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chronic-ghost · 8 months

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Chapter 9 of Recovery Road

chapter rating: E (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 11845

chapter summary: if you thought you knew the full story of natalie lorraine, you were myth-taken

chapter warnings/tags: non-consensual touching, implied sexual assault, emotionally abusive parents, drug/alcohol use, underaged drug/alcohol use, women existing in the male gaze, putting too much of myself into characters as per yooshg

a/n: Header comes from the “Circe Offering the Cup to Ulysses” by John William Waterhouse. Song for this chapter is Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac – watch me make a fic playlist after the fact lmao. Bear with me while I wax embarrassingly poetic about my favorite oc blorbo. Remember this does end well!!!

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There are many different types of myth but, essentially, they can be grouped into three: etiological myths, historical myths, psychological myths. Etiological myths can offer explanations for why the world is the way it is. Historical myths retell an event from the past but elevate it with greater meaning than the actual event (if it even happened). [Lastly] psychological myths present one with a journey from the known to the unknown which, according to both Jung and Campbell, represents a psychological need to balance the external world with one's internal consciousness of it. – Mythology, Joshua Mark

“in front of my mother and my sisters,

i pretend love is cheap and vulgar.

i act like it’s a sin–

i pretend that love is for women on a dark path.

but at night i dream of a love so heavy

it makes my spine throb–

i dream up a lover who makes love like he is

separating salt from water.”

— Salma Deera, “salt”

Natalie Lorraine is a myth.

And like in all the great myths, birth is a painful, violent emergence.

Slowly, labored across years and many heartbeats, what remains is the inevitable conclusion of being fucked over, of being lazy and careless, of innocence taken too soon. Careless children grow up to be careless mothers, careless fathers.

The titans of the world leave to make their mark on history and, in doing so, mark their children in a way more powerful, more regretful than any legend could possibly make them out to be.

Medea is brutalized in legends and in verse for the most heinous a mother can commit.

Odysseys forgets what being a father means.

Oedipus Rex curses his children with an unforgivable sin by way of their mother, their grandmother, and that staggering failure is felt through to Antigone, a generation removed. Antigone dies. Haemon and Eurydice die too. Pain and grief are family heirlooms passed through pale fingers at the stroke of midnight.

But despite all that. Before all that.

Myths begin when the heroes are forced to make a choice, choose a direction in the way their lives end up. It might not always be obvious, and the gods might have things in store for them. But there is a choice and the fallen hero always chooses.

But they were all children once. You have to remember that. You have to believe that.

(Aetiologic)

I hate these socks, you think to yourself, they’re itchy and they hurt my toes. Every time you swing your legs over the edge of that leather couch, your legs too short to touch the ground, the toe of your shoe pinches you. You really, really want to take off your shoes, but Mom said you had to keep them on all day, especially in the office. In his office. You think your dress looks like one of your baby dolls and you don’t like it.

So you stop kicking, even though the sound of your heel against the leather made a funny noise. You can move too, and make the leather squeak, and that is pretty fun too. Grinning, you bounce like you aren’t supposed to on your bed back home, the cushions chirping – it sounds like they’re farting – you giggle, rocking back on your hands from left to right, squealing along with the leather as you made it –

“Enough!”

You freeze, tears immediately welling in your eyes, fear almost painful in your chest.

But he’s not talking to you. Your father is still in his office, with the door barely shut, and he’s talking to someone on the phone. Yelling, actually. He’s been in there since the little hand was on the fifteen and now it’s on the thirty. He told you to wait there while he called your mom. You tried to sit still, but it was boring and all the toys were back in the other room.

He never yelled at you, your dad, but he did yell at your mom.

When you talked to the other kids in your preschool class, their mommies and daddies lived in the same house together, slept in the same bed, talked nicely to each other. Yours didn’t.

“Well, what am I supposed to do with her, LeAnne? I told you I have a meeting at four today and she could be here for three hours. I told you! I can’t have her here! You need to come pick up your daughter!”

Your foot kicks up and down. You didn’t like it when they talked about you like you weren’t there.

“Hey there.” A woman with blonde hair and big eyes sits down next to you. She was always around your dad, and always handled his papers and briefcase and sometimes his coffee. She is younger than your mom but way older than you are. You think she’s really, really pretty. None of her dresses look like baby doll dresses. “I’m sorry your dad is taking so long. Do you want something to eat, or drink?”

You shake your head. Your mom said not to talk to strangers, so you didn’t open your mouth.

“Are you bored? Do you wanna watch some TV?”

TVs were everywhere in your dad’s office building. Down near the elevators, and then more when you got out. It always seemed like people were watching a tv and the actors on the tv. Actors were people whose job it was to be on the tv or in the movies, your dad told you. He told you he knew a lot of famous actors, but when you told the kids in your class about it, they said they didn’t know any of those people.

“You’re just making things up!”

“You’re a liar!”

You really wanted your dad to introduce you to an actor, just to prove them wrong. You thought it was pretty cool how everyone was always watching them. Like they couldn’t look away.

You nod at the pretty lady. She smiles and picks up the skinny black tv remote on the table in front of the couch.

The tv in the corner of the room pops on. The size of it doesn’t take up the wall like some of the tvs in the office do, but it’s still bigger than the one you have at home.

The nice lady taps the button a few times, the channels changing, until she comes to the kids channel. It’s a little old for you – all of the shows at preschool are cartoons and this one has real people in it – but you want this woman to like you.

“Do you like this one? Friends in the Family? It’s so funny!”

She turns and leans back against the couch with you. You hear people laughing on the screen, even though you don’t see anyone. There’s a young girl, older than you but younger than this nice lady, and she has a boy with her on her parents’ couch. The boy leans in and kisses her cheek and the invisible people go ‘oooooh’.

“Ooooh!” You mimic and the nice woman laughs, grinning at you. Something warm and tight goes up your chest, and you pinch your lip with your teeth, toes curling in your stupid shoes. You liked making her laugh.

On the screen, a little girl – maybe the other girl’s sister – pushes through the kitchen door. You gasp in surprise. She looks like she could be in your preschool class. She’s all mad and she crosses her arms, pouting.

“Someone’s gonna get it!”

The invisible people laugh and the nice lady giggles so hard she leans forward and you’re giggling too, even though you don’t quite get it. That warm feeling reminds you of when you drink soda too fast, but it’s good.

You frown too, put your hands on your hips, parroting the little girl on tv, “someone’s gonna get it!”

Her pretty mouth opens in surprise, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh my God, that was so good! You sound just like her!” You giggle, your face hot. “Have you ever asked your dad about acting?”

You shake your head. You, an actor? On tv? No way!

“Well, you should! You could be really good!”

You don’t know what to say, you want to keep making the same faces that little girl is, when your dad’s door opens. The young woman next to you lurches forward and shuts off the tv. He comes out and you can’t tell if he’s angry or upset or if that’s just how he looks. You’re not around him enough to know. But he stands in front of you, thinking something.

“Judy, would you get us two juice boxes from the fridge downstairs?”

“Of course, Mr. Milken.”

The young woman leaves and you’re a little afraid. You don’t want him to yell at you for watching that show for older kids. You twist your little fingers.

“That was your mom on the phone. She’s going to be a little late.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Did you have fun today at my office? Did you like meeting all my friends?”

You nod, this time quicker. “Yes! I would like to meet an actor one day!”

At that, he smiles and you relax. People who are angry don’t smile.

“While we wait for your mom, do you wanna play paper football?”

“What’s that?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.”

So the myth begins. All it takes is a single idea. A single want. A single desire. An innately human desire. We build myths and we tell stories and we fill them with the things we want to hear.

You’re turning fourteen next month. It’s circled on your calendar in your bedroom. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal, but at least now you could start the emancipation process. If you wanted to. You laid awake at night, thinking about what you’d call yourself if you ever changed your name. Something vaguely French-sounding. European for sure. But they were just fantasies to get you through the day.

It’s early in the morning. You haven’t heard anything from Mom’s room in a while so you figure it’s just the two of you in the house again. You totter out of your room, blinking sleep from your eyes – it was a very late night on set last night and probably would be again, given how the production of this made-for-tv movie was going and especially with the extra homework you’ve been doing to make up for the time off you’ve taken – as you wander across the small, sun-streaked living room, and around the corner to the kitchen. You hear something from the fridge and just as you are about to ask your mom if she’s cooking (which is never a good idea), a man stands up. He’s older than you but younger than your mom and he has the last piece of your sourdough bread in his mouth. He smirks and you unconsciously tug down the hem of your sleep shorts.

This has been happening more and more lately. The way men, older men, look at you, it’s different now. Has been for a while, but now there’s more of them, their gazes sit on your bare skin longer, the light in their eyes changing, the lines around their mouths tightening. You don’t really know what it is they want, but it’s baffling to you that they think looking at you like that will convince you to give anything to them.

It's the way your mom’s new boyfriend is looking at you. Your cheeks heat up without your consent and you hate it.

He’s hungry and he’s scrounging around in the fridge and now he’s looking at you. Still hungry.

“Hey, you must be LeAnne’s daughter,” he says, taking the bread slice out of his mouth and propping his hairy arm on the top of the refrigerator door, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe as if deciding whether or not to make a sandwich out of you. Who likes this kind of shit? Oh, that’s right. Your mom.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yeah. That’s me. Is she here?”

His eyes follow the backs of your thighs as you walk over to the coffee pot and take out week-old coffee grounds. They’ve turned blue, started to mold, but you dump them out into the trash with three good smacks.

“Uh, she’s still in bed. She said you could get to school on your own.”

Behind you, the fridge door slams shut and you curl your toes, begging yourself not to flinch. There’s something inside of you demanding you to not show weakness. Steadying your own hand, you dig into the jar holding the coffee grounds. It’s halfway empty, you make a note to pick up some later, the thought pressed up against the swell of panic that’s growing at the edge of your awareness.

“I’m Alan.” He leans up against the counter out of the corner of your eye. “I know we just met, but I could take you, to school . . . if you want.”

His thick middle has nothing to do with age, only poor health. Evident further by his off-yellow teeth and bad breath.

“I’m o-okay. Thank you.”

There’s three minutes left on the coffee timer. His gaze is like open palms on your skin. You hate it. He sidles up closer and your nails dig half-moon crescents into your skin. The lovely smell of coffee brewing is overwhelmed by his cheap cologne. He’s big. Bigger than you. Bigger than any of the boys in your class, or any of the men on set. You’ve never really noticed the men on set, they’ve never been this close before, but you’re sure he’s bigger than all of them.

You’ve never felt quite so small.

“You were in that movie, right? ‘Those ain’t your average space-invaders’, that was you right?” You nod, the back of your throat drying out. He chuckles. “You were good. Really good. You were so pretty.”

“I was ten.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Ten outta ten.”

Your stomach clenches and it’s like he can tell. Alan reaches the two inches across the linoleum and gently strokes your forearm. A light, smelly panic sweat breaks out over your forehead, under your armpits.

You want him away from you, want him gone, to run back to your room, but where would that get you?

Roll over, play dead, show your under belly. You don’t know what else to do to make him go away.

“Well, if you see my mom,” you ease around him, your forearm sliding from his grasp just as his fingers tighten, making sure you don’t seem offended, “tell her I’ve got a ride to–,”

“Hey, wait, where ya going?”

You all but run back to your room, the coffee pot beeping behind you. You throw open your bedroom door and leap inside, locking it behind you. You don’t realize you’re panting until you feel light-headed, dizzy – you feel sticky all of a sudden and rush into your bathroom. Steam pours from the scalding hot water, the red handle all the way to the right, as you stand over it, watching it rush down the drain. With your lips pinched between your teeth, you run your hands under it and muffle a scream. It hurts. It burns but it’s like his touch is evaporating off your skin and there’s relief in that. It’s the first time you realize that the pain you give yourself is different from the pain that they give you.

Not all of them are like that.

Some of them are actually kind of okay.

You’re fifteen and dressed as a pumpkin for the Halloween party hosted by the studio, the suit baggy and oversized, and for once, your mom’s friends don’t stare at you. No one really has all night and it’s nice. You feel like you can ease into the wall and no one would notice. There’s a long black couch on the other side of a plant with glowing lights in the shape of ghosts wrapped around its trunk. You stepside around a few directors, one of your other actors, and head straight for the couch.

You don’t realize Jim, your mom’s current boyfriend is already there until you sit down and groan. He laughs from the opposite end and you jump.

He’s more her age, thankfully, and doesn’t really seem to notice if you’re at home or not. In fact, you can’t really remember another conversation with him that lasted longer than a few minutes.

“You liking the party?” He asks.

You shrug – never show your actual feelings. “It’s kinda late. I’ve got classes on Monday, so I’m hoping to make it an early night.”

He nods, slowly, distracted. There’s something about his eyes that isn’t right. Not in the way that he looks at you, but at everything, like he’s trying to look through a dense fog.

Your mother is nowhere to be found, which isn’t entirely out of the ordinary for this sort of thing. She’d either show up and be the life of the party or show up so trashed she had to be escorted out of the building.

But it is odd for her to just leave one of her toys lying around.

“Do you know where my mom is?” You ask Jim and he shakes his head, as though it takes a considerable amount of effort just to hold himself upright. There’s definitely something wrong with him.

And then you see the smoke coming from his fingers and you finally realize that skunky smell is coming from him.

He sees your gaze fall. “You want a hit?” He asks, either not remembering your question or not wanting to answer.

You’d never tried it before, not really having time between shooting schedules and school and your mom wanting to take you out to meet new casting directors and writers. You sit there, staring and realize Jim is probably one of the only consistent people you see in your life, everyone else a revolving door of names and faces and elbows to rub. A tiredness breaks over you like the push of a wave and you sway, wanting nothing more than to be at home under the covers. You wish you’d brought your walkman, so you could have hid out on the soundstage until the party was over.

You’d grown skinny over the past year. Rewarded and praised for it by producers and studio execs, you saw that people listened to you more, looked you in the eye when you were beautiful, made more beautiful by the thinness of your cheeks, your narrow thighs. Your mother was convinced you were taking pills, but couldn’t find anything in the house. And yet, the real reason behind it all was sometimes you were just too tired to eat. Too tired to move. Happy to curl up wherever you found yourself and sleep until the next person needed something from you.

But this is what you wanted, after all. You asked for a life of movies and revolving doors and fake people and men staring at your ass. You are reminded of this all the time.

You nod at Jim, curiosity getting the better of you and wondering if other girls did this sort of thing in basements or with their friends or boyfriends. You portray a teenage girl on television, but sometimes you don’t feel like one at all.

He reaches out to you and you take it. You’d smoke a cigarette once, with a few of the kids from that one time you guest-starred on that sitcom, so you think this’ll be the same.

“What’s it going to feel like?” You ask, the white paper inches from your lips. Jim looked at you and his eyes sort of crinkled.

“It’s good. Real good. Like there’s a cloud between you and the rest of the world.”

That did sound nice.

You put your lips and inhale – it burns in a way you weren’t expecting – and you cough. Jim laughs in a way that makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, that you’re silly.

“You’ll get it,” he says, “you’ll get it.”

You try again and remember that he held his breath before exhaling. You do the same, but the scratch makes your eyes water, your chest tighten, but you hold on, until you feel smoke cauterizing the back of your throat close and you cough again, less this time.

Jim laughs again and takes back the skunky cigarette. “Hey, look at that, your first joint and you handled it like a champ.”

He smokes more, losing interest in you, so he turns and watches the party. Your heart beats roughly in your chest, but that might be more of the nerves than anything else. You fidget on the couch, waiting for something to happen, but it never does.

“I think I need another h-hit. I don’t feel anything.”

Jim frowns at you, shaking his head. “Hell no. You took two giant puffs on your first go. I’m not babysitting you when you’re puking in the toilet with the spins.”

“The spins?”

“When you drink while you’re high. Can be a real bad mix.”

You blush, wondering if he saw you take sips from the flask in your purse or he just assumes you’re always drinking because you’re LeAnne’s daughter.

“Just sit back, relax, you’ll feel it. In a bit.”

So you try his approach, nonchalantly watching people dressed in devil costumes, in white vampire fangs and cloaks, little skimpy bunny outfits, as the party rages on. You watch, and slowly, the whole thing feels distant. Like you’re in the far back of a theater and everything in front of you is some sort of stage.

You find you like it in the back row, in the quiet and the darkness. It’s warm, sort of like you’re dizzy but you sway with the movement and you don’t get sick. You find that you are rolling your head back and forth and you giggle.

Jim smirks at you, that joint almost gone. “Yeah, there it is.”

You’d never been high like this before. Buzzed a little bit from the beer in your flask, but this was new. This was . . .

“It’s nice,” you smile widely to the ceiling. “Does it always feel this way?”

“Like I said, you can mix with alcohol and get really fucked up.” Jim shrugs. “And different strains do different things. This is gonna relax your brain, but there’s others that’ll give you a body high.”

Body, this thing you’re in that doesn’t feel like it belongs to you.

“But a mental high from weed and a mental high from glue are like two totally different things.”

Your bones feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and you could just melt into the leather. But you turn your head, dropping it against the back of the couch.

“You can get high from glue?”

“You can get high from just about anything.”

“Oh.”

The needle-like feeling that pricks your heart every time you come to one of these parties is gone. The sloshy oozy feeling in your stomach when you go into public with your mother is gone. There is nothing left inside of you except weight and heat and air that comes in through your nose and out through your mouth.

You giggle again. What if this is how a pumpkin feels all the time?

“Will it always feel like this?”

He doesn’t understand your question, doesn’t care enough to think about it, so he answers the only way he can. “Nah, should only last for a few hours. Then you’re good. No hangover, which is a plus.”

“But I always want it to feel this way.”

He grins again and pulls out a small plastic baggy with some fuzzy brussel-sprout-looking vegetable inside.

“Got twenty bucks on you?”

You’re sixteen and you’ve just started in your first major motion picture. Offers are rolling in, you no longer have to seek them out. The brand new telephone for your brand new house is constantly ringing. You have to unplug it to sleep at night. But that usually makes your mother yell at you.

She wants to answer every call that comes through. As if this house was hers.

You sit cross-legged on your bed, grinding up the weed you bought off a sound-stage guy earlier today in your silver grinder, your headphones in to drown out the noises coming from the other side of the house as well as the ones in your head.

