re home :) — Heeseung.

G-groceries? Your eyes twitched in annoyance as he would have woken you up and you’d had the chance to form a closer bond with him and yet he chose to do this? Fuck. Puffing in annoyance, you instead inspected the entire apartment.

“Home?” you inhaled the fresh scent engulfing the living room however the word tastes bitter on the tip of your tongue, though. You went around checking one and each of his belongings and to your surprise, there wasn’t that much of his things inside his room. It was fairly empty consisting of only the bed with blue sheets, and a few minor stuff. It was as if he didn't really live in this place.

As if his claims of living in this place since last year were mere lies. Weird, you thought.

Orange sunset poured over the blue rooftop. A soft chime, door creaking and faint sound of heels approaching. Ruffling his hair, there Heeseung came back in his casual fit, holding a bunch of plastic bags in his hands. His eyes fell upon your figure laying on the couch sound asleep with the TV turn on. The screen shone on the edges of your face.

You were truly a breathtaking sight as he watched you sleeping peacefully just like the precious and well taken care of you are.

He went to the kitchen, arranging the groceries he brought; one by one, to their respective categories; eggs, vegetables, meat, fish, beverages. This was the first time in awhile since he filled up the refrigerator, and even more so he couldn't help but chuckle over how insane he was for going this far — to the point he would treat you so well and good and then crush it sooner and later. Yet he couldn’t be bothered to cook for today as he wanted to test how far you were in your gullibility—lips tugged up in a small smirk as he separated the dishes he bought and placed them on the plate.

Eyes fluttering open at the sound of running water, you look over your shoulder to see him, preparing dinner. Train of memories flashes through your mind which had splattered a deep frown on your face.

"(Name)! Come here! C'mon, taste the food I made."

"Does it taste good?"

"Stop it! (Name)! Look, your lips are messy now. Cute."

Huh. What a bummer. Empty, hollow gaze quickly replaced with a beaming expression as your lips tugged up in a small grin, getting up on your feet as you strode off to the dining room to look at the dishes on the counter.

"Wah!" you sniffed in the dishes, “It smells so good.”

A low chuckle emitted from him, "Not that good, just learned it by myself. After all, I lived alone so it's only wise to learn some little life skills."

"It's still amazing.. Not all are can cook this good." you bit your lip. “Next time, c-can you let me accompany you outside for groceries, if you allow me that is.”

Heeseung looks down at you, your head hanging low makes him wonder if you’re really this painfully shy without him.

“Then let’s get you new boots and fits before we go out for groceries tomorrow.”

"R-really?"

Looking out from the window, today’s weather was calming to say the least. Placing the dishes on the table, you two sat together for dinner.

“Sr. Heeseung. Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a therapist.”

“Ha, I-i see..” you nodded.

“It’s a draining career, do you know my patient often racks up all the stuff after a meeting?” You feign laughter.

“How about you? What did you do before you happened to be in that place?” Heeseung asked.

Paused in mild surprise, you chuckled in an awkward manner. “I-I’m an artist.”

Munching the food in his mouth to pieces, his eyes widened slightly at your response, “Woah, an artist? That’s cool! What do you draw? Portraits? Animals?”

“Mostly portraits.” you answered, looking down to your plate. “If you want, I can draw a portrait of you, sir.”

“I would love to, but..” Heeseung pauses, lowering his spoon down to his plate. “Before that, it’s better to drop off the formals, you know? You no longer have to call me sir. Just call me Heeseung, after all we're the same age, aren’t we?”

“I-I don’t know if I can do that, sir—”

“C’mon just call me by my name.” he whined like a child.

“H-hee..”

His intense orbs looking into yours, as if hypnotising you even further. “I can’t hear you.” pouting, he pulls you closer.

“H-heeseung?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Louder.”

You had this growing smirk inside you as you could sense the atmosphere growing thicker and the tension between you was turning into a whole new different vibe—your plan doing its wonders. Closer, closer, you wanted him to get close to you.

“-Heeseung.”

“Good, try again!”

“Heeseung.” you repeated.

“Good girl,” immense satisfaction adorned his lips as he leaned in closer to your ears which made you close your eyes yet only his hand patting your head softly were what you felt before he pulled away, piling up the empty plates on the table.

Your eyebrow raises in confusion “Huh?” why didn’t he?-

“Sir— no, H-heeseung.. Why?” you couldn’t help but stutter at the bizarre outcome.

“Why? You should go back to rest soon, don’t worry I’ll do the dishes this time.”

A visible vein pops up in your neck in utter disbelief before you tugged his sleeves. “I-i..”

“Hm? Is there something wrong?”

Tightening your grip on the hem of his sleeve, you looked up with glassy eyes. “I–.. I don’t wanna sleep yet.”

“Oh, really?” Heeseung brushes his finger against your cheeks. “Alright.”

“Teng! You’re out!”

The fuck? Your eyes twitched at the barrage of chaos before you; the formed lego Thor’s hammer after year's worth of blood, sweat and tears—boards of puzzles with its pieces scattered on the floor, and the man himself pulling out a wooden block out from this piled wooden blocks on top of each other.

T-the fuck we playing Jenga for?! Your eyes widened immense disbelief.

“S-sir—”

“It’s your turn!” faint claps emitting from the friction of his palms as he beamed at you, acting like an almost different man from a few hours ago. Trying your best to keep your disguise up as you pulled out the wooden block carefully, muttering a thousand curses to yourself—this wasn’t your fucking plan.

Sniffing a huge deal of air, you reassured yourself. It’s okay, it’s okay. We still have tomorrow—

“AH! IT FELL! THE LEGO (NAME)!”

Third day. Beaming sun hiding behind the gold veined clouds, painted sea sky with tall high buildings intertwined with its glory peeking from your curtained windows. Yet as serene as it looks, you were pissed. You were consumed with utter impatience. Dried eyes gazing at the ceiling, poking your tongue inside your cheek in attempts to soothe yourself from your short temper tendencies.

That guy should’ve been snuck in between your legs by now, not play silly stupid children games till 4am in the morning. It has never happened this way before. What is he trying to plan, huh? You raised your eyebrow gathering a new wave of determination. Today he’ll succumb to your temptation afterall.

You went to the living room after freshening up, taken aback by the man standing still in the living room—wearing office attire or more something between that.

"You had work?.."

"Oh yes, I do. Got a few clients to attend to." you observed as Heeseung meticulously puts on his tie around his collar, “I’m sorry, I know I promise we’re going out to get your boots but tomorrow okay?”

Fuck what? He’s going to work .. today?! You snapped your head to the open calendar on top of the table, your eyes twitching yet softened in a swift manner when you looked up to him. “Y-you don’t have to apologise, Sr. Heeseung.”

He looks at you with concern. "Are you sure you can stay here?"

"I already appreciate it enough that you trusted me enough to let me stay here. Thank you."

Accompanying him through the door, you observed as he put on his leather shoes and at him; slicked back hair, white shirt with dotted blue tie and the black coat hanging on his arms paired with the black pants. Tall frame, dreamy eyes and faint cherry lips—a totally different image from yesterday, you snickered in the back of your head.

“By the way..”

Pulled away from your deep thought, “H-hm?”

“Uh, sorry for yesterday too. I might’ve gone overboard with those games that you didn’t get a good night's rest.” he pursed his lips in an abashed manner.

Taken aback, you shook your head. “I enjoyed it! It was fun, and nice. I— I’ve never had anyone to play with before so it’s a first time for me..” you looked down, “Thank you for that.”

Gentle caresses of his hand against your cheeks had your eyes widened, “I’m glad to hear that then.” his lips tugged up ever so slightly, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Wait for me to come back home, okay?”

Letting out a deep, long, dejected sigh that consumes the entire living room as you put your hands on your sides, looking down in immense of what the fuck. “Who cares for those useless boots anyways, when I got your feisty watches over here?” smirking as you did so, grabbing each and one of his precious items that you could sell later for good use.

Knock! Knock!

“Huh? Is he already back?” you furrowed your eyebrows at the entrance of the apartment before taking small steps and slowly opening it.

Heeseung grabbed ahold of his coat and threw it in his car as he drove off to the city, striding along the street till he stopped by in front of a luxury high end restaurant. Elite and expensive. People with high social status spilling in and out from this place.

Brushing his slicked back hair as he puts on his usual gentleman persona, the main entrance opened for him.

"Heeseung-ah! God, where the fuck have you been? Why aren't you answering my calls?!"

The voice was enough to make him roll his eyes to the back of his head but he suppressed the need to do so as he wanted to end this as effortless as he can and as trouble-free as it can be.

"WHAT?!" the cup stumbles upon the hard slam of the girl's hand to the table, "Did I hear you right? You want to break up with me?! Gaeul? Me?"

Heeseung sighed as he wiped the edges of his lips with a wet wipe, "Yes you did. Let’s break up."

"No but why?! Our relationship was so good all this time, didn't our last date go well? So why?—"

"We don't click, Ms. Gaeul. That's all. It would be better if we end it now and just try to become good friends instead."

"H-huh?" Gaeul scoffed irritably, "After all the things I've done for you? Okay, fuck. Then give me the Rolex watch, the Gucci fucking handbag, the LV and Nike shoes—"

"Okay sure."

"Fucking what?!" Gaeul couldn't believe it, "Just what had happened to you?! Why are you so adamant in leaving me? Did you have a girl or something? Heeseung!"

A soft yawn escaped from the young man as his gaze travelled all around the patterned designs of the restaurant, how beautiful.

"Lee Heeseung!"

"Oh god, Gaeul. Do you have to embarrass yourself even further? I thought you're better than that." Heeseung couldn't help but be baffled, it's not like he's so die hard for money, even so he only did all these for pure joy. Money, women, games. All of it was a game.

Death silence consumes the two of them as a series of hiss emitted from the blonde haired girl.

"Fuck, it's not like you're the only man I got. You—" Gaeul pointed at him as her jaw gritted, "I had a lot more men lining up for me, you're not the only one."

"Then I'm happy to hear that, Ms. Gaeul."

Gaeul leans back, sniffing through her nose in attempts to cool herself down. "Still, I had a party next week. My father will be over, you're invited—"

"I don't think I can come to the party." Heeseung got up on his feet. "We are only friends right now, Ms. Gaeul-ssi."

"Fuck don't worry, will you?" Gaeul tilted her head, ruffling her blonde hair, "Bring your girl or whatever you can think of, I'll bring my man. How about we see whether we're over or not, Heeseung?"

A game. How sweet. Heeseung loves the thrill of being challenged. So why not?

"Sure, why not?"

An audible groan emitted from the young man when as soon he went back inside his exquisite car, his phone rang vigorously in his pockets. His eyebrows furrowed upon a suspicious number. "Yes, who's this?" A long deep pause, in which suddenly Heeseung's eyes widened along with furrowed eyebrows. “What?!”

“Sr. Heeseung!”

“(Name), what happened?”

“I– i’m so-sorry,” you sniffed uncontrollably, “Th-they were barging and all and I couldn’t help b-but..”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, explain it to me properly so I’ll know what to do.” Heeseung brought you closer to his embrace, patting your head.

“I- I hit them with y-your pan—”

“My pan?” Heeseung’s eyes popped out, jaw dropping.

Your teary eyes keeps spilling out tears, “Y-yeah, and–”

A series of wailing and mouthy ruckus emits from the back of the police station, “Bitch! That woman is a bitch! Don’t trust her!”

“You fucking watch your mouth.” Heeseung spat out.

“Heeseung-ah! What kind of woman had you brought into your apartment? She’s the spawn of a devil!!”

“Yeah right!” says the man, sobbing as he pressed the white towel covered in ice onto his bruised eyes, hissing in pain as he did so.

“Well, if it wasn’t you trying to barge into my apartment then she wouldn’t have to be this nervous and scared, all because of you.” Heeseung raised his eyebrow.

“S-SCARED? N-NERVOUS? T-THE T-T- FUCK? AM I HEARING YOU RIGHT?!” another man with a bulging eye whines from the back seat.

“SHE FUCKING BEAT US TO DEATH!” they all screamed in unison.

. . . rewind

“Hello?” your eyes fell on a bunch of unfamiliar faces standing in front of the door—three guys; two were drunk and another sober, with a girl whose eyes peering at you like there's no tomorrow.

“Fuck I told you I was right!” the girl whined like a child.

You were met with a barrage of nonsenses thrown at you. The girl was whiny and desperate, asking where Heeseung was or who are you and where you came from, what you were doing here and sorta all of that. From the way she acts, you concluded that she was a piece of bitch dying for Heeseung’s attention. Not only that, the men beside her seems to be her friends which reminds you of the saying; bad apples would soon consume the rest of the good apples.

Pathetic, you thought and yet you’re still keeping up your sweet persona.

Till it unfortunately hits your nerves. “Please kindly get lost.”

“I told you right, if it wasn’t— fuck what?” The girl blinks twice, “D-did i hear you right, miss girl?”

“Yeah she told you to get lost.”

“Shut up!” the girl snapped at her cousin. “Did you just really–”

“Yeah I said get lost.” nonchalantly you say, fed up with keeping up your persona in front of useless pieces of shits not even tangled with your mission so who cares if they do know the real you?

“Pfft!” the girl held her sides, bursting into laughter. “Oh god, a petite girl like you having the nerves to tell us to get lost? Look at yourself first! You’re so petite that the wind can carry you!”

Staying silent as you can as you wait for her to finish her nonsense, “Are you done?”

“Yah. Bitch—”

“Fine then, wait for a min.” you shut the door right to their face much to their protests, until a few minutes later you stepped out of the door with the round object in your tight grasp.

“F-fuck—”

“Hm.. Now you got my attention, you son of a bitch.”

Grab!

"Sir," echoes a gut wrenching scream from the man himself as you bend his arm, twisting it till his shoulder spun to an unstable joint. "It would be nice if you tone it down as," you leaned in to whisper to his ear, "It's never wise to act bold in a territory you don't belong to."

"Who are you?!" it came out as a whisper laced in downright dread as before him, "Fuck help me! Oh my god— my arm, my arm!!"

You pulled away much to the man's outburst of pain, spun your heels around and snapping your fingers up in the air, a faint click almost resembling the sound of a flicking violin, your lips tugging up in a menacing smirk. You dodged the punch and kicked them by launching your leg up to the air, snapping the guys arm in a gut-wrenching sound.

The girl's jaw dropped in utter shock and disbelief with her hands cupping her mouth, letting out a gut-wrenching scream which alerted the entire neighbourhood.

end. . .

Crows cawing from afar as they finish off their story, your quivered form suppressing the need to roll your laughter from bursting into the air behind Heeseung.

A sigh left Heeseung’s mouth, “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. She?” he gestured at you and then back at them, “Beat all of you?”

Heeseung looked up at the ceiling seemingly fed up with the entire ordeal, memories flashing back to when he first met you eventually shaking his head.

“Okay then if you won’t believe us! But there’s a CCTV on your door right, let’s check that then and you’ll see we were telling the fucking truth!”

What's the use? You sighed. They won't even find that footage anyways as your minions had settle everything effortlessly. Pouting your lips with your crossed arms as you tilted your head to look at the computer screen blank and empty.

"I think there has been a malfunction—"

"WHAT?! YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!" The ruckus had your ear bleeding into pain, not wanting to be there any longer.

Tugging his coat, “Sir.. Can we just g-go back home?”

“Okay, I'll settle this real quick so they won’t bother you anymore okay?”

It didn't took long, actually. As he finally came back with that same smile on his face after telling you that the girl and her friends will be subjected to stay in the cell for a few days. Feigning a solemn face yet inside you were giggling.

“I- greatly apologise over what happened, though! I'm putting you in so much trouble.” you bow down in which Heeseung shrugs, shaking his head in a small smile.

“Ya, ya. Don’t mind it, sometimes we just can't avoid problems.” he patted your head in a gentle manner.

“Do you know them though..?”

“They’re just my neighbour after staying here for over a year. Hm, it’s just that I rarely talk with them.” you nodded still hanging your head down to make yourself look pitiful in front of him. “Hey, I guess we got the chance then to go outside for boots and new fits?”

Your eyes glints at the chance presenting itself before you, feigning an awkward laughter. “Sr. Heeseung. I couldn’t thank you enough with all these things you’re doing for me.”

“If you appreciate it then let's go, I'm going to buy one for myself too!”

So here you are with Heeseung inside a luxury store much to your surprise. Was he flaunting his money to you? By the looks of it, it was kinda obvious and you kept the growing amusement on your face from surfacing as he strolls over the sides, pausing every now and then to show you a piece of fit and asking you which one you like.

Nevertheless, you feigned a series of Pikachu faces whenever he pulls a dress with its price tag looming over you like a tsunami—when in fact, you're dying to have it and possibly sell it after. Let's just say, you got what you wanted.

You two strode off to take cover under the gazebo in the park as soft droplets of rain fell upon the both of you and a faint clap of thunder echoed in this city and soon the street had been drenched in endless pit-patter.

The shopping bags sat upright on the bench. Faint clap of softened raindrops hit the street, round puddles arising with the accumulated rain, and a green frog hops on the way to the side of the bench. The cool breeze caresses against your skin.

“The rain is so pretty.” you breathe out. Somehow this time, your words were true. You turned to look at Heeseung whose face was rather dull as he gazed out at the street. "W-what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Rain is not really my favourite thing to see." He answered.

You didn't question any further as it seems that he was emitting desolation from such a question and instead you asked something else, "How was work?"

