#finally; content from one of my favorite pods

[constellationcrowned]

@magioffire @guardianofyesod

#finally; content from one of my favorite pods #;;musing: kariom #;;musing: flynn #;;musing: marestail #;;musing: gideon #;;musing: roui #;;ship musing: kariomxvaleriu (magioffire) #;;ship musing: flynnxvaleriu (magioffire) #;;ship musing: marestailxvaleriu (magioffire) #;;ship musing: kariomxflynn #;;ship musing: kariomxroui #;;ship musing: kariomxthe traveler #;;ship musing: flynnxroui #;;ship musing: flynnxmilosh #;;ship musing: flynnxthe traveler #;;ship musing: churixemeral #;;musing: churi #;;musing: raakel #;;musing: junyver #;;musing: phollie

[pinkanonwrites]

Handle with Care

Rodimus has finally been allowed to bring you into a meeting to hopefully curb some of his rampant fidgeting problems. It ends up having unforeseen consequences.

First Contact AU! Rodimus/Human Reader

NSFW, DUB-CON, Accidental Stimulation, Rodmius has ADHD and you can pry that fact out of my cold dead hands

(Since this is a First Contact AU Rodimus uses Cybertronian words for body parts instead of human ones for you, but the Reader is a human!)

Rodimus knew he always did his best thinking when he had something to do with his servos. As insistent as Ultra Magnus was that his endless tapping, bouncing, and desk-carving was simply "an untapped well of craving for mayhem", Rodimus knew that having even a little something to fiddle with would make those endless, droning safety meetings into something just barely bordering on tolerable.

And since Ultra Magnus was also sick of his relentless desk vandalism, he finally gave the begrudging all-clear for Rodimus to bring his favorite organic to the meeting room.

"They can remain so long as they are not a distraction." With his soft little buddy cupped carefully in his servos, not even Ultra Magnus's stern words could sway his captain's notable enthusiasm.

"You say that as if they could be any more distracting than the bot carrying them." Megatron added.

"You worry too much! We'll be quieter than moon mice, right bud?" Rodimus ran a thumb over your soft, fuzz-covered helm as he took his seat. You were sitting comfortably in the center of his right palm, legs dangling over the edge between his digits. He kept his middle and ring digits curled up slightly to keep you from toppling forward, and you'd settled yourself in with your arms folded atop them and your chin resting against the tips of his digits. He gave you another soft stroke to the helm and beamed at the content little chirp you let out in response.

Ultra Magnus cleared his vents. "If we may begin, we have a lot of ground to cover. Starting with the grievous filing system Brainstorm has insisted on using for the weapons bay. It flaunts any Cybertronian standard known to bot and presents a massive safety risk when considering…"

Yeah, if Rodimus hadn't brought you along he'd already be itching for a dagger to start carving caricatures with. Instead his left-servo digits wandered lazily over your helm and shoulders, absentmindedly petting as his processor already started phasing out the dialogue of his second-in-command. Primus, organics really were so soft. Even your little coverings were soft, he noted as he ran a digit tip over the fabric covering your torso. You let out another quiet hum, melting ever further into Rodimus's grip as he patted you.

"And if you think your petition to install turbo-thrusters on your private vehicle was approved, Rodimus, I assure you it was not."

"WHA-?! What's wrong with the turbo thrusters? Brainstorm already approved the prototype!" He sat upright and forward in his seat, left servo cupping around your back to make sure you weren't overly jostled. "And they'll look great on the Rod Pod, too. Already painted and everything."

"We can't have one of our captains blowing himself up meteor surfing just because he wanted a thrill. And must I emphasize the use of the word 'prototype'? Meaning 'unfinished and untested'?"

"What better way to test them than on my ship?" 

"Do you want them listed alphabetically, or by order of safety protocol?"

Rodimus grumbled, a buzzing charge of irritation spiking through his frame. He cupped your back tighter with his servo to make sure you were still settled in as he flumped back into his seat with an overly dramatic ex-vent. The motion pushed your entire soft fore up against his wide digits, and he could feel a shiver course through your small frame. 

"You bored yet?" He murmured, knowing you couldn't fully understand him but also knowing his comments would needle at Ultra Magnus. "Or are you cold? You feel pretty warm." A single digit stroked down the length of your spinal strut and Rodimus startled at the sudden, shaky in-vent you'd failed to stifle. "What was…?"

"Affectionate little organic you've found for yourself, Rodimus." Megatron's comment nearly made Rodimus leap out of his own plating. The taller mech gestured to the way you'd wrapped both of your arms around Rodimus's digits, your cheek pressed against the metal tip of one.

"W-Well yeah! I am their favorite, after all." He asserted, though his free digits kept wandering up and down the expanse of your back. The last thing he wanted was for Megatron and Ultra Magnus to think something was wrong with you. That would just give them more reason to not let him bring you to meetings. No, as soon as he could slip out of here he'd take you to Perceptor himself to get you checked out. Hopefully you could wait it out that long.

But as the meeting progressed Rodimus found that everything that was being said to him was going in one audial processor and straight out the other. He was too focused on your movement, each tiny rock and wriggle. He kept the palm of his other servo pressed against your back to keep you snug and warm, though his own sensors didn't indicate anything out of the norm for your current ambient temperature. Maybe you got bored like he did? Absent-mindedly he began bouncing you in his palm, just barely enough movement to jostle your frame. The dull motion would keep you occupied and keep Rodimus from going stir-crazy with nothing to fiddle with. He was killing two birdbots with one stone!

"...And if we're going to allow Swerve to continue his antics, I must insist that he is at least properly licensed and certified." 

"C'mon! It's good for-!" Rodimus had tried to interject, but before he could he was interrupted by a strangled yelp from his palm. All three bots' optics were drawn to your form as you shuddered in Rodimus's servo, arms and legs squeezing around his digits and your helm hanging over the tips of them, hiding your faceplate from view. Your own little servos pushed pathetically at Rodimus's, trying to shove your fore away from his touch as you whimpered.

"You didn't squash them, did you? Rodimus."

"They don't appear to be harmed. Merely… distressed?"

"No worries everything's fine let's pick this up next cycle sounds good okay BYE!" Rodimus spat out a flurry of placations and excuses as he scrambled to leave, cupping you close to his chest the entire sprint back to his own habsuite. Only once he was over his desk, littered with your various human-sized furniture and items, did he carefully uncup his hands and let you sprawl out across a single palm. You remained lying flat on your back, fore heaving as you vented, helm fluff sticky with your organic-made coolant where it clung to your face. As you made optic contact with him you let out the tiniest, most pathetic whine as your servos flew up to cover your face.

"Rodimus…" Though you couldn't fully understand each other, you had settled on a throaty, metered recreation of his name, doing your best to mimic the mechanical warbles he had used to introduce himself to you. He'd heard you use it a handful of times before, mostly to get his attention. But now? Now you seemed absolutely distraught, whining out the word in a high, flustered pitch through your cupped servos.

"What?! What did I do wrong?" He blinked owlishly down at you, poking ever so gently around your form with a free digit. He prodded at your helm, your shoulders, your chassis… But as his digits trailed down your fore you whimpered, hips jerking pathetically up as he neared your pelvis. You let out another embarrassed squeak, one of your pedes kicking frantically against his digit with a metal 'bang!' to shove it away. 

Oh. Oops.

Rodimus wasn't stupid, he knew that humans didn't have armor plating. Instead you delighted in covering yourself with various colorful fabrics for different occasions and times of day, a freedom of self-design that he both greatly admired and slightly envied.

But Rodimus had never actually considered that no armor really meant no armor. Not even a modesty plate. 

"I'm so sorry!" He hissed, heat rushing to his own faceplate as well. Accidentally making you overload in the middle of a meeting wasn't even on the list of possible ways Rodimus thought things could go wrong, but apparently now it needed to be added. He'd used the vibrating buzz if his digits many a time on other mechs and femmes, but he never intended to use it on you. At least not in that way! Letting you slide oh-so-carefully from his palm and onto the surface of the desk, you continued to languish in your humiliation sprawled out on your back. "I really didn't mean to! I know you don't know what I'm saying but I promise it wasn't on purpose!"

You glanced through your fingers at his faceplate and his apologetic frown, letting out another huff. This one sounded less overwhelmed though, more resigned. You gestured for him to bring a servo closer and he did, only for you to duck your helm under one of his digits and let him pet your soft organic head fluff. 

"You forgive me?" You couldn't understand him but gave him a small, reassuring pat on the palm. "Ahh, thank you! If it's any consolation, I don't think either of them noticed."

But as he carefully stroked your helm with two digits, a teeny tiny part of Rodimus's processor was curious. How hard was it for you to keep quiet? Was the wiggling around from you trying to get away from the stimulation, or chase it? Were you scared, overloading in a room full of giant mechs? Or was there a chance that part of you might have… enjoyed it?

Weird. He was weird. And he was going to file those thoughts away behind a door in his processor to only be opened when he needed things to feel self-deprecating about. Rodimus of Nyon, Captain of the Lost Light, secret fantasizer of human overloads… Yeah, that probably wouldn't go over well.

And yet, Rodimus couldn't help how little he actually minded that.

#transformers #transformers x reader #rodimus #rodimus prime #rodimus x reader #rodimus prime x reader #first contact au #valveplug #maccadam

[thefringespod]

Welcome wanderers to another #AudioDramaSunday! We're going to start off with the @tellnotalespod April Fools episode because I laughed so hard it was so chaotic. It was just a silly good time! Leanne and Asher did incredible work playing each other's characters. Also on the Tell No Tales front I am CONCERNED about the ACTUAL episode 7 because uhhhh what was Frank doing? I am also shaking Leo once again I love them but LEO TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS

@souloperatorpod episode 7 was excellent as always. Tessa Whitlock has 2 hands and I am going to convince myself that this won't end poorly. The end of the episode makes me ConcernedTM but. But nothing actually I'm scared of episode 8

@woebegonepod 152 has brought back my beloved Tex and he is doing suspicious things and im love him anyway. I don't know what he's up to and I don't know what Stinky is up to and honestly I don't know what Dylan is up to but gods I love Woe.Begone

I finally did as I said I was going to and listened to @audistorium and gods yall it's so fucking good!!! They also just launched a patreon so if you want to support the show (and I highly recommend it if you can) visit their patreon

The @grottopod season finale hurt me so fucking bad. The entire cast did an incredible job and it hurt me SO BAD. Athan has also released the album for the entire first season and it's absolutely phenomenal (and um. I might be on it?) Check it out on bandcamp! (It will be streaming at some point I just don't use Spotify or anything like that so idk)

The lovely folks behind Fawx & Stallion (@224bbaker ) have started their crowdfunding for s2! Fawx & Stallion is one of my favorite shows from last year, it's fun and funny and delightful. If you can support them, please check out their indiegogo campaign!

Pod Jam has officially kicked off and some of my delightful friends are working on @working-tidal-pod! They just announced their cast yesterday and it's amazing. I can't wait to see what they do!

Here on the Fringes, I finished my recordings for season 3 which still doesn't feel real. I've also started brainstorming some ideas for further patreon content! If you've enjoyed the show and want to support us, you can do so at patreon.com/PineTreePods

And over on @forgedbondspod I've been working on the second half of the show! The writing is 3/4ths of the way through, just working on the last arc of the show now. I can't wait to share what we've been working on with yall!

In personal news, I've made the difficult decision to leave my job as it was causing a lot of stress and exacerbating my mental health issues. Gonna take a bit of a break from Day Jobs to work on finishing out Forged Bonds and then will be getting back into the swing of things. In the meantime, this should mean even more time for podcasts (both my own and other peoples) which should help me reset before heading back into a Day Job. My to listen list is very long and I'm excited to chip away at it some!

#audiodrama sunday #audio drama sunday #pines notes #recommendation post

[chainofclovers]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag, @tunemyart!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

162

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

695,994

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Ted Lasso is the only fandom I'm actively writing in right now. In the past I've also written for Grace and Frankie and The Devil Wears Prada (DWP) as an actual active member of the fandom. I've also dabbled in Doubt, a specific National Theatre production of Twelfth Night, Dead To Me, Killing Eve, 9 to 5 (film), Supergirl, and Carol.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Even now, all five are DWP Miranda/Andy fics. That is wild.