This boyfriend was not so nice and in a drunken stupor grabbed your ass in front of LeAnne. She raged and yelled and blamed you.

Get out, she told you. Leave. Get out. We don’t want you here. Leave.

This is my house, you old bitch.

Licking the paper gently, you finish rolling the joint and press pause on your walkman. Stevie Nicks pauses in her crooning, and is it over now, do you know how? pick up the pieces and go home, and you remind yourself to find a purply drape at the next flee market. Reaching to the end of the bed, you plug in your headphones to the hot pink tv and flip to the right station.

Henry had sent in a new tv for your birthday, and you had that promptly thrown out. You bought this with your first check from residuals.

It’s almost eleven. It’s about to start.

You light the joint, inhaling smoothly, as the credits for Twenty-Three and Fun start up.

The joint quivers at the end of your knee, your toes curling. It wasn’t produced by your father’s company, but it was all anyone talked about at school, in the gossip mags. You thought about buying Tiger Beat just for the pictures . . . of one specific cast member.

You bite your nail as the theme song plays and the credits roll through all the gorgeous, young actors smiling as they go about their perfectly average lives in the big city.

And then his name shows up and you inhale smoke quickly to stifle the thing expanding in your chest.

Dieter Bravo.

His smooth soft hair, dark sweet eyes. God, he is so cute.

Your hand clenches the sheets. You’ve never had a boyfriend, only been kissed once while at dance in between shooting schedules that you’d begged your mom to let you attend. It was bad, it tasted bad, his lips were rubbery and wet, and you didn’t feel anything.

Not like when you imagine what it would be like to be kissed by him.

Twenty-Three and Fun is out of your demographic, but maybe you could convince someone to let you try out for the part of someone’s little sister who comes in for the weekend. You’d just love the chance to meet him. He makes you feel like nothing you’ve ever felt before, nothing you know what to do with, but you tingle all over with it.

You’re at the tail end of sixteen when the spiral starts.

When you don’t know where to put this loneliness that’s been dragging you down.

Men stare at you but not in the way you want. Girls your own age won’t look at you, and women glare at you while their husbands stare. And boys, God, boys your own age –

You wipe the tears from your eyes, the wind snarling through your hair, the heat of the summer night sinking into your skin like wet clay. You know you’re driving too fast, but you don’t care.

Every day you go to work and put on someone else’s skin. Their clothes. Their face. For a while, it’s been freeing, to pretend to have normal problems, a normal family, a normal life. Because you knew even if you had never chosen to go into your father’s industry – which was now just as much yours – you knew your life wasn’t ever going to be normal. Not in the way it mattered anyway.

But there is something there when you step in front of a camera. A feeling that doesn’t come from a dark place, from feelings of abandonment and loneliness – it comes from a place inside of you that still feels like you own, still is yours to hold and keep safe, despite everyone taking things from you without asking. Instead of taking, it gives. It builds. It grows, despite the salted earth of your soul.

You like becoming someone else for a while, thinking as they do. Dancing, laughing, eating, playing as someone other than yourself. You like to create. You crave it. You create life for someone else that doesn’t exist and you love it. It feels right, imagining something if not for you, for someone else. Someone who looks like you but isn’t you. It feels good to dream.

But lately.

Lately, this job is no longer an act of creation. It’s fake smiles and ad campaigns and commercials and it feels rotten. Hollow. Like you’re under the eyes of a thousand leering men instead of just one. It feels cheap. You feel cheap, for wanting it to be something more. This desire for life itself dies in your hands, choked out, aborted before it had the chance to breathe.

Your body, yourself, is being twisted, molded into something you don’t want it to become and the only time, the only time you feel as though you have even some slight control is when you have none at all. When you detach from your corporeal form, so high or drunk you can’t feel your fingers.

It began with the beer your mom’s boyfriends left in the fridge, then the pills in her medicine cabinet. Then the mini bottles of Crown Royal and Jim Beam in the mini-fridges at your dad’s office. No one ever seemed to care when you swiped the whole row into your backpack. Maybe others had done the exact same thing.

You didn’t know how or why these things made you feel better but they did. You didn’t care about the tears on your face, the hot flood of anger beating in your chest, and you didn’t care about the speed limit, not even when you saw the flashing red and blue lights.

But you started to care when they put you in lock up and then you definitely did when your father’s lawyer bailed you out.

You went home and threw up for six hours. No one came to check on you, no one came to find you when you yanked the phone cord out of the wall. You clutched the porcelain basin of the toilet for what felt like days. Years. You aged decades that night.

When you woke up, you showered, ate, and called back your father’s lawyer.

You had decided on a name, a new name to put on the emancipation papers.

You told the lawyer very clearly and seriously over the phone: “I want my name to be Natalie Lorraine.”

It was the emancipation that finally did it. The final chop from the parental vine. The day she kicked you out, you came home from school, in between shoots for a new film with Gerard Butler and in talks for something with Helen Miram, and you find your mother curled up on the kitchen table. At first, you legitimately thought she was dead; the top half of her body was crumpled against the wood, her feet tangled with the rungs of the chair. She faced away from you, her right hand curled around an empty crystal tumbler and a three-fourths empty bottle of Belvedere inches from her fingertips.

You stare, dumb-founded, your heart so slow you could hear it pound like a drum in your ears. And then she twitches.

And then she wails.

“How could you? How could you do this to me? I’m your mother. You owe me. You owe me you owe me you owe me.”

She heaves boneless to the floor, the glass and bottle slipping out of her hand and shattering like droplets of rain. You can’t move, transfixed, as your mother, hands split open, knees carving bloody trails across the tile, drags herself towards your feet, like a freshly dug-up corpse.

She’s muttering, spitting, snarling – she’s a starved, beaten beast, ready to make its last stand.

You were a mistake

You ruined me

You ruined your father for me

Her sentences are blurred, notched together, overlapping, and intertwining. The only thing you remember is the vitriol and hatred more palpable than her own breath.

Someone older, someone more separated from their pink, flushed girlhood would have the callouses to ease the burn, dull the cut. But at sixteen, you didn’t. At sixteen, with a burgeoning substance abuse problem and at the mercy of the first of many instances where adulthood begins to rob you of the small pleasures of life, you watch your mother crumble and it scares you.

In that moment you want nothing more than to be taken care of, in a way that doesn’t feel like it’s asking too much but it clearly is. You want to be safe in a way that is primal, the animal fear of the dark and unknown. You’ve seen your mother drunk before but not this drunk, never heard the sounds she’s making — the wailing, the disappointment, the sorrow and rage. It scares you so badly you want to cry.

The gap between girlhood and womanhood is closed when you understand your mother is only human. Nothing less. And nothing more.

She’s still muttering hateful, horrible things as you take her to her feet and ease her onto the couch.

She’s silent when you throw a blanket over her.

She’s pale, shaking, green.

Go away. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you around me. Leave me alone.

Leave me.

Go away.

You leave her, not knowing if it's serious enough to call 911, if you can actually die from drinking too much, but that fear, that vice-grip around your chest, it’s squeezing your lungs so tightly, tears leak out of the corner of your eyes. But then it sinks. Sinks into your bones, your blood, your muscles. Watching your mother folded up like a broken doll, you experience fear like you’ve never felt before.

Blink and you’re in your room.

Blink and you’re under your bed, curled up, knees to your chin, and you’re crying. You can’t stop crying. It’s the only thing that seems to appease the fear, the sense that nothing is real and everything is going to turn out badly and it makes your stomach twist. You gag on your own spit and you shake and you tremble and you experience your first panic attack without anyone to tell you what’s going on. How to survive something like that. You grow up thinking this is how everyone lives and you’re just too pathetic to take it. You let that shame and embarrassment fester and grow because it has no way of stopping.

Your father is also served with the papers.

Two weeks later, the production for your upcoming movie was suddenly put on hold. The role with Helen Miriam went to someone else.

He never helped you get ahead in the industry, but he absolutely blocked you from it. He never called you again.

Someone, someone else, might have been hurt by the fact that your father cut you off without so much as a goodbye. But it’s not like you could miss what you never had.

You take the hint and enroll in UC Santa Barbara under your new name.

The myth of your maidenhood ended in much of the same way it began: at the behest of someone else and exiled as an afterthought.

You tried the whole sleep-around-to-fill-a-need thing for the freshmen year of college. It didn’t take. You liked sex but you liked the chase more. You liked the hunt, the thrill, the unconscious desire to touch, when the desire to do something first emerges in their heads. You like to watch the basic urge emerge in their darkened eyes before the other shoe drops. Drops and splatters coherent and rational thought like a bug on a windshield.

You liked sex, even if more often you had to get yourself off while your partner had fallen asleep, their needs met. But you liked being wanted more. The drugs helped bridge the gap and given that you had no idea how to make friends because you'd never had one your own age before, the puddles of bodies that dripped onto couches and floors at parties seemed to be as good a social circle as any. They all started to recognize you at parties, in lecture halls, at bars. They nodded, you nodded back, and you sat down.

No longer alone.

But not entirely wanted either.

It was enough though.

By your third year, you were known more for your party provisions (with your old contacts from the industry) than your ex-boyfriends.

You meet Heidi Morgan through one of your production management professors.

You’d gone in to speak with your professor, a man notorious for sleeping with his students, and believed you to be next in line (men were so much better at doing what you asked when they thought you’d sleep with them), so you were hoping that you could convince him that it was actually your lab partner who stole the paper from you, not the other way around, when you see him with someone else.

Blonde, small, feisty.

Heidi Morgan takes one look at the grotesque ogling in his eyes and promptly introduces herself.

In her own fire and take-no-shit attitude, you find kindred spirits.

She later asks you out for drinks, you think it’s been too long since you went down on a girl, and you completely misread the situation.

She clears things up and then asks you to read for a part. The whiplash makes your head spin, but given that she’s not calling you a giant slut, it’s probably good news.

She knows who you are. Suspected because you looked familiar and because she has friends in some truly weird places, she confirms her suspicions by the end of the day. So she gives you a call, you show up, flirt too much, and maybe end up with a job.

She gives you the script. It’s good.

Really good.

Why me? You ask her. You graduate in two weeks. You’re turning twenty-two in a few days. There’s nothing you’ve done in recent years to make her have this kind of faith in you. All digital memories of you reflect a knobby-kneed, round-cheeked little girl then that same little girl with tits and a smirk well beyond her years.

She didn’t think she might find her lead in a dingy auditorium, she says, but crazier things have happened. It’s not a guarantee, or a promise, just an offer. Try out, see what happens.

Crazier things have happened.

The rest is less myth and more old history.

(Historic)

The day you meet him is not unlike any other. Except in the little things. Your bra strap breaks when you go to put it on. Your belt loop gets caught in a door handle and nearly shucks your pants to the floor. You somehow get lost on the way to the studio even though you have your phone mapping the route. It takes you around and around and around until you get out and ask a very confused gas station attendant where the fuck the sound stage is.

It’s not momentous. Annoying, perhaps, so annoying that all these little things pester your brain like flies gorging on rotten fruit. You’re distracted, one eye always glancing over your shoulder. Trouble, trouble, trouble, your problems seem to whisper, you’re in trouble.

A PA comes to find you, saying Heidi specifically asked for your presence but she’s gone missing. He thinks he knows where to find her, if you’d come with him. You eye him up from the black leather couch you’re draped across, irritated at the day and at him for his shameless staring. You nod, and immediately he starts running his mouth about his own Hollywood dreams. He’s a writer, you know, maybe you’ve heard of some of his smaller indie work, it’s not very much, but folks who know say it's good so maybe he’ll be able to sell it if –

The door to the back of the lot opens and it’s like god snapped his fingers in your ear. It’s not momentous, or earth-shattering, but holy shit does it fuck you up.

He’s broad. Tall. Forearms, thick and veiny, stocky thumbs and tense fingers. His hair is just on the edge of being long, but combed back in some attempt to tame it, to fold it into submission. His right earlobe is puckered, pierced, but no earring. His beard and mustache are trimmed, clean shaven elsewhere. Despite how he’s built out adult male muscle from his days on Twenty-Three and Fun, he still has those boyish eyes, a dimple that would drive anyone up a wall, and eyelashes you’d pay a thousand dollars for. You knew this was coming but it still feels like a kick in the chest.

That kick burns when you realize something.

He’s fucking pissed. He’s beautiful, carved from your very dreams of what the most gorgeous man on earth would look like, but he’s fucking pissed.

Surprisingly, at you.

Well, that’s disappointing.

He comes at you with his claws drawn and you’ve never, ever been one to back down. You swipe back and hope you draw blood.

You discover other things about Dieter Bravo, the boy who you used to have a heart-stopping crush on when you didn’t know anything better. Fantasy will always be better than reality, and this isn’t exactly how you’d thought your first meeting would go.

And yet, you discover something else, something very, very curious. Something soft and impressionable, bruised purple and green. Something you want to lean on with your entire weight until he chokes. It’s ugly, but it’s amusing. Maybe this is how you hoped your first meeting would go, albeit with some tricky obstacles and a ticking clock.

You want to press and see what spills out.

Dieter Bravo cannot and does not look away from you.

The day you meet Dieter Bravo is also the day you meet The Sixers, the day you meet Marie. She’s small, mousy, but apparently a fucking rock star on the drums. You like the irony; quiet and unassuming until she bangs through your head with percussion. Where the rest of her bandmates are wide-eyed and eager and come with more drugs than a pharmacy, there’s something about Marie that you find so tenderly earnest you kind of wish you didn’t come dressed like you were going out to eat the fleshly hearts of men everywhere. You want to approach her on her level. You don’t want to scare her away. There’s something redemptive about a kind, sweet girl like Marie striking up a friendship with you.

If you could ever figure out how to start one.

“Excited for the filming to start?” You ask her after nearly everyone’s picked up their things and left after the reading. She glances at you, then over her shoulder, as if you were talking to someone else. You instantly feel insanely protective of her.

She blinks a few times before distractedly shaking her head. “No. I’m actually terrified.”

“About being in a movie?”

She cringes, as if it’s the most shameful thing in the world.

“Yeah. I love playing in front of crowds, but something about being on camera scares me.”

You make a note to find out the next time they’re playing live.

“It’s honestly not that bad. It feels a little weird, like some unblinking eye staring at you, but then it just kind of fades away.”

She bites her lip, tucking that short brown hair over her ear. “Have you done this before?”

You’re not exactly hiding your childhood movie star past, but you don’t really want it broadcasted.

“Here and there.”

The rest of her bandmates are chatting amongst themselves, perhaps not yet aware you’re trying to befriend one of them. You’re not quite sure how it’s going.

“If you ever want, we could talk and I could give you some pointers.”

Fuck, why did that sound like a line? It shouldn’t. You didn’t want it to. Where was the line between asking someone to be your friend and asking someone for a fuck?

If she notices your embarrassment, she doesn't show it. She grins brightly, unashamed. “Yes! Oh my god, yes, please. I’d love that!”

Normally, when giving someone your number, you’d grab their hand and write it in Sharpie, giving them a good wink. Now you tear off a corner of the call sheet and write down your number in shaking hands. It’s a small piece of paper, easily lost. That’s okay, if she does lose it. No need to freak out.

She’s grinning, smile expanding across that round face of hers as she takes your number when someone calls her name.

Roxie, the one with bright-red flaming hair and gorgeously thick eyebrows, takes a glance at the piece of paper in Marie’s fingers. One eyebrow arches, and she says nothing.

Roxie looks at you like she wants to devour you whole. You think you’ll let her.

You decide to ignore him.

Whatever his problem with you is, it doesn’t have to be dealt with immediately. Maybe he’ll come around and if not, no skin off your nose. It’s none of your business what happens off camera, what he thinks about you as a person. All that matters is giving a good performance and you know you can do that.

You just sort of wish you had known more about the role before Heidi offered it. You really sort of wish you had known Dieter was going to be your co-star. That night, after approaching him in the parking lot, you had two glasses of wine to settle your trembling nerves, and you flipped through the script.

He was so calm and collected at the table read today. Cool, relaxed, at ease with himself and the world. Everyone knew him, everyone talked about him, either directly to you or in snatches of conversation.

Dieter Bravo – you could not ask for a better scene partner!

Dieter Bravo – he’s so, so nice. He always stops for fans!

Dieter Bravo – this shoot is going to be so much fun with him!

You’d never been particularly star-struck, but for the first time in your life, the idea of working with your co-star was daunting. When you were up against Gerard Butler, you’d been in the game for a while, knew the industry, showed up in the trades. Now, you felt like any other Santa Barbara graduate stumbling out in front of the camera for the first time. Where was that all-knowing smirk you had perfected at fifteen? God, had you always been so transparent?

You felt like you had to prove yourself at that table read. You know you were going a bit overboard, but they watched you, transfixed, and it empowered you. Mark Bronson, Marie, the rest of The Sixers, they watched you like Taylor had possessed your body and you instantly became a rockstar.

Only, he didn’t. He watched you and didn’t look away, but he looked so uninterested in your performance, the tears that filled your eyes were partially real.

And then he touched you and in that moment, you knew he was mocking you. Laughing at you, you fucking child. He was the legendary star here, not you, and to think you ever had a chance was laughable. The heat of disgust in his eyes hurt, more than you wanted to admit.

It was day one and he hated you.

Things escalate.

He caught you high on set and it felt like you were being scolded by your older brother. He didn’t get it. He never did. All that shit about how he knows what it’s like – bullshit. All fucking bullshit. He was somehow always in the corner of your eye, watching you, begging you to fuck up so he could expose you like the fraud you are.

And a pathetic fraud you are at that. He touches you and it’s like algae, hot and dense, spreading across your skin. You fight the feeling that strokes your cunt and you grit your teeth. Stop touching me, go away, stay back – please.

You’re twenty-two and still harboring that fucking crush you had when you were sixteen. It’s embarrassing. It’s pathetic. It’s so, so, so wrong.

You try to ignore him. Try to exorcize him from your every waking thought. It doesn’t take. You get drunk at the pool party and you want his eyes, anyone’s eyes, on you.

Marie is shy, you try to sober up around her, but you’re too far gone and you don’t want her to see you like this.