"Uh, quite a wreck inside there not gonna lie." Heeseung lets out a soft tsk, “There’s this girl growling like a mad dog, kinda a karen if you know what that means—” he pauses after your expression contorting into confusion, “A Karen is that overly sensitive person who tries their best to ruin everyone’s day.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ even when you are fully aware of what it means, just making sure you look dumb enough before his eyes when you realise you were observing him for too long; his sublime face with raindrops trailing down his rosy cheek and tan skin, his bangs sticking to his eyelids as he brushes off the remaining raindrops off his drenched black coat.

Stop looking at him, why are you doing this? Snapping your head back to the sublime scenery of the rain hitting the ground, the sound was as if someone was playing piano through the rain and the main difference was the rain was the song.

Heeseung turn his attention back on you in which his heart skipped a beat. Your drenched white shirt, which hugs your hips down with your head hanging low, fingers fiddling the hem of your old pink grandma skirt. You truly look so innocent, he thought.

“You know, just stay with me." He suddenly voice out much to your surprise. "You don’t have to go back home to that kind of people who don't deserve to be called your parents, it just doesn’t seem right.” Heeseung said, “Just let me take care of you, please?

You didn't give an answer, waiting for him to say more before you could give a fitting response to him. Waiting to see how smitten he is for you. "W-what do you mean, s-sir?"

“It just.. feels lonely nowadays, and I don’t mind having another person to stay with. You know what I mean?”

You shook your head slightly yet your heart skipped a beat in utter excitement over your plan succeeding.

“I'll be your friend, we'll take care of each other and then—"

H-huh?! You rolled your eyes at the back of your head in your imagination. Pissed off at the fact that this man still is holding himself back. Sniffing a huge deep breathe in, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your face. "I would love to!"

Yea right.

A puppy hops in front of you two, its tail wagging and tongue pouring out as it spun multiple times. The sight of the happy puppy brought a genuine smile on your face when just then an old couple came in through.

“Maeumi! Oh, sweetheart. I thought i’d lose you.” the old lady slowly bend her knees, the puppy immediately went to her arms. An old man stood behind her and his gaze fall on you along with Heeseung.

“May we sit here?..” husky and old voice had rubbed your heart in a gentle almost like hug.

You and Heeseung nodded in unison, with a small smile urging them to sit just far right between you. Just now you and him had a fair distance from together but now you were closer to him.

Watching the old couple go about their day somehow gave you this gentle touch of breeze, especially the white puppy wagging its tail beside the old lady’s leg.

‘“Puppies..”

Heeseung notices your heart eyes towards the puppy, tilting his head at you. “It’s adorable.”

“H-hm?!”

“I said it’s adorable, the puppy.” yet his eyes never left you. Is he trying to pull the shit pull and push game?

“I-it is..” you let out an awkward laugh.

“You wanna get puppies together someday? If you want, we could have another tenant together with us in the apartment.”

You unexpectedly let out a small burst of laughter much to your surprise, immediately covering your mouth with your hand with your eyes widening.

“I mean, sure? I- n-never had a puppy before.” your gaze fell on the puppy again, “They’re just so fluffy, and huggable.”

“I can see why.”

Turning your eyes back on him, “Sr. Heeseung, have you had a puppy before?”

Heeseung took a brief pause, deep in thought before answering. “I did as a child, it was cute, noisy and often it won’t leave me alone.”

The old couple’s small gesture towards each other; the grandpa tucking his wife’s hair behind her ear, and the abashed reaction of her—the sun beaming on the edges of their face, pouring soft raindrops behind them and the greeny leaves from the bushes—everything, the scenery was truly breathtaking it had your breath caught off on the back of your throat and one small question beats inside your heart—was this love?

“Are you two, perhaps, lovers?” the grandma suddenly asked such a question resulting in your eyes widening, yet you were unsure of what was Heeseung's reaction as well.

“U-Uh.. no!” you two answered in unison, looking at each other in giggles.

Rubbing his neck as an abashed smile surfaces on his lips, “We-we’re just a friend.”

“I see, perhaps you could ignore my useless opinions but you two could make a great couple.” the grandma spoke as her hand patted the puppy’s head, its tail wagging vigorously.

The question seems to put the two of you back to reality, as this thought echos in the back of your heads—A great couple? What a joke.

A few days have passed since you stayed here and yet nothing ever happens except for some flattering lines or suggestive touches coming from the man himself. To be fair, you’d expected him to give in to you in just two or four days at minimum. You couldn’t let this stretched out this far, though.

You had your minions watched over him for the past couple days and as expected this guy wasn't as innocent as you expected which made you chuckle mischievously.

"Fuck, I knew you weren't that innocent. Men are all the same." A somewhat rather solemn flashes through your eyes but you squint your eyes in return.

You heard Heeseung on the phone, his words trailing to your ears one by one and each of them confirming your suspicion for him. A scoff emits from you, somewhat disappointed but something you got rid of once you took notice of it as if this was even necessary? A lingering hope that is, foolish you. At least the truth unravels itself before you, at least it did. It’s time to get on with the plan, after all—it’s the very reason why you’re even here in the first place.

You just needed this guy to fall for you and make him spend all his money on you, that's all. Money. You need it for the brothel to keep going on. For the girls you promised to protect. You couldn't care any less whether or not he's innocent as an angel or as mischievous as a snake.

Of course, truly he looks dashing and charming for you yet he reminds you of someone else—nevertheless, you could compare him of a perfect man in disguise of an old, reeking money of a playboy, with plenty of girls queuing up in a stretched out line ready to begged on their knees just for a glimpse of his eyes on them.

The sun rose high up in the air when you followed behind Heeseung, to see which kind of girl was he meeting with so you had an idea of what to do with your plan.

"Huh? So he got another chick? Tsk, no wonder." You thought as you followed a few metres away from him. The sight of him having a sweet interaction with the tailor.

You sat on one of the tables in your disguised form; a brown hat, dark sunglasses on the tip of your nose, black coat hugging the sides of your knees as you sit upright, taking a long sip from your freshly made juice as you poured your ear into their conversation.

“You know we can do it together in the changing room—”

Your lungs burst into the juices flowing through your esopaghus, shooting it back up to the tip of your tongue much to your amusement over the bold words chosen–shaking your head in a low audible laughter as you wipe the spilled contents on your coat while muttering a thousand worth of disappointment.

“Well that can wait, love. However, I had a formal party to attend by the end of this week. Would you give me the honour to be the lady standing beside me?”

Huh, party? You raised your eyebrow at those words. Haa.. an idea beams up in your mind upon processing the newly received information—a smirk grew on your face, why not you instead? You had to he the one he’ll take to the event instead and you'll make sure of it.

Well dear, did it take a long time before the pair had finally finished their chit-chat and you hurried back faster to the apartment before Heeseung could. You almost stumble upon the stairs much to your attempt on getting to the front door, tapping the codes all over again and immediately snucking yourself inside.

"The fuck is wrong with them??" Heeseung's eyes widened in such an immense disbelief, scoffing every now here and then with the phone on his hands, unaware of your suppressed cackle as you sat watching the TV.

"...pfft." an audible laughter left your mouth which had Heeseung's attention on yours. You hastily let out another laughter, pointing your finger at the running TV show which had a pair of ducks hopping along the street.

Heeseung having the thought of whether you're that innocent or just dense in the slightest bit.

Of course, you literally hunt down every single chick on his list by ordering your minions from the brothel to handle them.

Oblivious he was to the fact that you went to the shop the other day wearing an attire tremendously different to when you were in Heeseung’s presence; a tight fitting socks, heels turning downwards to the sense it can digs its claws deep inside pervert’s throat, your tight fitting corset hugging your white dress flowing downwards your hips. Nonchalantly you walked through each section of dress, your finger trailing onto all of them as if you didn't know what to pick.

As expected, the tailor lady had her face constantly powdered with the makeup palette on her hand as she stood still in the reception counter, perfectly unaware of her surroundings. Ah, what a perfect day to put out a useless obstacle out of your way.

Your knuckles come into contact on the counter forming a few faint knocks, in which her attention falls on you with eyebrows raised.

“Y'know, take these few bucks and leave." you pushed the check paper to her hands much to her confusion.

"Huh? What are you—"

"Aw, sweetheart. Don't be so dense that you aren't aware that the man you often had inside your pretty little changing room belongs to someone else."

Her eyes widened in fractions, "What? Are you saying Heeseung?—" a fit of scoff escaped her thick red lips, "Miss, who do you think you are, huh? Going around to make up a ridiculous lie? Look at this."

She raises her hand up to your eye level showing you her index finger wrapped in a gleaming diamond ring along with her expression making out a mockery at you.

"Hm, guess I'll have to put you in your place then." You were about to burst into a fit of laughter when her eyeballs were about to pop out upon seeing the picture you had in your phone's lock screen; Heeseung in his deep slumber on his bed. "If I was you, I wouldn't stay with someone like him any longer."

"Then?!" Her voice heightened in rage, "How about you? Obviously he's cheating on you as well!"

"Nuh uh, we'll see about that." you spun around your heel as you lowered down your glasses, taking one last look at her over your shoulder—giving her a smug look.

Let’s just say the woman had her rage thrown at Heeseung; wailing like a hyena and screaming at him through the phone much to his displeasure and the cost of an ear injury. Telling him how horrible he was for making out a fool of her and on and on—yet Heeseung could only roll his eyes, not at all interested at the woman's rage as afterall she was only another toy for him.

Yet, it had his mind going through the vast space as his face were consumed with utter confusion, “Which one of them?..” he couldn’t remember which girl though, and couldn’t be bothered really. He had too many girls wrapped round her finger that he somehow forgot who is who, only paying attention to those who had more benefits to him.

"(Name)."

"Yes?"

"Is it okay if I can ask for your help?" Heeseung's doe eyes pleaded with the utmost affection.

Ah finally, the sweet words you were dying to hear. You couldn't contain your grin as you watered the flowers with your back before him, spinning your heels to met his pleading eyes.

"Of course! Tell me, I would be happy to help!"

There he broke the news of him going to the grand formal party and you of course, pretended with putting your best interest regard to his problems.

Heeseung swore he's about to yawn over the thousand times he said this among the plenty of girls he went to.

"It's okay, you can bring me to the party!" you sighed in complete bliss. “But– i don’t really know much of the basic things..” you pursed your lips in an abashed manner, or actually, you lied.

Heeseung exhaled a deep thought before assuring you with a warm rub against your clasped hands, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

It apparently baffles you that Heeseung went all the way in teaching you the basic etiquettes, unaware that you were actually well knowledgeable in all these stuffs—just fooling the shit out of him by messing it up intentionally—dropping the spoon on the ground, using the fork in a peasant mode, barbaric munching on the 5 star food much to his cringe expression and displeasure and yet he still tried to be as polite as possible.

You had a great time messing up with him, to be honest.

“Still, still.” his arms around your waist as he guided you through the dancing session. Teaching you the basics of waltz and all.

“You’re doing good.” yea sike. You purposely tugged at his sleeve so he can fall on you and your lips brushed against him in a millisecond, feigning utter surprise as you cupped your lips.

“I-I’m sorry!”

A deep chuckle emits from him, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Let's we try again?” his hand extended before you as he helped you on your feet. Your faces so dangerously close to his. You couldn't wait for the day of the party.

To have him beg for your touches, or possibly fall even more for you as you help him through his meetings. What and whatnots, it baffles you that the boy was keeping it slow and steady, a stark contrast from what you heard and saw before you that day. Was his plan to keep you beside him for a fairly long time? Who knows but it does seem to look like it. At first you had this rush flowing through your veins, intending to end all of it at once but now, your plan somehow change–who cares if he wants it slow? You could take all the time in the world as long as he spend his money on you.

Your plan was going entirely well as here you are trying a new fit one after another as Heeseung sat on the couch, eyes fixated on you while you choose which dress suits you the best.

“Which one?” you asked him with a big grin on your lips.

“Hm.. it looks good, try another one though.”

“This one might look good on her, sir.” the tailor pulls out another dress.

Well boy, did it goes on for an eternity before Heeseung and you finally agreed on the dress you wore right now.

“You’re so beautiful.” Heeseung breathe out in downright amazement, eyes refusing to falter from you. “Almost as if.. You were like a different person.”

Heeseung’s eyebrow furrowed, eyes beaming yet laced with confusion as he observed all of you; your rosy cheeks and your shy eyes fluttering away from his intense ones—your finger fiddling the hems of your dresses per your usual habit, licking your lips every now and often. He had to admit you were truly breathtaking as of this very moment.

“Have you decided sir?”

“-O-oh, yes of course.” Heeseung's eyes refuse to leave yours even when the staff talks to him.

He later comes back and approaches with you stars sparkling in his dreamy orbs, reaching his hand out for you to take. "Are you ready?"

Slipping your fingers into his hands, of course you're ready than ever—for him to give in to you tonight, "I'm ready!"

Moonlight embracing the sky, hiding behind the grey veined clouds, illuminating its proof of living onto this tenants of the world.

“Still remember what I taught you? Spoon, fork, the handkerchief—” you nodded with every word coming out from his mouth, going through all of them like a military drill. “You sure you’re okay?” Heeseung squeezed your trembling hands, worried eyes.

Nodding in an apparent smile, “Hm! I can do this.”

“You don’t need to talk much, though. Just stand still, with me. I’ll do the rest of the job. Easy, right?” He rubs your hand.

You look out from the window where the grand party was centred at. The scent of elite class and old money all gathered in this high end hotel.

Nothing new, apparently for you—it was another routine, a specific situation you were trained in. These little etiquettes and manners, you’ve mastered them so well. After this night, you’ll take the first move. You won’t let this day pass without achieving the grandeur of your plan—make him lust for you and kneel before you.

With your arms laced around his, the insides of the hotel unravel it’s magnificent scene as you and him went inside. Men and women in expensive attire, those with social status alike—the elite ones—gathered in this event. Low volume of waltz, an enormous choir and a whole orchestra playing in the background. Clink clanks of champagne glasses, red wine pouring onto the fountain of glasses, waitresses and waiters striding all over the space to deliver and attend to each guest. The bright glowing chandelier, emitting its orange hues—a sublime mood of fantasia.

Yet it brought your heart a fit of pang. All too familiar it was, isnt?

"Oh, so this is your new girl?" A blonde haired girl presents herself before you when you turn around—her fit consisting of a dark blue dress, hugging her fairly thin waist, the collars drooped down to show her bare collarbones yet the big fat diamond necklace round her neck adorned her overalls. Her fingers twirling the glass of half filled champagne, thick red lips adorning her face.

“Gaeul.” Heeseung confirms her presence, his hand wrapping your waist. Ah so Gaeul was her name?

"Wow, she looks so damn off, like ugh I get the villager type." Another girl appeared alongside Gaeul. Her aura exudes immense elegance as her flowy dark brown hair hugs down to her arms.

"I know right?"

"Just stop it. Gaeul, Yujin." Heeseung spat out, but then the father of the girl came and he excused himself to have a talk with the father. “She’s just–”

An old man appeared at sight with his hands on his back, an intimidating aura emitting from him as he observed each and one of you. “Dad. Look, can you believe that Heeseung will replace me with this girl? Can you talk him back to his senses, please?”

Gaeul’s father observes you meticulously before nodding and telling Heeseung to follow him.

There's an obvious hesitance in Heeseung's eyes yet whispers into your ears, “I’ll be back, okay? Just ignore them.” before disappearing into the spilling crowd, they must’ve gone inside the building you thought.

"So? How does it feel to have your feet on an elite party? Happy?" You turn to look at Gaeul's mockery eyes at you and Yujin's chuckling behind her.

Honestly, years of staying in the brothel had given you immunity to such people as you were subjected to horrors people couldn't even fathom—as all sorts of men and women had done unspeakable things either on you or on someone—they were cunning, rude, loud, physically abusive, they drained you out of your mind like a bloodsucker and all sorts of thing to the point you could say that these two are what you would call—

"Pathetic." You breathed out and it's safe to say that they heard you as expected from their exaggerated reaction.

"W-what?" Gaeul scoffed as she blinked in an abnormal pace, "What did you just say?"

"Pathetic, bitch, pathetic." You repeated before her, amused you were as her jaw dropped even further.

"Fuck? Watch your mouth, please! Who do you think you are?!" She tugged down your dress resulting in a huge slit almost revealing your thighs causing you to let out a yelp. "Now it suits you better, slutty bitch."

"Everyone!" Yujin clapped her hands up in the air—a series of gasps and murmurs emitted from the spectators themselves. The spotlight of the party was now on you. Fuck, you thought.

"You know..—" you were interrupted by a familiar silhouette grabs your attention from your side eye, your heart dropped upon laying your eyes on the particular person approaching.

“Huh, what's with the commotion, ladies? Chill abit, will you?” Familiar voice that sent chills down your spine, his slicked back hair, exquisite suit, that same smile you adore and grown to despise, his sparkling eyes under the lights. His whole being holding a pure weight of your past.

“Jay!” Yujin called out with a big wide smile on her face, a stark contrast from her intimidating aura a few minutes ago. You spun around without much hesitation wanting to leave as soon as you can before Gaeul tugs your arm.

"Where the fuck you think you're going? We're not done yet!"

"(Name)!" Heeseung appeared, surprise etched all over his face as he sees the entire commotion. "Fuck, let her go! Why are you so desperate like this!"

"Ugh!" Gaeul stumbled a few steps backwards as Heeseung pry off her hands from yours.

"(Name)? (Name)?" Snapped out from your oblivion of despair, you looked into Heeseung's eyes with your teary ones. "A-are?— What's wrong?"