Clean Rooms and Dirty Light

Lightyear

Twenty Questions

Ice Water

Calibrated

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

I do! I think I've replied to nearly every comment I've received. I really, really appreciate comments no matter how quick or detailed they are and while I don't think writers have an obligation to respond to anything they don't want to, I always love hearing back from writers when I comment on their fic. Receiving a fic comment feels like an incredible opportunity to thank someone for reading and chat about the story. One of my favorite things about fandom is the interactive component; when I publish something in a lit mag, I might hear from a few people about it, but when I publish fic there's a built-in audience/community and I do not take that for granted.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Maybe "Millimeters" (Grace/Frankie), in which Grace ends the story pining for Frankie, who is in a relationship with someone else? But even that story doesn't actually have an angsty ending; by the time I published it, I was already in the process of publishing a multi-chapter fic that was the third and final part of the series and that has a very happy ending.

No matter how much angst I put characters through in fic, I am pretty committed to endings that have some degree of hope and at least the possibility of joy!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I could answer with so many fics, but I'll go with "The Adventure" (Ted/Rebecca) because its ending is explicitly about Rebecca appreciating her life, sharing this appreciation with Ted, and feeling happy about her immediate future.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

If I have, I've blocked it out. I often put a note on my fics saying I am open to constructive criticism, and while I occasionally get criticism/questions/requests for additional tagging/etc. (all of which I welcome!), I've never gotten a properly hateful comment.

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

Absolutely! The sex I write tends to be relatively feelings-y, but that doesn't mean it isn't smutty! I absolutely love writing sex and a significant portion of my stories contain some kind of explicit content. I'm not totally sure what "what kind" means but by this point I've written solo sex, couple sex, and group sex in a variety of queer and hetero contexts. I've written more femslash sex than anything else, but I love writing it all!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have tried but never successfully published any. I was really trying to make a DWP + Grace and Frankie crossover work for a long time but it just isn't the way my brain operates. I did write a story about Grace and Frankie watching Killing Eve with their ex husbands, though! :D

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not word-for-word/reposted, but I've had significant passages and concepts from fic plagiarized. It annoyed me.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet but some may be in the works?! I've had lots of fic podficced before, and while all the podfics are in the same language, they still feel in some ways like a delightful act of translation.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! The Ted Lasso Ted/Beard podfic @boglady, @podklb, and @rockinhamburger "Just Missed You," which we created for @pod-together.

I've also collaborated more loosely on a couple fics, like the Ted/Rebecca fic "Rebecca Welton, 2021" (@boglady wrote the first chapter and gave me permission to write chapter two and @diane-lockharts permission to write chapter three) and the Beard/Ted + pre-Beard/Rebecca/Ted fic "Before and After" (@theodore-lasso wrote the first chapter and gave me permission to write a chapter two).

I might be forgetting something older, but those are the ones that come to mind.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Impossible question! When I'm fixated on something it's my most favorite thing forever in a way that sort of limits my ability to think broadly and actually answer the question. So it FEELS like my answer is a tie between Ted/Rebecca and Ted/Rebecca/Keeley/Roy and Beard/Rebecca/Ted and any Ted/soulmate situation and that might actually be accurate because I can't recall my brain deep-diving into character quite like this before. But also, Miranda/Andy?! To have started writing about them in 2008 and to still read them sometimes and to have beta-read stories about within the last few months...that's some wild staying power, man.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof, I've had a couple barely-started AU ideas for Ted Lasso that I am just 100% sure I'll never have the energy to write. Everything else, never say never! Either I don't want to finish and won't or I want to finish and might!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Detail, I think? I really love thinking about super-specific sensory experiences and exactly how a character would feel and respond, and trying to carve "meaning" from the ordinary little details that stack up to form life.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I sometimes struggle with blocking and describing movements. I also struggle a lot with conveying big feeling transitions. For instance, I might be able to write yearning, and I might be able to write that same character in a reciprocal relationship with the person they once yearned for, but that moment when things change can be really hard to write.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

As long as it's in-character, yeah! I don't think I've really had cause to do this. The closest thing recently might be Rebecca sending a text message in Dutch. I didn't translate it; translating it wasn't required to understand the meaning of the story, so it was more like a bonus for anyone who cared to translate it.

I don't love it when a character who speaks multiple languages peppers their speech with random well-known-to-English-speaking-audiences words in a non-English language when it feels like the writers is just reminding the reader about this fact about the character. But I love it when it's done in a way that resembles how people actually switch between languages as they speak!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Devil Wears Prada, back in 2008!

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Fic I haven't published yet! Always gotta have aspirations. <3

"Lavender II" (Beard/Rebecca/Ted) is a fic that I worked incredibly hard on and feel proud of because it just ended up being what I wanted and needed it to be, so maybe that's my favorite out of stuff I've actually already written.

tagging in a no-pressure way: anyone who was tagged throughout my answers + @talldecafcappuccino @dollsome-does-tumblr @broadwayfreak5357 @itsagutthing @kittensittin @thesumdancekid @fandomfrolics @waywardted @sapphicscholar @majolination + anyone who sees this and wants to do it (I probably meant to tag you anyway!)

#fic by me #about me #20 questions for fic writers #tunemyart #hot dork club

[themisfitthrone]

Blanket Permissions: what they are and why should you should add one

I am stealing from this very helpful twitter thread by my favorite podficcer @flowerparrish and joining the crusade.

The website in the last tweet is truly incredible. https://www.fpslist.org/ is a database that, as stated above, links to permission statements of various fan creators. If you're someone interested in creating podfics or fan art of written works, knowing who allows these transformative works ahead of time gives you a leg up.

But what exactly is a blanket statement?

Blanket or policy statements about a creator's fanworks are often found in the user profile of their ao3 page/social media account, at an "about" or FAQ page of their website or in a pinned post on twitter/tumblr/journal/etc.

Okay, but why should I include them on my ao3/tumblr/twitter/fanfic.net/etc.? you might ask.

Well, for one, if you're open to receiving these lovely little gifts (pod fics, fan arts)... It makes it so much easier for you to receive them! Instead of folks having to constantly ask for the permission, they can make something to show their appreciation for you and your work!

Okay but I want more information.

Great! Here's a few resources for you!

This lovely resource on Fanlore covers what blanket statements are, the various types of works you might like to specifically allow, and more!

This resource on Fanlore specifically dives into blanket permissions for podfics

@spiritthatdenies made a helpful post here about this already, but I am just continuing the crusade because I know I've never seen it on my dash!

What I like about that last resource is that the OP delves into some reasons that it's easier to include these statements. It takes away some of the anxiety and is more time-effective.

And remember! You don't have to say yes to everything. I have seen a whole range of blanket permissions since starting my (so far) brief journey into podficcing. I have seen statements that:

Specifically state that locked fics cannot be used

Specifically state that locked fics must be requested

Ask to always be given a link to the work after it is done

Specifically state that certain fandoms cannot be used/must be requested

Specifically ask that you do not re-pod anything already podded

So, seriously, your blanket statement can be anything!

Okay, so I added the blanket statement. But how will people know?

Well the best way is by submitting to the FPS archive I linked! Here is the page that has details on just how to do that. You can insert a link into the Google Sheet above, or register on the site and use the My Authors page.

Plus, there's a super wonderful extension I have downloaded that allows you to specifically view who has blanket permissions on ao3! It highlights those authors for you.

I will often check a creator's profile just to see if maybe they have a blanket permission but just aren't on the archive yet. It is rarely the case but I am hopeful nonetheless!

A final little resource, this one specifically for folks creating podfics, but that I think might ease the minds of folks worried about their works not being properly linked to: This browser extension is a podfic posting helper. Basically, it does all of the heavy lifting for you. It adds all the tags, content warnings, ships, you name it. It makes sure you have filled out the transformative works section correctly. It ensures that everything is exactly the way you need to it be (and you can customize it as well).

So... hopefully that covers it! I'm personally tagging just... a lot of fandoms here in hopes this reaches enough corners of the internet and gets reblogged enough that folks begin to add more blanket permission statements!

If you'd like a simple statement to post, feel free to copy this one down:

I give blanket permission for anyone to podfic, remix, or otherwise create derivative works of my fics! All I ask is that you link back to my work as the inspiration. If you would like to additionally link me to the finished work, especially if it is not posted to ao3, please send it along.

That one is the one I have on my ao3!

#blanket permissions #podfic #our flag means death #all for the game #teen wolf #harry potter #what we do in the shadows #star wars #star trek #mcu #dcu #dc comics #marvel comics #the locked tomb #the tarot sequence #heartstopper #my hero academia #stranger things #atla #critical role #the adventure zone #first kill #buffy the vampire slayer #good omens #lord of the rings #the hobbit #percy jackson #the hunger games #the sandman #green creek

[stormyoceans]

Is it worth watching Hidden Agenda if it has my favorite Aou, Boom, Pod (dear you finally stopped fishing!!), Guy, Arm but I absolutely don't like acting Dunk?? I urgently need to know the amount of screen time supports role and in what relationship the characters Pod and Guy (╮°-°)╮┳━━┳ ( ╯°□°)╯ ┻━━┻

SORRY ANON BEFORE ANSWERING YOU I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT YOUR MESSAGE WAS HOW I FOUND OUT THAT THE OFFICIAL HIDDEN AGENDA TRAILER HAD DROPPED AND I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK ON THE BUS HOME GMMTV REALLY NEEDS TO WARN A GIRL BEFORE RELEASING SHOWS OUT OF NOWHERE

anyway!!!! it's kinda hard to say if the show is gonna be worth watching if you don't like dunk's acting because he still plays the main character, so even if the side ones are going to have a fair amount of screentime, you're still gonna have to go through a lot of parts that you may find hard to watch. it also doesn't help that the official trailer, unlike the mock one, basically gave us NOTHING about the side characters, which is a bit disappointing. im not exactly fond of dunk's or joong's acting either, but i do think their chemistry makes up for a lot, and the new trailer definitely focused on that by showing us a lot of cute moments between joke and zo, however i also feel like it took out most of the exciting elements people were looking forward to from the original plot. the mock trailer just seemed more fully fledged and coherent, with different conflicts and character arcs to explore

and im now realizing none of this is really helping, sorry ;;;;; what i can tell you is that i do believe we're getting a fair amount of content when it comes to the side characters, it's just that maybe the fact that they're still filming kinda affected what they could show in the trailer (sadly not for the best, but i do hope the series itself is gonna be good!!!!). also, as infuriating (to not use another word) as GMMTV can be, i personally always find something to enjoy in their series, so i feel like watching hidden agenda is still gonna be worth it in some way, regardless of how you may feel about dunk

I VERY MUCH AGREE WITH YOU ON NEEDING TO KNOW WHAT KIND OF RELATIONSHIP PODD AND GUY'S CHARACTERS ARE GONNA HAVE THOUGH I'VE HAD THEIR SCENE FROM THE MOCK TRAILER BRANDED IN MY BRAIN SINCE IT FIRST CAME OUT AND IF WE'RE NOT GETTING IT IN THE ACTUAL SHOW I MAY FILE A COMPLAINT TO THE AUTHORITIES LIKE

DELETING THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL

#..i feel like i may have taken this too seriously sorry anon ;;;;;; #and i ended up rambling about the trailers more than answering you ;;;;; #i still hope it can be somehow useful? #anyway let's manifest together a good amount of screentime for all the side characters!!!! #and mayhaps an enemies to lovers storyline for poddguy?? 👀 #🕯️🙏🕯️ #hidden agenda #m: ask

[robinastrea]

Date: July 1, 2023, night Location: Robin’s Pod Characters Mentioned: Theo Seong Description: Robin listens to the song Theo gifts him.

Robin had returned from his birthday at Tokyo Disneyland sunburned despite his best efforts not to be, and he crawled into his pod completely content, but careful to not brush his arms against anything.  It was a great birthday surrounded by his favorite people, and those people had wanted to spend time with him, so he was about as happy as he could be.