So you find Roxie. And Samuel. They give you something that makes your pupils dilate to the size of quarters and you feel like you’re made of cosmic dust. When they touch you, beauty and awe and the atoms of the universe bloom across your skin. You like kissing them, you decide. The water dripping off you from the pool feels like bad lovers and broken kingdoms up for sale.

You end up at his door. You don’t mean to. You genuinely forgot what room you were in.

Consciously, you know he’s married. Consciously, you know he hates you. But that doesn’t stop you from asking anyway.

“You could join us, you know.”

You want so badly to be his theatrical equal that it hurts, it burns hotter for a moment than your desire for him, and he just stares at you. Consciousness somewhere in a nearby galaxy, you can’t read the look on his face. And then it blurs, he closes the door, and the entire hallway grows thick, heavy leaves.

Disappointment is a physical object and it burrows into your chest. You think you can feel your ribs moving to make room.

Sam and Roxie fuck on your bed while you’re curled up on the futon. You don’t even change out of your suit. You kick them out as soon as they are done, not wanting their hungry gazes to turn to you.

This is always the worst part. When the emotions and memories that you’ve managed to pry off you as you coat yourself in a protective layer of LSD, finally come back. They wrap around you like a vice and you can feel the beginnings of a panic attack start in the tremble of your fingers. You stay there in the armchair, damp and cold and shivering and trying not to choke on your own throat, until the early hours of the morning. You think you could die like this but you don’t. You never actually do.

He doesn’t bring it up and neither do you. You sort of wish he would, just for a chance to . . . no, that’s fucked up and, if not legally, morally wrong. You can’t wish for anything when it comes to him.

It’s easier to hate him. To pretend like he was some over-involved, self-obsessed diva who stepped on your lines on purpose and flat-out refused to run scenes with you. It was easier as a whole for a while.

Marie started talking to you on her own now and that made you forget Dieter for a bit. The rest of the group was hesitant in their welcome, despite what had almost happened between you, Sam, and Roxie. But they all came around when you gave them the cleanest Molly they’d had in years.

It was like college all over again, but the faces were consistent this time. Five of them. You smoked in their van, fuzzy orange carpet fibers tickling your ear as you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the roof.

“Why are you called The Sixers if there are five of you?” You ask suddenly.

There’s a pause and then a collective chuckle. You watch it like lightning spark between them.

Nick finally speaks up: “Because it sounds like the sex-ers.”

“Sixty-nine n’ feeling fine.”

You laugh with them this time and you feel your breath mix with theirs.

While meeting him wasn’t a particularly momentous occasion, the drive up to his AirBnB was. Maybe it was the lack of air this high up, but around every turn, your chest got a little tighter. The Sixers had shown you The Labyrinth with David Bowie last weekend (“how have you never seen that movie? Did you grow up under a rock?”) and you can’t help but think of the Goblin King coming to whisk you away. At the very least, the amount of rings they wore were the same.

You try desperately to not look at his white-knuckles around the steering wheel and fail tremendously.

The thing is, you don’t really want to fight with him. You don’t want to have to interact with him through this hazy, distant, drugged out wall, but that seems like the only way he’ll talk to you. He’s always scowling at you, like you’d done something wrong, and you hadn’t. Sure, you thought about it and fucked yourself on the biggest dildo you had about it, but you hadn’t actually done anything. You hadn’t even made a move on him, not even bat an eyelash. But it seems like you just breathe in his direction and that sets him off.

You still don’t understand why his past drug problem is now your problem too. In your absence from Hollywood, you’d somehow missed his ups-and-downs as he transitioned out of a teenage heartthrob into a fully adult hot mess. You’d certainly missed his marriage announcement until you googled it in the bathroom after lunch one day to see if what you’d heard the two techs talk about was true.

She’s so fucking hot.

Yeah, she was a model, right? Dude fucking scored big.

Fuck, she was a model. Even if she wasn’t, she certainly looked it, from all the red-carpet photos of the two of them. He looked at her with complete and total adoration.

Hollywood party boy settles down with recent marriage to cubist painter’s daughter

The headline was wordy but got the point across. He was off-limits.

You didn’t know how to make someone like you if you couldn’t offer them sex or drugs. What the fuck were you supposed to do with the sober and married Dieter Bravo?

And yet, there were times. Moments. Fragments. Bursts of light in a mirror, where you thought he looked too long. How his eyes flickered black when you talked about your bra, or your tits, or your ass. But that’s all they were – fleeting instances of your own insanity bleeding into reality. He would never look at you like that. He hated you.

It scared you, the way he expected you to act when you couldn’t hide behind being high, when you couldn’t flirt your way out of a particularly tense situation. He wanted you raw, exposed, your face revealed to the light you had spent years hiding from.

And then he did the darndest thing.

He was nice about it. In the kitchen, and then on the patio, he asked you questions about your start in the industry, what you’d like to do with your life, how you saw your career going. He cooked for you and made you laugh. He invoked the holy saint Sister Heidi as a bargaining chip and it was all the excuse you needed to drop the boxing gloves. You didn’t want to fight with him. You wanted to be his friend. You wanted him to like you.

Scratch that.

You wanted him to fuck you within an inch of your life and, sure, it was stupid to finger-fuck yourself to him, on the same couch as him, but maybe you wanted to get a little caught. Okay, a lot caught because then he’d tell you to fuck off and he’d draw the line in the goddamn sand and, sure, it’d be embarrassing and, sure, it’d hurt like hell but you’d get over it. You’d nurse your heart but you’d get back on that fucking bike because you really, really wanted this movie to work – but –

He fucking doesn’t.

He doesn’t kiss you but he wants to. He looks at you like he wants to suck the marrow from your bones, drink the blood from your heart through your cunt.

Dieter Bravo wants to kiss you desperately, but because he is a good man, he doesn’t. And because you’re a shit person, you make it hard on him. You make it hurt because it hurts you and just for once, for a second, you want someone to understand how you feel. How you hurt. How you ache.

That house in New Mexico changed everything. For you. For him.

Friends didn’t make time with each other because they were trying to plug up the moans in their head. Friends didn’t keep busy to keep their hands off each other. You weren’t friends with him, but you did get along. You learned a lot about him. You’d never had a real friend before but you sure this isn’t how it’s supposed to feel.

Instead of a myth, your relationship is built in handprints. Red blotches on cave walls, their original meaning lost to time, a dead language no one speaks any more. Sometimes the prints overlap, sometimes they don’t. There are no words spoken, but the feeling is there all the same.

You think, if you could just take your aching heart out of your body, you could actually be Dieter Bravo’s friend. He fills in holes you didn’t realize were empty. Chasms for art, for acting, for food that didn’t come in a can or delivered on your front door. He knows about wine, and whiskey, and needs help dressing himself. He never made you feel like your asks were too much, your need to connect too great. He took your hand and told you what you wanted was normal. He’s funny, patient, and loves Shirley MaClaine movies. He did her entire monologue from The Apartment one night after hours of begging and it brought you to tears. You had a scene partner in Dieter Bravo, you had someone to challenge you, to rethink scenes and pull back deeper and deeper character layers. He’d taken a course online about psychology to have a new perspective on analyzing characters and you thought it was fucking genius.

Marie filled certain relationship needs – a girl to talk about drama with, a fellow fan of live music, someone to make you look up to – but Dieter fulfilled more, if not all of them. Despite working in an artistic industry for years, you’d never once talked trade with someone and certainly not someone who knew it so well. You were awestruck by him.

Call it infatuation, call it being horny, but there is a connection, a red through line that connects you both. And for a while, that’s enough.

Until it isn’t.

The mark of his blotchy handprints on your heart stop when you fuck some guy you barely know because Dieter hurt you.

When he won’t look at you while he’s pretending to fuck you, you feel self-conscious again, like he’s going to think you’re some inexperienced little nepo baby. But he does his duty and you do yours and you’ve never felt so empty.

Your handprint stays, while his blurs away.

(Psychologic)

After production ends, you exist in the margins. No more mythologizing. No more cave drawings.

And then Marie shows up.

She takes you to get your nails done like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is wrong with her? Doesn’t she know what you are?

You get smoothies and see some live music and she keeps you from spiraling. There is no possible way she knew about the lines of coke upstairs in your bedroom, but she takes you out into the light all the same.

You go out to shows with The Sixers. They love having a groupie who’s a Hollywood star. Marie seems embarrassed when they show-case you, but you find you don’t mind waving a bit on stage and introducing the band. You think you see a pair of deep brown eyes in the crowd occasionally but you know it’s not. You have to accept your fate. He might not like you and he doesn’t hate you, but he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with you.

Not friends, not lovers, but something else. Something almost.

You and the Sixers swim in the ocean off the Santa Barbara coast. You go to parties and you play the bongo drums in a treehouse in South Los Angeles. You bring the good drugs and everyone loves you.

You don’t want to go to the wrap party, but Marie insists. You think she likes being famous just for all the opportunities to get dressed up and do your make up. She told you once that you are the prettiest girl she’d ever seen without any motive behind it. She wasn’t trying to fuck you or fuck with your head. It was just the truth in her eyes and it made you nauseous.

You go to the wrap party because it’s something better to do than get high on shrooms for the fourth time this week and as a reward, Cooper shares his blunt with you in the car. You laugh easily and often and loudly and Cooper keeps you steady with a hand on your waist. You’re nervous, you want to drink more, but you already feel like you’re carrying too many cups and plates and the noise it’s going to make when you drop them all is going to be deafening.

He’s here. He’s here with his fucking gorgeous wife and you stand behind Cooper so you have something blocking your line of sight.

Just as you are about to order your first vodka soda of the night, Dieter rushes back into the house. The weed and coke in you switch the plugs in your brain and suddenly you are very, very angry.

But the Dieter you find is fragile, beaten down, vulnerable. He talks to you like he did in New Mexico and it dulls the edges around the hole in your chest. He looks at you like you’re his saving grace, his last hope.

Myths lie. They blur the truth to make a better story. They build up a man larger than life, they make goddesses out of women, and they sanctify, canonize love. They make you ache with the wanting of the fantasy of it, and that’s on purpose. Myths are the human experience on fire.

Kissing him, you feel on fucking fire.

Meeting him didn’t feel momentous. But fucking him certainly was.

The settlement of your mythology burns to the ground, flames licking the sky. He has crystalized in your veins and, in an instant, you’re hopelessly addicted.

With Dieter Bravo, you come to like sex. You come to love it actually. It’s an itch, a fluttering, warm feeling that makes you twitch and tense when his hands aren’t on you. There’s some part of you that knows the inherent danger of giving one man, much less this man, that much power over you, but fuck, you can’t help it.

You’re too young, too inexperienced in the world to know the difference between when a man wants you for sex and when a man loves you. In your mind, the two are the same and cannot be separated. You know what it feels like to be wanted to be fucked, but in your nativity you assume that’s how a man looks at you when he wants to love you — and this time you’d welcome it.

There isn’t much to say about New Orleans, except for three things:

One, you’ve successfully confused yourself into thinking this is what being in a relationship with him would be like.

Two, you’ve never felt safer and more wanted and more complete than you ever have when you take drugs with Dieter. (that primal animal fear is gone for the first time in what feels like years)

And three, you’re so fucking in love with him you’re sick with it.

In the sickness, you grow weak. You burn with fever. Your bones ache and your mind races. His touch is simultaneously a balm and a contagion.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

You love him unlike anything or anyone.

Marie is actually the only one who ventures a guess. Who catches you, wings pinned to the corkboard, and asks you point-blank, “are you fucking Dieter Bravo?”

Maybe she’s braver because it’s over text, permanent traces of your infidelity, but you stare at her message for hours. You think about it in the hotel shower after the plane lands in Los Angeles. You haven’t seen her in weeks and you’ve stopped returning her phone calls.

Your high falters at the idea that you might have (and probably did) lose a friend over him. But what did that matter, in the grand scheme of things, your sickness asks you, now that you have him?

Now that he’s the only thing that matters. Now that he is everything.

He goes back to his wife.

After everything. After what you did for him. After what you gave up. How you prostrated yourself for his love, for a moment of his time. He can’t see it, it’s eating you up. You think cancer has kinder teeth than his.

The foundations of the core of your being are rocked. It doesn’t feel real because he’s still in this hotel with you, the same hotel where you fucked in the bathroom, where you flirted with him for the cameras to sell the movie, where he begged you to stay with him, you’re gonna stay, right? you’re gonna be with me, after this? And maybe it isn’t real because he only lasts being apart from you for twelve, maybe fourteen hours. Maybe he’s sick too. Maybe he’s fucked just as much as you are.

In your dark, deep wretched heart, you hope he is. You hope he’d die without you. But you don’t know. You don’t know because he never says it.

This time, it’s real, he promises. This time, he’s never going back. This time he’s going to say he loves you, his kisses pledge to you.

This time he’s not going to leave you.

In the mornings after Chloe leaves and you kiss him E-tablets with your tongue and he fucks you in every way he knows how, he curls up next to you and you tell him. It doesn’t matter he doesn’t seem to hear you.

You tell him you love him, have always loved him. Dieter Bravo turned from an imaginary companion, to a friend you didn’t want, and now to a lover who makes you think you’re special. Something valuable, precious. Something that is worth keeping.

Until you’re not.

Myths serve to answer questions about our place in the natural order of things. To ease tension. To provide guidance.

Why does it rain?

Where do the seasons come from?

What is the sun, and why does it leave and return?

What is heartbreak?

What is grief? What is sorrow? How do we carry them with us?

How do we go on when the world is determined to break us?

When you’ve always had nothing, and now you still have nothing and no one – he doesn’t love you and he’s going back to his pregnant wife – you ask, what’s the fucking point?

Not even the myths can answer that one.

Later, when you wake up under the bright lights of a hospital room, your memory is cracked, broken into terracotta pieces on the ground. There are things missing from you.

You don’t remember calling Oliver, only that he was there and he was high out of his mind and he gave you whatever he had in his pockets. You don’t remember what you took, or if Oliver was kind to you when he watched you swallow pill after pill.

You don’t remember the shower, the ambulance ride, or being admitted.

You aren’t sure exactly what you’ve lost. But you feel the missing edges.

Dieter is missing from you.

If you close your eyes, still the movement of your body, block out the noises of the machines and the hospital around you, you think you remember hearing him say it.

You think he might have said it when he kissed your forehead, but it feels older than that. Like his words and his actions stem from two different memories but you’re so fucked up they blur together. You want to hold onto that new memory, as fabricated as it might be, for as long as you can.

But then sleep over takes you again and it flushes everything out. The next time you wake up, you don’t remember that he ever said, I love you.

When you wake up, you know he’s gone. You don’t know how you know, or why, but it feels like a piece of you has been torn away in a bloody chunk. Like someone had taken pliers to your fingernails and tore them off until blood splattered onto the floor.

Like someone put a knee to your shoulder and wrenched white teeth out of your mouth.

Until you are gummy and dripping.

You open your eyes not to Dieter, not Heidi, but Marie. Mousy, intelligent, thoughtful Marie curled up asleep in the chair next to you.

The sound of your crying wakes her up. Wordless, judgement-less, she crawls into bed with you, takes you into her arms, and lets you sob like the heart-broken mess you’ve become.

God, can you die from pain like this?

She strokes your forehead and tells you, no, you can’t. You might want to, but you can’t.

For the first time in your life, you’re not a myth.

You’re not a story of a little girl whose parents didn’t love her enough.

You are not the story of an actress whose star burned too bright and hot and the cosmos punished her for her hubris.

You’re not the story of a woman who fell in love too hard and too fast with drugs and a man much older than her and got shattered on the rocks.

The book has closed, the final chapter has come. There are no more stories to tell, nothing left to make fantastic.

You are a broken human body.

Natalie Lorraine is a myth.

You were a child once. You have to remember that.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble 2016 #dieter bravo/f!reader #dieter bravo/you #dieter bravo/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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springdandelixn · 1 year

Text

Sonnets and Kisses

Loki x F!Reader - University AU

Warnings: Just fluff really

A very quick drabble/short that I came up with upon seeing this post. University Loki has been eating my brain for a while.

Although this is a drabble/short, your comments, likes ans reblogs are highly appreciated. Also, do you guys want more University AU Loki? Enjoy! 💚

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;”

You try not to swoon as you listen to Loki, his voice resounding through your dorm room as he reads from your kindle in his hand.

His back is pressed against the wall as he sits on your bed, legs crossed at the ankle and you sit at the head where your pillows lay, clutching one in your arms while your chin rests a top of the fluffy surface.

You try to keep your eyes locked on the space over his shoulder, but you can’t help but stare at him, admiring the way his lips move and his throat bobs each time he says a stanza.

“But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

“You have a very nice voice.” You blurt out all of a sudden, your eyes blowing wide in shock at your burst of courage before looking down at your feet on the bed. “I mean— you have— you sound,” You’re stuttering and you want to mentally kick yourself for throwing yourself and him in such an awkward position.

Way the go, doofus! You shake your head and try to move out of your bed but stop when you feel a hand grab your forearm. You look up and blush furiously when you see him lean closer to you, face only inches apart while his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Is that so?” He whispers, feeling his hot, minty breath brush against your cheek.

You nod.

“Then why don’t you make me moan?”

You blink rapidly at his unexpected words, your face going hot as he looks at you with a playful smirk. The pillow is pulled from your grasp and in an instant, Loki is a breath away and it’s like the sky is burned by a thousand suns when he presses his lips against yours.

The piece Loki was reading is Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare.

Tag list: @mochie85 @stolenlucifer @michelleleewise @rmoonstoner @muddyorbs @javagirl328 @lucylaufeyson3 @huntress-artemiss @ariacraigggg @silverfire475 @lonadane @123forgottherest @catalina712 @lokiprompts This would also be the last time I would be doing a tag list. Sorry, I just feel so lazy when typing it all out hahaha But if you still want to receive updates on my series and my other stories, follow my archives blog for I will be posting the updates there. Thank you!!

#loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki au #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #mcu au #mcu #coconut bun stories

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alelelesimz · 4 months

Text

SIMBLR ASK GAME:

thank you for tagging me @nefarrilou 🖤🖤🖤

🌸 What's your earliest memory of playing the sims?

my friend/neighbor had the sims 1 so we used to play together

💫 How did you discover the sims franchise?

because of that friend from above! she had two older brothers who had like, every video game ever so i learned about most games from my childhood from that

🍇 What was your first sims game?

although i loved ts1 i never got my parents to get it for me so the first one i actually owned was the sims 2! and after that probably some gba sims i think?