Your eyes begin to burn in a sea of tears, gathering your entire strength to pull it in. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. It’s okay. It's okay you tell yourself however your trembling lips show otherwise, your clenched fist shivering not in freezing weather but the burning heat in your heart strings.

“Are you okay? Is it too cold for you? You know we can go back home if you want to, right?” Heeseung rubs his hands on your bare arms to provide a sense of warmth.

“N-no, i’m fine, i’m f-fine..” choking on your tears you did, don’t cry. No fuck, you can’t. “I w-want to go home. I really want to go home—”

“Wait?" as if a strong force pulled you back, “Am I seeing this right?” his familiar voice had you frozen much to Heeseung’s surprise. ”Is that you, (Name)?"

Yeah, it's me. You want to spin around and shout this at his face. The man who you gave your whole trust and love. The man who you wish for his loving touches, his familiar voice and affectionate words. The man who sold you off to the brothel. Your eyes began to tear up, darting relentlessly to prevent it from falling, you trembled under Heeseung’s arms.

The man who you’d thought to be the prince in your once fairy tale book. The man who sold you off to the brothel—Park Jay.

You and Heeseung turned to face them, and just like you—his nonchalant expression mirrored yours but brewed in an immense surprise. His mouth open, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned you up and down. "(Name)? I-Is that you?"

"Heh? You know her?!" others asked in utter surprise.

"I—I d-don't know what you're talking about?" You feigned a composed smile, yet deep inside you are crumbling into tiny pieces of shards with every passing minute of your eyes on him.

"Wait, you're not (Name)? That's weird. You really do look like her. You two had the same name though, except.." Jay chuckled, shaking his head.

"Why? Is there something about her?" Yujin asked with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

A low cackle emits from him, "No idea. Just a random girl I met in a brothel. A prostitute, that is."

"What the fuck, you went into a brothel??"

"C'mon babe, it's almost 10 years ago. You can't be jealous." His amused face irks you, ripping your heartstrings apart as you observe him leaning down pressing a soft kiss against the young lady’s lips.

A random girl. A prostitute. You bit your lip in attempts to suppress your sobs. Crumbling you were in this hellhole of a reeking betrayal, a betrayal made up of lies.

“Then where are you from then? It’s just amusing, really—that I could meet two separate people with the same identical face. So I was wondering, who are you then?” his eyebrows raised in a comical way, waiting for your response.

Answer something. Something.

A firm squeeze on your bare arms had you looking up to the person in question, his eyes looking down to you in a comforting one, almost like home.

"I'd prefer you not compare her to such a vulgar term, Jay. Watch the way you speak to my future wife."

“Future wife?!”

© SWEETPIECEOFNIGHTMAREZ [2. 20. 2022]

🐾AUTHOR'S NOTE — thank you for reading my story and have a nice day :))

#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #enha scenarios #enha fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 18: Oliver's Fancy Dress

Masterlist

September 1925

 TW: Captivity, mind control, crossdressing, non-sexual nudity

"Eyes on me, now, Oliver."

Miss Florence directed his gaze into hers, and Oliver felt himself melt. Her way was different from Miss Lily's, making him feel delicate and blank, like a porcelain doll.

"You'll be completely docile for me, won't you? And you'll sit up straight and pay attention to my instructions."

"Yes, sir," he said. He wanted to say more, wanted to ask her about the preparations and how he could best appeal to Lord Alexander. But Miss Florence's mesmerism was settling upon his mind like fresh snow on flowers, dampening his thoughts.

She was bustling about the room, pulling a rack of clothing in front of Oliver. It was filled with elaborate dresses, silk and lace and ribbons and spangles. She removed several sleek, modern flappers' dresses from the lineup and placed them on a different rack, rearranging the offerings until all that was left was elegant ball gowns of an earlier era. Every dress available looked obscenely expensive, and every dress available was low cut and exposed the wearer's neck and shoulders.

"Ball gowns are traditional for presentation of thralls. Something elegant and classic is most likely to appeal to a lord like Alexander. I pulled the appropriate dresses that are likely to fit, based on your measurements," she explained, moving behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders. "Stand and look, child. See what calls to your heart."

He stood, the cobwebs thick in his mind, and began to look through the rack of dresses. He'd never worn a dress before the one he was currently wearing, never dreamed he would wear anything like these. He didn't know anything about them or what would look good on him. As his nerves started to rise again, Miss Florence stood behind him, whispering in his ear. "These are all meant for you. You were meant to wear a gown like this. You were meant to be an ideal thrall."

"I want to be an ideal thrall, sir," he said softly. "But I'm not sure how to choose."

"Sink deeper into submissiveness, now, deeper and deeper, and imagine yourself, glassy-eyed and willing, kneeling before your master, tilting your head to provide for them," she coaxed, fingers brushing his neck. The image came into his mind so easily -- and it was Alexander and his piercing blue eyes that he was kneeling before. He tried to clear it, alarmed. "Now find the one you can envision yourself in."

Entranced, he reached for one of the dresses, a cream colored dress with an intricate pattern of deep red, silken bows adorning each sleeve, and a wide collar ringed with multiple layers of lace. "Is this... can I... ?"

"You can, child." She pulled the dress from the rack, its skirt swishing. "Now, Oliver, you've made the only decision you'll need to make in my presence," she said, touching his face oh so gently. "Drop. Calm and still and utterly docile for me."

"Yes... sir..." he said, as his mind was pulled out from under him.

She quickly had glasses removed and set aside, his frock pulled over his head and his stockings pulled from his feet, and he was too far gone into trance to feel ashamed. The gentlest of tugs on his wrist had him following her into a bathroom connected to the dressing room, cool pink tiles under his soles. She filled the tub partially with warm water and beckoned him inside, humming softly to herself as she took a sponge and scrubbed at his skin with lavender-scented soap. The sensation was relaxing, and between that and her hypnotic aura, his mind was inevitably drifting further away from him.

It barely registered as she stood him up and toweled him off with the softest towels he'd ever known, then sat him down on a stool in front of a mirror -- and Oliver could only see his reflection, not hers. She combed through his hair, and then long scissors were produced, their snk-snk-snk noise rhythmic as she neatened his haircut with expert precision. His hair was combed again, then swept through with a wide, soft brush, and something that smelled faintly of lemons was applied. 

After that, she rubbed lotion into his skin, paying special attention to the area around his neck and shoulders. He had a vague notion that his skin must feel as soft as his voice had become. Then, she led him back into the main dressing room.

"Stand here," she said, indicating the low podium in front of the triple mirror. "I have rough measurements from your processing, but I need better ones to fit your dress."

As he obediently stood where she had gestured, she pulled a measuring tape from her pocket, then touched the sides of his temples to ensure he was staring into his own eyes. Oliver found himself standing as still as a statue, staring into the mirror at his naked form, his eyes glassy. The tape measure went around his chest, stomach and waist, and every gentle touch made something within him flutter. Perhaps it was because he had barely ever been touched in his life, perhaps it was because he was sinking ever deeper into a submissive, doll-like state. 

When the tape wrapped around his neck and tightened briefly, he felt it brush against the spot where a vampire might drink, and it felt like a promise.

Miss Florence was pulling a number of lacy undergarments from drawers and trunks, the kind of things Oliver had only caught brief glimpses of in shops. Thankfully, he wasn't expected to know how to wear any of it, as the vampire swiftly had him done up in various frilly layers that he was too entranced to think hard about, including a crinoline cage around his waist and a corset that was more comfortable than he might have expected. 

With that taken care of, the ball gown was slipped over his head and he was poised in front of the mirrors. He squinted, vision blurred from lack of glasses.

The man looking back at him with glazed eyes was somehow him, wearing clothes he'd never dreamed he would, sinking ever deeper into his doll's trance at the behest of a vampire. He'd only ever worn clothes that were practical, utilitarian -- nothing so beautiful and intricate as this, certainly nothing so feminine. Miss Florence was busying herself with pins and tucks and stitches, nimble hands moving in a flurry, adjusting every bit of his outfit. Making him perfect. And he was frozen, riveted, helpless. 

And it felt far too good. Far too good to be so helpless, to not have to think, to be utterly calm, to have his life out of his hands, with nothing to do but submit.

"There, now," she said, stepping back. "Turn around in a circle."

He did so, feeling the unfamiliar weight and swish of his skirt, hoping he would please.

"Yes, that will do." 

Taking one hand gently, she lend him off the podium and sat him in front of the vanity, where yet another mirror reflected his familiar yet alien face (but not Miss Florence's). "Stay completely still," she said, touching her hand to the side of his face and locking him down once more. His hair was brushed and combed again, and to his surprise, she began to apply various powders to his face. "Just lightly," she said, more to herself. "A nice rouge will accentuate your blood."

And as still as he was, he became intensely aware of his own blood, his heartbeat pumping, how he would soon give his blood to nourish a vampire, how he had felt when Miss Lily came so close to his neck...

A ruby pendant in the shape of a teardrop dangled in front of his face, catching his attention away with the way it began to slowly swing back and forth. Miss Florence was patting his hair. "Focus, child," she said. "You will remain calm throughout the auction."

"Yes... sir..." he said as his thoughts faded and he sank back into trance.

"Say it."

"I will remain calm throughout the auction, sir."

"You exist to be a vampire's thrall."

His eyes followed the ruby as it caught the light. "I exist to be a vampire's thrall, sir."

"You will know true obedience."

"I will know true obedience, sir." And obedience was pleasure, so that meant...

The pendant was placed around his neck, the ruby settling in just above the dress's lacy collar. "You're almost ready, child. Turn around."

Oliver took one last glimpse of the stranger in the mirror, the boy packaged to be an ideal piece of merchandise, a gift and a treat for a fortunate vampire. Behind him, Miss Florence was holding a pair of shining, golden handcuffs, and he ever-so-slightly balked.

"It's not a punishment, child," she said, answering his unspoken concern. "You've been a lamb to work with. No, this is for your protection. We must secure you while you're on display so you aren't unjustly stolen before being sold. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," he said, holding his arms out. The metal felt cool around his wrists. He might have tugged at them to test their fit and strength if he weren't the perfect doll, the perfect thrall.

Miss Florence wrapped a red velvet ribbon around them, tying it into a bow. She twisted the ribbon with the chain leading off the handcuffs, making a kind of leash for him. The perfect accessory for the perfect thrall.

"Won't you be a vision, Oliver," she said, clearly pleased with herself, placing his glasses back on his face. "The envy of every vampire here."

Oliver cleared his throat and looked up. There was really only one vampire he wished to impress. "Will Lord Alexander like it, sir?"

"We'll see, child, we'll see."

Part Seventeen >> Masterlist >> Part Nineteen

Thank you for reading this story of Oliver's preparation for his new life.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @diamond-blade @ivycloak

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #mind control #vampire #vampire whumper #captivity #rare bookseller #oliver #florence

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

time to dig up those graves, m | myg, jjk

misfit toys au continuation of intro >> don’t play >> this game

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader

summary: In this world, there are those who get stabbed and the ones who do the stabbing. Is it fun for you, Min Yoongi? Is it fun to see who gets the fatal strike in this game of sex and lies you've created with your stepsister? It's not so fun, though, when you actually witness her parring hits from your very own father.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; warning! implied sexual abuse (no direct actions are described); name calling; equally wealthy and SHIT parents that abuse their adult children in the name of filial piety narcissism; descriptions of a peeping tom event and a physical fight; stepsiblings; intense smut (fem reader, D/s (switches, sub!JK), fucking in a hot tub, thigh riding, nipple play, heavy biting / marking / scratching, fingering, cumming on reader's face, cum eating, m-receiving oral, restraints, blindfolding(?), use of a makeshift gag (panties) + cock ring, cock-warming, spitting, choking, cowgirl, cum feeding (from a condom ew), reverse cowgirl, ball torture); non-idol!AU - orange-haired!Yoongi x savage, bad bitch!reader, ft protective, security guard!Jeon Jungkook; shifts between Yoongi's, yours, and JK's POV

--

“Enjoyed your date, slut?”

He had to hand it to her for the hotel selection at least. The large penthouse balcony allowed for a sprawling view of a city skyline below, complete with tiny glittering windows, artificial stars shining for the restless still awake in this late night. The separation from inside area to the outside veranda was a wall of glass doors that only required a few buttons to fully open up the space, folding back into the wall to allow the guest to walk freely from the massive bed to the hot tub.

Min Yoongi walked into this extravagant hotel room with a curled lip and spite in his tone.

A voice rose from the water like rising steam.

“It wasn’t a date. It was only a client from the club.”

“That’s not what the media said.”

He saw her back first. Base of shoulder blades and up. Her elbows rested on the stone tile edge of the hot tub. Her hair was twisted into place with a long metal hairpin, revealing the curve of naked shoulders, the glistening skin imploring for his bites.

The more vicious, the better.

As he approached his stepsister, Yoongi noticed the hairpin had a thin silver chain with a charm on it.

An onyx cat head.

Her head turned, barely. The charm swung ominously in the air, making him feel like some sort of body should be attached, but the design was clearly meant to be a disembodied head attached to the end of a thin metal stake. An instrument with the sole purpose to be stabbed into tangled hair to thereby deem the wearer put together.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with the squabble of simpletons, Yoongi.”

A wry chuckle.

“It was a dull dinner, honestly. The client was asking for some of the girls for his birthday party.”

The sound of churning water mixed with fingertips dancing on the surface. A low, mirthless hum. He could feel the cloaked rage in her otherwise calm tone.

“I told him my employees are not circus animals.”

“You don’t own the brothel, you know,” he muttered.

Silence.

An Icy itch slithered down his spine.

Yoongi had the distinct feeling that if his stepsister had a knife with her, it would now be buried into his anatomy with furious precision.

Instead, she inhaled slowly. Long digits fanning out, lifting, right hand gracefully landing on the stone tiles. Sliding out, her shoulders and head tipping back, and he saw her eyes were closed, wispy strands of hair fluttering over her cheeks and forehead. The water was milky with bath salts, aerated waves washing over her chest, concealing it save for the upper swell of her breasts.

She sank down as she leaned back, pink pillowy lips parting to let out a smokey sigh.

The onyx charm of the cat head clinked against the stone.

Scraping.

“The establishment is a gentlemen’s club. Not a daycare that rents out adult babysitters for crass, immature worms that still have birthday parties.”

Those beautiful eyes opened, darker in the dim light of the wall sconces set on low. Yoongi stayed where he was, a few meters away from the hot tub. Any closer and he didn’t trust himself. Her head tilted, gaze piercing right through him even when upside down. He noticed his eyes were wandering, glancing at her hands. Her arms. Her lips. The shape of her collarbones now prominent from the position. His tongue flitted over his lips, wetting them.

Flexible.

He knew that about her, of course. Remembered the arch of her spine with his hand on the small of her back, his tongue licking a thick, wet stripe up her torso, tasting the sinful sweetness of her skin.

Yoongi shoved his shaking hands into the pockets of his gray acid-wash jeans.

Nodded slowly, looking away from those accusing eyes.

“It’d be bad for business,” he mumbled. “Doing that kind of service.”

Seconds that felt like hours.

“I knew you would understand, Yoongi.”

The sound of shifting water.

When he glanced back, he was staring at the back of her head again.

“Where are your guards?”

“I sent them home,” she drawled absentmindedly, waving her hand. “No need for them when you’re around.”

He scoffed, ticking his head. “Hah. Like I would save you from any danger.”

“We both know saving is the last thing I want.”

The conversation lulled once more. An unpleasant, bitter feeling festered within his chest, her words ringing in his ears. He had received the envelope only a couple hours earlier. The day had been wasted away in his music studio once again. Eventually, he had given up and collected his bomber jacket to leave, finding a bright red envelope taped to the outside of his door. It had contained an address and a keycard.

“How did you know I would come?” Yoongi muttered.

The middle finger of her right hand tapped against the stone. The rhythm of her nail was barely audible over the roar of the jets of water.

“I didn’t.”

He flinched.

As if shot.

A strange kind of ache in his ribcage, as if a gaping hole was forming.

A part of him wanted to run. Not just physically removing himself from this moment. Running  could mean so many more things than that. Running was lashing out. Running was trying to find the words that hurt most. Running was holding onto the meaningless pride of needing to be more than. Running was the kind of thing his father did; exercising clout, money, pettiness to defend his conceited, selfish character.

Yoongi tucked his tongue into his cheek.

His right hand raised and rubbed the left side of his chest, pressing the jersey fabric of his t-shirt to tense muscle.

He saw her left arm shift.

It swung out, landing in the same position as her right. Fingers fanned downward, elbow resting on stone. Her decorated wrist didn’t touch the tile, keeping the silver chain bracelet with black glass beads out of harm’s way. It shone wickedly, catching the light.

Yoongi lowered his hand.

Kicked off his shoes.

Removed his jacket, letting it fall to the floor.

Her hands remained the sides of the hot tub, at rest. Calm. Not reacting to the sound of his pants falling onto the carpet, socks shed, shirt pulled up and over his head. Hooked his fingers on the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs and pushed down. Fabric collapsed onto the floor, one by one, and then the sound of his heavy step on wood.

And yet.

Nothing.

“Hey.”

Nothing.

Yoongi found he hated her saying nothing more than her calling him brother.

He lowered himself to his knees.

His hand reaching out, gliding it against her cheek, stroking her damp skin with fingertips. His thumb brushed against her lower lip. An exhale. Her soft lips pressed against the pad of his thumb, making him shiver. The ache in his ribcage was transforming into something ravenous as his fingers pressed into her jaw, turning her head while he lowered his, blurs of red-orange shielding his peripheral vision as his hair swung forward. His eyelids lowered, weighed down by the heat radiating from the bubbly, hot water.