He looked through his presents again, tucking Zuko the horse close by, taking care to place the nice paper in a safe area, and shoving a chocolate disc in his mouth with some difficulty.  The final one was from Theo, and he had unfolded the hoodie in front of him and laughed at the note, somehow liking being compared to a puppy eating noodles even though it was shortly followed by Theo roasting him for not being able to cook.  He glanced at the hoodie now and pulled it on.  He hadn’t been able to listen to the song burned on the CD in front of him yet, and he moved to do that now, pulling a personal CD player from his overhead shelves and popping the disc labeled “Robin’s Song” into it.  An intrusive thought floated through his brain that that would be his name if he took Theo’s last name.  Robin’s Song, Robin Seong.  He really needed to cut that thought out immediately.

Robin placed the flimsy headphones over his ears, pulled his hood up, and laid back into his bed before he pressed Play.  He heard static, then the sound of a guitar, and finally Theo’s unmistakable singing voice flowing through the headphones and taking over Robin’s senses.

This must have been a song written either shortly after, or even some time after their breakup.  If it was written shortly after, that made sense.  Robin’s feelings about the breakup at the time were melancholy as well.  It wasn’t like he wanted to break up with Theo.  It was just the right thing to do at the time, and the best move for the both of them.  They were still friends for a time after that.  Though that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt that it had to end.

But if it was written some time after the breakup, which Robin had a sneaking suspicion that it was based on words such as what could have been, nostalgic, and the entire bridge... 

In a parallel universe, we might have found a way,  To rewrite our story, to make it last another day, I hope you're happy, wherever you may be,  But I can't help but wonder if you still think of me.

Robin felt an increasing weight on his chest.  He had thought about Theo in those years, all the things they’d talked about and how much he’d liked him, but Robin had also moved on.  There was his whole future to worry about, training and school to graduate from, a first mate role to be thrust into.  And then, there was a boyfriend in there last year that he had loved very much, even though he was now firmly out of his life forever.  He hadn’t been hung up on Theo in that time.  Or, he didn’t think he had been.  He’d made purposeful decisions not to visit the diner after they lost contact, sure, or not to try to reach out with other methods.  But that wasn’t Robin just avoiding feelings, was it?  He truly didn’t know.

The CD stopped, and Robin played it again, itching to roll over onto his side but stopping himself due to the sunburn.  Even if it was written long after the breakup, it still could have been years ago, and that didn’t mean that Theo still felt that way now.  I see your face in my dreams // a gentle touch I crave, Theo didn’t still crave it, right?  He was probably comfortable sharing it with him because he was long past these feelings.  A song shared comfortably between friends.  Right?

It didn’t hide the fact that Theo did have these feelings at one point, and it left a pang in his stomach when Robin realized that back then, the erkuss may have fell harder for him than Robin had fallen for him.  The question was, did he still feel that way?  When did he write these lyrics?  Did they mean anything anymore?  And most importantly, could Robin do anything about it if they did?

So here we are, two souls intertwined,  Walking separate paths, but our hearts are aligned,  Deep in my soul, I'll always hold a space,  For the love we had, and the smile on your face.

#self para #discord thread #headcanons #so remember in the tags when i said that robin had thoughts about this song #yeah he sure does

[chattingwiththelightkeeper]

Hi Edward! Are there any movies / tv shows / documentaries that you recommend which depicts BDSM in a way that you found accurate?

Annon,

Fabulous question!

Sadly though my answer is no I have not found anything to be “accurate”.

An interesting documentary is Sick or as it was originally called, Sick: The Life & Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist. IMDB describes it as “Diagnosed with cystic fibrosis from a young age, performance artist Bob Flanagan shared his life and pain in his art, usually through sadomasochistic practices.” This is the telling of his story, not a portrayal of the lifestyle, and is streaming on Apple TV, Amazon, Roko, Sling, and Tubi (at least these are the streaming services that say they have it).

My theory on why there are no spot-on movies or docs about the lifestyle is outside of play and kinktastic sex the film would be rather boring for most. Scenes of a munch with a group of lifestyle people gathering for community and conversation would not be erotic, nor would a person reading one of Dossie Easton’s books (even if they were scantily clad and reading by candlelight) be attention-holding, and finally the lengthy process of vetting would put most casual views into a deep sleep. Let’s face it, sex sells and any true representation of the lifestyle would not focus on kinktastic bow-chicka-wow-wow leaving our vanilla cousins snoring on their couches and the film’s backers losing all the pennies they put into the project.

As I typed this out, I had a radical idea. Perhaps I should make one that combines all the kinky coitus to keep those with the attention of a gnat attentive yet mixed with truthful and accurate lifestyle information. It could be a series where I take bits of information from my Chatting With The Lightkeeper podcast, which is available wherever you listen to pods, and those education segments take around ten minutes then use my bodaciously banging dadbod coupled with my pretty picturesque penis to star in a five-minute kinky coitus segment which then fads back to educational content. Perhaps that would bridge the gap between boring and sexy? Perhaps I should start accepting applications for a co-star in the dancing without pants parts? Oh even better, I could sound like an internet dominant and demand many co-stars as this will surely be a massive hit, just like my gargantuan baloney pony which would also be the cover art for the series as well as the avatar on all the kinky sites used to promote the film.

So let’s get back to reality a bit and while I do not have any recommendations for true to life movies or documentaries, I do have five suggestions if you want to be entertained by a movie that has BDSM in it, even if the film is not accurate:

Bella De Jour (1967) - A French film featuring a young housewife with submissive fantasies and a longing to explore them, so she does what any of us would do and seeks employment at in brothel. Who has not been in that same place?

91/2 Weeks (1986) - While it is an entertaining movie sadly it also features themes that abound in lifestyle movies such as what is an abusive relationship that is somehow acceptable because it is kinktastic. This is sadly an all too common theme in lifestyle-related movies.

The Secretary (2002) - This is my favorite lifestyle movie but where is the consent? If you approach this flick with your eyes wide open (not wide shut) there is never consent or negotiation, which makes much of what happens abusive. I do not like saying that about my favorite lifestyle genre movie but it is true.

A Dangerous Method (2011) - An interesting story, the relationship between Fraud and Jung, along with some wonderful BDSM themed scenes but on the bad side of it all, we do see what now would be called sexual abuse of a patient.

Love and Leashes (2022) - Perhaps the most accurate of these films, this Korean movie is still not realistic in that the film centers around the main character approaching an almost stranger, who has no knowledge of the lifestyle and asking them to be their dominant/master.

So those are my picks for unrealistic but entertaining lifestyle movies.

Thank you for asking Anon,

Edward

What are your favorite lifestyle movies and do you have a film or documentary that you feel is a good and accurate representation of BDSM?

Have a question? Click here to ask.

©TLK2024

#bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #bd/sm daddy #bd/sm kink #bd/sm lifestyle #bd/sm relationship #d/s #d/s community #d/s relationship #dom/sub #my writing #anon

[whitherwordswither]

Dead Ringing, Pt. 6

Home. It was a good place to be. It held my knickknacks and comforts. It was my space away from the world at large. A space where I could decompress. Where I could just… be.

On most nights, anyway.

I stood, staring out the window at the hazy orange glow of the barrier, sipping a twelve year scotch. To be honest, I never understood the aging process. Maybe my tongue wasn't attuned to the fine nuances of such a drink. I had tasted plenty in my time and they all came across with their unique personalities, sure, but at the tail end of every single one was that unmistakable bite of peat. I guess the word for that was… acquired? I think I had a love hate relationship with the flavor.

I peered down in to my glass, swirling the contents before taking another sip. Besides, any good detective worth their salt had to have their quintessential brooding drink of choice to go along with their favorite brooding spot. Mine just happened to be the window, looking out in to the desolate distance beyond the city limits.

My mind kept wandering back to the pod corridor, to the temporarily recomposed human. The way it jerked. The unnatural movements of its mouth as it worked to form words. The glazed over look on its face as it grappled with the wrongness of its own being.

It didn't sit right with me. And I couldn't drink the face of the dead from my mind fast enough. I shuffled over to the island counter, uncorking the bottle and pouring myself another. If three rounds didn't do it, why not a fourth? Before returning to my brooding post I fished my pad from my jacket pocket from where it was draped over the back of a chair. I messaged the only person I could think of that could possibly lift my spirits.

Loren didn't reply right away. But after the fifth message she responded with a grumpy ascii face: Just closed up for the night, dogface. It's been a day. Why don't you come down on the morrow and we'll talk over coffee?

I could use the company, Ren. You could stay the night, you know. You got some clothes here still. I washed them. I replied with a coy smiley face.

I could almost hear the sigh in the text of her next message: Why is it you always seem to want me over when the weight of the world is unbearable?

Because you're the only one capable of easing that burden.

Despite appearances our relationship was… rocky, at best. We had a bad habit of not speaking for days at a time, let alone seeing one another. I mean… we weren't really a thing, to be entirely honest. She'd been burned too often to put pretty little labels on anything. And we both had our uneasy histories. I wasn't a very good partner, or lover, or whatever you wanted to call it. I knew it. I knew she knew it.

Loren didn't reply after that. I sat against the windowsill, staring at the screen of my pad for a good fifteen minutes. Maybe I'd finally asked for too much without giving enough in return? I barked out a short, quiet laugh as I took a long pull from my drink. If she walked out of my life I wouldn't have blamed her. She deserved better than some weary old mutt.

I threw my pad across the room on to the couch with a heavy sigh and finished what was left of my drink as I rubbed a hand over my muzzle. "Ugh… piss off already…" I grumbled, brain still flashing pictures of the corpse. The smacking blue lips. The milky gaze. I pushed away from the window, reaching for the bottle. A heavy handed knock at the door had me knocking my cup across the counter. It rolled off the edge and clattered to the floor. Reason #38 I preferred non-glass materials. Another series of knocks sounded. "Hang on!" I growled, stumbling over to the door and wrenching it open, fur bristling, teeth bared.

Loren stood there, looking stern. The wind immediately left my sails, ears folding back. I made to say something but she shoved a bag against my chest. The heavenly aroma of meatballs and marinara wafting up, gracing my nostrils. And then she nudged past me in to the apartment, quipping. "Bet'cha didn't bother to feed yourself again either!"

I turned, gaze following here as I stood like a dumb statue in the doorway.

She trudged in to the kitchen, stooping to fetch the empty cup from the floor with a tsk. She set it on the counter then fetched herself one from the corner cabinet. She filled her glass, refilled mine, then leaned against the counter, raising a brow as she looked to me. Her expression a mix of why do I evens and what are you just standing there fors. "What ever would you do without me, hm?"

She was the light in the world that I didn't deserve.

#creative writing #queer writers #writing community #sci-fi #original fiction #noir

[ramrodd]

Disparaging Jesus: Roman Gossip and Jewish Legend

COMMENTARY:

James Tabor, if an an honest account of the material you are discussing is your goal, it would serve you to abandon the dialectical Marxism of the critical historical method you adopted as an apostate Air Force brat and antiwar protester that was all the rage after the occupation of Columbia University by the SDS in 1968 (and persists as the liberal PC cancel culture) and replace it with the critical literary method of Hegel. It would serve to validate virtually every thing  you've concluded.

First of all, your thesis that the narratives of the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of John are intended to be understood as intertwined is exactly correct. Cornelius, the centurion featured in Acts 10, is the author of the Gospel of Mark and John Mark is the author of the Gospel of John, which begins when John Mark is 13 years old at Passover CE 27 and about halfway through his preparation for achieving his majority and Bar Mitzvah just before the Festival of Tabernacles 28,  John Mark is not the author of the Gospel of Mark, but becomes the publisher of the Gospel in Alexandria and is part of the committee that shapes the final version, The syntax of Mark 16:9 - 20 is clearly that of the last chapter of John, even in English and was added by John Mark's copyists at some point.