🍦 How long have you been playing the sims?

since forever lmao!

🧋 What is your favorite sims series?

i think for pc ts2 was the most fun to actually play, but i also really loved the handheld story based sims! the ones for ds and gba were ugh so good i wish they made more of those

🤍 Do you have a favorite sim created by you?

most of my ocs i adore but i'm especially obsessed with these two :p tinker my first simblr oc and vega my little guy. tiny even

🧸 Favorite townie?

probably candy behr and miko ojo :) i have a type

🍨 Do you have a sim self? If yes, do you play with them?

yeah this idiot. i don't play with them bc they're as annoying as i am irl

🫐How often do you play the sims?

play PLAY actually play, never lol. i just open the game and don't leave cas

🌱Do/Can you relate to any of your sims?

i have a couple that i relate a bit but idk not too much

🐬Favorite sims challenge?

any fun cas challenge i'm here for it

👜 What in-game career would you choose if you were a sim?

was there a video game streamer or something like that? hell yeah

🌷Which traits would you have if you were a sim?

hot headed, loner and creative (and moody & lazy)

🍮 Favorite thing to do in the sims?

put my sims in fun outfits :)

❄️ Favorite in-game season if you own The Sims 4 Seasons?

summer but later in the season when sims are not dying from being under the sun

❣️Do you talk about the sims with any of your friends/family members in real life?

yeah basically everyone in my life is a big nerd so me liking the sims is not the weirdest thing lol

✉️ How big is your mods folder?

oh god don't do this to me. 122gb

📱 What made you want to start a simblr?

i got ts4 back when it came out but i was graduating high school/figuring out uni stuff at that time so i didn't really get too into the online community until around 2018, i was looking for cc and realized all the good mm stuff was on tumblr and oh boy! there's a bunch of people here sharing fun sims posts hell yeah i'm staying here! so i ended joining simblr in 2019 :)

#tag game #sorry for the long post :D

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necroangelz · 15 days

Note

🪽 & 💉 please。。

I'm gonna pretend this didn't take me like 2 weeks to respond to again

『 💉 』

a kin memory

as Monika from ddlc, i remember two timelines/lives! one timeline follows the canon events of the game where i was a sentient entity trapped within the game. in the other timeline, i was a human girl living in like, a normal world, except i suffered a huuuge breakdown from heavy stress. something in me snapped and i began to see the world as lifeless and flat, and i thought i was stuck in a simulation or video game of some sorts where everything and everyone was fake and i was the only real being. it was.... very hard, as you can probably guess, but with professional help and support from the other club members i got better

『 🪽 』

infodump about an oc

@yaoimurder hi squid I'm tagging uu here bc this is where i ramble about that vampire oc i mentioned ages ago, if uu remember that!!! read on if uu'd like (: my oc infodumps are very long and i mention almost EVERYTHING about them so uu can just read the basic info only lol

her name is midah she is my babygirl. she's also my first (and only) empires SMP oc and i ship her w my f/o (mythicalsausage s1)!!

picture #1 is much more accurate to how midah looks but picture #2 includes details about midah not present in the other photo, such as her red vial necklace, flowers on her cheekbones, and silly little hat

since she's an oc for a series I'll mention stuff that some might not know about, im too lazy to explain everything though so if anyone's curious at all just ask :3

okay midah's backstory is a LIIITTLE murky bc i mainly use her for vague-daydreaming purposes. anyway shes an assassin sorceress who practices blood magic and other types of magic (such as offensive fire Magic that involves creating and manipulating white fire). i got the idea for her name from the line, "touch me, midas, make me part of your design," from my ordinary life. other than that though, her character/story doesn't have much connection to the mythology figure midas. it's just her name that's connected to him. her name is pronounced like midas without the "s", or like the name Micah.

midah is half vampire and half flower elf. i don't really have info on what a "flower elf" is exactly, i don't think i wrote down the info for that, but basically it's just. Elf type connected to Flowers. and flowers often grow on (and maybe in...) their bodies. this can be seen in the red roses that grow on midah's cheekbones. help me my brain is coming up with ideas fur this elf type as i type this but I'm too tired to really focus on that and too focused on finishing this rambles

shes brave, strong, self assured of her own capabilities, tbh for the most part she's a normal person with not much mental and emotional problems, and she cares deeply for those she loves (like a certain mythical j. sausage... aka my f/o ever) she cares deeply to the point of sacrifice but hey, anything for true love amirite... shes also usually the voice of logic and reason compared to sausage but she doesn't try to stop his antics (until his antics start getting a little... demonic.) she totally tops sausage btw. shes also older than him by a bit and she's much taller than him (she's like 7ft tall)

anyway midah isn't very affected by the sunlight BUT she does need to drink blood every now and then, otherwise she gets a bit Quirky (aggressive, uncontrollable monsterlike behavior, and also she starts feeling a lot of physical pain) blood is like a Huge thing for her. she can perform rituals using blood. she wears a vial of blood tied to a necklace for good luck. she has a special bond with the blood sheep

wait what the fuck is a blood sheep? they're creatures from empires SMP s1, particularly the mythland empire (cough cough, that's the main setting of midah's "story") basically they're just Minecraft sheep dyed red. but lorewise they're mysterious creatures who have inhabited mythland for a very long time. they exhibit erratic behavior and sometimes display aggression to other beings. their blood and guts are also very useful for rituals! the blood sheep like midah a lot. they follow her around and nuzzle her like docile farm sheep and sometimes she can communicate with them and they follow her orders. they also protect her FIERCELY against anyone

the vial midah wears around her neck is filled with the blood of a sacrificed blood sheep. she wears it for good luck but replaces it every now and then because the luck can degrade and eventually attract bad luck instead

so yeah i have a lot of different storylines i imagined for midah and ill try to go over them briefly (I'll totally not type like 6 more paragraphs)

- backstory #1 explaining how sausage and midah met: midah moves to mythland and works there as a regular farmer at first and then attempts to join the assassin's guild managed by sausage. she expresses interest in being an assassin and spy. sausage is unsure of her at first,but hes intrigued by her, so he tests her with an easy normal mission: assassinating codfather Jimmy in the empire next door and bringing back his head. yeah that's totally not, like, the beginning of a war and political feud or something. so midah sneaks to the codlands, successfully kills Jimmy, returns with his head, and gets accepted into the guild. at the beginning of this backstory she puts on this facade of a totally unassuming and regular citizen who doesn't seem to have any fighting capabilities, let alone the capability to fight with magic and perform rituals, but then time passes and more and more is revealed about her and it's like Wow she's not who she seems to be. at all. and she quits her farmer job and goes all in on the assassin gig but does other stuff on the side too. and falls in love with saus along the way LOL

- midah x saus backstory #2: they're ~ childhood friends ~ who have been separated for like more than a decade and reunite when midah moves back to mythland. (i envisioned this scene in my head actually—a few days before returning to mythland, midah sends sausage tons and tons of letters sealed within a thick envelope, talking about her plans to return to mythland and why. and also updating him on what's been going on in her life the past decade or so. then on the day she arrives in mythland, they have one of those cute cliche scenes where they run towards each other on a long path and hug each other at the middle. and they cry a bit and talk and marvel about how long its been since they last saw each other. its really sweet ugh)

in this backstory midah was actually part of one of mythland's noble families. i made up some lore where mythland used to be ruled by four noble families (among them were house sausage, which is where sausage comes from duh, and house lavendar, where midah comes from, and yea it's intentionally spelled that way). the noble families/houses went to war with each other for power over mythland and the other two houses were defeated. most members of house lavendar left of their own accord and the rest that remained renounced their noble lineage, leaving house sausage who became the ruling family of mythland. the members of house lavendar specialized in blood magic and a lot of advanced complex blood spells were created by them. hence they have connections to the blood sheep in some way.

i like the longtime friends/allies to lovers dynamic that's going on in backstory #2 (: backstory #1 is still cool in its own way, strangers to lovers is nice, getting to know each other on purpose bc uu find each other intriguing is nice, even though uu might think uur very different people at first, uu get to know the other person a bit more and uu find out things about them and uu realize uur not so different after all ^_^ i read smtg about that once, about loving each other on purpose and choosing to love each other even though uu don't have years and years of history with the other person, and uu grew up completely without them and uur roots aren't tangled with theirs. but still uu love them. and that's very beautiful

okay umm this is getting to be a lot lol i think I'll cap it here, maybe the next time someone sends a 🪽 emoji I'll do a pt2 bc i still have more to say LOL

#🎮﹕ press start 𝜗𝜚 ︵

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elisedonut · 4 months

Text

fic author interview

Thank you for the tag @mirrorofliterature I'm tagging whoever feels like doing it!

How many works do you have on AO3?

33.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

42,741 words.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Raspberry Muffin Flintley - 139

at least we're trying Flintley - 104

Rhododendrons and False Indigo Harry/George - 102 (why its only been up a week wtf)

Anyone But You Draco/Percy - 98

Storytime Naps Perciver - 96

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yeah! unless it's just asking me to make more then i tend to get annoyed and ignore it but i don't get very many at the moment so i tend to stay on top of it pretty well

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Deceased. i guess? it's really the only one I got

i don't write angsty stuff much

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

most of what i write barely even has AN ending I do a lot of open endings

i think the closest I've gotten to a complete story story have been A Shell for a Mate and Camera Cutie and they both end pretty happy

7. Do you write a cross-overs?

I have not as of yet! if I ever do it's probably going to be an isekai type scenario because it seems like the most fun to me

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I still have not shockingly

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sometimes im not very good at it and am still learning on that front most of it tends to cut before smut really happens or is just jacking off

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

12. Have you co-written a fic before?

Also no.

13. What's your all time favourite ship?

I'm a big multi shipper so don't really even have one within one single fandom and you want an overall??

right now 99% of what i think about is Percy ships

14. What's a WIP that you want to finish but think you never will?

hmm if i say all of them do i lose my writer card?

jkjk

but i do have alot of things I've started because the mood hit that i just can't see myself going back to like i have 3k for an amnesia memories au that has just been gathering dust since that original sprint of inspo hit

15. What are your writing strengths?

??? i come up with fun concepts i think? or at least they're fun to me

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

the writing part really I come up with far more ideas then I would ever be able to write hence why I still post alot on here but also like making the idea an actual story story and not just a small slice of a story

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I'm too lazy for it overall.

18. What's the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter so far it's the only fandom I've written for

19. What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I'm not sure i ofc have a list of Percy ships i want to try which is currently

Dudley, Seamus, Justin and then ofc the two that constantly give me trouble when i try to pair them with Percy, Remus and Harry

but like outside of Percy ??

i have fandoms but most are dormant as of now like i love Idolmaster and stay caught up on the music but the idea of writing fics for it is like eh if anything it would be Makio/Soichiro tbh i miss them

I finished rwrb and enjoyed it a ton but with the firstprince being canon my brain just doesn't care that much to even seek out content for it because that's how my brain works

its canon so i don't feel the need to read (or by extension write) like 1000 different scenario's for them to get together

like people who stay fully invested in canon couples are powerful because my interest in them in a fanon sense goes out the window every time

i feel like if i ever did do something with rwrb it be an isekai since they are both into HP so it be a very typical get transported into your favorite series story i think that would be fun

i will never do it but fun idea

the ships i like for Danganronpa would probably get me killed/j

like i am with Percy now i was a big Chihiro multi shipper in my DR days before settling on ChiMaru as my favorite for them

20. What's your favourite fic that you've written?

controversial pick but Secret Fantasy

i put so much work into it KNOWING no one was going to care about it because it's incest but i care about it damn it!! its the longest fic ive written as of now and i had so much fun with it and still think about it alot

less controversial pick is Camera Cutie because I'm Colin kick at the moment though it is a bit more like messy since it was a pretty early one

#tag games #fucking love tag games #i feel like ive done this one before but I'm not complaining i might go hunt for it to compare my old awnsers

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haloburns · 1 year

Text

I posted 23,071 times in 2022

204 posts created (1%)

22,867 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@who-is-page

@ruffboijuliaburnsides

@tukoism

@dp-marvel94

@roundaboutnow

I tagged 1,885 of my posts in 2022

#danny phantom - 115 posts

#the world is having more fun than me tonight series - 94 posts

#ecto writes - 91 posts

#ecto fics - 88 posts

#my fics - 72 posts

#my au - 35 posts

#ml spoilers - 31 posts

#the batman 2022 - 26 posts

#strike back spoilers - 26 posts

#my writing - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#nor did the fact that i could already read do me any favors bc i was like immediately singled out and elevated to the 1st grade reading cla

My Top Posts in 2022:

You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs then tag others. No skipping!

thanks for tagging me @roundaboutnow !!

i'm gonna use my invisobang playlist that i can't share the title of yet. it's my fav right now.

1. same direction - hoobastank (honestly hoobastank fucks)

2. getting away with murder - papa roach (a classic)

3. be my escape - relient k (my beloved)

4. make it stop (september's end) - rise against (this song makes me cry)

5. until the day i die - story of the year (a perfect ghost light song, ive had it on all my songs)

6. for you, and your denial - yellowcard (oh this song fucks too. the violin man. the violin.)

7. last night on earth - green day

8. saying sorry - hawthorne heights

9. devil in the mirror - black veil brides (this song is so good for this fic...)

10. give it all - rise against

@redead-red @jadenoryuu @omnicrafts (share those crossover playlists babe!!) @floralflowerpower @bibliophilea and anyone else that wants to join in!

31 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

with every sin, i still wanna be holy

Dan wants to be better. But that means dealing with his past (future?) actions and starting to make amends and acknowledging how he's hurt these people in his life. It's hard than he'd like to admit. Part of the the world is having more fun than me (tonight) series.

Lancer,

I dunno why I’m writing this. It’s stupid. I’m not even gonna send it. You don’t even know who I am! Clockwork did his meddling with time bullshit so you don’t remember me.

No one remembers me

You were my favorite teacher, yknow. You were the only one who actually gave even a little fuck about me. All my other teachers wrote me off as just another dumb lazy kid. No one knew of course.

Oh I guess I should tell you. I’m… Danny Phantom. Sort of. It’s a big mess of things, but Fenton is Phantom. That little punk Weston kid was right. That's why I missed so many assignments and always fell asleep in class. I promise I wasn’t a bad kid, Mr Lancer.

I guess I just needed to tell you who I was. So you would be understanding or some shit. Maybe so I wouldn’t feel like I failed every adult in my life.

Whatever. It’s not like I’m sending this anyway.

Dan

Read more letters on AO3!

40 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

hey look at that! another redraw!

i wanted to work on style and some other things, so i redrew my avatar (again). the first one is literally just the screenshot, and then the second one is Pissed Off Ghost King™ Danny. that one was more to fuck around with ectoblasts and some other stuff. also i designed a crown!

some more stuff below the cut!

here's a version without the blasts bc im vvv proud of how these hands turned out, considering the weird ass proportions of the cartoon. big thanks to @friendly-neighborhood-imbecille for those hand ref sheets 👉🏼👉🏼 u the realest

See the full post

44 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

GUYS

GUYS LOOK

my friend @i-think-in-metaphors did this amazing commission for me!!! i redid the phantom planet statue for my au, and wrote a scene for one of my upcoming works where mateo gets to see it in person. i finally got tired of imagining it and wanted to see it.

and the product. is. GORGEOUS. it's so perfect. i'm in love. i'm gonna cry about this for the next 30 years. LOOK AT HIM.

(click for quality.)

check out her commissions!!

the scene it's based on is below the cut!

Excerpt from quit telling everyone i'm (permanently) dead! (wip)

The black zirconium statue was larger than life. It towered above them on two separate, stepped obsidian pedestals, each about five-feet high. As Mateo moved closer, he could see something glittering in the bases. Danny mumbled something about ectoplasmic ice mixed into it, stronger than diamonds, but Mateo thought they looked like stars. He figured that was the intention. It was gorgeous.

He tilted his head back to take in the actual sculpture. That Danny was twice as large as the one standing next to Mateo. He felt his heart lurch a little at how serious Danny looked, the tight furrow over his brow, the determined set to his jaw. It all made him look so much older than even now, even though Mateo knew he was only sixteen when the statue was made.

The statue’s zirconium white accents were blinding in the late afternoon sunlight, and Mateo found himself shading his eyes as he looked up even higher. The hair on the statue was shorter than Mateo had seen Danny wear his, probably closer to the length it had been when he was in high school. It was swept back heroically, as if moved by an unseen wind, and the sun glinted off its sharp edges. It made the whole statue look as if it were glowing.

Crystalized ectoplasm made Phantom’s eerie green eyes, and they glowed too, though Mateo figured they probably glowed under their own power rather than a trick of the light. The statue’s eyes were trained on the thin, steel-wire Earth he cupped protectively close to his chest; it was a promise as well as a remembrance. The world remembered what Phantom did for them, and he promised them he would do it all over again if necessary.

65 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

this is the road to ruin (and we started at the end)

IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!

(click for way better quality)

Sam did this amazing cover for me and I literally can't stop staring at it. I'm making it my phone background like immediately. Here's their post, go give it a reblog!

prologue: without you, there's no reason for my story and chapter one: fading in the afterglow are live right now!

i'll be posting every SATURDAY starting this saturday 9/3! we got seven more chapters to go, lads, so buckle up!

71 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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abyssalzones · 1 year

Note

🍕🍀🎹 FOR ANYONE (everyone) IN EV YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT!!!!! id love to hear abt them all but do so only if youre in an infodumping mood don't force yerself <:)

Yasha you of all people should know that I am Always in an info-dumping mood. VERY LONG POST UNDER THE READ MORE

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

ROSE CUBBAGE: I'm fairly certain I've answered this before (feel free to dig through my OC tag to find a series of other asks that I went into depth with a little while ago) but I think Rose would love any type of food that is a sweet/savory combination. Foliaverds don't have strong "sweet" flavor receptors, being hyper-carnivorous, but the sugars you'd see in fruit do get across to their palette more or less. See this dialogue from the outline of a chapter:

DOMINO: Domino is extremely picky about her food, something unusual for her species- who are usually content as filter-feeders, snacking on whatever bacteria and small animals (or even bits of dead animals- they aren't picky) make themselves at home in the caverns of Yxin, either colonizing the rocks or floating aimlessly through the densely-chemically-populated air- but she has an odd taste for salts. Odd, because that stuff is considered pretty acidic and foul to most moeboids. Keep an eye on her or else you'll lose track of your table salt.