Her head turned.

Her chin lifted with his touch, half-lidded eyes finding his.

Yoongi kissed her deeply.

Her body twisted, rising slightly, nimble tongue flitting between his lips.

He stilled his breathing.

Trying not to shudder.

She drew back, alluring eyes pulling away from him, her fingers skimming his knee. Floated backward to make way for him. He lifted his knee and swung his leg into the water, propelling his body into the waves. The temperature change from night air to churning heat shocked his nerves, sending pinpricks of goosebumps all over his skin, but he ignored it, reaching out again, his hand grasping her upper arm and pulling her back to him.

“Don’t try to escape,” he whispered.

Husky and rough.

The corner of her lips ticked upwards.

“Speak for yourself.”

She planted her hands above his shoulders, gripping the edge of hot tub, and closed the distance.

Kissing him.

Yoongi knew he didn’t have any particular morals. He didn’t care about being perceived as right or having correct conduct or who the fuck knows what else people wanted to be. Breaking rules, crossing lines, digging his fingers into his stepsister’s hips and sliding his thigh between hers while sucking on her tongue, he did these things without much remorse and without much thought, because thinking too deeply about it would mean facing parts of himself that he wished weren’t real. He knew what he should be doing. He should have stopped.

He knew that.

Her body rose, rivets of water trickling down her breasts, beading when they reached her hard nipples, fierce kisses deepening and his head tipping back, giving into the addictive, binding taste of her saliva and his mixing together, tongue to coiling tongue.

A few times of this, sure.

A few times could be forgotten.

Under the churning water, she sat on his thigh. Angling her hips downward, making them both hiss at the contact. Sensitive nerves rubbing against hard muscle. His tight grip guided the deliberate pace, staring into each other’s eyes, shaking breath shared in the mere centimeters between their faces.

Yoongi knew he could have many beautiful things.

Her eyes gleamed as her smirk reached them, shamelessly stimulating her clit against his flexed thigh, not hiding, aroused enough that he could feel the viscous juices clinging to his skin for a split second before it was washed away by the jets of water around them.

He could have many beautiful things.

She’s the most beautiful one.

He tilted his head and ran his tongue over the side of her neck, feeling her hips flinch and her head fall back, a sweet moan injected into the air above his ear. The city sounds were akin to white noise due to how high up they were, but Yoongi wouldn’t have heard them anyway, too focused on cascading water and rolling hips and the taste of her skin, her head moving aside to give him more access. Muscle and pulse under his teeth.

He bit down, marking her.

A satisfied, airy chuckle.

“I hoped you would, Yoongi.”

Power and blood underneath his mouth and his fingernails, dragging them roughly across her ass, sucking hard as she fucked herself harder, riding his hard thigh with lustful vengeance, chasing her orgasm in pain and pleasure and heat.

Out in the open, high in the sky, seemingly untouchable.

Her left hand flew off the edge and grabbed the back of his head, locking her fingers into his hair and sending flicks of red-orange tips into the edge of his vision, pinning his vicious mouth to her throat as she came, sliding closer, her soft thigh flush to his erection. Hips strongly flinching in his hands, pulsating softness pressed into his skin. Leaking honey washing away, washing away, the traces of her release reduced trembling muscles and heedless, hazy sighs laced with his name. Heartbeat roaring in his ears, his own breathing erratic and melding with her moans, all of it drifting up, up, up into the night sky where planes roared past.

Clueless sheep flying above the tangled snakes.

He kissed up her bruises and his marks, curling his tongue around her earlobe, diamond earring quivering from his raspy growl.

“Turn around.”

She slowly let go of his head.

Her breath feathered against his ear, words breezing past twin platinum hoops.

“Don’t want to look at my face, hah?” she whispered, light in tone and heavy in implication.

Yoongi said nothing.

She obeyed, untangling for less than a second before twisting her body, backing up without fear, leaning against his chest, layering their heartbeats. He raised himself a little, sliding his erection into the dip of her ass, a familiar feeling now. She hummed and rocked her hips back, rubbing his hard cock against her juicy ass.

He stopped her.

One hand gripping the inside of her thigh and the other in her hair, his fingers digging into the bun held together by a metal hairpin. The onyx cat head charm swung unsteadily, metal to gemstone rattling.

A breathless beat.

Yoongi flicked his wrist, forcibly rotating her head ninety degrees so her parted lips were against his cheek, holding her there. He breathed out. Exhale, unhurried, her warm breath drifting over his left cheek. His hand on her thigh sliding down, down, bodies surrounded by aerated water, brushing his fingertips against her shivering slit.

His eyes shifted, turning his head to look into hers.

Said nothing, letting the direct eye contact do the talking.

She held her breath.

Yoongi let his eyes explore every detail of her face, pressing two fingers to her engorged clit and rubbing slow circles. He memorized her expression. The tension in her jaw lessening at the hunger was soothed by his touch. The lowering of her lush lashes, gazing at him with desire. The way bliss slowly but surely crumbled the cloaked anger, swollen lips parting and snaking moan rising as his fingers tangled in her hair, pulled, tugging her head back and exposing his bites.

Broken vessels and seeping blood the cause of those red-purple marks, his teeth marring perfect, pampered skin.

He stared into her eyes and leaned in.

Shoved two fingers into her pussy as he covered her open mouth with his, swallowing her cry.

Yoongi did not want to forget.

His hand cupping the back of her head, pressing her body to his with his forearm, adding a third finger and thrusting his tongue into her mouth, devouring her stifled moans with greed, and he knew he did not want to forget, knew he wanted the memorize the way her body clenched around him and sucked him in, more, needing more, countless times, a hundred times, a thousand times, never enough, looking into her beautiful eyes, roughly fucking her with his fingers all the way to his knuckles, encouraged by the way her hips bucked and shuddered. Lips locked, continuous. The constant milky water adding sensual slip between their bodies. Her left hand on his hip, sharp manicure digging in deliciously. Her soft ass bouncing against his stiff length, keeping him on the edge of almost enough.

He shoved her up against his torso repeatedly.

Over and over.

Her other hand lifted from the bubbling water, sliding into his hair and intensifying the kiss.

Lost in his tongue and his hands.

Heat intensifying, lust compounding, lightheaded from shared breath. Neither of them stopping. Faster, harder, in unison, her tight grip on his ass, the kiss broken with a faint gasp, suddenly staring at the perfect arc of her straining throat and feeling the sting on his swollen lips.

“Yoongi, fuuuck…”

His name so saturated with ecstasy that even he felt his nerves sing.

She writhed against him and her hands shot down, jamming his three fingers as far in as they would go, locking him in place so he could feel deep inside, feel the powerful, slippery walls clenching around his digits, feel the cum drenching his skin in waves, bear witness to sharp throbs rippling up her torso, her back arching, moan so wanton that the sound itself was enough to make his already hard cock swell even more.

He worked his fingertips into her hair, massaging her scalp, his body on fire.

Pressed his lips to her neck, nicking the skin and eliciting a fucked-out hiss.

“You…”

She was breathing hard, winded from the high achieved at this height.

“You should cum on my face,” she breathed out.

Arousal hiking, feral want clawing up his insides, the gears of this misfit toy click, click, clicking.

“Cum all over me, Yoongi.”

The air outside the hot tub was cold, but his body was too hot to notice. Splashing water as they repositioned, but neither of them cared, too ensnared by each other, lured too deeply by the forbidden passion, her elegant fingers spreading out over her jaw and open mouth, pink tongue hanging out and loose strands artfully framing this display, looking him up and down as he gripped his cock, sitting on the stone tiles, pumping himself right in front of her face, water streaming down his tense muscles.

Her eyes gleamed with rapturous glee.

Flexible tongue coiling in the air, dancing, teasing him as he thrust into his hand.

He clenched his jaw, looking down at the unabashed, lewd, pornographic display of indecency.

“I…”

The corner of her lips ticked upward.

I love you, so I act this way.

“I fucking hate you,” Yoongi gritted out, his core tightening, already there.

She grinned, and he gasped, shoulders jerking and throwing his hips forward, shooting a thick string of white across her cheek and neck, choking back his groans as she leaned back, floating closer and showering herself in his orgasm, his twitching cock painting dripping lines over her lips, her tongue, her cheeks, her neck, even down to her collarbones and up to her forehead, his heavy scent stuck to her skin.

She smeared it all over her face, collecting his cum, sliding her fingers into her mouth and licking them off, pressing her fingertips onto her tongue and rubbing circles right below the shivering, dark red head sticking out of his tight grip.

Yoongi panted hard, chest heaving.

Saw a bead of white clinging to the tip.

Quivering.

His eyes flickered to her, unsure.

That intense gaze locked with his immediately. No malice. No anger. Only a carnal craving unsatisfied, desire unrelenting, wanting him still. Wanting more, just as he wanted more of her. Both knowing the night was still young. Both still waiting to put their hands around each other’s necks and cum together without air. Both still waiting for the ache between their legs to be fulfilled.

She glided in the water, smooth and sleek, and her lips closed around his cock.

Yoongi let his eyes close and he let go, sliding his cum-covered hand into her hair instead as her head began to bob up and down, persuasive tongue swirling around his re-engorging shaft, and he cared not for what was right or what was correct conduct, tipping his head back and burying his cock into her throat with a moan.

-

“You are a disgrace. I leave on an important business trip and I come back to my lawyer informing me that my son has fuckin’ assault charges, again. Again! Do you know how expensive these settlements to these lowlife peasants are? Tch, and you still have that disgusting orange hair I’ve been trying to get you to dye back. Fucking clean up. Why are you dressed like a dirty street rat? Shit. You should be more like your sister. As usual, the gentleman’s club has no issues and I’m forced to clean up your messes instead. If you doing jail time didn’t reflect so poorly on me, I’d lock you in there myself.”

You said nothing.

Entire body on high alert, wearing a thick cream turtleneck tucked into suit slacks, hands folded in your lap, legs firmly crossed. No easy access. You were sitting on the rigid, black leather sofa of the living room that had not seen much living. Glass coffee table, ivory shag rug. Your immaculate hair was pinned back, every strand in a smooth wave cascading down the left side of your face.

You stepfather sat beside you.

To your left.

He was wearing a lavish gold and black robe, open to reveal his toned chest. Gold silk pants to match. Holding a glass of scotch in his left hand and his right arm was resting on the back of the sofa, his fingertips stroking the nape of your neck.

You didn’t look at him.

It took everything in you to not flinch away from the vile, parasitic touch threatening to caress your bare skin.

Your jaw was clenched so tight that it hurt. You couldn’t even look at Yoongi, who was standing at the other side of the coffee table with his tongue in his cheek. Dressed like the street rat he wasn’t, distressed black sweater with the threads torn apart, washed-out gray long sleeve underneath, and light blue jeans with giant holes exposing his scabbed, scraped knees. His freshly dyed, long red-orange hair was hanging in limp strings due to too much gel and fingers combing through it too many times.

Your mother sat on your right; artificially tightened body stuffed into an even tighter, low-cut, flashy cobalt blue minidress. She didn’t add anything to the tirade except her tight-lipped disapproval and the condescending upturn of her nose.

Her hip pressed against your hip.

She scooted even closer to you, practically sitting in your goddamn lap because you refused to more any closer to your stepfather, keeping a fixed fifteen-centimeter difference between your leg and his open legs.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” you stepfather barked shrilly.

His knee flapped open more and hit yours.

You bit back a snarl, clasping one hand over the other, forcing your fist down.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and dropped his shoulders back.

Cocked his head.

“Yeah. I got a question,” he replied lazily. “How young was the youngest girl you fucked in Europe this time? Another high schooler? Or have you stooped to middle schoolers now?”

The corner of your lips quirked upwards.

Your eyes shifted, locking with Yoongi’s smug expression.

“You–”

Your stepfather flew off the couch and kicked your stepbrother in the knee with his fur-lined, designer loafer, making him grimace and buckle. A loud thud as Yoongi caught himself with his hands, visibly restraining himself as his own father poured the expensive scotch onto his head and clothes, soaking him in alcohol. His head was barely visible above the glass surface of the coffee table.

Dark eyes shot towards you.

Yoongi smirked, rivers of liquid poison sliding down his temples.

You smiled, licking your lips.

Your mother finally rolled her eyes and stood up, huffing as your stepfather hurled the glass into the far wall, and now they were yelling, he does this all the time, what is the point of getting angry and destroying my fine crystal, roaring back, don’t tell me what to do, woman, and your crystal that you bought with my money?

Yoongi got up, shaking off the excess liquid in his hair with a growl, pushing past the maids that suddenly appeared to rush and silently clean up the shattered glass right away.

“Oh, don’t be so full of yourself! You can’t even get it up anymore without the pills.”

“I told you those were for my blood pressure!”

“I’m pretty, not stupid! I asked the doctor since I had to go to find out that I somehow mysteriously got chlamydia, again!”

Your stepbrother stopped by the hall.

Looked back.

Your lips parted.

His eyes darkened, cutting that nonverbal communication, and Yoongi looked away, turning to the right, disappearing around the corner without another word.

Your mother began to grab the various equally expensive and meaningless trinkets around her, vindictively throwing them at her husband as you got up from the sofa, in a haze, wandering out as strong-armed butlers rushed in, the shouting escalating, but all you did was run, turning to the left when you reached the hall, running, still feeling the ghost of a vile, parasitic touch at the nape of your neck.

-

Jeon Jungkook entered his apartment, closed the door behind him, and turned on the light.

The young Master was standing right in front of him.

“Woah!”

He jerked back and dropped his keys, the loud clattering shattering through the disturbed air of his exclamation. He was out of his security guard uniform, handed to the laundry clerk at the gentleman’s club for them to clean and return to him when refreshed and re-pressed. He had remembered to take out the switchblade with the engraved black tiger, of course. It was currently weighing down his dark-wash jeans, the clip concealed by his long-sleeved black shirt and padded leather jacket.

The woman who was effectively his boss was standing in his apartment.

Just standing there, staring at him with a blank expression.

Jungkook swallowed hard.

His lips tingled with memory, remembering the taste of her pussy and the way her hips grinded into his face, suffocating him in the stone basement as she toyed with his overstimulated cock.

“Um… Hi, Master.”

She blinked, slowly, and it was like she finally saw him, taking the time to observe his appearance from his thick-soled black boots, up his legs, up his torso, to his face.

“You’re home, Jungkook,” she said.

He reached down cautiously, looking up at her inquisitively as he picked up his keys. Her eyes followed, tracking his movements like a newborn hawk. “Uh, yeah. I live here,” he managed to get out, lingering a little before straightening, tossing his keys in the ceramic dish by the door. “I guess it’s in my employee file, huh? My address?”

The young Master tiled her head.

Jungkook felt the same way he felt when he saw her outside the employee lockers, seeing again those empty eyes bleeding distress. He should probably be bothered, annoyed, maybe even angry at this invasion of privacy, and yet he didn’t sense any ill-will emanating from her.

It was as if she too didn’t understand why she was there.

“Ah, did I give you a key?” he asked, now unsure what he had done in his lust-filled stupor. “I guess I must have–”

“I picked the lock.”

“What?”

He gawked at her, wide-eyed.

She ticked her chin to the console table by his door and he started, seeing a strange, brushed black leather pouch open with various pointy instruments.

“A chubby boy taught me how to pick locks in middle school in return for not ratting on him for peeping at his female classmates in the gym changing room.”

It was almost comical how fast Jungkook whipped his head around, his own black hair hitting him in the face as his jaw dropped in the stunned disbelief at this very sudden, very specific explanation of how she broke into his apartment. She nodded, looking up from the lockpicks to his shocked face.

“I found him stuffed into one of the tall lockers,” she continued calmly as if she was delivering a dry speech instead of explaining how she learned literal criminal activity. “He was being bullied by the older jocks. They would beat him up, piss on him, and then shove him into one of the tall lockers in the girls’ changing room.”

“What… the fuck…”

She shrugged. “He didn’t seem that distressed about it, because then he realized the girls liked the small lockers more than the long ones. They never opened the tall ones, so he stayed there and watched them. Wasn’t gonna do anything. Just watch them take their clothes off and put them back on. Eventually, the jock boys got bored bullying him, so he went back on his own and kept locking himself in to watch.” Her head ticked, as if remembering something. “I was in there by myself, skipping class, and I heard breathing. Yanked him out. At first, I thought he was hurt. I thought he needed help.”

Something strange flitted in her eyes.

“He didn’t want help.”

Jungkook felt an icy itch slither down his spine as he witnessed her vacant expression as she explained.

“He wanted me to go away. I told him I would tell the teachers. He said he would teach me how to pick locks then. He taught me, and I went away.” Wry laugh. Nothing was funny. “I moved back to Korea for high school. Never saw him again.”

Her eyes rose, locking with his.

Searching.

Jungkook didn’t back off.

He couldn’t figure out what wasn’t quite right behind those eyes.

She looked away, turning, gazing in the direction of his expansive windows in the living room with the sheer curtains pulled. “Did you know Papa owns this building? He owns a bunch on this block. Seems like a nice area,” she commented hollowly.

Jungkook found he despised her talking about her stepfather, even in passing. “It’s okay. I picked it because it was close to work.”

That was not the reason why he picked this apartment building.

The young Master turned away from the windows. “Do you like work?”

The reason was standing in front of him.

“I’d hate it if you weren’t there,” Jungkook confessed.