Both Mark and John being when Jesus appears above the Roman military horizon and takes command of John the Baptist's constituency. The reason why the Gospel of Mark begins with John the Baptist is because the Roman intelligence services had an active and routine surveillance program on  the  baptizer: they knew where he lived, they knew what he ate, they knew how he dressed and they generally knew the doctrine he was preaching and they considered him a potential in surgent.

The Gospel of Mark demonstrates that the Romans had active files on all the players in Judea, including the Herodians, the Sadducee's, the Pharisees and it must be assumed, the Zealots, who were the common enemy of both the Romans and Jesus (John 2:17). The Zealots were the John Birch Society of Judea and the instruments of the Apocalypse of the 2nd Temple and Revelation. when Jesus shows up and takes command of John the Baptist's congregation, the Roman spies shift all their resources to Jesus and lose sight of John the Baptist entirely, as reflected in Mark 1:14.

What we learn about Jahn's execution was relayed to the Roman archives, aka Q, by Herod Antipas or his intelligence services, after the reproachment of Pilate and Herod that Luke documents. The flashback in Mark 6 is the only literary artifice in Mark.

The second thing the Romans learn is the extent of the foot print Jesus inherited from John the Baptist in Mark 3::8 It is likely that the Romans were unaware of the extent of this demographic, which appears twice in Mark, the first command performance of Jesus in a boat and the second time after the arrest of John the Baptist in Mark 4. we know from John 3 that John the Baptist was still at liberty at the Passover CE 28.

I have no problem with adoptionism: it's not true, but, if it was true, Resurrection was like Etch-a-Sketch: everything before it is obviated and the God Hypothesis validated, which was one objective of Jesus's mission. A second objective was to create a priesthood of servant-leaders who would erect the new Temple of Moses within the grown community of synagogues emerging from Hellenistic Judaism.

A third objective was to emphasize the Holy Spirit as a supernatural resource available to humankind and to demonstrate it's practical application. Your favorite Myth Master had Rbbi Tabias Singer on his pod cast three years ago who gets his panties all in a know bout how the emphasis on miracles and exorcism in Mark is all Greco-Roman content and has nothing to do with the Torah.

Exactly my point. In terms of Hegel, the Sociology and Anthropology of the Gospel of Mark is entirely that of a Greco-Roman centurion and that Jesus is a Hellenistic post-Apocalyptical Jew who abrogates the Dietary restrictions in Mark 7:19, absorbs Plato into the Shema and adds the Socrates Clause to the Greatest Commandment in Mark 12:29 - 31. The additional clause is a synthesis of Hillel's Silver Rule, Jesus's Golder Rule and Socrates ethic of man's duty to man embedded in the secular rule of law of Athens and Rome.

Finally, the contours of Q are made evident in the Roman apparatus of εὐθὺς  in the Greek Text of the Gospel of Mark. εὐθὺς  indicates that the pericope is eye witness testimony that was collected by the Roman intelligence services as part of the routine surveillance procedures appled to Jesus after His baptism and before His Resurrection, in particular, and his arrext, generally, except for Acts 10:16, when the testimony of Peter provides the narrative structure  for the Gospel of Mark. John Mark, Matthew and Luke have access to this Roman military archive as a result of Peter's encounter with Cornelius and is probably a basis for inclusion in the canon. Pilate's original intelligence report he sent to Tiberius that Tertullian cites went under the euangeliou "Tidings of Joy" Emperor's eyes' first transmittal priority and becomes the code word for the Roman archive that Paul refers to 19 times in his Epistles.

Go back and read the Gospel of Mark in Greek and every time εὐθὺς appears, thing "op-cit" and Ibid" instead of "immediately" and you will see what I mean.

Love your show, Babe, but I grew weary of  John Dominick Crossan’s whole dialectical Marxism trope before I went to Vietnam.  

https://tinyurl.com/2k5jeevk

#youtube

[ear-worthy]

Pod-Alization: Freakonomics Comes Clean; Brooklyn Podcast Festival; Football & Race

Freakonomics airs an episode about trying to clean up the world

Freakonomics recently introduced a miniseries podcast called The Economics Of Everyday Things. In the first episode: Gas stations. When gas prices skyrocket, do station owners get a windfall? And where do their profits really come from? This episode was enlightening and counterintuitive in some of its conclusions.

The podcast hosted is Zachary Crockett, who was a staff writer at Vox.com and Priceonomics.

In the fourth and final episode of the miniseries (although Freakonomics left the door open to more shows), host Crockett introduces us to an organization, Clean The World, that is trying to make the world a better place.

Clean The World had a novel idea. Collect used hotel soaps that had been partially used by hotel guests that are usually thrown away. By inventing a process that mixes all those different kinds of soaps and then using a “soap whisperer” to successfully create the right balance to make new soap bars. The organization distributes these newly constituted soap bars to people in need of help with hygiene and disease prevention.

This is especially commendable since our nation suffers from an empathy deficit for the disabled, disadvantaged, and downtrodden. Sadly, an “I got mine, so it’s your fault if you didn’t get yours” attitude pervades too many crevasses in our society. Some media outlets even pitch the fiction that the privileged in society are under assault from the disadvantaged.

Check out The Economics Of Everyday Things here.

On Air Fest Hits Brooklyn next week (Feb. 23–25)

From Feb 23–25 at Brooklyn’s Wythe Hotel, On Air Fest is hailed as “the Coachella of podcast festivals.” The festival has just announced its next series of programming updates and additions.

Fast Company will now welcome a special session from Audible and Higher Ground Audio, on the making of Michelle Obama: The Light Podcast. Ahead of its March 7th release, the early preview of Michelle Obama: The Light Podcast will feature behind-the-scenes anecdotes about the inaugural project from Audible and Higher Ground’s multi-year partnership, focused on producing content that reflects the companies’ shared mission of telling meaningful stories to elevate diverse voices and experiences.

Also at On Air Fest, attendees will witness the debut of On Air: The Podcast Experience. The first-of-its-kind, interactive exhibit invites fans to step into their favorite shows and storytellers, as a floor of multiple rooms at the Wythe Hotel is taken over by the worlds of My Favorite Murder, On Being, Radiolab, Sonos’ Object of Sound with host Hanif Abdurraqib, and The Heart. The immersive installation will run from February 23–26 and is open to all festival attendees and independent ticket holders.

NYT’s Between The Lines Podcast premieres about the history of football and race

How has America’s biggest game failed to grapple with America’s biggest issue?

“Between the Lines,” a new podcast series from The Athletic, dives into what it means to be Black in the N.F.L. and explains how race impacts each level of the league’s organization chart.

Through a series of interviews with current and former NFL players, coaches, executives and league officials, host Tashan Reed takes listeners through the NFL’s past and present issues with race, as well as the changes that may be possible to make America’s biggest game more equitable.

From coaches who have quit their jobs due to a lack of advancement to players who have struggled to speak out for fear of being cut, Reed takes listeners through the N.F.L.’s past and present issues with race, as well as the changes that may be possible to make America’s biggest game more equitable.

“The N.F.L. is far from the only entity with a diversity problem — the media industry is another prime example — but it’s one of the most successful, prominent and influential businesses in America,” said Tashan Reed. “If it allows the issue to persist, it’s culpable in helping maintain the structure of systemic racism, discrimination, and oppression that’s held this country in its grip for centuries. But if it’s able to cultivate some sustained progress, it could become a beacon for change. This series was born and created over the course of 16 months from a desire to see the latter path come to fruition.”

Episode one of Between the Lines reviews the major moments in the 100-year history of race and activism in football, as well as the culture surrounding the sport. Voices in this episode include Doug Williams, Bomani Jones, Jim Trotter, Marcus Thompson II, Devin McCourty, and two of the originators of the Rooney Rule — Cyrus Mehri and Dr. Janice Madden.

The first episode of “Between the Lines” is available now, and new episodes drop weekly on Tuesdays.

#podcast #festivals #charity #social justice

[sth8shuemore]

Once upon a word?

Back in Senior High School we had this class called creative writing, and it's one of the subjects I kept looking forward to joining in. We would do these weekly writing prompts where our instructor would give us a specific word to play with and make a story out of it. It's up to us on how and what our narrative will turn out, by having zero limits on this will be written. 

It's been a couple of years already and I decided to try it out again to see if I still have it. Today our instructor had us think of the first few words that popped up in our head with the selected words she provided. So here's a quick show on the list below of the words I came up with and where it's associated. Here's my take of a writing prompt as a  content for my blog as it turns into a new leaf, prepping myself from fall to winter.

My bed was the only thing left for me to fall for as it seems everything has lost its grip away from me. Only the beaten up pillow was was there catch all my unspoken feelings, as it run through my face down to its sheets. Maybe taking a sleep could be an escape from drowning myself in tears and find my way out of this deafening silence. 

It is said that love will blossom between you and the person you like if you both catch the fall of the first snow. We've always wanted that, since there were zero chances of winter in the Philippines, so we saved up tickets to Korea. We got matching scarfs both in green because it's our favorite color.  I can still remember the dance you made when I bought them for us, you were radiating happiness.

It's 7 a.m and I woke up with a squint in my eye. My vision was still unclear, but one thing is for sure I can recognize that smile, because it was yours. You were dragging me to the window because the sun will slowly rise, me in my pajamas wrapped in the scarf we match. Running, we were running slowly not because I was still sleepy, it's because we're finally having our moments. 

Then you stop and pull out your phone and a pair of air pods. I can see you shaking but full of joy, so I warmed up my hands by rubbing them with each other then placing them in your red ears. Little do I know our favorite song was playing in my ears, it was no concierto, it was the Ellie Badge piano song from the movie UP. You held my hand as you took them off your ears and spread my palms with yours as the first snowflake fell in our hands.

Beep beep beep... My alarm was telling me to wake up, from the painted dream I had. Slowly fading, slowly losing, until I eventually see a blank white ceiling on my room. Woke up breathless to the playlist you made me, that I still listen to now. I just wish I could listen to the same song again with you in this same bed full of dreams, and not just a fool who's trapped in his dreams.

How was it? I hope you were moved by my writing because it felt rusty to me. This writing prompt could really help out to exercise one's imaginative writing. Would you be willing to try it out? Find out and try to use the same words I associated with my story, to come up with your own narrative, don't forget to enjoy!

[heartfullofleeches]

Warnings/tags: bit of angst, reader get stabbed, hand jobs 

Wore count: 2.2k mdni

First dates could be nerve-racking, to say the least. The awkward air. Hopes for the spark of a budding relationship to stay lit. For a guy like Taylor; a shy college student who had barely spoken to anyone since high school, they were all the more taxing. To the night of the event, he found it difficult to believe someone as breath taking as he date would settle for someone like him. 

This date wouldn’t be the first time they got together. In fact, the two had been going strong for a few months now. Two peas content in their pod, and growing by the day. The days they were in town, for that matter. Despite this, the couple had never gone on a public outing before. Takeout in undisclosed locations and the occasional movie night at his apartment were the best it got for the most part. 

As much as he cherished those moments, Taylor secretly longed for more. A trip to the arcade he loved as a child, sitting down in one of the restaurants they ordered from. Just being with the love of his life in a open place; proudly announcing their affection to the heavens above. It was a guilty pleasure given his partner’s lifestyle; which made it all the more dreamlike when they agrees to a night out. He was determined to make it the best evening since the start of their relationship, to lower their guard more for more in the future. 

It was only a late night movie, but Taylor felt like it was the night he would propose. Absent minded throughout the day, his heart leapt into his throat at the end of his shift; hurrying out the door like a bullet. Texting here and there during the day, he shot you a quick hello as he headed home for their date – lovely listed as “My Sweetheart” in his phone. The name changed constantly, Taylor finding it difficult to pick one concrete nickname. Stuff like that is what you’d see in a normal relationship and he was desperate for anything sense of the word, but there were too many to pick from. At the end of the day, none could ever quite express his love fully.

After a shower and the millionth wardrobe change, Taylor still hasn’t gotten a text back. This was strange, but the movie didn’t start for another two hours and he was used to days of no contact. Hurt a bit to be put off on a date night, but it was better than the alternative. He opted to lounge around till a reply, but that only led to his mind wondering more. Every second a tick closer to bringing out the dread he felt being away from you. A drive would help, maybe he’d even spot you on the street if he went by your hangout areas.