VENUS: As with most Ikarians, Venus's diet consists mainly of insects. However, he normally has a very subdued appetite due to... multiple things. Their samefoods mostly consist of cold (or just not hot) things that don't have a very strong smell: frozen crickets, protein chips, dried fruit, and (expensively) tenjarian-tempered yogurt that's supposed to be digestible for every species, but most think it tastes... awful. Venus loves it, for some reason.

GILLS KVN: Herbal tea and pain pills. Well- that'd be the answer early on, anyway. He starts eating more regularly with time and feeling a little more comfortable actually getting out of his lab to visit the kitchen, and as per usual for his species, mostly favors raw seafood. He prefers animals with shells, though, since overly-mushy textures bother him immensely. As for his favorite favorite, I think he'd enjoy a bowl of south Kaaleran noodles (thin, dried parasitic eels native to Kaalera's coasts, cleaned and fermented with starch. Add steamed veggies, whatever eggs you have on hand, and plenty of spices), which is notoriously too hot for most species to handle.

SPARKPLUG: I elaborated on this a little before, similar to Rose, but I think Sparks is partial to sweets! Sweet for his species, anyway. He loves the kinds of tangy, metallic preserved pastries native to his home planet, recipes carried down and altered by his family for generations, across planets. I'm lazy so I'm just going to steal what I already wrote:

Pie is a universal concept.

NORA ACTON: Peanut butter + banana + bacon sandwich. Simple, very filling. I like to think she only realized this after moving out and trying to figure out how to feed herself in her academy days.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Going to give you a catch-all answer for this to start with: the conceit of the comic, and subsequently most of the crew, was that it was originally a cast of Starbound OCs! That obviously has changed, but it's still in their roots. As for specifics...

-Rose was sort of her own thing, a position of leader and captain that needed to be filled- and she only really came into her own later in terms of development, inspired by characters like Alyx Vance or Ellen Ripley in particular- and my own personal experiences, actually. I think in a lot of ways Rose is closest to me.

-Venus's inspiration is weirdly difficult to pin. Taako from TAZ, maybe? A little bit of the Rito from when I played BOTW? He's kind of his own character, really.

-Gills, however, was definitely strongly inspired by Ford Pines. I feel like it's a little obvious sometimes. Then, a little later, characters like Spock, or Kim Kitsuragi.

-Sparkplug... draw your own conclusions based on the information above, particularly his dynamic with Gills. His arc, however, was also strongly influenced by my own ongoing struggles with chronic fatigue.

-Domino is inspired by a whole host of fictional characters, ranging from Lupin to Max from sam & max to Shiraishi from golden kamuy, but the most important part is that she was originally an OC created by my friend Addy, who I've known since the comic was in its baby stages. That part of who she is is extremely important to her core as a character.

-Nora is kind of like... a fusion of Sam Raimi era Peter Parker and inspector Zenigata from Lupin III. But british. and butch.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

ROSE CUBBAGE: Worrying. Creating collages, actually, but those mostly consist of future plans and secret obsessive corkboards. She used to enjoy biking, and still has her bike from when she was an older teenager sitting around on the station, despite not using it much.

DOMINO: Stealing things to create "art" in her room. I think she'd love to branch out and create more multi-media type stuff, but she's mostly motivated by boredom.

VENUS: Between you and me, I think they write fanfic. Something he would no doubt label as extremely cringe and keep very close to his chest, but fun to kick back and knock out a couple hundred words on every once in a while. They mostly tinker with robotics, though that's less of a hobby and more the main thing he does around the station, so it can get a little boring. I think they could put effort into making video games if they really felt up to it, but they struggle with seeing the point in it. Creative passion projects are embarrassing, after all- from his perspective.

GILLS KVN: Aside from reading, I'm not so sure Gills has any hobbies to begin with. He spends most of his time working on projects in the lab, which while he might consider it fun, it's still ultimately work. I think he would really benefit from taking up something like terrariums or aquariums, maybe some casual gardening. That, and cooking- which is really another form of chemistry, if you think about it.

SPARKPLUG: Another damn workaholic. However, Sparks enjoys music as a hobby immensely, and is rarely far from a stringed instrument, such as his retractable banjo. When the joints in his hands get tired or locked up, I think he'd enjoy getting outside and doing a little nature-watching. Does that count as a hobby? It does now.

NORA ACTON: Nora is definitely the most visually artistic of the crew, something that she's never considered for a career but definitely enjoys as a hobby. She mostly does environmental art, studying things from nature and her surroundings- a fun practice for someone with such a photographic memory. Similarly, I think she loves using her camera, even if it's mostly something she picked up for work.

#lab notes #oc tag #THANK YOU YASHA

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krazys-ass-emporium · 1 year

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8 Shows to know you

@j-ellyfish tagged me and my slow ass is finally filling this out.

1. Star Trek (Mostly TOS, but also TNG, DS9, and Voyager. Sorry, but the new stuff just doesn’t look like Star Trek to me.)

This was my first fandom I guess?? I didn’t actually interact with anyone since this is before I ventured onto the depths of the interwebs. I was 10 years old and everyone kept calling me a Vulcan because of how literal I was. I did not know what a Vulcan was but soon found out and got my grubby hands on every piece of media I could find at the local library. I probably watched every VHS and read every novel they had. Spock is still my favorite to this day. I wrote my freaking GED essay about him.

2. Redwall

I might have been even younger when I got into this than when I got into Star Trek. This is just so unknown no one knows what I’m talking about lolol. It was more the books than the show, but it has a short animated series so it still counts. I was obsessed with this. I made forts out of logs by the stream across the street from my house and swords out of wood and play-fought my brother with them.

3. Teen Titans

This was probably my segue into anime. Yes, this isn’t actually an anime, but since it incorporates anime aspects it got me used to them?? I was very into superheroes in general when I was like 12 to 15 or so, but these were my top fave. Controversial opinion: DC is better than Marvel. I made my very first OC based on Teen Titans I think she might have been partly Star Trek too lol. I also started drawing people because of this show. Before that I only drew horses and wolves.

4. InuYasha

My very first anime. It all started when I saw a manga at the library and then looked up the anime on YouTube. Ah, the memories of watching an episode in three parts and you’d never know if it would be the dub or the sub. This was the first fandom where I actually joined the interwebs and interacted with human type people. The internet in 2006 was a very different place lol. I got my first email address (which I still have lol) to join this website called Fanart Central so I could post my InuYasha fanart. I found my first online friends there too. I miss them...

5. Pokémon

I’m not entirely sure how I managed to watch as much of this as I did, but I only gave up when I got to Alola. The original is my favorite, but I also liked some of the newer stuff too. I drew art for Pokémon too and let me tell you, it’s the most toxic hell hole of a fandom ever. I’ve never gotten flames before Pokémon, all for liking an unpopular ship lol. The internet in 2010 was the Wild West.

6. Yu-Gi-Oh!

Holy crap was I into Ygo. I still have my room covered in it lol. I still love it to bits, but I’ve calmed down a lot. I have a lot of cards too and I do know how to play, but not competitively and I don’t know anyone in person who wants to duel me :( I got into cosplay because of Ygo and made my first cosplay (Joey Wheeler) in 2013. I apparently like to suffer because Ygo cosplays are NOT easy. I made my still best friend in this fandom. Seriously, this is one of the best fandoms out there, most everyone is so nice.

7. Supernatural

(Don’t look at me, I know pfft). I can’t deny how much I like this show... it’s honestly the one I’ve rewatched the most times. I no not know why. I guess it’s just easy to binge lol. You can blame my group of gay guy friends back in 2013 for me getting into this. It’s also why I got Netflix, and tumblr. And here I still am...

8. Hetalia

Oh wow, a Hetalia blog having Hetalia on the list, weird. Got into this at the crusty old age of 28, so I don’t have the nostalgia for it like a lot of y’all. I fell hard pretty fast. I also have made way more friends than probably any other fandom I’ve been in? Probably because I stuck my head out of my shell for a bit lol.

I tag no one because I’m lazy, do it if you want and you can blame me pfft.

#Krazy Rambles #8 Shows to know you

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khaotunq · 1 year

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i'm very much enjoying the reblogs of the first gifset from last night and the fact everyone's tags are the equivalent of "????????? !!!!!!?!?!!!". i assure everybody i intend to gif every moment first appears in that series

see this post on jamie's blog bc i'm too lazy to type out his eps/sections

#so it is decreed #jayisms #what tag do i use again #i do recommend the whole show tho #it's v fun #first's presence is a bonus ofc #but the whole cast are absolutely killing it

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thefixations-ofmine · 2 years

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DE FACTO

The Price of Greatness - Chapter two "By Law"

Summary: After helping Frank get Mary in school, you realize that you’re letting yourself get ahead of things. Surely enough, history repeats itself and you are faced with the consequences of your actions; can your relationship get through it this time? Warnings: movie spoilers! sexual content, masturbation, cursing Word count: 3.5k

Previously | Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“I swear they’re messing with us,” Frank accuses as he straightens Mary’s pink school supplies list in your face. “Okay, get this,” his pointer traces down the paper, “three blue binders, two green ones, three 500 sheet packets?” You can’t help but giggle as he rubs his temples in disbelief.

“I remember being super pumped when we had to buy coloured pencils,” you add as you try to calm him down. Of course he had waited until the last weekend before school to come and do this. Apparently the whole neighbourhood decided it was a good idea, too - the Wal-Mart was surely exceeding the fire regulation capacity. It must have been 105 degrees in there.

“SHE NEEDS 45 COLOURS! Who the fu-” you bump him in the ribs, your eyes shooting to the bunch of startled kids around when he grunts his surprise, his arms come down from above his head.

“Grumpy much?” you tease him and he lets out a small puff. “You promised to let me help, and that’s about the only way I can do so right now, Mr. Bossy.” He shakes his head in agreement and pushes the cart down the isle silently, his left arm comes to settle on your shoulders, and he pulls you to his side playfully.

“Calling me that could be very dangerous,” he says with a wink.

Frank throws one article after another in the cart while you cross them on the list. His complaints increase after each squeak of your marker on the sheet, you know his mind is quickly adding up the numbers. A bunch of erasers wait in his hand as he tries to decide what he’s going to compromise; the sparkly, princess pencil case you chose - which he argues is not Mary’s type - or the third pile or ruled pieces of paper. Both finally end up back on a shelf, and after what felt like the whole day, you’re headed for the registers.

You crank the window of Frank’s blue truck down in a swift movement as you sit on the searing bench, the small breeze finds a way to soothe your increasing temperature, your skin slowly fusing with the fabric. He brings you home with him to finish settling everything for the following Monday - he seems a lot more peaceful with his decision of enrolling Mary to a traditional school than you thought. You promised never to second-guess his judgement. You had yet to meet the child and she was already growing on you.

You remove the tags off the small backpack, and you carefully fill it with her essentials. The rest of the supplies go back in the plastic bag, and once you’re done, you set everything by the table for her to see when she gets home.

You turn back to Frank, who’s now shirtless in the kitchen, chopping some peppers and mushrooms for dinner. His back and shoulder muscles tighten with every knock of the blade on the cutting board, your clit practically throbs in sync. “You’re staring again,” he says as he acknowledges your sudden pause in actions. He looks at you over his shoulder when he hears you puff a chuckle. “A little unfair, don’t you think?” he challenges as he continues his task.

You place the boxes on the table away in a cupboard so that you can sit on it, your back pressed against the warm spot that the sun left on the wall. With lazy movements, you unlace the bow on your shoes and have them flying to the door along with your socks. Your feet come resting on the edge of the table, your knees spread as far as they are willing to go. The hem of your skirt is pulled over your navel, allowing your uncovered pussy to be on full display. You had to clear your throat to get his attention again; with the water running he couldn’t hear you wiggling around.

“Asking for something you don’t even want to claim,” you tease, slapping your core just enough to cause a reaction. His upper body spins to face you, and he nearly chops a finger off when he notices your position. He drops the knife on the counter and turns around fully, resting his ass back on the edge of the counter before crossing his arms over his glistening chest.

“You’re staring, again,” you mock. “So if you’re going to stay there I want you to look me in the eyes. At all times.” He twitches under your stern command, but finds himself liking the reversed roles. So his eyes stay locked on yours, although your hand snakes down to get two fingers into your soaked core. He grunts and you can see him suck in his bottom lip in annoyment. “Good boy,” you say.

“Ah, fuck off,” he says through a thick Boston accent as he loses focus and looks up at the ceiling - a dish towel comes flying next to you. You love to make him feel like a helpless man, but he’s not having it. You could come just at the sounds he makes. He wipes his hands on his cheeks to try and get the new red shade away, but the colour slowly creeps onto his chest and he’s soon becoming a cute and bothered, steaming lobster. You giggle because you know how hard he’s willing to get the control he desires.

When his gaze stays away from yours longer than you’d allow, you lean down to your left to grab something from an open box. When he hears the clinging sound of glass, he brings back his lust blown eyes to you, and you hear him grunt when he sees the empty bottle of Budweiser you’re bringing back up with you. He allows himself to look at your pussy, at last, before bringing his gaze back to the ground when you’ve got your focus back. “Oh, you sure you wanna miss this, Frank?” you add before letting out a little moan. He tries his best to keep his cool. “Well…” you shrug.

Without waiting for him to stop being a whiny baby, you bring the tip of the bottle to your folds, rubbing the cool glass easily against the growing pool of arousal. After a few back and forth movements, you let it sink in, inch by inch until you reach the wider circumference of it.

“Baby. Frank? Please,” you let out in a high-pitched moan as you start to pull it out, only to push it back in when his eyes finally meet yours again. “Please,” you repeat with a pouty mouth. His hands abruptly unfasten his belt, and he swiftly unzips them before reaching for his aching cock down his boxers. With the force of his tugs and pulls, his jeans end up wiggling down to his ankles on their own, and he’s left in his worn out, black Fruit of the Looms.

You lazily pump the bottle in and out of you, causing it to make wet, squishy sounds that somehow manage to get Frank even harder. He begins to add velocity to his pleasuring, his right bicep beautifully bulging while his left hand is about to turn white from how tight he’s holding onto the counter. His knees buck every few seconds. Somehow he manages to keep his eyes on yours this time, and shivers run up your spine when you see the black in them grow wider. A few seconds later, you’re gushing onto the table and the floor, moaning so loud Frank has to rush to you and cover your mouth with his hand.

“Okay, enough playing now,” he barks and picks your numb body from the small resting spot. “I can’t fucking keep watching this,” he adds while walking you to his room, knocking almost every wall on his way.

The sun is at its brightest, even in your tiny shorts and tank top the heat wave manages to slow your body down. You’re sitting by the marina again. The soothing symphony that blows through the sails has your mind loosening pleasantly. People at work were slowly testing your patience and you had to take a breather before heading down the evening traffic. Inevitably, Frank’s voice echoes over the sweet sound of the wind, and your shoulders drop on the spot, a long sigh escapes your lips. You look at him and Mary as they make their way down the dock. You see him walking with trouble and can’t help but laugh at the thought of the healing scratches you left a few nights back.

Out of habit - you realize and find the gesture extremely cute - he turns around to scan the area. Soon enough he finds what he’s looking for. You smile back, setting some strands of hair behind your ear so you can look at him better. He winks nonchalantly, and continues on his path. He talks for a few minutes with Mary, before she comes running past the gate again to get her one-eyed friend. When she’s back, you get up, gather your things and have one last look at them as they head out to the sea on the Southern Belle. The sight, the sun blasting and the feeling of hope creep through your senses and euphoria floods your brain. You head home with a light heart and a childish grin as scenarios start to play in your mind.

It’s slowly getting dark outside, the night breeze has your blinds flapping on the window sill. After a couple yawns, you hang up on a long, movemented conversation with Frank. Apparently Mary’s first day at school hadn’t gone as well as it should have. He hopes the behavior won’t stick, because he seriously doesn’t want to come back on his decision. “She has to test everyone’s limits, hun. I wouldn’t sweat it too much. She doesn’t mean wrong,” you had told him. “She’s smart. She needs to analyse and understand, which is a lot to ask of her in so little time.” Once you felt that he started to relax, you decided to call it a day; your own troubles at work catching up with you. It had been a harsh Monday for everyone it seems, and you hope to get a decent night’s sleep.

“No problem, baby. I’ll see you soon, okay? Once this all settles. I’m sorry,” he had said before you wished each other goodnight.

Come Friday night, no news from him. Your leg is shaking as you’re sitting in your living room in silence. The tv is off, everything is quiet in the neighbourhood. Too quiet. You fiddle with your phone as Frank’s number is displayed on the screen. You thought he would’ve called by now, but you know things were definitely going too fast for him. For Mary, mostly. You decide you could simply surprise him - Mary usually stays at Roberta’s on Fridays, so it wouldn’t be a big deal if you showed up unannounced. You throw on a loose dress and a sweater and head out, your heart unconsciously begins to skip faster at the thought of seeing Frank. You wondered how you’d gone 7 years without seeing him, when now a couple days without hugging him seemed impossible.

You pull into his street, his truck is parked nicely by the curb. As you turn the engine off, you realise that all the lights are out, the windows are shut and there’s absolutely no signs of life. You have time to step out of your car before you hear a friendly voice behind you. It takes a few seconds for you to find the open window it comes out of, and you can hardly identify Roberta’s features.

“He’s out for a beer with a guy from work or something, darling. He shouldn’t be long. Want me to unlock for ya?” she dangles some keys in between her fingers.

“Oh, no, no. We haven’t, I mean, I don’t think I should be in there alone,” you wave your hand back to your car, “I’ll just be on my way, and um, tell him he can call me.”

“I’ll let him know, sweetheart. Take care now,” she moves back in and slowly pushes her window back down. Sure enough, she waits for you to pull out and roll back onto the street before leaving her watching spot. You can see her close her curtains in you rear-view mirror, then her light dims off.