She smiled.

It felt like a mirage, too distant to be a façade.

“The world is savage, Jungkook,” she said.

Clear and simple.

He answered, steadfast.

“I’m trained to be tough, remember?”

Later when he thought about it, he was surprised that he was even able to continue this kind of conversation. He usually struggled when there was a lack of straightforwardness. Yet this moment was so surreal that it felt like a dream. Something about this moment in reality was just slightly off track, a mis-clicking gear stuttering in place, all the right pieces but having trouble syncing up.

“Careful not to get backstabbed by the one you’d take a knife for,” the young Master told him, standing in his apartment after having broken in.

Jungkook took the pause that followed.

Followed the teeth of the gear, click, click, clicking into place.

“It’s true that there are two kinds of people in this world – those that get stabbed, and the ones who do the stabbing,” he found himself saying, and he could see the wary child peek out from the tangled forest of those eyes, not yet trusting him. Maybe wouldn’t. Maybe it was too late now. “But I think there’s one more.”

She tilted her head.

“The knives.”

Her soft lips parted.

“I don’t really have any particular thoughts about anything.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any solutions to the complexities of the world. I don’t know of or understand the sides to take.” He cast his eyes down, feeling strangely guilty about it. “But… I can listen. I might not know the words to say, but I have a voice. I’m capable.”

His eyes flickered upward, to the innocent fascination that received him.

“I’m a knife.”

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, hoping he made some sense.

She smiled too, then swiftly lifted her hand, hiding her lips behind her fingers as her eyes sparkled with revived mirth, relief washing through him at the sight. Her shoulders lightly quivered.

“You’re funny.”

He pointed to himself, wide-eyed.

“M… Me?”

The surrealness fell away, suddenly in reality with his warming ears.

“A-Ah, so… why are you here, Master?” Jungkook sputtered. Had he done something? Maybe a client complained about his behavior? Maybe it was a co-worker? Or… Maybe… But before his mind could go back to memories of the dark that sung melodies of pain and pleasure, he saw the shift in her demeanor. Her hand fell, no, playfulness trickling out to vacancy, no, please, the feeling of having said the wrong thing looming over him.

“You’re right.”

Detached tone and it tore up the insides of his chest.

“I should leave.”

Her face turned away from him and suddenly he saw all the details of her appearance – her immaculate hair windswept, the ivory turtleneck molded to her neck and torso, slacks made of a heavy-weighted black fabric that were wrinkled from running, and was he so preoccupied with his attraction that he forgot to observe all the pieces of this puzzle, forget this wasn’t his version of good luck and actually meant something else–

Jungkook’s hand reached out and touched her shoulder.

She recoiled.

As if shot.

“S-Sorry!”

Pulled back his hand, panic rising in his voice, the accusation in her gaze slicing through him.

“Sorry, I…”

His chest was so tight that it was hard to breathe.

“When I asked why you were here, I didn’t mean go away,” he rambled, his fingers curling inward in the air, crumbling inside, frustrated at his heart, shaking his head quickly, running away from her cowered stance and cornered eyes.

His voice.

Stricken.

“I don’t want you to go away.”

He raised his head, afraid.

It wasn’t anger that received him. Something else. Faltering, unable to look at him. “I… I shouldn’t be here. I broke in. You should be calling the police so they can lock me up.”

His mouth went dry.

He didn’t know.

But he knew.

The young Master locked eyes with him again and he hated it, hated this poisoned guilt looking back at him, hated that her lips were moving, and hated that he knew he wouldn’t like any of the words he would soon be hearing.

“Sometimes you can only be safe from danger if you’re the one in the cage,” she breathed.

Only an exhale, because annunciating those words was the equivalent of telling a dirty secret.

He bit his lip.

Jungkook shoved his hand into his jeans pocket and yanked out the switchblade with the engraved black tiger, holding it out on his palm, angry at the complicated world and angry that he could not make that poisoned guilt disappear.

“Is he the one hurting you?” he snarled.

The young Master did the thing he was afraid of.

She shook her head.

Jungkook felt like he was bleeding out with each slow, miniscule shake. Fatigue in the form of helplessness, unable to say anything, pulling his hand back and clutching the switchblade so hard that the ridges cut into his hand. No. Of course not. And he had a hint who, which was the worst part. He slid the switchblade back into his pocket, the weight not as tangible as the stale air in his lungs as he remembered the way the old Master’s husband looked at his stepdaughter, hell, even the way the old Master glared behind her daughter’s back, her own flesh and blood.

Tentatively, he raised his hand again.

Her right hand intercepted, sliding up her sternum and up to the left side of her neck, fingers curling over her shoulder. Her eyes flickering to his, but this was simple guilt now, no longer poisoned. He stilled, right hand still outstretched, centimeters from her cheek. She tried to look away.

His shaking lips let out a weak cry.

Jungkook didn’t want his selfishness to interfere, but it was inevitable.

She stayed in this eye contact and let out a soft sigh.

“I don’t want you to see even though you know what happened in that hotel room that night,” she murmured.

He swallowed.

Hard.

Made a decision.

His left hand lifting, and Jungkook closed his eyes, covering them with his hand as his right closed the distance, stroking her jaw gently. Breathed in. Breathed out. Listened to the sound of her caught gasp, felt the way she shivered, but didn’t back away, staying still as his fingers traveled, running his thumb over her lower lip. Involuntary shudder, remembering the insistence that mouth possessed, and he too wanted to be possessed again, lightly pressing his fingertips into her cheek, imploring.

Her body shifted.

Stepping closer.

His hand fell, covering hers over her shoulder.

“That’s none of my business,” Jungkook whispered.

Somehow, she understood.

Her hand slipped out from under his. He held his breath, seeing only the inside of his eyelids. Her hand came back, fingers wrapping around his, stroking his knuckles. Sank her fingernails in. He gasped, her name savored by his tongue like a delicate sweet, and she leaned in, bringing her heat and that carnal insistence, kissing him deeply in the darkness he created.

-

“Shh…”

Wrists bound with natural-fiber rope. So simple, the knot between them wound around several times and then brought up with another square knot, tied securely to a large lasso around the square base of the extremely heavy travertine coffee table.

Your fingers ghosted over the straining arms.

One heavily inked all the way to the shoulder. One clean save for a mole in the inner upper arm.

You leaned down and pressed your lips to that mole.

Licked it, dripping saliva and blowing on it. A cool stream over hot skin taut over hard muscle that shivered at the change in temperature. You continued kissing, down, down. Over collarbones sticking out due to the arms pulled upward. Over the shaking throat, hearing muffled shudders under the white towel placed over the head.

Your panties were stuffed into his mouth, partly overflowing to create a small pocket of air between the nose and towel.

Your fingers crept under the towel, pushing it up a little, and traced his lower lip, knowing there was a small mole underneath them, at the center. Wiped away his spit. Cleaned him up. Pulled your hand out and dragged your nails down his neck in the process. A small whine that clearly indicated syllables. A word.

Harder.

You raised your naked body and slid down, sinking your fingernails into Jeon Jungkook’s shaking chest and scratched him with your pointed, almond-shaped manicure, leaving behind angry red lines, growling deep in your throat.

His wanton moan under you, familiar and grounding.

You breathed out.

Calm now.

“You want me to be addicted to inflicting pain?” you dreamily sighed, question hazy like smoke, rolling your shoulders as you pulsed your slick pussy lips against his hard length that you had been sitting on for a while now. “That’s a dangerous game to play, Jeon Jungkook.”

His fingers curled into fists, muscular arms quivering, deliciously whimpering.

His head was on his living room rug, but the rest of his body was on the unforgiving hardwood. A jumble of clothes beside your bodies, along with two other things. You were straddling his hips. Slid back, jamming his stiff length in between his thighs forced together by yours pressing inward, rubbing your wet heat against the shaft, coating him with your juices.

You toyed with his nipple as you mused.

“I was not surprised your had condoms, but I was surprised that you had a cock ring.”

You flicked the small nub repeatedly, running your nail over it, feeling it harden under the pad of your finger. Abused the other one too, listening to his snuffed gasps and seeing his arms buckle, pulling at the rope. The travertine table did not move, of course. Licked your finger and pressed your saliva to his irritated skin to add a new sensation, slow circles agonizingly tender as you rolled your hips. You deliberately kept your pussy away from stimulating the head of his cock.

Then you pinched his nipple, hard, making him cry out at the harshness.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”

You lifted your lower body, reaching for a condom in the pile.

“Do you touch yourself and think about that night in the basement?”

He moaned desperately when he heard your rip the packaging open.

“Do you jack yourself off with the cock ring on, abusing yourself and wishing it was me?”

You picked up the silicone circle, surprised at the firmness. It had only a little give. A slight adjustment of your legs and you looked down, his twitching cock glossy with your slick, the dark red tip leaking pre-cum.

You leaned down.

Licked it.

Without the stabilization of a hand, his rigid length slipped, smearing pre-cum onto your cheek and bouncing wildly. A stifled sob shuddered under the white towel. Begging. You licked again, intentionally messy and not enough stimulation, tasting your vicious sweetness mixed with the strong bodily flavor of his pre-cum.

Jungkook whined, the sound vibrating in his chest.

You snaked your tongue around the head and collected it into your mouth.

Stopped.

Just covered the throbbing head with your soft lips and stilled, holding the condom in one hand and the cock ring in the other. Warmed it with your saliva, spit running down the length as seconds tick, tick, ticked by.

The whine morphed into inaudible pleas, his back arching, chest flexed, arms locked, muffled cries of your name to move, suck, do anything, anything at all, but you simply kept him in a warm, wet sleeve, not even the length but only the twitching head that was leaking more and more, tongue pressed to the underside to stimulate the thin skin and keep him hard.

The towel began to slip as his head tipped back.

You removed your mouth.

He barely had time to gasp before you seized his cock, squeezing roughly, his gasp shooting into a pained groan.

“Watch the towel.”

He made a subservient noise of agreement, lowering his chin again.

You let your breath out.

Gripped his thick girth and rolled the condom down, slowly, steadying your heartbeat to even. Taking your time. Pressed two fingers to the base and slid the cock ring over the latex, additional lubricant making it easy, closing your eyes as Jungkook quietly sniffed under you, relenting to your pace.

“Shhhh…” you murmured.

Soft and gentle and delicate, your thighs rising from his, leisurely opening your eyes as you lowered yourself again, relishing in the way his whole body shook and tightened when your pussy wrapped around him, swallowing his cock on one smooth stroke.

You glided your hands up his abdomen, not yet moving your hips.

His begging was silenced by his own teeth clamping down on your panties, his neck glistening with sweat and strain.

You spat on his stomach.

Jungkook’s entire body lurched, suffocated choke of your name striking the air.

You slapped your palm down onto the saliva and raked your fingernails over his side, bucking your hips with the slash and sending his body into a frenzy, shock and pain and pleasure barreling into him all at once. His hips jerked up and you slammed your hips down, fucking him into the floor with your knees to wood, switching between clawing his torso and pinning him down to fuck him harder, chasing, chasing the rush and the ecstasy, adrenaline high rippling through you with his swelling girth threatening to stretch you out, but you clenched your core and all around him, your sweet slick mixing your spit on his balls, loud smacks of hips to hips echoing throughout Jungkook’s apartment.

You wrapped one hand around his neck.

You fucked him right there, on his hardwood floor.

White towel over his face and his depraved moans distorted by your panties shoved into his lips and your hand gripping his throat. Tighter, blood thinning and oxygen not enough, his chest aflame with red lines, muscular body straining against the rope, writhing to fuck you back and get that agonizing depth, and you raised your other hand, scraping your fingernails against his now-reddened, hard nipples, causing him to howl and cry out, closing in his biceps to his head and holding the towel down over his face, black hair flaring out, wild and insane, your name torn unwillingly from his throat.

You felt his cock jerk and his hips froze.

“Oh?”

You clenched above and below, feeling the hardness twitch uncontrollably.

A distressed whine from under the towel and quivering, bulging arms.

“Came already, even with the cock ring?” you hummed, letting go of his neck. No outright disapproval. Just a hint. It was enough, maybe even better for him. You could tell by the despair radiating from the muffled sounds, the upper half of his chest flushing pink.

The corner of your lips ticked upwards.

“Shhh.”

You patted his hard pecs, the ricocheting heartbeat under your palm as you lifted yourself off his slightly softening cock, still maintaining some hardness due to the choke of the cock ring. You removed both, careful with the condom so to not spill the milky liquid inside.

Set the sticky cock ring beside his crumpled jeans.

Leaned over and folded back the bottom half of the towel, exposing the tip of a nose and swollen pink lips with your black lace panties crammed into them, the fabric now saturated from his drool. You tugged at the makeshift gag and his jaw unlocked, gasping as you pulled it out, silver lip ring on the edge of that sinning mouth trembling.

You pressed your thumb to the small mole right below his mouth.

Rolled the pad of your finger, nicking his lower lip with your nail, dragging it down.

“Open up.”

So obedient.

Waiting, soft pink tongue so inviting in the darkness.

“Let’s be dirty together,” you whispered, voice rough from the wrongness of what you were about to do.

Jungkook whimpered in agreement.

You spat into his mouth.

He moaned, runny clear liquid sliding down his tongue, gulping awkwardly, his lips still somewhat open from your hand gripping his chin. You forced his jaw open even more, hooking your index finger into the inviting darkness, pressing onto his teeth.

Then you poured the contents of the condom into his mouth.

His own cum and traces of used lube, wringing the condom as his body jerked, disbelieving gurgle at the taste, unformed questions beneath your grip, but you dove down with a starving hiss, releasing his chin and covering his mouth with yours, thrusting your tongue inside to drink it too, cum and saliva and the bitter hint of latex, turning his shocked cries into guttural groans, your hand over his eyes, pinning the towel down as your tongue-fucked him.

The only thing that made the tainted taste bearable was the sweetness of saliva and the high of orgasm.

His cock slapped against your thigh, already hard again.

Sweat was soaking through the towel, damping your palm.

You yanked the white towel up, pulling it away from his face as your body turned, dropping the used condom and picking up another, swinging your leg around his waist to face the other way. Wiped your hand with the towel, throwing it aside carelessly when you were done. Not going to bother with the cock ring this time.

You ripped open the condom.

Slid it down his purple-red, throbbing length and then sat on it, immediately starting a harsh, intense pace.

Behind you, a thin gasp and then a ripple of tension over his body, traveling down his torso that your calves were pressed against, to his legs, hard thighs clutched in your hands, snapping your hips and clawing at the inside of his shaking legs, jaw clenched, fucking him, chasing your high. Closer. Closer to between his legs, scratching him so hard that you marked up that tan skin, closer.

You gripped his balls and closed in your knuckles, hard.

Jungkook cut off his own pitched, obscene moan, reducing it to a stifled scream behind closed lips.

You tightened your core and smacked your ass down into his crotch, over and over, putting your power into your hips and just enough to your hand, keeping him in the immobile enclosure of your rigid fingers, clenching your jaw and feeling the rise, the climb to the high, every second another click, click, clicking gears of this misfit toy intoxicated by savagery.

Grasped the inside of his thigh, tipping your head back with a hazy moan as you left red crescents of pain.

Jungkook wailed behind gritted teeth, thrown into painful ecstasy.

The pleasure snaked to every nerve. Electrifying, oppressive, brutal bliss with the locking of your hips, pulsating flinches constricting around twitching hardness. Once again pumping a condom full. Your grip on him loosening, so good, losing yourself in wave after shuddering wave of hazy orgasm as you ran your palms up and down his inflamed thighs, irritated lines raised from the points of your nails dug too deep.

His muscles were tense and shaking, struggling to come down and uncurl his toes.

What have I done?

-

She fell.

The movement was so swift that Jungkook didn’t notice until it was too late.

Her back arched gracefully, left arm shooting out, grabbing the switchblade from the pocket of his jeans and yanking, her other arm arcing back even faster, grabbing one of his bound wrists and then her fingers glided to the joined knot between them.

Her shoulder blades touched his shivering pecs.

She sliced clean through the rope with a single flick.

Jungkook gasped, startled at the speed and dexterity. His arms smacked to the floor, pins and needles radiating due to his wrists becoming suddenly slack with no support, the shreds of rope scattering. She sheathed the blade and threw it back on his jeans.

Panted on top of his heaving chest.

His cock was slipping out, but the soreness and heat of the marks she left kept his afterglow at an all-time high, hazy and delusional and running on fumes. His forehead was sweaty. His back was sweaty. There was definitely a puddle of cum and saliva under his ass, sticky and cooling. His arms were aching, not from the tension of the rope but the tension of himself, stressed from keeping his whole body taut to prevent himself from moving too much, leaving himself at the mercy of unpredictable pain and pleasure.

It was torture.

It was the best.

He peeled his right arm off the rug and settled it over her collarbones, holding her left shoulder. Shuddering, the brutal bliss ebbing against his will. Staring at the ceiling of his apartment, wondering what the fuck he had just done.

Jungkook felt light fingertips ghosting over his trembling, hard forearm.

“You have scars.”

Soft breath and tone, just for him.

He did.

“Y-Yeah…”

He placed his left arm over his eyes, puffing heavily from exertion.

“I got thrown out a window.”

She touched the back of his hand, tracing the lines of his tattoos and the whispers of healed wounds.

“A long time ago, when I was a teenager. It was an older building, my high school. The windows were basically just thin panes of old-ass glass. No reinforcement on the first level, so I didn’t break any bones, but I got really sliced up.” He chuckled airlessly, pressing her to his sweaty body. “I was fighting.”