Not even buckled in and the calls began. Blowing up your phone, leaving enough voice-mails to fill up your inbox. He knew he was probably overreacting, but he couldn’t help it. Just tell him you’re okay and he’ll stop being so annoying. He tried to think of logical reasons as to why you weren’t answering, but it all led back to the worst possible scenario. 

“I just need to focus on something else. Y/n's ok. Y/n is fine.” He told himself, hands gripping the wheel as if his life depended on it. He’d see you soon, the worry you caused bringing a grin to your face you would laugh him back into . He needed a present. Something to get your attention off

-

Thee convenience store clerk eyes Taylor curiously as he lays everything out on the counter. Flowers, a teddy bear, your favorite snacks. He had it all. Maybe even drip his toes into debauchery and sneak a few into the theater as well. As he paid for his things and stepped outside, he finally got the call he had been waiting for. Nearly dropping everything, he answers on the first note of your ringtone

“Hey, can you pick me up? I got stabbed.”

-

Racing through yellow lights, Taylor sped onward to his job. It was the closet location from where you had been stabbed. He parked his car at the side of the building, not wanting to explain to his coworkers what he was doing. The store was pretty empty, luckily for him, which gave better cover for him to sneak off to the back of the building to find you. Between the trash cans and back door is where you lay, gripping your bloody side – eyes dazed.

“Some date, huh?” You chuckle, the act aggravating your wound and causing you to hiss in pain.  Relief watches over Taylor like a hurricane. He wanted nothing more than to hold you close, but there were more important matters at hand. Without a word, Taylor kneels beside you as you move your hands for him to see. A shallow gash slit your abdomen, thick clothing taking the blunt of the attack. The blood loss was worse than the wound itself, but you’d be fine with a few bandages. 

“What happened?”

“Well, when you called and asked if I wanted to go out I felt like I had to get something for the occasion. I forgot to turn off my ringer when I was.. buying your present and the uh cashier had a knife.”

Every relationship had its quirks. Yours just so happened to be you were a blood thirsty criminal. You even met when you gutted Taylor’s last boss. You bounced from town to town to keep suspicions low, but stayed here longer than intended – not realizing there was a witness to your crime. Instead of turning you in, he somehow managed to befriend you. Neither of you knew how love struck – or why you left him alive; but after it happened you found yourself struggling with a normal life with him and dealing with urges you couldn’t put down.

“So this.. this is my fault?” Taylor asks, pulling his hands away slightly. He felt disgusted. Not with you, but himself. He accepted that darker part of you and loved you for you, but could have cost you your life because he was a little needy. You grip his hand, soothing his worries by stroking his knuckles with your thumb.

“No, I was careless. We need to leave. Nobody saw my face, but I’m sure someone called the police.”

“Yea, ok.. Let me help you up.” Taylor helps you to your feet, hand on the opposite hip to your wound. He kept his head to the ground, ashamed of himself. Before you head off, you reach into your pocket and pull out a pocket knife covered in your blood. You wipe the blade on your pants leg and offer it to him. 

“Here, a consolation gift. It’ll take a lot more than one stab to get rid of me.”

The corner of his lip twitches. It’s a terrible moment, but he feels the passion you both share. As he reaches to take it, the backdoor bops open; the faint smell of a lit cigarette wafting into the air.

“Taylor, that you? Thought I saw your car out front. It's dangerous out here, man. What are you doing here, and who is that with you?”

Taylor freeze in place, while you stand completely still; calculating the situation. His coworkers eyes flash with recognition, and that’s when his fate is sealed.

“S-stay right there. I’m calling the police.” Not caring to determine with Taylor was in danger, he turns to reenter the store; but you’re fast. You pull him away from the door, slamming him into the wall with the rest of your weight. He thrashes around in an attention to get free, almost succeeding in your weakened state.

Taylor watches, still frozen. No, he couldn’t lose you – not like this, but was he ready to kill someone? There was always the possibility that one of you would have to cross to the other’s side, and you were already doing that for him. Throwing off your way of life to stay with him. His hands found their way to the pocket knife you gave him. Anything for you, even if he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror again. Anything. 

“Taylor..”

He looks up at you. In the moments it took doubt to take over, you had his coworker on the ground; barely conscious. No way in hell you’d let one person take you so easily. Eyes trained on him, you hold out your hand in Taylor’s direction. 

“Give me the knife, and look away.”

He shakes his head, wanting to proof you could depend on him. No matter how hard he’s shaking. “No, let me do it, Y/n. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You face him, expression clear you weren’t taking no for an answer. “Do what I tell you and give me the damn knife!”

-

The car ride is quiet. You needed rest and he could think of nothing to say. Together you head to the nearest motel. It was too risky to go to his house. His jacket hangs over your motionless body, providing warmth and cover for your injuries as he pays for a room. Sluggish, he helps you into the room and onto the bed; retrieving a medical kit from the trunk of his car. He shuts the door, checks the curtains, then falls to your side to patch you up. 

“Are the cameras still down?”

“Huh?”

“Your job. Is the surveillance still offline?”

“Oh.. yea it is.”

“You have to go into work tomorrow. If anything comes up, if I get caught. Just say that I forced you. Both of us don’t-"

“Please just let me help, Y/n.” 

“… I’m sorry. For doing that in front of you. You probably hate me for it and I don’t blame you.” You feel tears fall onto your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s not why I’m upset!” He shouts, the raise of tone startling you. “As bad as it is, I’m not even mad that you killed him. I’m upset that you didn’t let me kill him. Every time you leave I’m afraid you won’t come back and now I’m asking you to do stupid domestic things and try to act like it’s fine. I won’t try to change you, but I want to be with you and I’ll do whatever so you won’t abandon me.”

“Taylor…” You still up as best as you can. “I’ll never leave you. I don’t mind going out with you and I won’t leave you for asking for it. You can’t do what I do and that’s for the best.. Besides, I’m quite happy with having you as my nurse and I don’t think I’d do as good if our roles were switched.” 

Taylor’s heart soars. He felt stupid for falling so easily, but you always managed to raise his spirits. He cradles you in his arms, trembling from both fear and the joy of having you. You kiss away the tears in the corners of his eyes, trailing your lips down to catch his in a heat of passion. He presses back with matching devotion, hands roaming the small of your back.

The sound of chirping birds breaks the air. Taylor pulls his phone out of his pocket; alarm blaring loud for all to hear. In all the commotion, he honestly forgot about your date. Not like it mattered much now. 

“O-oh, the movie. Looks like we’ll have to make it to another screening.” He offers with a lopsided smile. You smirk.

“I know something else we can do.” You move your knee between his legs, teasing him. Taylor tenses in surprise, face burning at the sudden contact. 

“Y-Y/n?! What are you doing?” 

“Making up for missing our date.”

“You don’t have to. Y-you need to rest and I – ah..” His words trail off as you mouth his neck; teeth catching his tongue as you touch him, hand now down his boxers. One hand pumping his erect length, you unzip his pants with the other. Your warm breath tickles his ear as you pull from his neck, causing him to shudder in anticipation. 

“I’m fine, promise.” You whisper, stroking your thumb over his tip; precum drooling over your finger. He clings to you, rutting into your palm as you return it to his shaft – moans erupt from his chest. His head rested on your shoulder; wrapped in the comfort of your scent.

“Y/n… I love you so..so much. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” He pants out. You guide your hand faster, his grip tightening around you. He never wanted to let go of his Y/n. His everything. Tell him you love him. That you’ll always be at his side and that’s all he needed. 

“I won’t.. I’m right here.” You grab his jaw, pulling him into yet another kiss; feeling how close he was to the edge. How desperate he was. His lips part with a groan, cock twitching under your hold. With a sharp jerk of his hips, Taylor cums – your hand steady to help him ride out his climax.  You separate, him sitting in the afterglow and you laying back down – energy spent.

“Takeout yet again. Once I’m better we’ll go some place nice, promise.”

Your eyes close, waiting for the space next to you to be occupied. Instead you feel your bottoms being pulling down, and a head between your thighs. 

“I’m think I'm more than happy with just this.”

#male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere story #yandere insert #yandere oc #soft yandere #yandere smut #tw yandere #tw: violence #yandere requests #yandere male #yandere prompts #yandere post

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 6: I Don't Trust Myself With Loving You

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A return. A surprise. A reconciliation. A promise.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: T, nothing much here just some old fashioned yearning. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: I think we've put them through enough heartache, don't you?

Cross-posted on AO3

Me or the Thought of Me Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

The ruckus when Mando returns is fascinating without visuals. The screech of the cargo ramp lowering is long and grating against your ears. Thunks of Mando’s boots climbing the ramp are heavier than when he left (carrying precious cargo). The hiss and slam of, you assume, Mando shoving the bounty into the carbonite chamber. You’d found the manual tucked under the console and had it open on your lap. It’s a complicated read, but you think with a few passes through you could at least check for leaks and do minor maintenance provided you don’t mess with the carbonite gas line.

Boots clunk around the hold for another moment before they stop abruptly. 

(must have found the first of your projects)

You wait with baited breath, hearing some slower, softer footsteps and a few shifting noises. These are followed by a stride across the hold and deeper into the ship, where you assume he’s found your ration restructuring. There’s more uncertainty in his steps now, a shuffle when he doesn’t pick his feet up cleanly each time. 

(Did you actually catch a Mandalorian unaware? That’s a notch in your belt for sure)

(huh, you never really considered that you’re a notch in his too)

A few more noises ring out from the bottom of the ladder. The shick of the pod being opened, a trilling baby noise, a murmur from the watchful father. Then the clanking of feet ascending the ladder.

You’re perched in the jumpseat, manual forgotten on your knee, as Mando enters the cockpit. The kid sits in his favorite spot in Mando’s elbow, turning his attention straight to you when they enter. Mando’s helmet is turned to the pilot’s seat (oh Maker no, you’re not bold enough to sit there when he’s elsewhere), but then whips around and the dark T visor locks on you. You smile, a little shyly, and put the manual on the control board next to you.

“Did you…clean the hold?” is first out of his mouth, and a note of surprise is clearly wrapped around his words. You smile wider and chuckle a little, standing up to greet him.

“You leave me on a ship alone, I get bored. I get bored, I make up things to do.” You put your hands in the recycled flight suit pockets and shift from foot to foot. “I kept seeing you…”

“And organized the ration storage?” Mando interrupts. You’re less sure now, his voice full of wonder but his body still tight and towering over you. It’s hard to tell if he’s impressed or angry at your impudence. 

“Yeah, it should be easier for restocking to know…I’m sorry, I hope it was okay, I just…” Your insecurities bubble back to the surface despite the one-sided conversation from earlier. 

(Did you just go and ruin it all?)

Mando’s hot gloved hand wraps around your shoulder, squeezing it softly. 

“Sorry, you…surprised me. It was thoughtful of you…to do that.” Relief floods your body and you let out a breath you’d been holding behind your heart. The child waves a hand and you take it between your thumb and forefinger. 

“Hey bean, did your dad catch the bad guy?” you ask, and are given a “patu” in response.

“Yeah, finally,” Mando adds, leaning to put the kid down on the jumpseat you previously occupied. You drag your eyes across the planes of his back leaned so close to you, and want more than anything to touch him. Once the child is settled, he straightens up to his full height. You smile softly and succumb to temptation, reaching up to put a hand on the un-beskared part of his arm.

“I’m glad you came back safely.” You try to put warmth and meaning into your words without adding more, taking a page from his handbook.

(thank you for what you said)

(I forgive you for the last few weeks)

(I want to stay here with you)

Mando watches you with a tilt of his head, then steps into your space. You’re enveloped in a hug that stinks of swamp water and mildew, but is the balm to your sadness. You melt into him, arms coming around his waist as his wrap across your shoulders and lower back. He’s damp between the armor plates but so solid in your arms, against your cheek as you hide your smile. His hands caress you with soothing strokes, the helmet tipping enough to the side that it rests against your temple.