As you come closer to the ‘T’ which either leads to town or back to your place, you decide to be bold and make your way to Ferg’s. You wanted to show him the perfect pencil case you had found for Mary. Nothing dazzling, as promised. So when you come to a stop, you flick your signal to the left rather than the usual right. A few minutes later, you’re setting the car in Park, and you’re headed for the door.

As you walk passed the crowded patio, your long strides are cut short when you hear Frank’s voice. What’s with him and interrupting your walk, you wonder. A small chuckle escapes your lips before you go and say his name. “Fra-,” you stop when you hear a feminine voice asking a personal question. You decide to wait and listen, but stay out of their sight. Small bushes conveniently surround the bottom of the window that’s by their table, allowing you to squat near enough to be within earshot. You lean onto the small brick lining the pavement. You smile to yourself as Frank goes on with a story.

“I was running ridiculously late for a date. My sister showed up, with Mary. And she never just showed up unannounced. She never showed up with a baby.” he sighs, a sound you only heard once when he had to control his intrusive thoughts. Your heart sinks immediately, your focus doubles as you listen to a story you hadn’t heard yet.

“She said she wanted to talk. She said she needed to talk,” you can hear the woman take a deep breath, but she lets him go on.

“I told her I’d talk to her when I got back. Figured showing up that late to my date would ruin my chances of getting laid. Came home that night, and Mary was on the couch. Found Diane on the bathroom floor. I mean there’s no way I could’a known, but uh, I should’a known.”

Your head spins. Oh no. This can’t be, you think.

“Six and a half years later me and Mary are still hanging out,” he takes a sip of beer before coming to a pause. That’s when you stand up and see the dark short haired woman close her eyes. When they pry back open, they come across your distressed face, your puffy eyes gain her empathy for a moment, before she realizes that you were eavesdropping.

“Who are yo-, this is none of your business young lady,” she begins.

“Hey. Bonnie, who’s-” Frank says and stretches his neck to get a better angle. Once he sees you, his head tilts back, eyes close, as he knows he’s messed up. Before he can look back down at you, Bonnie’s walking passed him and is headed for the door.

You run out of your hiding spot when you’ve decided your heart has had enough. From Frank’s story to the fact that he was here with her tonight. You can barely breathe, tears running down your already damp cheeks. “Ah shit,” you whisper as your flowy clothes gets caught in a branch. When you hear some footsteps coming your way, you decide to go with force rather than logic, and simply tear the poor material apart. You’re free to run down the wooden porch and onto the chill sand where you foot trips in a wire.

You’re sitting in the sand, crying over something you don’t even know is true. Your mind cannot follow your body so you give up, on running, on trying to understand. Until a big hand settles on your shoulder and you are forced to come out of your little bubble.

“Y/N, please, listen,” Frank starts.

“Can I understand what’s go-”

“Not now, Bonnie!” he turns around and notices how loud he was, “sorry. But please, not now.” he brings his attention back to you and you can hear her stomping to the parking lot.

He pulls you back up with him and you crash into his arms. “Please tell me I’m not…” you begin but your sobs keep you from speaking any further. “Please.” His hands rub up your back lovingly as words fail to come out. He keeps you close as you stand on the volleyball court, away from curious eyes. Your mind races as you’re having trouble accepting it all. Everything you want, everything you love, always seems to come with a price. What keeps you happy is also what brings you down. You let out a sigh as you rub your cheek on his chest, trying to make the most of the moment before it potentially all goes south. He pulls your head back, cleaning the tears that were starting to crust around your eyes. He smiles, which causes you to mirror his expression. “This will sound awful, but um” he pulls back and scratches his neck, “mind… giving me a ride?”

You giggle. “Of course, lover boy,”

“Shut up,” you laugh together.

After talking with Frank about what had happened and him clearing out the whole story, you allowed yourself to take a week on your own. To think. To figure out what it is you want and desire for the future - you’ve come to think that it wasn’t fair to Frank for you to expect so much of him while you didn’t even know what you wanted from yourself. So you spent your time at work, then went straight home or headed north to another town. You had to keep away from boats, or the ocean all-together, and it seemed to ease the process. You missed the company though, your fingers hardly coming to satisfying results. But now you had a clear picture of your next steps, so you decided to give him a call.

“Look, um. I got a letter. From court,” he begins and your heart stops. “Mary’s going to be away for a few days. How about…” you heard him inhale slowly, “how about you come and stay here? With, with me. I mean, if you want to.” You know he’s cursing himself in his mind. Such a smart man with words and yet, you always seemed to make him sound like a middle-schooler.

“I’d love to. Could give us a look at what it could be to-” you start, but get interrupted.

“Y/N, listen though, I… I kinda saw Bonnie again. But it was nothing, really. We talked and settled it.” he stops when he hears you sigh. “Kinda felt lonely, and we got drunk and…”

“I see. Frank it’s f-” you go on.

“Just thought I’d be brutally honest. If I want this to work,” he adds more confidently.

“This?” you smile, knowing the answer.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t make me beg.”

“Can only dream of it.”

Once you’ve settled your bag on his bed, you join him in the living room, where he was already setting everything for a movie night. You sit on the couch and look at him as he fumbles through a pile of DVDs. The sight of him being a domestic, more vulnerable man makes you feel all warm inside. You pull the blanket over your feet as you scoot over to leave him some room to sit.

“Oh, you’ll never guess,” he blurts and pauses to laugh at his own statement. You let him laugh for a few seconds before making big eyes at him. He points his finger at you, asking for a minute to get his breath. “She called me a porn producer,” his laugh is back.

You couldn’t help but join in the madness. “Loo-look at me,” you say. You squint, your chin resting on your hand as you fake a long analisis. “Yeah. Yeah I think I see it,” you tease.

“Fuck off,” he throws a plastic case right by your feet. After pressing play on the remote, he comes to sit next to you, his arm automatically stretches behind your head on the back of the couch. “I’d much rather be an actor than a producer,” he says with an arrogant puff. You settle in the crook of his arm, and kiss his cheek. He turns around, and for the first time, he looks at you in a way that has your whole insides turning. It feels raw, and real. He gives you a little grin before dipping down to attach his lips to yours for a little peck.

“I could get used to this,” you admit.

Next chapter

#ronnie writes #price of greatness #frank x reader #frank adler

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takaraphoenix · 2 years

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WIP Tag Game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs (or as many peeps as you want, really- ‘tis just for fun!)

Been tagged by @justonemorechapternicercy ...and before that too, I know I glanced at it half-asleep not thaaat long ago, I apologize to whoever tagged me I am bad at keeping track of notifications I get past midnight xD”

Oookay, let’s sort ‘em by fandom though to make it a bit more organized! (Also so I can save myself from typing out the “OS - [fandom] -” parts of every title...)

DCMK:

KaiShin - The White Collar Phantom Thief

KaiShin - Detectives-in-Law

SaguShin - Time Ticks True

KaiShin - Meeting the Professor

AkaiShin - Oceanside Omega II

KaiShin - Role Reversal Rivalry

SaguShin - ABOverse

Shadowhunters:

Malace - Demon On Your Shoulder

Jalec Bingo: safe sex

Jalec Bingo: makeup sex

Jalec Bingo: pain play

Jalec Bingo: free space

Jalec Bingo: TWI AU

Jalec Bingo: meet cute

Jalec Bingo: cursed item

Jimonael - A Union For Peace

Malace - Sex Club Escapades - Bingo

Jalec - In the Wings of His Love - Bingo

Baiace - TAoJH - The Prince and the Spies

Heronlightstar - TAoJH - Alec’s Angel and Demon

Jeliornathan - TAoJH - The Dark Seelie Knight

Malace - The White Winged Warlock

Saiace - TAoJH

Velondalewood - TAoJH

Heronbanelightstar - TAoJH - A Suburban Nightmare

Reyhillbanewoodale - TAoJH

Jagnus - The High Warlock and the Herondale Heir

Japhael - The Light of His (After)Life

Jeliorn - The Royal Consort of the Seelie King

Jordace - TAoJH

Jorenzo - TAoJH

Velondale - Ice, Ice, Baby

Verlace - TAoJH

PJatO:

Jercico - The Legacy of the Big Three

Jacksolangelo - Three Is Not a Crowd

Jacksolangelo - Healing the Heart

Minorcy - aMAZEing Encounter

Tritollorcy - TAoPJ - Hail Apollo, Defender of the Sea

Chircy - TAoPJ - The Centaur’s Perfect Brood Mare

Tartarcy - TAoPJ - Consumed By Darkness

[too lazy to type em out but basically a document for a Tritercy fic with every single song title from the Little Mermaid animated series]

DC Comics:

Olicity - Green Arrow and Batgirl

The Flash: Legacy of a Speedster

Birds of Prey Present: Siren’s Song

The Flash: Rogue City

Justice League: Gods of Olympus

Birds of Prey Present: The Last Laugh

Batman & Robin: The Last (K)Night

Birds of Prey Present: Canaries’ Cry

Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow

Batwoman; Into Wonderland

Teen Titans: Rise of the Titans

Batwoman & the Supergirls

Birds of Prey: Oracle’s Vision

Green Arrow: Tales From the Quiver

Other Fandoms (most of these aside from KUWtS are teetering around the edge of abandoned, though I keep the files because I DO want to write/finish them one day):

BtVS - Spuffy - Keeping Up With the Scoobies

Jungle Book Zootopia - Sheregheera - Life in the Big City

Jungle Book - Sheregheera - Walt’s Zoo

HTTYD RotG - HiJack - Heroes of the Solar System

Merlin - Merwaine - Defying Destiny

Musketeers - OT4 - The Inseparables’ Omega

Crossovers:

Shadowhunters & Lucifer - Heronstar - Hell to Pay

Shadowhunters & PJO - Jacksangelondale - TAoJH - An Angel for the Demigods

Shadowhunters & Teen Wolf - Sterek - The Beacon Hills Institute

Taaaggging uuuh honestly, anyone who wants to do it, feel tagged by me!

#Tag Game #WIP Tag Game #send me asks

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years

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Home!Yoongi: Acts of Love

Part of the Home!AU.

In which you learn how Yoongi says 'I love you.'

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, subtle romance, Idol!Yoongi x Foreigner!Reader

You don't quite know yet where you stand with Yoongi.

You consider the two of you friends; he visits you at your apartment sometimes, while in turn inviting you over to his studio other times. It's a silent friendship- not defined by loud laughter, or crazy nights spent doing something out of the ordinary. If anything, most times he visits you it's relatively quiet and almost boring; eating dinner together before watching a series or movie. Sometimes he helps you with things around the apartment you're too scared to do; fixing a lamp in your kitchen, checking if you've put your new furniture together in the right way, or helping you set up your new TV.

It slowly developed into random visits even when you've got stuff to do.

He himself knows why he does this; he likes spending time with you. Because you're rather quiet as well, you're company without the usual exhaustion that comes with it for him. He normally feels drained very quickly from having to engage in conversations or other things- but you both don't even have to talk at all. He likes that.

He's on your couch, doing some small work on his tablet while you're on the other side of the room on your computer, actually working. You rub your eyes every now and then before concentrating again, before yoongi gets up and walks into your kitchen. You don't question him; he's free to roam around, he knows your apartment by now.

A small plate is set at your left hand side with a silent gesture; cut up fruits with a small fork to go with it, probably so you won't get your keyboard all messy with the fruit juice. He simply sits down on the couch again, looking at his tablet while you hum a thank you out to him. He nods. "You should get a pair of those blue light filtering glasses." He comments in a lazy voice. "Since you're working in front of a screen a lot. I have those too." He mumbles, and you shrug, before picking up a piece of fruit.

He's been doing things like these more and more recently.

Quiet gestures, like these, are what makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Those small acts of service fill your heart and make you painfully aware just how love-starved you actually are. He's honestly the sweetest guy you've met yet- even though he tends to disagree. Sure, he has his rough edges; voice easily coming across as irritated, quietness tending to make arguments difficult since he likes to avoid those at all costs. Mistakes on his own side and others make him annoyed quickly- but it's just him. He makes up for those outbursts by simple gestures and making sure you know he didn't mean it in the way it probably came across.

You're worried you might have a crush on him at this point.

"You stuck?", he asks after a moment;another one of those gestures. He'd noticed you'd stopped typing by now- simply stating at your screen instead of actually checking the data you've been given. You sigh, shaking your head before you save the progress and shut your laptop for now, leaning back into your seat. You stretch your legs, muscles tired from sitting for so long before you look at him.

"You got a clue what to eat later?" You ask, walking to your fishtankt to check on your little creatures, while he shrugs.

"We can just look what's in your fridge and throw something together."He says, clicking the lock button on his tablet, the device now sat on your couch. "I'm not picky."

"I know." You say with a small smile, and he smiles back, before he simply says:

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

"You- what?" You ask, eyes wide open at the blunt remark of his. Its so sudden- you're basically short-circuiting.

"I thought you should know." He shrugs, getting up to walk into the kitchen, where you trail after him. "Are you?" He wonders while he looks into your fridge, taking out random things.

"Hmhm." You affirm, leaning against the counter. "But.. hm. What now?" You ask, and he shrugs yet again, closing your fridge.

"We can just see where it's going from now on." He says, opening a cabinet. "I mean- Jungkook is able to have a fully public relationship, and I'm pretty sure he's not the only one who's got someone. Where's your soy sauce?" He says casually, as you walk towards him to open a different cabinet. "Oh, thanks." He says, getting out a pot.

"So.. you can see yourself in a relationship? With me?" You ask, and he nods.

"We're pretty domestic already, no?" He mumbles while he turns on the stove. "I mean I'm pretty much feeding you every second day of the week." You laugh at that, playfully hitting his healthy shoulder- always mindful, even though he said the surgery made things way better.

"Yah, I was able to survive without you just fine!" You challenge.

"On instant Ramen and occasional takeout. That's hardly a good diet, love." He chuckles, and you watch him for a moment, ghe sizzling of the pot the only sound, as you realize.

You may have survived without him before- but that doesn't mean you need to anymore.

Maybe this could work.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #home!Yoongi

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superstition13 · 3 years

Text

So I have a University assignment due at midnight, which I have absolutely zero motivation to do, but it did inspire this little piece.

Distractions

//AKA Dabi Distracts You From Your Work 💙

Dabi x Female Reader (NSFW)

Genre: smut, porn with very little plot involved, fluff

Includes: biting, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cock warming, teasing, pet names, fingering, crying (pleasure), after care, Dabi’s piercings

You can’t tell me that Dabi isn’t the type of guy who would gladly use sex as a means of distracting you from your work

Especially if he feels as though you’re paying too much attention to it and not him

And if you’re a university student, he would definitely fuck your brains out instead of letting you finish an assignment that he knew you had due

Maybe you make the mistake of letting him sit in your desk chair while you sit on his lap, so at least you can be close to him

He’d start off with his chin resting on his shoulder and his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, but it wouldn’t take long for his hands to begin to wander

One hand would drift down to your inner thigh, and begin tracing feather light patterns along the exposed skin he found there with the tips of his fingers, teasingly close to where you really want him to touch you

Meanwhile, his other hand has slipped under your shirt and is now toying with your nipples

And while all this is going on, you’re still desperately trying your best to concentrate, but it’s becoming increasingly harder for you to focus on typing out an essay when your boyfriend’s hands are doing sinful things to your body

It’s when he starts trailing his lips along your neck, nipping, sucking, and leaving tiny bruises behind that you give in to his touches

Dabi’s hand leaves its place on your thigh and his thumb hooks around the waist band of the skimpy pair of gym shorts you’d decided to wear around the house that day

You raise your hips, just enough for him to slide them down to your knees, where they fall and drop to the floor

He pops open the button on his jeans, and you swear you can feel yourself getting just that little bit wetter at the loud sound his zipper makes in the otherwise quiet apartment

His hands go to your hips, and he lowers you onto his achingly hard cock

A small gasp escapes your lips, you’d been careful not to brush up against his dick while you were working, not wanting to encourage Dabi’s teasing

You’d known he was horny, obviously, but you hadn’t realised how hard he truly was

The two of you moan when he’s fully sheathed inside your heat

You expect him to start bouncing you up and down on his cock, but when he doesn’t you figure he wants you to be the one taking charge

Instead, his hands tighten around you warningly, and he keeps you seated firmly in his lap

“Don’t you have something to do, princess?”

“But I thought-”

“You thought wrong angel.”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, knowing full well that if you turn your head to look at him, you’ll see one on his face

“Consider this your punishment for ignoring me.”

Part of you can’t believe Dabi is making you finish your assignment instead of fucking you, especially when his cock is buried inside you

Another part of you can totally believe it, knowing all too well what a tease your boyfriend can be

He sits back and begins drawing lazy circles around your throbbing clit

Somehow, you manage to type out a paragraph, and you think that maybe you can do this

Until Dabi decides to flex beneath you, the seemingly innocent movement making his dick twitch inside of you, driving you crazy from the stimulation

You could have tears rolling down your cheeks as you beg him to bend you over your desk and just fuck you already

Instead, he’d have the audacity to coo softly in your ear:

“Come on baby girl, I thought you needed to concentrate?”

But the moment you finish that assignment and submit it to your Professor, he’s pulling out of you and standing up so fast that the chair he’d been sitting on falls over backwards

He quickly manages to get rid of the few articles of clothing the two of you have left between you

Before you know it, Dabi has you bent over the desk, one hand tangled in your hair and the other at your hip in a grip so tight that it's bound to leave bruises. He thrusts into you rapidly, setting a brutal pace. The sounds of skin on skin slapping together, and the obscene noise your cunt makes as he fucks into you fills the air of the studio apartment you share with him.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to cum around Dabi’s cock, already pent up and overflowing from almost an hour's worth of Dabi teasing you. Your thighs are glistening as you let go, screaming his name so loudly that your neighbours are sure to file another noise complaint against the two of you come the evening. He releases his grip on your hair, trailing his fingers down your body until they rest between your thighs, and begin to draw circles around your clit once more. Gone are the slow, teasing touches from earlier his only focus is on making you scream out his name out for a second time before he cums. Dabi leans forward, his chest pressing flush against yours back, practically laying on top of you as he rails you without mercy. You realise that you can feel the cold metal of his nipple piercings pressing into your back, and the mental image it conjures makes you clench around him. Dabi lets out a soft groan, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Fuck sweetheart, you have no idea how good you feel wrapped around me,” he pants, his voice breathy as it caresses your neck. “So good and tight for me, fuck. Come again angel, one more time, I wanna hear you scream my name.”