“About what?”

The irony was too real.

“I slept with some guy’s girlfriend, apparently.”

Curious inquiry. “Apparently?”

He snorted. “She failed to let me know beforehand. But, for some reason, it was my fault more than hers and I’m the one that got beat up. Go figure.”

Her hand settled on his wrist, fingertips resting on his knuckles.

“I knocked him out after crashing through the window. My taekwondo teacher always told me that learning martial arts was not about hurting others, but this guy threw me out the window, so I got tired of holding back and made him eat dirt. After that, I took up boxing lessons too. Just ‘cause.”

Her body vibrated under his arm.

She was laughing, laying on top of him, naked body to naked body.

“You’re funny, Jungkook.”

-

“Why do you like it?”

He was shirtless and eating out of the ice cream tub with a spoon. “What?”

You tilted your head at him.

“The sadism.”

Jungkook turned bright red despite the hefty chunk of ice cream he just shoved into his mouth. Choked and whipped his head away, dragging himself and the chocolate ice cream that had a whole lot of things in it that could only be described as the components of a small diabetes bomb. You craned your head to try and see around that broad back. There was an odd fleshy sound and then a wheezing gulp. He whipped around, face still shockingly scarlet, awkwardly laughing, jamming the lid back on the cold-sweet-death confection.

The spoon clattered into the sink.

“T-That’s–”

You looked at him, confused.

“That’s–D-Do you hate it?” he blurted. Black strands tousled and curled around his cheeks. His long hair was a mess. The floor wasn’t, not anymore. You asked what to do to help, but Jungkook instead took you to the bathroom and gave you a fluffy white towel from a linen closet. By the time you had come out, the traces of rope and cum were gone. Wiped away, as if it had never happened. Your clothes had been folded in a neat pile, set carefully onto the coffee table.

You had put them on as you heard Jungkook moving around in the kitchen.

Your panties were in the trash can.

They couldn’t be saved.

In contrast, Jungkook was in gray sweatpants and no shirt. He was probably commando too, but you didn’t ask or look.

You frowned at his question. “I don’t–”

I don’t do things I hate.

You stopped speaking.

That’s not true.

You looked away, furrowing your brow. “I don’t hate it,” you said firmly. That much was true. “I like it with you.” You tucked your tongue in your cheek, thinking. “It’s different.” And now you were realizing it was different. You have had shameless, mindless, pointless sex. Of course. This much money and nothing but time to kill when your mother had her back turned and ass up? Naturally, you took advantage of the situation. Got yourself into tangled limbs and dubious positions. Nothing was shocking anymore. Nothing and no one tasted good.

Except Yoongi.

Because…

You shook your head quickly, cutting the thought off.

Jungkook called your name and you looked up, surprised it had sounded so far away for a moment. So far away, but you dragged yourself back to Jungkook and the questions in his eyes.

You found yourself taken aback as a new thought popped into your head.

“I like hurting you because you want it,” you breathed. “Because it’s not an internal emptiness you are trying to fill. You just like the idea of me in complete control of you and your body.”

And then, the question.

“Why?”

His fingers on the ice cream carton tightened. He was a lot less red now. Large brown eyes shifting. Light shrug that consisted of a single lift of his right shoulder, the black mandala inked there gleaming under the overheard lights from his movement.

Jungkook found your eyes again.

You stared into those clear irises.

You had become so accustomed to the ways of the world where everyone shot everybody. So used to always scrambling for ammo to load your gun, so familiar to your silence so no one had any bullets to use against you, so used to war as second nature when money was the terrible master, and you had become so accustomed to it that you forgot that not everyone was a servant.

Not everyone was hiding something in order to step on others.

You were born into this game. You toyed with the players because you learned that, if you didn’t, bad things would happen. You had to become the snake that charmed without a charmer. Alluring enough to slide by on good graces, dangerous enough to warrant a warning label, and always keeping everyone guessing what your next move was.

You had to become an object of wonder to survive.

But, when Jungkook looked at you, he put this misfit toy on the other side of wonder.

“Are you ever in complete control of anything, Master?”

-

“Daughter, I don’t understand. What is the big deal? I don’t say anything about you coming to work and then disappearing during the night, but, you know, he does notice. This is such a small thing you can do you settle his nerves. How many times have you done it? Come on. You can help me out once again. He’s becoming so irrational and ridiculous. You have the power to control him.”

“I’m not going to fuck him, Mother,” his stepsister spat coldly, saying the last word like it was a venereal disease.

Yoongi froze in the dark hallway, staring at the crack of light from the ajar door.

“Hah, I keep telling you, don’t say it like that,” his stepmother cooed, sounding like she had slapped her palm with her other hand in slight exasperation. “That’s so vulgar and uncouth. That’s not what this is.”

He had been slinking around the family mansion, trying to find her. The moment right before he left the living room kept repeating in his mind for days. He couldn’t focus on music. He couldn’t go out and drink at shitty bars. He couldn’t look at the Han River without wanting to throw himself in those dark churning waters, all because of the last time he and his stepsister made eye contact.

He didn’t give a shit what his father did to him.

And yet.

He saw his father’s hand on his stepsister and didn’t say anything about it.

What was there to say?

Yoongi did the same thing to her, only worse.

The glaring revelation closed him off. He saw the hurt in her eyes when he ran and yet he still ran, ran and ran and ran, thinking about nothing until he was locked in his music studio, surrounded by soju bottles, and then all that liquid streaming down his checks wasn’t alcohol, because all four bottles were empty.

“You’re so full of shit.”

The hostile snarl sliced through his thoughts.

Yoongi realized that he had never heard his stepsister angry before. Known she was angry, yes, but she had always maintained composure when she was in his presence. He had never heard her voice fanged with malice, every word festering hatred.

Never.

An icy itch slithered down his spine.

“Oh, because putting your husband’s dick in my mouth isn’t vulgar and uncouth. That’s something, especially after your doctor’s appointment.”

“Ugh, I’m aware and I’ll have that taken care of,” was the dismissive reply. “Let’s not get too technical. I will be beside you the entire time. Haven’t I always kept a roof over your head? Besides, these kinds of men are stupid and easy. He will last seconds. You’ll practically do nothing.”

“A fuckin’ doghouse would have been preferred over those motel roofs. And why are you even asking me? The Master can’t do it alone?”

His stepmother was beginning to sound annoyed, the cloying façade crumbling at the mocking. “How many dirty, pill-popping addicts have you let cum in you? You are being selfish and not thinking about the big picture. I am trying to keep this family in one piece. This kind of thing is so small in the grand scheme of things. Tch, can’t you see this from my perspective?”

Yoongi backed away from the door.

Silently, quickly, turning and walking fast. His heartbeat roaring in his ears, wishing it was loud enough to drown out the words from his memory even though he knew they were true, even though he could see it between wordless gazes and inappropriate touches, even though he had said it himself, accused outright, hoping.

Hoping his stepsister would vehemently argue that no such thing was going on.

She never did.

He had hoped that she enjoyed it, hoped he could hate her and wash his hands free.

Instead, she enjoyed his hands, his touch, his kiss.

Yoongi stopped at the end of the hallway, now standing in the foyer with the large windows and crystal skylight high above. Bright and airy. Expensive and vapid. The sun’s hazy rays streamed down all around him, diffused from the faceted glass.

He turned back and faced the dark hallway.

Called her name.

Waited.

-

“Don’t pretend. You don’t give a shit about this family. You’re here to get some ammo to load your gun so you can enjoy holding it against that old man’s head as he pays you an even fatter alimony to keep your mouth shut. What do you think I am? Pretty and stupid? You have been trying to trap me in this childlike mindset even as a grown adult. How convenient it would be if I believed you? If only I take this bait and do what you want so I can be just…”

Pausing to let the damage sink in.

“Like…”

Taking the moment to drive the knife in deeper.

“You?”

You backed up and turned around, hearing Yoongi yell your name again, louder this time.

“You’re miserable and fake, inside and out.”

You didn’t look back to see at you mother’s infuriated face. Didn’t hear her hissing at you to apologize, instead kicking the door wide open and stalking down the hallway in deliberate, large strides, white-hot anger scorching your veins, nearly colliding into Yoongi when you turned the corner. Gelled back, red-orange hair and all black outfit of a ripped denim jacket, designer t-shirt, and paint-stained jeans.

All of your fury dissipated once you saw him.

You cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s with you? Miss this that much, hm?”

You stuck your tongue out and smirked around it.

And you suddenly stopped, seeing his face. Something stricken across his sharp features caused your hesitation, pulling your tongue back. You had never seen this hopelessness before, especially not from Yoongi who was one that discarded everything and everyone with distrust. It must have only been milliseconds, but it was so potent in his expression that it was unmistakable.

Yoongi grabbed your left wrist so tightly that the glass beads of the chain bracelet you wore sharply pinched your skin.

“Come with me,” he breathed.

You felt your body lurch with his power and suddenly you were walking fast and he was walking faster, pushing past maids and butlers who pretended nothing happened, pushing past people living in the motto of better to feign blindness than to know, pushing past the sheep. He clutched your wrist like it was his lifeline. It hurt, but not in an unpleasant way. Confusion rippled through you and yet you let it happen, taking twice as many steps in your high heels and tight minidress, constricted by lace sleeves and a ruffled, high collar. All-black, just like him.

A pair of funeral-goers, maybe.

Apt for this household.

He practically dragged you down the stairs to the large garage with too many cars, shoving your keys from his pocket into your hand.

“Yoongi–”

He yanked your caviar leather cardholder out of his other jacket pocket and flashed it, jerking his chin to your vehicle.

“Get in.”

He didn’t have your cellphone and you didn’t ask him if he had it.

Your car unlocked as you neared the door handle. You got in, seeing your stepbrother throw himself into the passenger’s seat. Snapped the car door closed and tapped the button, whipping your head to him as the car hummed to life.

“I’m not your personal chauffeur, bro–”

“Please drive.”

You froze.

Yoongi was breathing hard, staring straight ahead.

“Please, drive and get us the fuck away from this house.”

You shut up and backed out of your spot. Put your foot on the accelerator and drove, just drove, Yoongi’s please ringing in your ears, taking a leaf out of his book and fuckin’ booking it out of there.

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #misfit toys au

[booktomoviebrawl]

We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

The Seeker: The Dark is Rising:

Painfully generic-dumbed-down-fantasy-action trying to channel better film franchises instead of the atmospheric, mythopoetic and lyrical children’s book it is technically based on. Bonus points for the open contempt people involved had for the source material, both in how they treated it and what they said about it.

BAD. Bad bad bad!! They completely changed Will's character. In the books he does get frustrated sometimes, but is mostly kind and patient and really makes you believe that he is both an ancient being and an 11 year old boy and in the movie they changed it so he's like really mad and angsty and just the total opposite of his actual character!! Absolute butchery. And they cut the Wild Hunt! And changed a bunch of other plot stuff and it overall just sucked.

where do I even begin. they made the main character American for no reason (this is perhaps the most egregious change), aged him up to 14, and added a straight romance subplot. they were so indecisive during production that they CUT AN ENTIRE MAIN CHARACTER in the time between the trailer and the actual film release. they completely fucked up all of Will’s family stuff. in pursuit of “relatability” they got rid of everything that makes the book good and put in THE most generic, poorly written, poorly acted (except Christopher Eccleston, who did okay), and poorly produced garbage. it was in theaters for like…less than a week; we were supposed to see it for my birthday but it was already gone. it doesn’t even have, like, half-decent special effects. it is an insult.

The Princess Diaries:

Haphazard approach to the plot

Look. They're good movies, but they're just not good adaptations of the books.

ik everyone loves the movie but, sorry, it's an awful adaptation of the book! mia in the book isn't a curly-haired glasses wearer whose "transformation" hinges on changing those two things about her! mia's close friend tina hakim baba (as well as their pals shameeka and ling su) were left out of the film which i think was blatant racism. changing the setting of the story from new york to san francisco is a travesty. killing off mia's dad is a terrible choice. mia and her mother's loud, open feminism is not present at all in the film. there are so many things wrong with this movie i can't even begin to explain it.

#tournament poll #the princess diaries #the seeker #the dark is rising

[chapel-of-rizztual]

Favorite headcanon for every ghoul! Go!

Mountain

obviously I’m a big advocate for puppy mountain 

Had a plant for each of the ghouls. 

Can grow flower and herbs in his hair. Grows mushrooms when he’s stressed

one of the best cooks. 

One of two ghouls that can drive.

Early riser, rises with the sun.

Ridiculously tall. Always hitting his head don door frames.

Big lover of kissing.

Favourite colour is green.

Loves reading poetry

Vegetarian

Ram horns

Collects bug and insects

Spider catcher of the ghouls.

Joins the girls for girls night

Rain

webbing between his finger and toes

Gills on his neck and ribs

Chronic biscuit maker.

Worst chef. Can’t even make cereal

Presses the flowers Mountain grows into books.

Big sweet tooth

Will only wear crop tops. Even in the winter.

Cold to the touch

Scales on his arms and back

Bellybutton piercing. It’s a little sparkly raindrop that Dew got him for Christmas.

Night owl

Super clumsy

Slightly slimy skin

Loves the aquarium

Dewdrop

 Kitty

has scars where his gills use to be

Blue eyes from being a water ghoul

Early riser with Mountain. They like to cuddle on the sofa together while eating breakfast

Obsessed with dinosaurs

Hot to the touch

Good chef

Sucks the spade of his tail

Scared of the dark. Can’t sleep without Aether

Loves baking with Cumulus

Gets used as a heater in the winter

Likes sleeping in the fireplace

Can explode lightbulbs if he sneezes

Calls cereal ‘boy kibble’

Can play drums

Unhealthily obsessed with milk.

Pescatarian

Swiss

Loves getting stoned with Mountain

Just dance champion. Seriously no one can beat him

Horrendous chef. Don’t even let him look at the kitchen

Is the reason salt lamps are banned from the den

Hawaiian shirt wearer

Paints his claws

Has an extensive skincare routine

Crazy strong. Can lift Dew and Rain up together

Steals the fluffy blankets from cirrus’ bed

Crooked fangs

Hates sleeping alone

Greek mythology obsession

Two tongues

Phantom

also puppy

Sleeps with a stuffed rabbit. Seriously can’t sleep without it

Loves hiking and being outdoors. Spends a lot of time in the greenhouse with Mountain

Loves worms

His quintessence is more focused on orthopaedics

Cries at anything

Loves cocktails

Scar on his cheek from when he was summoned

Also Sucks the spade of his tail

Cow-like ears

White strip in his hair

Always wears glittery eyeshadow

Obsessed with cats. Can’t see a cat in the street without stopping

Aether

Dad? No, mother

Also a Hawaiian shirt wearer. Him and Swiss share

Nurse at the abbey infirmary

Carries Dew and Phantom around like kits

Second ghoul that can drive

Red Mohawk

Nose, lip and tongue piercing

Vinyl collection

Best collection of hoodies. Will let anyone wear them

Loves fruit

Paints

Bonded with Copias rats

Can’t ride a bike

Cirrus

daddy

Wears rings

Buff af

She/her/he/him

Goes to the gym with Swiss and Aether

Mechanic. Can fix anything

Good chef

Big top little pants

Makes fun of Aether for not knowing how to ride a bike.

Clothes stealer

Really sharp fangs

Made a Battle jacket

Wine drinker

Flexible

Cumulus

literal Barbie girl

Sims player

Loves all games is so good cod

Whiskey enjoyer

Country music lover

Favourite colour is pink

Crazy curly hair

Has deep stretch marks on her belly. Swiss like to put edible glitter on them and lick it off

Gap in her front teeth

Steals cirrus’ battle jacket

Loves Valentine’s Day

Fluffy tail

Has feathers on her arms and thighs

Sunshine

Literal ball of sunshine

Has a Christmas tree in her room all year around

Should wear glasses but doesn’t

Mountain always grows sunflowers for her

Gold jewellery wearer

Super freckly

Has one yellow and one orange eye

Good at photography

Has a cat hidden in her room

Stayed at the abbey instead of touring because she was working in the nursery and fell in love with the kids

Aurora

kitty

vitiligo

Purrs the loudest

Literal princess. Always gets her way

Obsessed with space and the stars

Loves horror movies

Coffee snob

Can sleep anywhere

Scared of flying

Very good baker

Wears heart shaped sunglasses

#ghost headcanons #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #These are more my Headcanons

[lcvernat]

Insecurities | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Request: hello you are one of my fave authors here i super love your works. can i req for a r x natasha where reader has this visual disorder (like her eyes' grade was 1000 and has astigmatism) thats why reader were wearing eye glasses for a long time then this moment when the team was asking for a picture reader takes off her glasses bc she had low self esteem, nat comforts her. thank you and i'll patiently wait for this ❤️

Word Count: 1.6k

Content Warnings: angst with happy ending, low self-esteem, reader is very insecure, some strong language, natasha is the best

A/N: i am so sorry anon this took so long but i hope you like it! fellow glasses wearers rise! this honestly lowkey turned into a bit of a vent but we aren't going to talk about that. i finally got another fic out after months i'm so sorry, but i think i've managed to get passed the writers block and i have motivation to write now! so send in requests or whatever, and expect more fics.

You had always been insecure. Ever since you were young, you hadn’t ever found yourself liking the way you look. Sometimes it even felt like your insecurities had been engrained into your DNA, so you’d always feel this way. You had always had terrible vision, and have been wearing glasses for practically your entire life, which is likely one of the main causes of your low self esteem.