“I’m not sure how to do this,” Mando says and you breathe out a laugh into his chest plate. 

“Me neither,” you agree, your fingers wandering across Mando’s powerful back. The ripple of muscle zings arousal through you, but you breathe through it. The moment feels like a razor’s edge, precarious if not handled with care. You both stay this way, the child uninterested in the display as he tries to reach for the manual.

“I want to learn how,” Mando finally says, releasing you from his hold (please not yet) and leaning back to look at you. Staring into the empty blackness of the visor, you hope you’re meeting his eyes. 

“I want to be here for that,” you say, and some of the tension eases out of Mando’s body. He brings a gloved hand up to drag a knuckle under your chin, the helmet leaning close to you but not enough to touch.

(kiss me)

(please)

The child manages to knock the manual to the ground, the noise breaking the stillness of the moment. You turn to place it further away while Mando picks the child up.

“Would you like something to eat? The kid’s starving,” he says, and from the squinty-eyed look he’s wearing you would have to agree.

“I can get something for him so you can get out of that awful smelling suit,” you offer. 

This is the first step, you realize as you say it. The first offer since he’s returned, and one he easily refused in the past. But Mando places the child in your arms and steps out of the way of the ladder.

“That would be great, thank you,” he answers and you swell with relief. Descending the ladder you head to the newly organized food storage, Mando close behind.

“Did you fall into the swamp? Or just bring half of it back with you?”

Mando chuckles behind you. You missed the warmth of that sound.

“Several times. I’m beginning to feel like a Gungan.”

You smile and pull down a box, talking to the child as you rifle through it.

“It’s been a busy few days for you, how are you feeling about…imitation killcrab?” The child hums a low noise, which you interpret as got any better options?

“I’m with you on that one, bean. Okay, this one is…chuba stew? I think?” A more accommodating noise. “Chuba stew it is.”

Wrapped up in this exchange you don’t see Mando lingering in the entry to the storage room. One hand rests on his belt, the other on the doorframe as he watches. The helmet roams across the scene, lingering longest on your face. By the time you turn around he’s gone.

Your name is called from the ‘fresher a few minutes later. Leaving the kid to eat his meal on the crate you designated as the table (with a label and everything), you move into the ship. Mando is standing at the ‘fresher door, hands on his hips and shaking his head.

“How did you get rid of that awful smell?” He laughs, and if you didn’t think your heart could swell any more you’d be a liar. 

“Bad filter. Managed to get it out, and with any luck installed the new one correctly. Let me know if it starts backing up on you.” You turn to leave but Mando catches your arm and leads you back to him. His other hand comes up to your face and settles against your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your chin and ghosting along the bottom edge of your lip.

“Thank you, for everything,” he says in a warmer tone than the one he used in the cockpit, and you would respond to that if you could focus on anything but his hand, warm and gentle and calloused against your face.

(wait)

(WAIT)

(Where is his glove?)

Your mouth falls open, the rough side of Mando’s bare thumb sliding to rest in the bow of your lower lip. Your eyes widen as his helmet tilts a fraction, his thumb dragging purposefully against the plushness of your mouth before he enters the ‘fresher and closes the door. Left dumbfounded in the hall, you numbly walk back to the child. Sitting heavily on another crate, you let your fingers trace the path he did.

(It has never been so exciting to be this in over your head)

Behind the safety of the ‘fresher door, Mando watches his bare hands grip the edge of the sink, the memory of your skin still dancing on them. He looks at the helmet in the mirror for a moment, the symbol of Mandalore judging him back. Then, he tips his head down and lifts his thumb to drift under the edge of the helmet. The tip brushes his own lips, dry and warm, with the ghost of your mouth.

It has never been so exciting for Din Djarin to be this in over his head.

END || PREVIOUS

Notes: Thank you all once again for coming on this wild ride! We had a lot to work out in this installment, but they're in a much better place now. Maybe still a little cautious, a little guarded, but with more open eyes. There are a few one-shots coming up, so look forward to those next installments. Thank you to everyone who's liked, commented, and reblogged this work. To many more stories!

The story continues in Part 4: Galaxies Collide

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fic #mando #prolix fics #i think of you series

[shina913]

Scale, Part 9 | KSJ

Scale, Part 9

Definition: A beam that is supported freely in the center and has two pans of equal weight suspended from its ends; Something graduated especially when used as a measure or rule: such as (a) an indication of the relationship between the distances on a map and the corresponding actual distances; (b) a series of marks or points at known intervals used to measure distances; A graduated series or scheme of rank; A means of ascent.

✮ ✮ ✮ Scale Masterlist ✮ ✮ ✮

Pairing: KSJ x fem!reader; appearances by OT7

Rating: Mature content (21+), no minors please!

Genre: Rich boy!AU; CEO!AU; strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Count: 10.6K+ words

Warnings: socioeconomic imbalance; heavy cussing; arranged marriages; hints of murder plot; criminal investigation; hostage situation; kidnapping; violent threats; gun!; law enforcement involvement; lots of crying

Summary: Kim Seokjin lives in a world where money is no object as he is the heir to his family's lucrative company; OC is a scrappy go-getter who has to work hard at multiple jobs to meet her financial obligations. When their paths cross, they'll have to figure out whether they can find a balance point between themselves and their lives.

A/N: Ahhhh!!! Penultimate chapter!

Couple of notable things here. Firstly, I am a huge fan of Breaking Bad--it is one of my all-time favorite shows so, I wrote a little nod here relating to a flashback involving Hwang's character. However, please don't take this as instructional text--this is all just for the drama, I promise!

Lastly, the final scene (without spoiling it much), was inspired by one of my favorite fan-fics, Fifty Shades Darker (no smut, FYI).

I'm so excited to wrap up this story--it's been quite the journey but I'll save all those ments for Part 10. For now, please enjoy!

❤️, comment, reblog, or send me an ask 📩. Would love to know what everyone thinks--I love getting feedback! My taglist is open as well if you're enjoying this and would like to keep up once the final chapter is posted.

Click…tick-tick-tick-tick…clack…

She sits quietly on the floor of her apartment. For now, this was the only sound filling the room. The television was on but it was on mute.

BILLIONAIRE HEDGE FUND TYCOON’S CRIMINAL CHARGES PILE UP

It’s been three days and the news reports haven’t shown any signs of dying down…as if there weren’t anything else important going on in the world right now–it had to zero-in on her family.

Click…tick-tick-tick-tick…

She hasn’t been able to go out in public since everything went down at the Gravenstein Capital building. Her mother tried to appeal to her but she hadn’t been picking up calls…mostly because her phone’s shattered pieces still littered her living room floor.

She begged the doorman to let her in that same evening but he was under strict orders not to let her up those elevators into her apartment. Since then, cameras and news vans have set up shop outside of her building.

It’s become a huge challenge trying to get out without some nosey neighbor trying to get a picture of her while she picks up her mail.

Clack…

Tax evasion.

Click…

Insurance fraud.

Tick…

Insider trading.

Tick…

Murder.

Clack…

The last bit was a shock to everyone. Hwang didn’t seem to have it in him but one thing about him was that he was extremely patient.

Who would have thought that wayward “weed” that grew outside of his window would make for the perfect murder weapon.

Everything that he needed to make it was already available to him. An industrial-grade compressor and dehydrator, both used on the apple by-products that they made on-site.

Hwang took several pods from the castor plant and pressed the seeds to extract the oils and used the dehydrator to turn the remnants into a nondescript white crystals that looked just like granulated sugar.

When ricin is ingested, the victim would experience flu-like symptoms for a few days until it causes intestinal bleeding and organ damage. The poison can kill within three days of exposure. The smallest amount could be fatal.

There's no vaccine or antidote for ricin poisoning. Treatment is primarily supportive care. No widely available, reliable test exists to confirm exposure to ricin.

Hwang mixed it in his landlord’s morning coffee–at least that’s what he told his wife he did–which she eventually told federal agents when they sat her down for questioning.

They knew full-well that most of this information may not be admissible in court due to spousal privilege which was why they were desperate for her to reach out to Miya–to hopefully get her to testify against her father, to put him away for a long time.

Miya is temporarily pulled away from her daze as images on the screen command her attention. It was the Kim family–with brief clips of Kim Daesung exiting a government office with what looked like his lawyers–after admitting his involvement in insider trading.

Following behind him was the cause of her ire…Kim Seokjin.

She stretches her hand out towards the screen…click…She stares down the steel barrel and pulls the trigger…clack.

Miya unfortunately did not have the same amount of patience and calculation that her father had—primarily because she has never heard him say ‘no.’ And she carried that through life. It was either a ‘yes’ or she would do everything that she could to get that ‘yes.’

She has never met anyone else who didn’t bow to her demands since her family came across money.

That was not the case since her father brokered the arrangement with Jin. It was either, a ‘maybe’ or a flat out ‘no.’

She thought she could buy you out but even you turned it down. She didn’t understand it–the money was supposed to be her free pass to everything.

But Jin has snatched that privilege away from her…and unlike her father, she was not going to sit around and wait. She would make him feel what it was like to have everything he held dear ripped away from him.

******

“You don’t have to step down, dad. You’re cooperating with authorities and being honest with the public,” Jin tries to reason.

“You know I love you both but—unfortunately, this kind of thing doesn’t go away easily. We still want the general public to have its full trust in the person who is running the company. It shouldn’t just be board members and shareholders,” Haejin challenges.

“Right and that seems to be the consensus. Dad has the majority of the board’s favor. The press has been…mostly good and this whole Hwang business is offsetting some of the negative stuff. When it comes down to it, you and I have a combined majority vote because of our shares…so if anyone tries anything, we can overrule—“

“Nobody is overruling anybody,” their father finally speaks up. “At this moment, my primary concern is our family’s legacy.”

The siblings have been going back and forth in their father’s office, trying to figure out the next course of action for KimCorp. Although Hwang’s only financial link to the company was his investment, his seat at the board was never taken since that was supposed to happen if Jin had married Miya.

“Dad, I think that you can take this opportunity to really elevate the company’s integrity.” Leave it to his daughter to put the company and its public image first. Their family’s foundation had close ties to the community…if the backing financier lost the public’s trust, it would spell trouble for the Foundation as well.

“Haejin, you make it sound like we’re running a dirty operation,” Jin says with a hint of a warning.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, Jin. This company was built on core family values and one of them is accountability. If you fuck up, you own it!” She clenches her fist to make a point.

Both men stare back at her at the sound of the expletive but she doesn’t bat an eyelash and presses on.

“In my opinion, you should name Jin as your successor, not just because he’s your son but he’s proven himself to be very capable on his own with Moon Industries’ success. You can retire quietly and have full confidence in the transition,” she reasons with her father.

Jin sighs. “While that seems like a sensible idea, I’m actually perfectly fine staying put–” he puts his hand up, respectfully, towards his sister so he could finish his thought. “--Without having to go through a merger and being financially independent from KimCorp.”

After ending the contract with Hwang, Jin and his father’s respective legal counsels have been working together to finally make Jin’s company financially independent from his father’s–so that he can legitimately make his own decisions–a clear-cut break.

He turns to his father. “Why not usher in new blood—if you are considering taking Haejin’s advice? I think that your CFO could be a viable successor. He managed to keep all of the finances stable despite that slight dip in the stock value this week. Even though he’s not family, it proves that he can continue the legacy. It doesn’t always have to be family, in my opinion.”

Haejin rolls her eyes. “Yes, I agree that he’s great and has done wonders for the company through his years of service but with all due respect–Uncle Joonho is—sorry—“ she glances at her dad apologetically, “Old, dad. He’s old. He’s got, what, 2, 3 good years left in him? And after that, what? We’d go through another transition?”

“It’s stability, Haejin-ah,” her older brother retorts.

“Oppa, ‘old’ does not equate to stability,” she states. “You both mentioned the term ‘legacy’ but why not hire somebody from the outside to lead KimCorp into the future. If Jin doesn’t want to do it, I have a list—“

“Of course you do,” Jin chuckles.