“God Dabi, yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine, trailing off into a hiss at one particularly hard thrust. “Right there baby, I’m so close, fuck!”

Without missing a beat, he shifts himself slightly, angling his cock in a way that Dabi knew would have you seeing stars and hurtling over that precipice you were dangling from. You were convinced you could feel the tip of him pounding against your cervix, dragging deliciously against your walls in all his pierced glory as he brushed past that sweet spot hidden inside of you with each and every punishing thrust. This new angle, abusing your g-spot while his fingers danced over clit, your nipples being teased as they were dragged and pushed across the surface of your desk; All of it was proving to be too much for you. That coil deep inside of you winding tighter and tighter, rendering you all but incoherent. Your tipping point however, was when your boyfriend sunk his teeth into the junction of your shoulder and neck. It wasn't quite hard enough to break the skin, but you knew without a doubt that he would leave one hell of a mark. The pain from his teeth sends pleasure arcing through your body like waves of electricity, going straight to your pussy, causing that tightly wound coil to snap as you threw yourself from the edge you had been hanging onto for dear life.

"Fuck Dabi, I'm coming, FUCK!" You sobbed, cheeks feeling suspiciously wet. The way your pussy fluttered around him was exactly what Dabi needed to find his own release, his pace becoming more and more erratic as he continued to thrust into you, working you both through the shared orgasm. Your name left Dabi’s mouth in a loud moan that was practically pornographic. He came inside of you, painting your walls with his seed, your combined release already beginning to seep out of you from the sheer amount of cum he was pumping into your cunt.

Eventually, his thrusts come to a halt. Your face was pressed uncomfortably against your desk, and you were pretty sure there was a pen trapped beneath you, but at that moment you didn't quite have it in yourself to care. Your mind was pleasantly fogged over from the post orgasm haze, and had someone asked for your name in that given moment, it probably would have taken you a few minutes to recall.

The first thing you became aware of, was Dabi pressing a series of gentle kisses to your neck, paying particular attention to the large bite mark he had left in the heat of the moment. It throbbed slightly, but not unpleasantly so, soothed by the delicate pressure of his lips. Slowly, he pulled out, a small noise of displeasure escaping you at the sudden emptiness you felt with the absence of his cock. He pulled you up, and guided you gently over to the bed where the two of you collapsed together. His arms encircled your waist, gathering you up against his chest. Fingers began to play with your hair as your awareness slowly began to return, Dabi's lips now pressed gently to the top of your head.

"That was..." you trailed off, still slightly breathless.

"Yeah." He agreed, tracing patterns along your skin.

"I'm going to need a shower," you winced, feeling his cum already beginning to dry on you. You already dreaded the idea of getting up to leave the bed, knowing that by the time you did, your limbs would be feeling like jelly and there would surely be an ache settled between your thighs.

"Not yet," your boyfriend breathed. "I'll get up and get us a towel in a minute. Just, lie here with me for now, okay?"

"Okay," you murmured against him, not needing too much convincing.

"Maybe I should help you with your work more often, princess," he suggested, but was met with no reply. Dabi craned his neck to look down at you, only to realise that you had managed to fall asleep in his embrace.

Here’s that tag you asked for lovely, hope you enjoyed my first attempt at writing smut.

@simpforsadbois 💜

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jananakookie · 2 years

Text

Beauty | kth - Chapter 14 (m)

Pairing: Taehyung x OC (Reader) , slight Jimin x OC

Genre/Tags: Strangers to Lovers, Idiots to lovers (kinda), single dad; humor (-ish?), slow burn, angst, fluff, smut

Chapter Warnings: mild sexual content (lazy, cuddly morning sex), protected sex, one or two swear words

Word count: 6.8k

Series summary: Taehyung knows what beauty is. He sees it every day.

You feel like you haven’t seen real beauty in a while but you think you remember what it looked like.

Or maybe you both have no idea?

Previous Chapter / Chapter List / Next Chapter

A/N: according to my calculations, only two more chapters and an epilogue will follow this one and then we‘re done 🥲

Chapter 14 (m)

With his deep and rhythmic puffs of breaths in your ear, his hand caresses your body. He lets his fingers slide tenderly over the skin of your exposed thigh, runs them over your hips and sides, up to your shoulder, and finally down your arm until he comes to a halt at your breasts.

Gently running his thumb over the curve of your perfect, naked breasts, he lets it slide back down to your stomach, where he then rests his flat hand against your tummy, pushing you a little closer into him.

You sigh, sinking more into your pillow, enjoying his hands on you. His delicate touch, his breathy moans inside your ear, mixing with your own with every slow and tender thrust of his hips against your backside, letting his thick member push through your walls in the most perfect way.

His movements are slow and soft, different from last night, and more intimate than your first time together. And it is probably the most pleasure he has ever given you.

Not that those past times were any less satisfying or perfect, but you just feel so close to him right now, so cherished, so different from everything you ever felt.

Not a single word has been said yet. Everything simply has been confirmed through warm and tender touches, playful kisses, and soft moans.

One of your arms reaches behind you and wraps around the back of his neck, grabbing the roots of his hair and tugging on them as he lightly sucks on the skin behind your ear. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but just enough to turn you on even more and make a pleasurable moan escape your lips.

You have your eyes closed, solely enjoying how he makes you feel, loving the position you're both in, even if it hinders you from looking into his beautiful face, and watching it contort in pleasure from the way your walls clench around him with every thrust of his hard and thick member.

You can feel his muscled chest press tightly against your back, tensing every now and then whenever he draws back, only to push back in after. And even if you cannot see him, you can still hear how much he enjoys it as well, his raspy moans and the short gasps every once in a while being a clear giveaway.

How he can have any energy at all after last night is beyond you. And yet this morning, after far too few hours of sleep, you were awakened with his certain type of kisses. The ones that usually indicate that he is not in a cuddly mood but wants to do something else.

As usual, they started as innocent little pecks on your neck and shoulder but very quickly became more targeted and soon colonized your neck instead. Right on that particular spot that makes you crazy.

It really is incredible how fast he came to know your body. No more than two nights together, and he already knows all the spots to make you swoon immediately. And well, everything about him makes you crazy, but he doesn’t need to know that. That would be an ego-boost he wouldn’t let you forget so easily.

His grip on your waist tightens, and you know that he’s getting closer. But to your surprise, he suddenly pulls out altogether and lets his cock sensually glide between your soaked folds, giving you all the more pleasure and letting your whole body shake whenever his tip reaches your clit. Trying to increase the pleasure even more, you grind your ass against him, making him moan softly into your ear.

You turn your head a little to the side and quickly capture his lips in a much-needed and anticipated kiss, letting it swallow your moans.

You have enjoyed every single intimate moment with him so far, but you have to admit that slow, lazy morning sex definitely holds the crown for now (especially when it takes place after a night of mindless fucking).

“Mhh, Tae,” you sigh out his name, instantly feeling him twitch against your wetness. Not long after, he grabs your leg and hooks it over his own to give himself better access to your aching front.

You feel him push past your folds again, entering you slowly. And once again, he’s back to kissing you gently while he steadily thrust in and out of your pussy.

His hand cups your lower region as his fingers start to rub your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts while he nips at your earlobe, nestling his face in your hair. You noticed before how he likes to be as close to you as possible when he’s about to come, probably wanting to feel all of you as best as he can, and it excites you.

“Coming,” you whisper, wanting to inform him just in case he still needs time.

But you hear him groan instead, “fucking finally, I can’t hold it anymore.“ His voice sounds even deeper than usual and a little rugged from the lack of sleep, but it makes him all the sexier.

A breathless laugh escapes you, but it quickly falls silent when Taehyung picks up his pace. It’s not by much, but it’s enough to take your breath away as you just lay there, gasping for air with your mouth falling open at the sensation.

His breaths grow hotter and heavier as time goes by, and you can only assume yours do as well as you’re approaching your high now quickly. Feeling him pulse inside you brings you even closer, and it only takes a few more strokes with his dick against your g-spot until you’re coming undone right there in his tight hold, feeling your whole body shake from the intensity of your high.

Taehyung follows right after, releasing a low, dragged-out grunt against the back of your neck, with one of his hands groping your tits tightly while the other has a tight hold on your thigh.

You both take a couple of moments to calm yourselves, heavy breathing being the only sound that fills the small room.

“… And now that this has been made clear, have a wonderful morning, beautiful,” he rasps into your ear, kissing the spot right behind it where he knows you love to be kissed.

He just takes a moment to dispose of the condom before he slowly kisses a trail down to your jaw, where he lightly bites into the soft flesh there, making you giggle.

“And a wonderful morning it is,” you mumble with a smirk, craning your neck a little to give him a quick kiss. “Better not spoil me too much. I might get used to it.”

“I could say the same to you,” he roughly chuckles, ”definitely wouldn’t have a problem with waking up like this every morning, though.” He still has his lips on you, covering every little spot of your skin with his sweet sweet kisses you love so much.

You finally turn around to look at him, and you’re pleased to see a look of pure bliss in his tired eyes. His hair is standing out in all directions which, no doubt, is partly your fault, and he looks so adorable you feel the need to squish his cheeks.

And to think that this is the exact same man that provided you with orgasm after orgasm in the span of only a couple of hours... oof.

The way he looks at you is one of pure adoration, if you may say so. And it almost makes your heart burst inside your chest.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy as you turn your gaze away from his, and stare at his chest where your hand is drawing patterns on his smooth skin, fingers playing with the small trail of hair splattered on it.

“Because I enjoy looking at you.” He grins, placing his own fingers in-between yours. “You surely are quite the sight.”

You cannot help but scoff and roll your eyes at his cheesy statement. “If you’re hoping for another round, I’ll have to disappoint you. I’m completely exhausted,” you say, rubbing your sleepy eyes before they find him again.

He’s still smiling down at you, kissing the crown of your head tenderly. “Nah, I think I’m good… for the next couple of hours at least,“ he smirks.

You smack his chest lightly before you cuddle further against him, feeling incredibly tired again. Well, no wonder.

“What do you want to do today?“ You hear him murmur against your hair before you feel the tip of his nose explore the expanse of your neck. It doesn’t come off as sexual this time around. He’s obviously just really in a cuddly mood as well.

You don’t have to think about his question at all, already having one thing in the back of your mind since yesterday morning. “Honestly?” You turn your head a little to look into his awaiting eyes as he nods slightly. “I really really miss my little girl,” you tell him, “can we please just go to yours and spend the day with her? Cook one of our favorite meals and watch a movie or something?”

Taehyung is sure you don’t have the slightest clue of what your words mean to him, but as soon as he hears you say that, a whole new wave of realization hits him. A realization, that will surely keep his mind occupied for a little while.

Instead of giving you an answer that consists of words, he leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss that leaves you absolutely breathless as soon as he breaks it again after a couple of minutes. And then he just stares at you with an unreadable expression on his face that starts to make you uncomfortable after a while.

“Did I say something wrong?” You ask him, voice coming out in a breathless whisper. He doesn’t look angry, and you’re sure he wouldn’t have kissed you like that if he was, but the drastic mood change, going from giggly and cheeky to quiet and thoughtful, cannot be a coincidence, can it?

You watch his face break out in a smile as he shakes his head, his hair brushing over your face in the process and tickling you. “I just realized something. That’s all,” he then says quietly, not elaborating whatsoever.

You break out in a chuckle, placing a quick peck on his lips as you do. “Realized what? That you still have a daughter?” You laugh, “well, I’m glad I could be of help.”

Taehyung bites his lip, grinning down at your happy state with a content smile on his face. “Yea,” he breathes against your lips, cheekily stealing another kiss from you, “you really are.” His voice suddenly holds a fondness you have never heard from him before.

Clearing your throat, you try to distract yourself from his intense stare by simply playing with the tiny strands of hair falling in his face. “I’m actually quite surprised you’re so chill about Jungkook watching her for so long.”

Taehyung purses his lips, thinking for a moment. “To be fair, they are not allowed to leave the house until I’m back,” he confesses, making you laugh. “I’m slowly building my trust back up. It doesn’t just happen overnight, okay?” He grabs your hand and places soft little pecks on your knuckles. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, by the way,“ he suddenly confesses.

You glimpse at him while trying not to look too nervous, but when did those words ever bring anything good with them?

“Okay? Is everything alright?“ You nervously chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his as you look at him expectantly.

He smiles, nodding his head approvingly, which calms you down just a little.

“Last night, I promised you I'd be more open with you and talk about my feelings, right?” He sheepishly looks into your eyes and waits for you to nod your head before he continues. “Okay, well… there is something I wanna ask of you before we go over to my place.”

“Tae, stop beating around the bush, please,” you say, trying to rest your weight on your arms in order to hoist yourself up a little and look at him better, “you’re making me nervous.”

“Right, sorry. You don't have to be on edge, it's nothing bad, I promise. It's just... well, it has to do with Hyejin,” he starts. You watch his hand nervously fumble with your sheets as he tries to form his words. “I know you are quite… apprehensive when it comes to telling her, you know... about us.”

You sigh, thinking you have an idea of what this is about. “I hurt your feelings last time,” you state, remembering the night you slept over at his. “I noticed.” You intently watch his expression change as he seems to think about the way you behaved that night.

“Yea, I mean… I know why you think that way. I get it. I’m honestly so happy you care so much about Hyejin. And I’m glad you’re concerned about what could be best for her,” he sighs, concentrating his gaze on his hands that are still groping the sheets. “In a way, you and me... we only just started, and she’s only five and obviously already incredibly attached to you. There’s always a slight chance that things won't turn out the way we want them to, and it would complicate things, but—” he halts for a moment, shaking his head before he turns more towards you again and looks you deeply in the eyes.

"I just don't want to get into this," he points between himself and you to show you that he's talking about your relationship, "with the thought that it might not last anyway." He finally confesses, watching your expression intently, almost as if he’s trying to read your mind.

You start biting on your inner cheek, pursing your lips at the movement as you think about his words.

“Not telling Hyejin about us because we’re afraid of hurting her feels like we don't really have trust in this relationship. And honestly, that really hurts me,” he admits, making your heart clench in your chest at his words.

It has never been your intention to hurt him but hearing what your words made him feel like really hurts you as well.

You only meant well, yes, but you were only thinking about Hyejin without even taking his own feelings about all of that into consideration. You should have thought about what your words might mean to him. And he’s right. When you say it like he just did, one could assume that you don't expect your relationship to last.

“I can only speak for myself, but I really like you, and if you ask me, I’m sure this can actually work. At least, I genuinely want it to. And I am more than willing to make it work,” his voice suddenly appears again, pulling you out of your thoughts. “So, how do you feel about all this?” He sounds a little nervous, waiting for your answer. And it’s honestly so endearing to see him like this. This boy’s diversity really is no joke. That much is clear.

Instead of giving him an answer right away, you lean a little forward and place a soft but solid kiss on his lips. It’s over as soon as it has started, and you enjoy watching the little smile form on his lips while his eyes are still closed.

“I’m really sorry I made you feel like I might not be as much into this as you are, but I promise you that’s not true,” you finally reply. “I was just overwhelmed because everything was suddenly happening, and we hadn’t talked about anything yet. I was worried for her. I always am, to be honest. Yes, I think it’s a little risky with Hyejin and everything, but I absolutely agree with you. We definitely shouldn’t go about this with the mindset of not lasting anyway.” You feel his hand cupping your jaw as you smile up at him. “If you’re fine with telling her, I’m more than happy to do it as well.”

Taehyung grins brightly, nodding his head before he leans down and kisses you once again. “I’m so relieved we’re on the same page, ___. I was struggling to think of a way to tell you.”

“I’m proud of us, actually. Something was bothering you, and we talked about it and figured it out. See? We are making progress already.“ You say, holding your hand up for a high five, hearing how he laughs at that but complies anyway.

You both spend a couple more minutes just cuddling in bed before you decide to get ready, wanting to go home and see Hyejin.

It took some convincing, but after a long discussion, you did manage to convince Taehyung and make him understand that it will be faster and... well, more effective to shower individually instead of together. After all, you want to get cleaned up, not get even dirtier.

It left him to be a little moody, but in the end, he complied.

The moment Taehyung turns his keys inside the lock and opens the door, you’re both met with complete silence. You look at each other, wearing the same expression on your faces as you slowly walk inside the apartment and take a look around.

“Doesn’t sound, nor look like anybody’s here,” you note, seeing Taehyung already grit his teeth as he has to admit that you're probably right.

“It’s settled then,“ he then mutters under his breath, “I’m going to kill him.”

You grin, shaking your head at his typical overreacting self while you take off your jacket and hang it on the wardrobe.

“I’m sure everything is fine. Did he text you or anything?” You ask, checking your own phone, but aren’t surprised when you don’t see any new notifications from Jungkook.

Taehyung shakes his head, sighing loudly. “I explicitly told him not to leave the house, and he promised—”

“Why don’t we just calm down a little and wait until they come home, huh?” you suggest. Placing both your hands on Taehyung's shoulders and taking off his jacket for him in the process, noticing how he seems too occupied with angry-texting to get comfortable.

“How can you be so calm?” He asks you, still furiously tapping away on his phone. “The last time he went out with her in tow, he lost her.”

“Tae, you need to have a little faith in him. He’s not a child. He took care of her for years before that incident happened. I’m sure he can manage just fine.” Honestly, you aren’t that bothered because you really do trust Jungkook, and Taehyung should too. What happened back then was an accident that won’t repeat itself.

He sighs deeply after obviously not getting a reply straight away and places his phone on the table.

“How about I cook us something, and when I’m done, they’re hopefully back and haven’t eaten yet?” You offer him your best smile, trying to cheer him up a little, but the only thing you can tickle out of him is a little half-smile and a quick nod as he only glances at you.

You turn around and go to the kitchen thinking about what you could make that would please everybody and is possible to make with the available ingredients — which once again, aren’t many.