It wasn’t as if glasses were the beauty standard either. Any time you opened a magazine, or looked on Instagram, none of the celebrities or models you saw wore glasses. If, by chance, a character in a film did wear glasses, they were mainly seen as the nerdy, geeky, weird and annoying outcast. None of the popular or 'beautiful' characters ever wore glasses. It sucked. Big time.

Despite that, you’d have to say it’s quite ironic how you were more than likely seen as a nerd in high school. You were extraordinarily smart, exceeding in all of your classes and being the top of the class in each one almost effortlessly. So, it was to no one’s surprise that you were smart enough to get a job as a SHIELD agent. You weren’t a field agent and you didn’t do hand to hand combat - your vision and glasses would’ve caused too much problems (contacts were too expensive, and you didn’t much like them either) - so you were one of the agents who hacked into databases and gathered intel.

At SHIELD is where you met who would unknowingly become your future girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff. To be completely honest, sometimes you sit and wonder how you had managed to make her fall for you. You certainly weren’t anything extraordinary, you were average (or less than average, in your opinion) but her? Natasha Romanoff had to be the most gorgeous, angelic and sweetest person you had ever met. You had fallen for her as soon as her eyes met yours.

Fellow SHIELD agents had warned you about the Black Widow; ‘she’s incredibly intimidating’, ‘someone once said she made multiple men piss themselves out of fear’, ‘she’s so scary, I would hate to get on her bad side’. While that part is, admittedly, true, under her hard exterior you saw someone who loved her family and friends unequivocally and would not hesitate to die protecting them.

She was the best girlfriend you could’ve ever asked for. She showered you with love and gifts that you didn’t need, she knew exactly how to cheer you up and she remembered the little things that you couldn’t even remember telling her. But you didn’t deserve her. She deserved better. You saw the way people looked at you, ‘why is she with them? what does she see in them?’, whether out of jealousy or spite, it didn’t matter, because you couldn’t help but believe them. No matter how many times Natasha tells you differently.

Dating an Avenger meant that you usually got to join in when the team have ‘fun days’, and you’ve practically been dubbed Honorary Avenger at this point. The team had the day off and had so decided to take a trip to an amusement park. You had split up into separate cars. In your one; Sam was driving, Steve was shotgun, you, Natasha and Peter were in the back. Peter had complained he’d been shoved in this car so ‘the adults could babysit him even though he’s old enough to take care of himself’.

It was going great, music was blasting, everyone was laughing and telling jokes and Nat had packed some snacks for everyone. That is, until it wasn’t going so great for you.

“Isn’t that right, specky?” Steve guffawed after telling a story about some form of shenanigans you had got up to one night when you were drunk. You couldn’t remember it, but it was the nickname that had made your smile falter and your voice quieten to a whisper. Even though you had been called it as a joke for most of your life, and you knew Steve only meant it as such, it also targeted your biggest insecurity. Jokes that target insecurities aren’t funny, at least to you.

Natasha had instantly noticed your change in demeanour. She put a comforting arm around your shoulder and turned her gaze momentarily to glare at Steve, “Steve,” she said, her tone stern. The atmosphere in the car immediately tensed, and Sam quietly turned the music down.

“What?” Steve asked, “It was just a joke!”

“That wasn’t fun-“

You interrupted Natasha, “It’s fine, really,”

She looked at you, and you could tell she didn’t believe you. You squeezed her free hand reassuringly, “I promise,” she still wasn’t convinced, but dropped it either way. You were quiet for the rest of the car ride.

Upon arrival at the amusement park, Tony had gathered the entire team in for a group photo. He had asked a random woman to take the photo, who looked equally starstruck and scared to be in front of and taking a photo of the Avengers.

"Y/N, you should take your glasses off!" Tony suggested as he handed the woman his phone and got into line.

Your head whipped towards him, "What?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, "It's just a suggestion, we've never saw you without them before,"

You merely nodded as you felt Natasha's hand squeeze yours, you glanced at her to find her looking at you with a soft smile on her face. You knew each other well enough that sometimes conversation wasn't needed, and you knew she was telling you to only take them off if you were comfortable.

You drew in a deep breath before carefully taking off your glasses, your vision immediately going blurry - it was impossible for you to see anything around you - but at least it was only for the photo. You placed them gently into your pocket. Natasha squeezed your hand again at the same time the woman said, "Say cheese!"

The only sound that filled your ears was all of the Avengers and you saying a chorus of 'Cheese!'. You had a big smile on your face, even though deep inside you your insecurities were gnawing away at you. Tony ran to check the photo as you put your glasses back on, following the rest of the team to see it.

They all tried to gather around Tony, crowding over a tiny phone to see a tiny photo - which obviously wasn't working - so Tony resorted to passing the phone to each person so everyone could get a chance to see it clearly. When it was your turn, your eyes immediately went to you, and you had to stifle a sigh. Once again, you saw nothing worth being called beautiful. Natasha beside you was radiant, the massive smile she had on was one of pure happiness due to being surrounded by the people she loved. She was glowing. You looked dull beside her. You quickly gave the phone to Peter, who was standing beside you, wanting to see it.

Natasha instantly knew something was wrong. "Go on ahead, we'll catch up," she said to the rest of the team who walked away, giving you two some privacy.

"Y/N," she said, standing in front of you.

You avoided her gaze, "Hm?"

The redhead let out a sigh before cupping your cheeks, forcing your gaze to focus on her, "You know I love you, right?"

You didn't answer, so she continued, "You're beautiful," you scoffed but before you could say anything she cut in, "no, really, you're gorgeous. Not just outside, but inside. You have such a beautiful soul. You are so kind to everyone, and everyone who knows you absolutely adores you. Trust me, I've heard the team and SHIELD agents talk about how amazing you are. I'm not bullshitting you. You are so smart, honestly the most intelligent person I've ever met and on top of that you are so pretty," she could tell you didn't believe her, but she pushed on, "listen to me, you only see yourself when your posing for photos, you don't see yourself when you have a genuine, real smile on your face, or when you're laughing at something funny, or when you have a spark in your eye because you're doing something you love. But I do. I see you in those rare moments, and in those moments I swear to you I think you must have been an angel sent down from heaven. It was only inevitable that I was going to fall for you."

By the end of Natasha's rant, tears had sprung to your eyes. She said it with so much ferocity, so much conviction, that you couldn't help but believe her.

"Plus," she kissed the tip of your nose, "I think your glasses are adorable. You might hate them, but some people love them enough to buy fake glasses when they don't even need them,"

She had a point. You smiled at her and she returned the smile, her hand moving down to grab yours. You entwined your hands together, "I love you," you said, placing a chaste kiss on her temple.

"I love you most, now let's go catch up with the team,"

You both walked hand in hand, shortly catching up with the team as they hadn't made it very far (Thor saw a cotton candy stand and insisted everyone get one). You were feeling a lot better than you had 10 minutes ago, the words Natasha said to you repeating in your head, squashing the insecurities that had plagued your mind today. Sometimes you wondered how you ended up with such an incredible girlfriend.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow imagine #black widow x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x y/n #natasha x y/n

[kittttycakes]

those prompt things were made for Hob I swear???????? ok so either "I didn't know you wore glasses and I'm thinking normal and platonic thoughts about you right now I swear" (who's wearing glasses? Who knows, many possibilities!

OR

"you bought me a SWORD? OH MAN IM GONNA BE SO DANGEROUS" because... REASONS

thank you for allowing me to spread the gospel of "glasses make everyone hotter" and it isn't just because I myself am a confirmed glasses wearer I swear

Hob nearly drops his cup when he sees him, hand gripping convulsively at the cardboard in an overcorrection that almost sees him with coffee down his arm. He has seen Morpheus in more stages and types of dress and undress than he can easily recall, robes and coats in materials no human hands save his own have ever touched, but he fears this may be his undoing. 

Get ahold of yourself, he tells himself sternly. There’s nothing unusual. Nothing to see here. You can and will be normal about this. 

When Morpheus draws closer, his brow furrows slightly, searching Hob’s face. “Are you well?”

“Am I—yes. Yes, well,” he says. He starts to say more, stops, and drinks his coffee instead for something to do, nearly scorching his tongue. It is, he must admit, a very good approximation of what he and his colleagues wear every day, albeit in a more monochrome color scheme than he would usually see. There’s still something so very him about it all that Hob knows he would be able to pick him out of a crowd of a hundred, a thousand, but he can’t stop staring at his face. 

“Do you like them?” Morpheus asks, falling into step beside him, as perceptive as he always is, now, when it comes to Hob. On anyone else, the tone would be infuriatingly casual, but Hob knows he’s enjoying this. He’s done it on purpose, the menace, and when Hob had told him he was welcome to drop in on him any time, even at the university, he hadn’t envisioned this. He hadn’t realized Morpheus would try to blend in. 

The glasses he’s chosen are a bit thicker framed than Hob’s own reading glasses, and they suit his face immensely, drawing attention to his eyes and giving him an air of scholarly intensity that Hob finds entirely appealing. He looks a bit like the sort of visiting professor that he wouldn’t mind being trapped in conversation with at the annual faculty dinner, no matter what topic he’d sunk his teeth into and refused to let go of, because listening to him would give Hob the unparalleled opportunity to simply look at him and to listen to the rise and fall of his voice. 

Hob aims for casual and falls somewhat short. “They’re new, I haven’t ever seen you wear those before.” 

“I chose them especially for the occasion.”

He was wrong. This wasn’t blending in, this was specifically targeted at him. He stops to let them both into his office, immediately closing the door behind them, dropping his bag and coffee and hoping they both land near and on the desk, respectively, and backing Morpheus up against the door. “Well, you certainly have my attention. Is that what you wanted?” 

Morpheus smiles slightly, terribly smug. Hob badly wants to kiss that look off of his face. “You do like them, then.” 

“You’re keeping those on. I’ve got plans,” he says, leaning in to kiss him, thanking a god he has not believed in for a good few centuries that he thought of going to work early that morning. The essays can wait. This is far more important.

#ask prompt #beloved mutuals #morpheus x hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dreamling #kittycakes writes #I am also going to do the second one so uh keep an eye out for that one later #it'll be a little tiny baby blub but I need hob with a sword and i need it now

[joyfuladorable]

Tagged by @maxwellshimbo in this post

Share your wallpaper: On my laptop, it's this awesome art I got from @/kosakashuntaro; and on my tablet and phone, the lock and home screens are the respective pieces from this fic fanart I made cuz I can and will be proud of the shit I make!! (and also cuz Rise Capril is my current otp, lol)

Last song you listened to: According to my playlist, it was I’m Here to Stay by Ty Lemley? Sometimes, I download songs cuz I hear them from media I like and then forget where I got em from cuz it just gets thrown in my endless shuffle playlist. It’s got a nice swaying tone and also is from 1963 apparently??? So, I’m gonna assume it’s from the ending credits of a WWDITS ep

Currently reading: Rereading the fic Pretend that I Never Left because it's one of my favorite 2k3 Mikey fics!!

Last movie you watched: In theaters, it was Everything Everywhere All at Once, which was absolutely Magical to Experience. But just in general, uh, I think it was the Rise movie? Or maybe Knives Out/Glass Onion?? I don't watch many movies, lol

Craving: A hug from a loved one! I'm incredibly touch-starved and cope by having fictional characters be platonically affectionate for me...

What are you wearing right now: Comfy house clothes for mild weather

How tall are you: 5'3"

Piercings: Double lobe piercings!

Tattoos: Eventually!

Glasses? Contacts?: Proud and eternal glasses-wearer✌🏼✌🏼

Last drink: My siblings tried to get me to drink a lychee-flavored alcohol on my b-day, and I took a single sip, made a face cuz it tasted like medicine, and put it down, lmao. Alcohol is Not for me!

Last thing I ate: Cereal for dinner

Last show: Rewatched Rise, but only the Casey episodes ;P

Favorite color: Any purple and pastel/golden yellows

Current obsession: TMNT, reignited from the constantly burning embers of my teen years

Unrelated obsession: Unrelated to my current obsession, or just non-fandom related?? Uhhh, short-sleeved button ups with neat patterns, I guess

Any pets: Nope! I long for a precious kitty, but I am very much Allergic (mildly) and live in a household not suited for one

Do you have a crush on anyone: Lol, Absolutely Not!! I do follow a bunch of artists (writers, included) who I will OwO at cuz their art is so good and I wanna SCREAM about it in a totally normal way

Favorite fictional characters: Currently, it's 2k3 Mikey, Rise Casey Jones (Sr), and Laika from Dames and Dragons

The last place you traveled to: Off Island? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Oregon??? Pre-pandemic, for sure

Tagging (only if you wanna do it! no pressure!!): @redstringraven @forestwhisper3 and @lollyholly99

#tag game #aww this is nostalgic #used to do these a lot on deviantart and during my early tumblr years #also I’m assuming I’m supposed to tag like 10 folks but #I won’t uwu #finishing this tag meme instead of sleeping cuz once again #I have woken up at 4AM and am Struggling to go back to sleep #also coincidentally I got tagged in another meme yesterday #which I will wait to do since it asks some of the same questions

[lawlznet]

Calico took longer than she normally did closing the door behind Chris. She didn't need to, but the finality with which she did the gesture gave her a distinct sense of peace. She took a deep breath... and didn't get to enjoy the rest of said peace as a familiar hand placed itself on her shoulder.

"The answer is still no," She said as she pulled down one of her sleeves and made to pull it off of her. The hand didn't budge. It gripped, gently but firmly, onto her shoulder. She looked behind her with a scowl, but found not just the Gary Stu's deadpan expression looking back at her, but those of others as well. The youth in the simple clothes, his shirt and cargo shirt, stared at her with his arms folded- Shep stood next to him with a similar expression, his filled with an annoying amount of condescension.

Out of the corner of her eye, Delora's eyes flitted between the small group of upset looking characters and her, uncharacteristically perturbed. Apple had made her way over, too- away from her and in full view of the crowd.

Calico sighed.

"Okay, out with it-" She began, before the Gary Stu interrupted her.

"We need to talk. Now." He said, pulling her back toward the meeting room where she had hid during her earlier suffering. "You've gone too far this time," he explained.

"The hell is your problem?" Calico said, trying to pull herself out of the Gary Stu's grip to no avail. She thought about elbowing him out of the way as she passed Apple and Delora, the latter looking more miserable than she had any right to be. Calico raised her eyebrow at Apple, but the taller woman didn't respond except to follow behind the line of men and women as they pulled her into the room.

Once the door was shut- with an audible locking noise, she noted- Cargo Pants seemingly spearheaded the interrogation. He moved to the front of the group as Calico leaned against the table, scowling as she made a mental note of every face available.

"You've been too lenient with the Geekboy," Cargo Pants started, eliciting an eye roll from Calico. "He didn't need to know half of what you told him. Even if you lied through omission on some of it."

"The man's been through hell and he's always suspected something like this anyway." Calico said, fiddling with her walkman beneath her hoodie. "It's not like I explained the nature of the universe to him."

"You might as well have. You think that being 'genre savvy' or whatever is an excuse to tell secrets?" Why are you upset, dude? Calico thought as she looked away from Cargo Pants. Seriously, you're like one of the last people who should care- "You might as well have told him the name of god while you're at it-"

"Whoa whoa WHOA!" Calico blurted out, her temper rising. "Where the hell did that come from? The guy was pulled from his reality, got shoved in some pocket hell hole that was birthed like yesterday, and all he wanted was to go home. What the hell is your problem?"

"Our problem is that ever since you got defrosted by that loser, you've been obsessing over him and his life." Cargo Pants said. He straightened some glasses on his face that Calico was sure weren't there seconds ago.

"'Our' problem?" Calico said, looking incredulously from him to Shep to Apple and some of the others. There were a lot more people in the room than she had realized, slowly surrounding her and only separated by the long meeting table she was leaning on. A girl in a serafuku pulled a palm sized shard of glass out of her skirt and began to carve it into the wood, her dark eyes watching Calico closely.

"You mentioned it before, did you not?" A shock of pastel pink hair flitted dangerously close to Calico's face- enough that its wearer, the recently named "Bubblegum," could have reached up and kissed her on the lips. She was still chewing the namesake given to her by Chris. "You need to know what happens next."

Calico ground her teeth together.

"What about it?" She said.

"Bubblegum" closed her eyes, stopped chewing, and smiled.

"An avatar's life is not ours to control," came a gruff voice from behind the crowd. The wolf/vampire hybrid towered over everyone but kept his distance, only illuminated by his blood red eyes and beast like face.

You too? Calico thought to herself as he continued.

"They influence us. We do not influence them." He continued, snorting as he did so. Calico bit her lip and opened her mouth to retort before another voice continued for him.

"W-we're like uh, characters in a v-video game..." Squeaked a young teen behind her. He was standing on the table with a pair of worn sandals and a long white poncho. He shrunk and jumped off the table when Calico turned to him.

"And that... is a duty reserved for those of the Flesh." The humanoid monster completed, sighing. "Not us- not the Unbound." He gave her a once over. "Not one without a Story."

Calico gripped her fists tightly under her hoodie. Cargo Pants's expression softened.

"You got a Name, toots. That's more than me, and I don't sweat it." As he said this, he twirled one of his fingers in an upward motion- a man sized corkscrew made of black stone, covered in green, glowing ruins pierced out of the ground and formed a spiral in front of the entrance to the room, blocking its entry. "But big furry has a point. We all agreed to just watch things unfold and not get involved because you know what happens when a tale doesn't make sense."