“Shush,” she dismisses him. “See, I think that Park Joobin has a great track record in the tech industry. He’s revived the public trust by launching that safety app and he’s pushing for more data privacy. But then there’s also Lee Yuna—I attended a few of her speaking engagements and she is just absolutely inspirational…”

While his daughter rattled off names of potential successors, his son bats them down with challenges of his own–trying to make the case for their father to remain Chairman until he retires on his own terms.

It made Kim Daesung think more deeply about his future and the company’s. Before this scandal, Jin was the logical successor but since the breakdown of the Hwang agreement, it cemented Jin’s choice that he wanted to set off on his own path–and that was seeing Moon Industries through.

Although he did have his board’s full confidence, his daughter had a point. He did fuck up and it was his responsibility to show them that this company has never taken advantage of the system and will not start now–not under his watch.

******

“You look really nice,” he says as he opens the car door for you after parking at the restaurant lot.

It seemed odd to be heading out to a party given everything that was going on.

“Thank you,” you said, smoothing down some of the ruching on your outfit. It was the first time that Jin had ever seen you dressed in something other than your diner uniform or sweats.

The one time that he saw you walk out of your office, you had a shift dress on, which didn’t count for much.

This afternoon, you wore a dark, sleeveless, floral-print chiffon dress that was fitted around the top and had a flowy skirt with a bit of a modest slit by your leg.

Jin certainly had already been planning for an after-party back at his place—not the apartment that you had been going to—but his house. The house that Miya had told you he would never show you.

But earlier today, he was very much looking forward to bringing you to his home after this party.

A couple of months ago, Jin’s friend and trusted realtor, Albert, had invited the family to his baby daughter’s red egg and ginger party, or 100th-day celebration of life.

You walked into a crowded, fancy banquet hall filled with red and gold decor balloons and other matching decorations. Not far from the entrance, you are greeted by the hosts. Jin introduces you to his close friends and you give your congratulations and well wishes to the host family before proceeding inside.

This event was also notable because you were set to meet Jin’s parents for the first time.

Jin guides you further into the room until you catch sight of some familiar faces–Haejin and Jungkook were already there along with Namjoon and his wife, Ji-yun.

And now, the moment of truth.

“Dad, mom–this is YN. My girlfriend,” Jin says with a broad grin.

“Very nice to meet you, YN,” his father says with a warm smile, followed by a bow.

“Glad to meet you, too,” you respond, followed by a bow.

“I’m sorry but I’m a hugger,” Jin’s mom says excitedly as she closes in on you with arms wide open before enveloping you in them. “So, you’re the reason why my son smiles all the time,” she says as she glances back at him with a sly grin.

Jin’s ears turn crimson. “Mom, please,” he says with a slight hint of embarrassment.

You feel right at home as you all eventually settle into your banquet table. They all looked very intimidating when you first laid eyes on them during the gala but you soon found out that they were just like any normal family. They bickered occasionally and teased each other to no end.

They made you feel comfortable and welcome as they conversed–as if you were one of their own. A couple of hours into the banquet courses, Jin’s hand rests on your thigh.

“Jin…stop,” you mumbled.

“Sorry—I’ve kept my hands to myself long enough. Can I take you home now?”

You nodded and smiled at him.

“What are you guys whispering about,” Haejin says.

“I was just telling YN that I think we should be heading out. I promised her that I would drive her out to go see the house,” he says.

After the Hwang ordeal, he mentioned driving you out to see his house by the coast. It was an exciting field trip of sorts. He also wouldn’t stop hinting about how expansive his shower was.

“Oh…sweetheart, you’re leaving now? They haven’t even brought out dessert!” Jin’s mom says.

“Eomma—if you want to throw your own red egg and ginger party soon, let them leave,” Haejin giggles as she wiggled her eyebrows at both of you.

Jungkook, Namjoon, and Ji-yun snort.

“Haejin…” Jin’s father says with a hint of warning.

“Well, somebody’s going to need to start having babies soon—looking at the other Kims at this table,” she says, shooting Namjoon and Ji-yun a knowing look, to which Namjoon promptly chokes on his drink.

After exchanging goodbye hugs and a quick promise to Jin’s mom that you would come over for dinner next weekend, you both finally walk out of the restaurant and into the parking lot, hands intertwined.

“I think that went well,” Jin says as you stop briefly by his car.

“I think so, too,” you said.

“You ready?”

You nod before he leans down and plants a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Hello, you two.”

You both whip your heads around at the greeting.

It took a beat for you to make out who it was. Her hair wasn’t styled to death as it usually was–it was darker, unkempt, and pulled up in a haphazard ponytail. She didn’t have any makeup on, wore a t-shirt, a zip-up jacket, and leggings. She also wore sneakers–which was completely out of character for her. You didn’t think she owned any footwear that had a heel lower than six inches.

“M-Miya?” Jin manages to blurt out. “I didn’t recognize you.”

She chuckled. “I’m trying a new look…I wondered if you’d like it,” she addressed Jin directly.

“I–I guess whatever makes you comfortable?”

“Hmm–that’s it, isn’t it? That’s what you like? Someone who looks comfortable? Casual?” She shoots a glance at you. “What do you think, YN?”

Your brows knit in confusion. “What do I think about what?”

“Is this something you’d wear on a date…with him?” She asked.

Your face shifted from confusion to horror. She was trying to emulate you. Somehow, she was in a certain mindset that if she looked like you, dressed like you–maybe Jin would shower her with the same attention.

“Miya, are you alright? Do you need some help?” Jin asked.

“I need plenty of help. My dad is going away for a long time and it’s all your fault,” her eyes started to water and her lower lip started to quiver.

“You…you took everything from me—”

“Miya, your dad was a crook…he needed to be held accountable,” Jin counters.

“Oh? And what about your father? Profiting from insider trading tips,” she accuses.

“He’s been cooperating with the feds now. He’s turning over every cent that he made. With any luck, he’ll pay some fines and be under probation—”

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” she spat out bitterly. “Your dad gets a slap on the wrist while mine gets punished? For doing essentially the same thing?”

Jin shook his head. “There is a huge difference–my father was impaired while yours knowingly fed him illegal, nonpublic information–”

Her face contorted in pain. “Shut the fuck up! Just—” She shakily retrieves something from her jacket pocket. Your blood ran cold when you saw a glimpse of metal with a handle and realized quickly that it was a handgun.

“Shut the fuck up,” she points it crookedly at you and Jin.

Jin instinctively moves to your front to shield you.

“Miya—let’s…let’s calm down for a second,” he says calmly but firmly, one hand raised, palm out in front of him and the other holding onto you, securely behind him.

You shakily try to reach into your purse to retrieve your phone to dial the emergency number but she sees almost right through Jin.

“Don’t even try, missy. One tiny pull of this trigger and I can take you and your prince charming out with a single bullet.” She chuckles coldly while you freeze in absolute fear.

“Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

She was too close—the cars were all too compacted in the lot. There wasn’t much space to run even if you tried.

“What do you want, Miya?” Jin asks.

“I want to take your whore for a little drive.” She tilts her head sideways to get a look at you.

Your grip tightens around Jin’s arm. He slowly reaches up to it to give it a gentle, assuring squeeze.

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Jin says calmly.

She points the gun towards him and narrows her eyes.

“You are in no position to negotiate here, Jin. We are not in a boardroom–and I am not a potential business partner. I just want to have a little conversation with YN here…maybe pick her brain a bit?”

“That’s not going to do you any good, Miya.”

“And I suppose you know what’s good for me?”

After what seemed like a long pause, Jin’s next move takes you and Miya completely by surprise.

“Take me instead,” he says. “Wherever you want to go. Let’s talk…see if we can work something out.”

“Jin—no,” you whisper and glare at him.

“It’s okay,” he glances back at you quickly. “I’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” he mutters under his breath before looking back at Miya.

He promised you in one of your last car confessions that he would always be truthful with you from that point on. It pained him to lie to you again.

“Well, well. Look at that, YN. Turns out that he does want to be with me after all.”

“You won’t get what you want, Miya. Not like this.” you begged.

“It seems that I already have, though,” she smiled cockily. “C’mon, Jinnie. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

He walks towards her while tears start to stream down your face from fear.

“Are your keys in here,” she says, reaching into his pants pocket. Every muscle he possesses stills as she feels around inside. He hisses when she purposely skims his crotch.

“We can fix that, I’m sure,” she grins at him.

“Get your fucking hands off him!” you scream, the wild in your eyes reaching a whole new dangerous level.

“Pipe down, sweetheart.” Miya pulls out the keys for his Aston and thrusts them into his chest. “I’ve always wanted you to take me for a drive in this pussy wagon,” she sneers. “Does it purr like it does in the movies,” she whispers in his ear before giggling.

Jin looks her into the eyes. They were cold and empty–he had no idea of what she had planned but he was going to approach this as gently as he could since she seemed volatile.

“Where are we going?” Jin asks softly.

“Just get on the road and I’ll tell you where to exit. Oh–and give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“We don’t want any of these GPS trackers to interrupt our alone time now, do we?”

She senses his hesitation, so she releases the safety on the gun, cocks it and points it at you.

“I won’t ask again–unless you want me to blow her brains right here.”

Jin hands her his phone and she immediately slams it to the ground and stomps on it.

“There we go. Now get in–” she urges him with the barrel digging into his side.

“I’ll drive my own car,” he says calmly.

His feet are heavy, heart slowing with each step he takes. She won’t need to kill me, he thinks. He’s dying little by little the farther he walks away from you.

Before he gets in the car, he turns back to look at you. “I love you,” he utters.

“I love you,” mouthed back as you watched him get in the car with Miya. He backs out and drives out of the lot until you see his tail lights fade into small, red pins.

******

You frantically try to dig your phone out of your purse to call the cops. Your hands were shaking so badly that you kept entering the wrong PIN to unlock your phone.

“Fuck!” You mumble in frustration.

“Hey, YN–I thought you and oppa were–where’s Jin?” Haejin says, confused.

“Oh my, god–Haejin, she took him! We need to call the police!”

“Who? What happened?”

“Miya! She took Jin…she-she had a gun,” you whimpered. “I couldn’t stop her, I’m so sorry–” you bury your face into your hands.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters as he pulls his phone out to call the emergency number.

“Okay–YN-unnie–let’s…let’s calm down.” Haejin was anything but calm but she was putting her damage-control mask on.

Jungkook runs back into the restaurant while he is on the phone with the police, presumably to alert everyone else. Haejin tries to get any hint of information from you.

“Do you remember what she said?”

“I–she said something about taking a drive but she didn’t mention anything. She was–she just really pissed about everything that happened.”

“Okay–does he have his phone on him?”

“No…she took it from him and she broke it. Haejin…I–” you cried, “She wanted to take me but he–he just–” you couldn’t get the words out as your sobs drowned them out. You felt terrible telling her that her own brother volunteered to be taken hostage in your stead.

She nodded and sighed. “Yeah…that sounds just like something my brother would do,” she mutters under her breath. “We’ll call the FBI–they’ll make things hell for that brat.”

She convinces you to come back inside, gathers the family off to a quiet corner and breaks the news. Not long after, Namjoon is already on the phone with his friend at the bureau to be kept in the loop on any updates of Jin’s current location. Jin’s dad is on the phone with his lawyers, requesting that they shake Hwang down with any information of Miya’s possible whereabouts.

Haejin quietly informs the party’s hosts of what had happened and apologizes in advance for causing a raucous at their daughter’s party. The couple waved her off and told them that they would do anything to help, even though they had no clue of what they could do.

You stayed with Jin’s mom who was oddly calm considering her son was taken at gunpoint. If you were in her place, you would be losing your mind worrying about your child. It made you think of your own dad–you inwardly groan, dreading how you were going to tell him about all this without giving him another heart attack.

******

Jin’s attention is divided between the road and Miya’s lap, where the gun rests, her finger curled around the trigger. Jin knows nothing about guns. He wouldn’t be able to tell you if it was loaded, or even ready to fire. This could just be a show, he thought–but he is unwilling to test that theory. All he knows for sure is that this woman wants to make him suffer.