It kind of reminds you of the first time you came over to look after Hyejin and cooked for everybody that evening because Taehyung came home later than he intended to. It brings a smile to your face thinking back to those days.

Who would have thought that these four people would enrich your life so much one day?

After you search around cluelessly for a few minutes, you finally settle on simple pasta since that seems to be almost everything there is.

Right when you’re about to start cooking, the sound of the door being unlocked, as well as voices, fills your ear. Doesn’t take a genius to guess who came home, but you’d know anyway since you can already hear Taehyung’s deep voice scolding Jungkook. With a roll of your eyes and a smile on your lips, you decide to join the scene.

The voices suddenly turn into hushed whispers, and when you reach them, you see that Hyejin seems to have fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms as he holds her tight with her little legs wrapped around his torso and her head resting on his shoulder.

He wears a scowl on his face, but it quickly vanishes as soon as he sees you standing there with a content smile, and it looks like he’s about to yell something before he’s reminded of the sleeping girl in his arms and ends up swallowing whatever it was that he wanted to say.

He gives you a quick sign that’s probably supposed to tell you to wait before he quietly walks along the floor and upstairs, probably to bring Hyejin to her room so she can sleep a little more.

You share a look with Taehyung, who still looks annoyed and rolls his eyes. “Why can’t this boy follow my simple instructions?”

You don’t get the chance to answer when loud and fast footsteps appear right behind you. And before you can realize what's going on, it feels like you're being embraced in the tight hug of a hyperactive kangaroo.

“Ouch, Kook, you’re breaking my spine,” you groan loudly at the impact but can’t really hide your laugh as you slung your arms around him as well.

“I don’t care, I have so much love to give to you!” His voice gets muffled by your hair, and you fall into a fit of laughter when he picks you up for a quick second. Even Taehyung loses his serious expression for a short while as he watches the two of you.

“Why on earth are you acting like I was gone for two years?” You giggle after he finally lets you go again and beams down at you.

“Because I was sure we would never see you again around here. You can’t believe how relieved I am.” He confesses and ruffles your hair.

“Wait, but yesterday you said I was overreacting and that she would never just leave like that.” Taehyung suddenly buts in, coming to stand beside you as he looks at Jungkook.

The younger one chuckles a little awkwardly, eyes flickering from Taehyung to you. “I was trying to be a good friend and cheer you up,” he shrugs, grinning.

A loud gasp can be heard from next to you as Taehyung smacks his best friend's chest. “You didn’t actually believe in me?!”

“I did! I just didn’t have as much faith in you as I made out to have.” Jungkook tries to defend himself, earning yet another blow from Taehyung, which only makes him laugh cutely. “Why are you mad? Everything turned out well, didn’t it?”

Once again, his eyes scan you and Taehyung, the latter wrapping his arm around your waist to bring you closer as he looks at you. “Yep,” he says, kissing the top of your head, “everything turned out quite perfect,” he confirms while you smile up at him, matching the expression on his face.

“Yes! I’m such a good wingman, oh my god!” Jungkook cheers, raising his fist into the air.

Taehyung scoffs loudly, “you didn’t even do anything.”

“Excuse me?!” Jungkook’s former enthusiasm suddenly changes into an annoyed expression as he glares at his best friend.

“I was the one who introduced you to her in the first place. Not to mention that I was the one who kept telling you for months to make a move—” you watch with an amused smirk on your lips while Taehyung nervously looks at you from the corner of his eyes, “and I was the one who watched your daughter the whole day yesterday including last night, while you two probably did the dirty over and over again while you were “making up”. Am I right, or am I right?“ Crossing his arms, he gives you both a knowing look.

“Uh… we did not… we didn't do that.“ You stutter, scratching your arm awkwardly as you try to look anywhere but him. “We—we… talked. A lot.”

“You cannot fool me, ___,” Jungkook states, sporting a smirk on his face before he points at Taehyung, “that little fuckers smug-looking grin tells me everything I need to know.”

Turning your head to the side, you immediately see what he’s getting at. Even if Taehyung obviously tries to hide it, he is remarkably failing at it.

“W—what we did and didn’t do, is none of your business, okay?” Your voice comes out almost pathetically high. And it results in not only Jungkook’s but also Taehyung’s laughs.

“Okay, don’t deflect from our earlier topic now, Kook,” Taehyung suddenly says, subconsciously saving you from your own awkwardness. “I have expressly forbidden you to leave the house with Hyejin. Where were you and why?”

“Calm down. I brought Hyejin home without any difficulties, did I not? You need to learn how to not stress over everything,” Jungkook says, sounding annoyed already.

“The point is that you didn’t listen to me—”

“Look, I really didn’t want to disobey you, alright? I got a call pretty early this morning from my boss telling me I had to take over for a little more than an hour because my colleague got sick. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t possibly leave her here alone, nor could I lose my job because that would make you mad as well,” he explains. “So I took her with me,“ he shrugs, big Bambi eyes staring at his Hyung.

You purse your lips, looking confused from Jungkook to Taehyung, who looks absolutely baffled.

“Wait—“ you gape at him, trying to sort out all of the information he just disclosed for you. “You—you took her… with… you?“

“Yes,“ Jungkook shrugs, obviously not seeing anything wrong. “I tried calling Joon, but he didn’t pick up, so I had no other choice.“

You once again divert your gaze to Taehyung, but he still doesn’t look at you. Instead, he looks like he’s about to faint or something.

“Just to get the facts straight,“ he clears his throat, “you took my daughter, who’s only five years old… to a bar?“

Unlike Jungkook, you can literally feel his irritation, even if it isn't otherwise apparent yet.

“I mean… yes.“ Jungkook shrugs again. “I didn’t give her any alcohol if that’s what you’re worried about,“ he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I took her behind the counter, right next to me, where I had an eye on her the whole time. I’m not an idiot.“

Taehyung licks his lips, taking in a deep breath before he kicks his head back and stares at the ceiling for a while. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,“ he then sighs, sounding absolutely done.

Jungkook and you both look after him until he’s out of sight, not saying a word.

You're the first to break the silence, biting your lip as you look at Jungkook. “I think you really did it this time, Kook,” you say, trying to hide a smile as he looks at you absolutely dumbfounded. “You actually made him go cry in the bathroom.“ Your last words blend in with a laugh you just couldn't hold back any longer as you pat Jungkook’s chest lightly before going back into the kitchen to finish the pasta you started cooking earlier.

You can still hear him muster quietly to himself, “what did I do wrong this time?” leaving you silently laughing to yourself.

After trying to calm down for a while, Taehyung finally comes out of the bathroom and immediately catches yours and Jungkook’s voices as you seem to laugh about something he just told you. He can’t help but smile upon hearing your laughter, but he decides to not join the two of you just yet because there’s a slight urge growing inside him to look after his little angel.

The door to Hyejin’s room is slightly ajar, and he can already hear her little snores as he gets closer to her room. He calmly walks inside, seeing her fast asleep. It's still relatively early, and Taehyung is worried that she'll probably be up all night if she sleeps too long, but at the same time, he cannot bring himself to wake her either.

She just looks way too peaceful and cute for him to ruin it right now, so he simply takes a seat at the edge of her bed and brushes a strand of hair from her face with a loving smile on his face.

Unfortunately, her eyes start to flutter open right after withdrawing his hand. She looks around for a couple of seconds, and Taehyung inwardly curses at himself for waking her up. But her eyes then fall on him, and a bright smile starts growing on her lips.

“Daddy, you’re home!“ She croaks with her voice still raspy from her slumber. She starts to sit up and rubs the sleep from her eyes before she crawls over to him and wraps her little arms around his neck.

“Here I am, darling,“ with a low chuckle, he rubs her back a few times until she unwraps herself from him again and giggles as a result of him sneakily tickling her sides, where he knows she’s the most ticklish.

“Uncle Jungkook said you were with ___, is that true?” She then asks with the most innocent glint in her eyes.

Taehyung bites back a smile as he looks at her big, awaiting stares, seeing how she obviously wishes for one specific answer. “Yes, we had to talk about something.”

“About what?” She asks, tilting her head to the side.

With a chuckle, Taehyung pokes her belly and makes her giggle once again, “adult stuff you’re too small to understand, young, noisy lady.”

Still giggling, Hyejin tries to fight her Daddy’s hand to make him stop tickling her, which she eventually manages. But her little laughter suddenly dies down again, and her expression turns more serious as she’s obviously about to ask him something else.

“Daddy?” She murmurs, fiddling with her little hands while she doesn’t dare to look at her father.

Taehyung hums, quietly waiting for her to ask the question that’s so obviously burning on her tongue already.

“Is ___ your girlfriend?” Her question comes out in a barely-audible whisper, and Taehyung would’ve missed it if he hadn't already expected it.

He smiles at her, admiring the way her cheeks have gained color after she just asked him that specific question.

“I saw you kiss her, and you bought her flowers… and since none of you wanted to tell me anything, I asked Jihoon about it, and he said that it means she is your girlfriend.”

Taehyung cannot help but roll his eyes while still sporting that grin on his lips, “Jihoon really is Mr. know-it-all, isn’t he?” He watches how Hyejin nods her head in agreement and nervously starts to nibble on her lip.

“But Daddy,” she whines, getting impatient with his lack of answer, “was he right? Is ___ your girlfriend?”

“Hmm,” Taehyung purses his lips, acting as if he has to think, “would you like her to be my girlfriend?” he watches with a teasing smile how she once again nods her head immediately while hugging her knees. “Then I guess it is a good thing I asked her yesterday if she wants to be my girlfriend.”

Hyejin gasps loudly, eyes almost bulging out of her head in excitement while she looks at her Dad with anticipation. “And what did she say, Daddy?! Did she say yes?!”

Taehyung laughs, ruffling her hair a little, “she said that it would be an honor for her to be my girlfriend and that she never wanted anything more inner life—“

“Didn’t exactly happen like that, but if it helps you sleep better at night, then sure.“ A third voice, that undoubtedly belongs to none other than you, interrupts him.

You’re leaning against Hyejin’s door frame, wearing a loving smile on your lips as you look at the two.

Originally, you just wanted to check where Taehyung was and if Hyejin was already awake to call her for dinner. But by the time you reached the top of the stairs, their voices were already coming towards you. Shortly after, you noticed that they were talking about you. And being your curious self, you decided to check it out, resulting in the current situation.

Smirking at Taehyung, you’re just about to scold him for over-exaggerating again in front of Hyejin when the little Mochi already comes running towards you, calling your name in absolute joy.

She looks up at you with bright, glistening eyes while hugging your legs as if her life depended on it. “___, Daddy is your boyfriend!” She screeches while jumping up and down in excitement.

You laugh, trying to hug her back as best as you can, but the position you’re currently in isn’t really ideal. “Let’s see if he behaves, and then we’ll talk again,” you joke, seeing how Taehyung locks his mouth shut with an imaginary key and throws it somewhere behind him.

It makes Hyejin giggle, and you as well, amused by his silliness.

“I can't believe the birthday-fairy really granted me my wish!” She beams, looking between you and Taehyung.

“The birthday-fairy?” You ask, seeing Taehyung peek at you sheepishly. Never before have you heard anything about a particular “birthday-fairy” but to be honest, after the baby-making story, nothing can surprise you anymore.

“Ah, you know, last year Hyejin really wanted the Barbie camper, but she didn't get it on her birthday.” Taehyung starts to explain right before Hyejin takes over.

“And then uncle Joon told me about how everybody has a wish on their birthday when they blow out the candles on their cake. And then the birthday-fairy will hear about it and maybe even make the wish come true,” she says.

“Believe it or not, the next day, uncle Joon actually came around with the Barbie camper!” Taehyung feigns excitement, letting you see how much he actually did not approve of it.

“The silly fairy accidentally took it to his house instead of ours,” Hyejin giggles.

You bite your lip, trying to hide a giggle as you watch the little angel be so excited about a non-existent fairy.

“What did you wish for this year? I totally forgot to ask,” Taehyung's voice brings her attention back to him.

“I wished for ___ to be your girlfriend,” she simply smiles. “And she made my wish come true.”

You only gape at her, feeling your heart clench at her words. Taehyung seems to have a similar reaction, seeing how he doesn't say anything as well for a short while.

“Baby, you wasted your only wish on that?” You breathe, stroking her hair delicately while you try to keep it together and not start to cry with how much love you have for her.

“It wasn't a waste,” she furiously shakes her head, ”it came true!”

Biting your lip, you look at Taehyung, seeing how he's already looking at you as well, winking when his gaze meets yours.

“This means, Daddy, you, me, uncle Jungkook, and uncle Joon can finally be a real family!“ Hyejin then says, once again squealing in excitement as she looks between you and Taehyung, who’s about to come closer to you as well.

“We were a real family before, too, Hyejin,” Taehyung chuckles, thankfully not taking her words to heart. “And even before ___ joined us, we were a real family,” he informs her, stroking her hair lovingly.

You nod in agreement, stroking her chubby cheek that has gained color since she started her conversation with her Dad. “He’s right, baby. Families come in different shapes and forms. That’s what I tried to tell you before. There’s no right or wrong.”

You don’t necessarily expect her to understand the meaning of what you told her just yet, but in a way, you feel like Taehyung should hear it as well.

You remember how in the past, he always seemed to struggle with the thought that Hyejin might be missing something. However, that’s far from the truth. You are sure that she has never really lacked anything and never will. She has far too many people in her life who care about her for that to ever happen.

“Alright, go into the kitchen, honey. Jungkook is waiting for us. He says he’s about to die from starvation any minute.” Ruffling her hair and making her giggle, you usher her out of her room so you can finally eat, but just when you’re about to follow her, you feel Taehyung holding you back.

Holding your arm, he suddenly turns you around, and you’re instantly met with a bright smile on his lips.

“What is it?” You chuckle, slinging your arms around his shoulder right when his own are going around your waist.

“That went more than well, didn’t it?” He grins, already leaning forward.

“Did you expect that it would not go smoothly?” You raise a brow in question and watch how he shakes his head instead.

“No, I knew it would. It’s just… just thank you.” He places a kiss on your lips, but it only lasts as a peck because you gently push him back with one hand on his chest, looking at him questionably.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Just for agreeing to tell her right away. That really means a lot to me, and I know it does to her as well. She already had a hunch anyway. Apparently, Jihoon is an expert when it comes to relationships,” he rolls his eyes while talking about his daughter’s best male friend. And you cannot help but laugh at that, seeing how easily annoyed he gets when it comes to the little boy. Talk about overprotective…

“First of all, you don't have to thank me for that. We discussed this together, and both felt it would make the most sense. Not to forget that it was definitely the right decision. And secondly,” you quickly lean up to kiss his pouty lips, “what did I tell you regarding Jihoon?”

With a playful frown on your face, you give Taehyung a testing look, which makes him let out a big, defeated sigh. “I will still keep an eye on him. You can’t stop me from doing that.”

“Hey, if that’s what really makes you happy, I’m not going to stand in your way.”

“You are what really makes me happy.” He breathes against your lips, already smirking because he knows your reaction to it before you even have the chance to react.

“Eww,” just as expected, you contort your face before you start laughing, and Taehyung joins in almost immediately.

“Don’t act as if you don’t like it when I’m being a giant cheese ball,” he says before sealing your lips with his.

The both of you kiss for a while until Taehyung suddenly breaks your kiss. Cocking a brow to ask him what’s up, you see how he abruptly frowns. “He took her to a bar, ___. I—”

You immediately fall into a fit of laughter as soon as those words leave his lips, feeling Taehyung bury his face in your neck with a deep groan as to try and flee from reality.

“He didn’t even know what he did wrong. He kept asking me about it after you went to the bathroom.” Even if you cannot see his face right now, you can feel him also letting out a couple of laughs because of the movements of his chest against yours.

“And you’re sure this is the life you want to live?” He nervously asks, lifting his head to look at you again.

“Wouldn’t wanna live another,” you nod, offering him your biggest smile.

Satisfied with your answer, Taehyung leans forward once more. But unfortunately, you don't get any further before Jungkook's voice can be heard from downstairs, impatiently demanding that you both finally come down to eat.

Sighing in disappointment, you already move away from him, but he's quick to place a last kiss onto your lips, savoring the moment the best he can. And when he pulls back again, he simply offers you a wink before he takes your hand and leads you down the stairs to the two waiting children.

#taehyung au #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #bts #kim taehyung au #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagines #taehyung slow burn

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye I — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution

Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine

The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.

Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.

Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.

“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.

“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.

“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…

His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.

Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.

Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.

The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.

Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.

Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.

Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”

“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.

Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.

He stayed silent averting his gaze.

“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.

Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.

“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.

Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.

“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.

Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”

Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.

“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”

“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”

Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”

The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.

“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”

Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?

Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.

During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.

Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.

Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.

Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.

As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.

“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.

Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.

They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.

Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.

Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.

“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.

Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.

She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.

Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.

Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.

When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.

Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.

The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.

Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.

“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.

“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.

Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.

“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.

Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.

The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.

Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.

“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.

Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.

“And you are?”

“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.

Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”

“Belle.”

“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.

Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.

Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.

“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”

“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.

“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.

Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”

Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.

A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”

“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.

Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”

Debatable.

“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”

“You just met me.”

“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.

Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.

“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”

Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”

Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.

“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.

She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”

Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”

“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.

“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.

She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”

“…What?” He whispered.

Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”

Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”

“I agreed.”

“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”

“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”

“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.

Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.

“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”

Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”

“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.

Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.

One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.

The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.

“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”

She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.

Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.

Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”

Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.

Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.

On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.

Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.

Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.

“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”

Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.

“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”

“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.

“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”

Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.

“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.

It may have been dark by now.

At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.

Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.

“Belle?”

“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”

“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.

“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.

Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.

Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?

“Belle, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.

The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.

“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.

“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”

“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay…Belle…”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you. Be safe.”

The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.

For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.

The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”

“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.

Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.

She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.

“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.

“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.

“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”

Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.

Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”

“Is this how you get all your girls?”

He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.

“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.

Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.

“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.

They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.

“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.

I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.

“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.

Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.

Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.

Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.

When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.

Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.

He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.

Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.

Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.

A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.

“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.

It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.

His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.

Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.

Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.

Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.

Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.

Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.

“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”

She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”

The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”

Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”

“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”

She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”

“…I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.

You are a fucking beast.

“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”

“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”

“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.

“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”

“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”

“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.

“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.

Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.

“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”

She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.

It made one.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

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