He looked over to the Gary Stu; he was polishing the shaft of his key blade with a corner of his wizard hat. He looked up and locked eyes with Cargo Pants for a brief moment.

"Sorry, did you need something?" He asked.

Cargo pants rolled his eyes.

"You don't know that." Calico said, "No one knows what happens when an Outside Context runs into a Discrepancy."

"It can be inferred." Shep said, breaking his silence, "And ah reckon the fact that a bunch of us exist is proof enough, there's a whole lot of discarded trash an' nobody knows how da 'ell it actually all works." He sniffs.

"...you hypocritical piece of shit." Calico said, glaring daggers at him and getting off the table. She marched toward the door blocked by the life sized obsidian corkscrew.

"So many bad words tonight." The Gary Stu said as he holstered the key blade. "Cali! Shep's just upset! He has a whole world and it's not very long!"

Calico raised her middle finger and pointed it at the Gary Stu, who proceeded to blink and crane his head. "I don't know what that means. Is that a kind of peace sign?"

"UGH!"

Calico angrily pulled her hoodie over her head and started to pull at the obsidian corkscrew. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't make it budge, even as the stone dug into her fingers.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and was about to snap again until she looked up and saw Apple's concerned, frowning face. The taller woman gave a reassuring squeeze.

"We..." She started, choosing her words carefully, "...we, can't always choose our path. Sometimes, it's not for us." Apple's voice barely sounded like she believed herself. "We... make best of what we have. And accept the rest."

Calico stopped pulling at the corkscrew and looked from Apple to Delora, who was pressed against a corner wall. The girl was anxiously twirling one of her bangs.

"...make sure you tell that to her the next time shit happens." Calico said bitterly, "...when shit happens next." She looked back at Cargo Pants.

"Are we done here?" She asked.

Cargo Pants scratched his head, then snapped his fingers. "Yeah, I guess."

The obsidian corkscrew unwound itself, leaving a manhole sized hole in the ground. As soon as there was room, Calico ripped open the door, lock be damned, slamming it against the wall. She trudged out and immediately made for the tavern doors; they closed shut behind her just as Apple cleared the hole and reached out to stop her.

"Well." The Gary Stu said, "That was awkward. Why did we do all this again?"

"You know, for someone who knows better than most of us how things work, she sure has an attitude problem." Cargo Pants said, ignoring the Gary Stu. "She's even seen tv shows."

"She says she has," The monstrous human growled as he cleared the hole back to the tavern. "But she says a lot of things. We know she is just a Muse, not unlike us." He snorted. "A character on paper."

Cargo Pants folded his arms. "Yeah, so am I. But I don't know anything unless its explained to me." He scratched his head. "And for the record? She doesn't even have that going for her. Paper, I mean." He paused. "Well, whatever. Guess I'll go piss around."

The party in the meeting room dissolved as quickly as it had formed, leaving only Delora and Apple alone. After a few moments, Apple went to Delora and, after leading her gently over the manhole sized... hole in the ground, lead her back to a bar stool. The younger woman was still anxiously fidgeting with her hair, but this time with both hands; and what's worse, she picked and prodded at a circlet with broken gemstones that sat below her bangs.

Apple took Delora's hands in her own and gently pulled them down to her lap. Her hands trembled.

"...you were right, this is... I... even if I don't understand what's being discussed, this is too much for me." Delora said, biting her lip. She sniffed.

Apple looked away, and continued holding the bard's hands with her best attempt at a reassuring grip. She looked toward the doors that Calico had just disappeared through.

"...you looked in the Book." Apple said matter of factly.

Delora nodded. She bit her lip tighter, and glanced at Apple's profile before looking away again, this time toward Springfield. The Tactical Doll stared back at her unemotionally.

"...will it hurt?" Delora said, blinking tears. Apple just squeezed her hands tighter. Delora smiled, causing a few stray tears to roll down her face.

"...We've... we've had this conversation before, haven't we?"

Apple gripped her hands even tighter.

"I... I'm sorry I asked to come." Delora said, sniffling. "That... I've asked to come, every time. You- you must be getting tired of- of the repetition-"

Apple let go of Delora's hands and embraced her tightly. Inside her head, a voice chortled; she tried to push it out of her mind but she knew that it couldn't be helped.

All she could focus was on the person in front of her, here and now. And who would continue to be.

Until her story was written.

#lulzlore #Damsels&Demons #writing #creative writing #spilled ink

[iironwreath]

Halo [Union]

The amulet must have been beautiful, once. Union had snatched it on the way out of a crumbling cultist cave, having recognized Sarenrae’s silhouette even without its colour or sheen. Outside, it didn’t take him long to realize it was desecrated. Cupping it like a baby bird, he had smoothed his thumbs over it, hoping to reveal her face. There was no change, and a frigid vacuum where power and warmth should have been, made starker next to his own holy symbol.

Union would have argued that being tarnished didn’t take away something’s former beauty. Anything in Sarenrae’s likeness was, by virtue of what she embodied, lovely. Having her holy symbol restored seemed to encompass all that she was—redemption and healing, brought to its best through care and devotion.

The Killjoys were spinning a lot of plates, but taking the amulet to the Temple of Renewal didn’t feel like it would tip any. He made regular visits when they were in Vasselheim. He couldn’t forget their roots—small problems were still problems. One stone could become a landslide—a ripple, a wave.

Mosaics of the rising sun passed under his feet as he made his way down the main aisle. The Temple of Renewal was a bright temple, filled with high windows that streamed in natural light. Stained glass and tapestries added colour and depicted her history—wine reds, golds, and whites.

He came to rest at the foot of her statue. Like when he’d regenerated his eye, he’d brought a small bowl topped with holy water. He knelt, dropping the trinket in. After letting it soak a moment, he fished it out by its chain and tried rubbing again with a cloth. The metal remained unaffected.

He curled his hands around it and pressed it to his chest, resting against his own holy symbol, his heart above his heart. He would try a remove curse, but first, a regular prayer.

“I found this amulet in a den of Asmodeus worshippers,” he said. “I would restore it, for he should never have the opportunity to hurt you again. He’ll never, as long as any follower of yours or I live, be able to extinguish your light.”

Their once-humble group was approaching a strength that could rival Asmodeus in a fight. Not individually, but as one. Even when Union had been briefly embittered towards godhood and lost his eye, he had never thought himself above or on par with them.

Reflecting, he didn’t know if it was a power he deserved, but it wasn’t one he’d take for granted. He had always promised to do good, and this was an extension of that. He didn’t just fight Asmodeus because he was vile and could use a good thwarting—he fought him for Sylus, and on behalf of everyone who couldn’t.

He prayed for protection, courage, and the same resolve that had moored him up until them. There would never not be evil—he was optimistic, not gullible—and he would be there to meet it every time.

He traced the sigil for the spell midair with one hand, still clutching the amulet in the other. He held it for longer than he needed to, six seconds tipping into a minute, almost worried to check that it had worked. If he couldn’t fix this, what chance did they have against Asmodeus?

He peeled open his eyes and looked. Its shine had returned, and in it, a kindling, ready for a new wearer. He sighed, shoulders relaxing.

A second pair of hands entered his vision, folding over his own. He glanced up, expecting another one of the clergy—but the temple had emptied, and standing above him was Sarenrae, stepped down from the plinth.

It wasn’t like Union hadn’t spoken with or basked in her presence before, but every time felt like the first—like he was experiencing sunlight after spending an eternity underground.

Everything about her had the inviting quality of a fireplace—warm brown skin and aurulent eyes so bright they were almost white, the core of any candle. She wore a magnificent halo of fire and radiant, flaming hair poured to the back of her legs. A pair of pearly feathered wings were tucked against her back, matching a simple but elegant dress that flowed all the way to the stones. He wasn’t sure that her feet were touching the floor, but she had a groundedness to her. Where Pelor blinded and awed, she was homey, a goddess you could curl up beside.

She smiled kindly. “Hello, Union.”

Union bowed his head, still kneeling. “Everlight.”

Holding his hands, she gently pulled him to his feet. She stood taller than him, though not half as large as her statue, taking on a more modest, humanoid size.

She turned over his hands, palms up, opening them to reveal the holy symbol. “Thank you for bringing this here.”

“Of course; I had to.”

“I heard your prayer. The more you grow, the easier it is for me to reach you. You asked for strength to defeat Asmodeus—truthfully, you have everything you need. Nevertheless, I would be honoured to help.”

She closed his hands around the amulet, hers woven overtop. Rays of light flared out from between their overlapping fingers. His palms warmed and the feeling spilled up his arms and washed through his entire body.

Separating their hands, the amulet had been sculpted anew. Two hands framed layered glass petals that curled into the Dawnflower. They looked as delicate and iridescent as dragonfly wings, but when he tapped it with a nail, he knew they were as resilient as diamonds.

“Allow me.” She lifted the necklace by its cord. He dropped his chin and she looped it over. It settled, like before, against his breast.

He marvelled at it, its latent magic already crackling and reaching out to join with him. “What will it do?”

“It will make your spells more potent, and allow you access to your divine powers more often.”

“How can I repay you?”

“You already have, many times over, and you exalt me by fighting against him. It’s not a coincidence that you share Asmodeus’ blood—it’s not unlike fate every time one his distant children find their way to me. You’re resistant to his fire and receptive to mine.”

She pressed her fingers atop his amulet. “It can be difficult to preserve one’s faith the more trials you endure, and gods know you’ve endured them. Every malevolent act is a test, but you’ve never wavered. I’m proud of you, Union. I would advise you to use it wisely, but I trust you will.”

Union sniffed, misty-eyed. “Thank you, Everlight.”

She nodded, once. Her smile bloomed into a grin. “And congratulations on your engagement.”

Union gave a pleased flush, shuffling on his feet. “Oh, thank you.”

“You and Twill will be happy together. Have you thought of hosting your wedding here?”

“It may be a joint ceremony with the Wildmother, but we’ve considered it, of course.”

She chuckled—the sound resonated. “Good.” She bent to kiss his forehead. “Go forth.”

#promptober #promptober 2023 #writing tag #writing: union #union #exandria #issylra #sarenrae #one of the dms was like 'if you wanna write how your character got (insert legendary item here) please do' #this is the amulet of the devout but with a +3 bonus

[memoriae-lectoris]

The Roman Empire became officially Christian in AD 325, and over the next century a new heightened morality spread throughout all aspects of daily life. Whitened skin moved from being distasteful to sinful, for the simple reason that using makeup suggested that God’s creation wasn’t quite good enough in its original state, and that female vanity wished to improve upon it. Clement of Alexandria, a Christian theologian, was particularly vehement in his views on the subject: “If anyone were to refer to these women as prostitutes, he would make no mistake. For they turn their faces into masks.”

As we will see, these theological objections to cosmetics were to have a long life; male paranoia and anxiety over the use of cosmetics became absorbed into the teachings of the church. During the Renaissance, ideas about beauty were rigid—and ideas about makeup were even less flexible. Generally, the idea (one that by now should appear familiar, having explored the attitudes prevalent in ancient Greece and Rome) was that painting your face was unacceptable, but if you had to do it, then it should be indiscernible. What’s more, with the rise of Christianity in Europe, it’s not surprising that the new role model for femininity, behavior, and beauty was the Virgin Mary—a trend that continued well into the fifteenth century and beyond. Ethereal was in, and medieval women experimented with numerous concoctions to give their skin the desirable luminosity associated with virginal beauty.

The perception of color in medieval times was very different from what it is now: In a world where light was difficult to come by, especially in the long, dark winter months of northern Europe, color was measured by its brightness, so anything glowing or luminous was revered. If you consider that for much of this period the only type of art that regular people got to see were the (often magnificent) stained glass windows in churches and public buildings, in which the images portrayed were illuminated by the light shining through, then you can see why light had such significance. Jacqueline Spicer explains that a continuous distinction was made between “whiteness” and “fairness.” The latter was associated with what was described at the time as “glistening” -what we would think of as glowing skin—which is remarkably close to the language used to promote skincare products today that often promise to deliver glowing or luminous skin.

Mainly favored by European aristocracy, who would’ve been able to afford it, the purity of the lead in Venetian ceruse, along with its opacity and satin-smooth finish, made it the ultimate and most desirable white foundation. The trouble was, the more one used, the more one needed to cover up the ill effects it caused. With long-term application, skin became discolored, gray, and withered with hints of yellow, green, and purple—so one ultimately ended up looking like dried-up, old fruit. Continued use also rotted the wearer’s teeth, produced bad breath, and caused hair loss and even permanent lung damage. Venetian beauties of the time, including the grand dame of the fashion world, Queen Catherine de Medici of France, were also fond of the brightening combination of mercury (the go-to ingredient for fading spots and erasing freckles) and arsenic, pepped up with a touch of animal musk. Ironically, musk and its components can actually trigger hypopigmentation—showing yet again that the more money one had to spend on beauty products, the worse one could ultimately look.

#book: face paint #makeup #christianism #ancient rome #middle ages #culture #renaissance era #europe #arsenic #Jacqueline Spicer

[parfumieren]

1828: Jules Verne (Histoires de Parfums)

The tallship has just crossed the equator. A junior sailor, newly initiated into the Court of Neptune, descends into the cargo hold. His line-crossing ceremony took place only this morning; his skin is still salty from repeated baptismal drenchings with ocean water. Just for tonight -- as officers and crew celebrate with glasses of port and tankards of rum in their respective mess halls -- he has the run of the place and can go where he likes. Here is where he likes to go.

In the darkness below deck loom crates of lemons, limes, and oranges, barrels of rum and aqua vitae, bundles of Virginia tobacco, and cedar caskets full of spices. The wood -- already fragrant on its own accord -- has been permeated by the scent of nutmeg and black pepper, producing a wholly new and curious fragrance which lifts the sailor's heart. His apprenticeship before the mast has been toilsome and often doubtful. Years from now, skin calloused by work, heart hardened by defeat and sorrow, he may well become as jaded as the toothless, wizened old-timers who barked in laughter at his initiation. But tonight, he belongs to this ship, and it belongs to him. Everything about it -- its crew and cargo, the wide sea upon which it sails -- is beautiful. Curled up in a coil of rope in the full-laden hold, at peace with life's vagaries, he closes his eyes. It comes to him, seconds before sleep descends, that he has never known pure happiness until now. Let the wind and waves rise...

Perfume, like any art form, is a form of storytelling. Every vial of fragrance contains layers upon layers of narrative to be guessed at by the wearer. Sometimes the perfumer's brief provides clues to the plot; other times, it's left to the imagination to interpret all.

1828 is dedicated to the French author Jules Verne, whose fascination with technology and mechanical innovation paved the way for modern science fiction writers such as Philip K. Dick and William Gibson, and has been a primary influence on the steampunk movement. Transportation is a particular fetish of Verne's; submarines (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea), transatlantic steamships and cross-continental trains (Around the World in 80 Days), cannon-propelled spaceships (From the Earth to the Moon), and lighter-than-air craft (The Mysterious Island) all symbolize the quickened pace and boundary-breaking spirit of 19th century life.

Oddly, the perfume named in Jules Verne's honor is neither sleek, fast, nor futuristic. Rather, it is a nostalgia piece, an evocation of an era predating that of the great author: the age of tallships, of Horatio Lord Nelson and the Napoleonic Wars.

Up until 1810, Myristica fragrans -- the tree from which nutmeg and its sister spice mace are derived -- grew nowhere else on earth but Banda, a tiny volcanic island chain east of Indonesia. For nearly 200 years, the Dutch occupied Banda, maintaining a complete monopoly of the nutmeg trade worldwide. But once the British Royal Navy managed to wrest control of the island from the Netherlands, transplanted nutmeg trees began to dot the globe.

To the modern-day nose, the scent of nutmeg still evokes quaint colonial comforts. It's a resolutely anachronistic smell -- and although it would seem to have little to do with the ocean, a nutmeg accord properly embedded in a marine composition will "read" like a Patrick O'Brian Aubrey/Maturin novel.

But where is Jules Verne's place in all this? It's in the clockworks, the gears, the mechanical accoutrements that set 1828 to humming. The trick that this perfume pulls off -- superbly -- is to place a wonderful piece of old-timey scrimshaw in a spare, minimalist, and thoroughly modern setting so that one can no longer tell what century (the 18th? the 26th?) it hails from.

A breezy citrus top note greets the nose first, paired with the smallest touch of eucalyptus to make it fly. A strong middle section of straightforward wood notes lulls you into thinking that perhaps the liveliest moments are over, but at last a radiant nutmeg accord sets in-- rich, cool, weighty, and smooth. This is a scent both Horatio Hornblower and Captain Nemo could wear. (Heck, throw in Morpheus from The Matrix while you're at it. What is the Nebuchadnezzar, anyway, except a supermodern Nautilus adrift in dystopia?)

When a perfume has the power to set all sorts of mental plotlines into motion, you might as well make yourself the hero: steely-eyed, soft-hearted, and guaranteed a new adventure at every latitude.

First, though, you must hear the call of wind and wave.

Scent Elements: Grapefruit, citrus, mandarin, eucalyptus, pepper, nutmeg, cedar, incense, vetiver, pine

#1828: Jules Verne #histoires de parfums #perfume review #parfümieren

[monsterslament]

as a person who has been wearing glasses since the age of one, that banner of urs was a bit of a jumpscare /hj /lh

Oh yeah I forgot I changed it to that!! yeah glasses wearers rise up (is not a glasses wearer but faked needing them when I was little so I saw her..)

#I feel bad that I faked it bc my mom spent a lot of money on those glasses only for me to not need them