He has no idea where they’re headed. He’s taking instructions as she gives them, following the road out of the city.

He doesn’t know whether to talk to her or attempt to make her feel at ease. When he volunteered to come with her in your stead, he thought that he had a rough idea how to handle this–but now that he was actually in the car with her? He had no fucking clue.

He was just thankful that you were out of harm’s way. And yet–he knew that you were absolutely terrified. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel, his heart pulsing with pain. But he had to stay calm and sensible if he was going to get through this.

“Can you at least give me an idea of where we’re going?” He says, keeping his voice as evenly as possible.

She shrugged her shoulders as she stared blankly at him.

He sighed…he needed her to be verbally responsive to try and talk himself out of this. “You crushed my phone to pieces. It’s not like I have a way of communicating where I’ll be,” he says, trying to reason with her.

After a beat, a ghost of a smile appears on her lips. “You’re taking me home.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant but he felt that he needed to keep her talking–and this was a start.

“Do you think you can put that away for the rest of the drive,” he says, glancing at the gun that she held.

She chuckles softly. “Why? Are you scared?”

“Uh—yeah, kind of,” he says with all honesty. “Do you expect people to drive calmly at gunpoint?”

She rolled her eyes and flicked the safety back and tucked it into her jacket pocket, away from view.

Jin gulped while his mind raced, trying to figure out what else to say to assuage her.

“Uhm, I’m…I’m really sorry about your dad,” he says softly and as sincerely as possible.

“No, you’re not. You must have really not wanted to marry me, huh,” she laughs morosely.

He kept his voice steady while he quickly glanced at her. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Bullshit!”

Okay, so he didn’t quite sell that.

He took a deep breath. “I-it didn’t start out like that,” he divulges.

Her expression remained unchanged so Jin took it as a sign to continue.

“I…I didn’t want to get married at all because I wasn’t ready,” he reveals.

She chuckled. “Riiight…so you’re saying that your girlfriend never factored into your decision to throw my dad under the bus?”

Hwang did that on his own–Jin and his friends just sped up the process a bit. But he wasn’t about to aggravate the situation by trying to argue with somebody who may or may not have a loaded gun.

“She didn’t at first. I was reeling from my ex getting married. I was stressed and working a lot—I just wasn’t in the right frame of my mind to get married.”

“You’re overthinking this, Jin. It’s an arranged marriage! The guesswork is taken care of. All you have to do is show up, pop out a kid or two and secure the family legacy. Isn’t that a normal occurrence for rich people? It’s all a business transaction! Your best friend did it…hell, your dad did it!”

Now it was his turn to chuckle.

“You think you have our whole lives figured out, huh? That everything is just handed to us all the time and all we have to do is…show up?” He chuckles again and shakes his head. “You really have no idea.”

“Please. It’s money, not rocket science,” she says dryly as she rolls her eyes.

“It’s not all about vacations, business transactions, or arranged marriages. It’s so much more than just the money.”

“But money makes things so much easier,” she countered.

“You’re right—to an extent, it does. But it’s not always the answer to everything. Just like how a marriage doesn’t always have to feel like a business transaction.”

He glanced at her—intent on keeping her talking.

“Like I said, I wasn’t in the right mindset for marriage. I spoke to my parents about that and…they were, for the most part, understanding about it. My parents were from a different time where you had to do things that your elders told you to. They didn’t leave much room for argument. For a moment there, my father made me feel that way.”

Jin originally had no idea that Hwang had blackmailed his father into this agreement which was why Jin was adamant in spending time with Miya.

“I know that he just wanted what was best for me,” he says, reflecting on the talk that they had on the boat that day.

“My dad was the same. He always wanted what was best for me—and he thought that was you,” she said, while she curled her knees up on the passenger seat.

He nodded. Part of the deal was Jin trying to give the relationship with Miya a chance–if you could ever call it a relationship.

“I really liked you, you know,” she admitted. “I thought we’d have a chance.”

He sighed. “We didn’t even know each other, Miya.”

“Mm-hm…and who’s fault is that? You shut me out from the moment we met.”

“And I apologize for that. I had a lot of things going on and I had my walls up. It wasn’t an ideal situation for either of us.”

“Sure. And then YN comes around, now all of a sudden, you’re in a loving mood? Are you sure it wasn’t me?”

“YN was…” he shook his head gently, “--completely unexpected to me. It wasn’t some calculated move.”

He let his mind briefly wander off back to thoughts of you and the first time that you struck up a conversation with him.

“Before she came along, I was focused on my business and making enough money to get myself out of the contract–plain and simple. And that’s the honest truth.”

She sniggered. “And it wasn’t because you just didn’t want to marry me?”

“I didn’t want to marry you and have us spend our lives resenting each other. My parents? And…Namjoon and Ji-yun—they’re anomalies. They started off as business transactions but they actually fell in love.”

“I would have loved you,” she said quietly as she looked away briefly and out the window.

Jin felt a pang of guilt but he wouldn’t try and play this off lest it aggravated her so he chose his next words carefully.

“It wouldn’t have been fair to you,” was all he could muster.

“But why her and not me?” She says, turning her attention back to him.

He didn’t need to dig deeply for his answer. “Because YN tapped into something in me that I never thought I’d feel again. I thought it was long-gone after Ari left me.”

“You could have given me time…time to give you that feeling. I could have been the right one for you,” she said softly.

“I could have…but sometimes, the right person at the wrong time is still the wrong person.”

******

“Hwang—where would she go? Where would she take him?” The investigator asks him as he sits on a metal table, to which he is shackled to. He traded in his custom-fitted Italian suit for a plain, standard, government-issued orange jumpsuit.

He shrugged at the agent who questioned him. “I don’t know. I’ve been cooped up in a six by eight cell the last few days with no visitors and you expect me to know where my daughter is?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass, Hwang. This is a kidnapping investigation—Kim Seokjin’s life could be at stake…Miya’s life is at stake,” the investigator says.

“My daughter was provoked. She’s only trying to protect me–”

Just then, the interrogation room door opens and in walks his wife. He chuckles at the sight of her.

“Did you come here to gloat?”

“Dickie–you need to cooperate.”

“Darling, it doesn't matter what I do. In the end, I’m not going to get the sweet deal that you got,” he says referring to the legal immunity that his wife took as a deal from the feds by testifying against her husband.

“Don’t you care about what happens to our daughter? You pushed her too hard and now she’s doing this…for you?” She was disgusted at him for spoiling her so rotten that she’s been blinded by his crimes and wants to protect him even at the expense of her own freedom.

“Yes. Why shouldn’t she do this for me? I did everything for her.”

“Dickie! You can still save Miya. Tell us where she could have gone. Is there some secret property that you bought? Some island that she could have gone off to?”

“They’ve frozen all of my assets. They seized my jet…She can’t fly anywhere,” he says sarcastically.

Another knock on the door interrupts their conversation. Another agent approaches the lead investigator with new information.

“Sir–we just learned that the car that they took has a built-in, active GPS. The tech guys are tracking the final destination but based on the pinged location from a few minutes ago, they’re headed up on the north highway,” the junior agent says.

Hwang’s ears perk up…and so do his wife’s.

“I appreciate the update. Keep me posted,” the lead agent says.

“I know where they’re going,” Hwang’s wife says to the agent.

“Viola, no–” Hwang protests, pulling on his chains.

“Dickie–you’re done parenting our daughter.”

“You think you’re protecting her but you’re just going to put her in harm’s way,” he growls.

“You mean like you did?” She asks pointedly.

Hwang hangs his head. Everything that he did, he did it for his family. He even took on all of the additional charges that the feds could have pinned on Miya. No matter what his wife said or accused him of, he loved his daughter. And he still only wanted the best for Miya.

“I’m coming to take our daughter home, Dickie,” she says with finality as she turns to the lead agent to tell him where Miya and Jin were headed so they could mobilize their units.

******

Was she acting alone?

Do you remember what she said? How did she know where to find you?

Why did she want to take you?

Did she take him forcibly or did he go willingly?

Has she threatened your safety before?

You were shell-shocked but managed to get through all of their basic questions.

Namjoon convinced everyone to gather at his house after you spoke to investigators outside the restaurant. He lived right outside the city and it was big enough to accommodate everyone.

Jin’s father wanted to be present at the bureau but his wife managed to convince him to let the agents do their jobs since they would only get in the way.

You all managed to leave the premises just as the press started to surround the area.

When you arrived at his house, you were fidgeting. Jin’s dad and Namjoon had been on the phone on and off with authorities, trying to get a clue as to where Miya and Jin could have gone.

Jin’s mom approaches you while you sat on the sofa, with your shoulders slumped. You kept replaying the events in your head–Miya…the gun…Jin volunteering to be her hostage. It could have been you. It should have been you.

“YN? Are you alright?” She asks softly.

You tried to keep your emotions in check but you were crumbling inside. Her son was in grave danger and she’s here asking if you were alright?

You shook your head, your teeth released your lips that you’ve had trapped in an attempt to keep yourself from completely losing it. “I–I’m so sorry…it’s my fault that your son is in this mess.”

She immediately rests her hand on your shoulder. “Oh, honey–don’t say that. None of this is your fault. You didn’t point the gun at him and take him against his will. We’re just glad that you’re safe. The investigators are doing everything they can. All we need to do is wait,” she says calmly. “Can I get you anything?”

You decline politely so she walks off to check on Haejin and Jungkook on the other side of the room.

“Uncle–I have a tip from my friend,” Namjoon says to Jin’s dad.

“What is it? Do they know where they’re at? Should we try and intercept them,” he says quietly so his wife doesn’t hear.

“Aish…we should really just stay here and let the authorities handle this,” he says regretfully even though every fiber in Namjoon’s being wants to be out there to try and save his brother.

“They managed to access his car’s GPS data. Seems they’re heading up north based on the pinged locations,” Namjoon says.

“North? What could possibly be up there?”

“My guy says they’re not sure yet but they’ve enlisted her mom’s help. She’s leading them there now,” he says.

“Hwang’s wife? How will that help?”

Namjoon shrugs. “She’s turned state’s witness. She’s uh…testifying against her husband and waiving spousal privilege. He was stonewalling them the whole time.”

“What a snake,” Jin’s dad says under his breath. “Guess nothing really matters anymore when you’ve lost everything.”

They stood there in silence for a beat until you quietly approached them. They were unaware that you had been watching their tense exchange.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Namjoon–I…please tell me you have news?” You wrung your hands and were on the verge of tears but hopeful that investigators had a hint as to where Jin and Miya were headed.

Namjoon takes pity on you and gives your shoulders a squeeze. “They’re tracking Jin’s car. They’re going up north–from what they gather, the car is still in motion. Miya’s mom is helping with the investigation.”

You nodded…it was a hint of hope but it was unclear whether Jin was out of the woods. You weren’t sure what else to do–you felt helpless just sitting around and waiting.

“YN, I’m optimistic that these guys will find her. Miya…I-I don’t think she would do anything crazy–” Jin’s father tries to reassure you...but at the sound of the word ‘crazy,’ it was anything but reassuring.

“They’ll find him, I’m sure of it,” he says calmly.

He then turns to Namjoon. “Thank you, Namjoon-ah.”

******

They’ve been driving on the highway for over an hour until she tells him to exit past a hill and turn left at the intersection.

There weren’t many houses in this area, just wide expanses of land, covered in what looked like unlimited rows of grapevines.

A few minutes more and they pass a sign called “Old Gravenstein Road.” After they pass the sign, she instructs him to pull into a property that was fenced off.

It was abandoned by the looks of the derelict structure that stood on the far side of the property. There was a wildfire in this area not long ago and did some considerable damage to some vineyards and other private residences. This property doesn’t seem to have been spared from that.

“Turn off the engine. We’re going in,” she says.

“This is trespassing, Miya—“

“Don’t worry. It’s mine,” she smiles enigmatically.

Jin is confused. He had heard from Namjoon’s insider at the bureau that all of Hwang’s assets had been frozen. This would definitely constitute trespassing, especially if the government has seized it. He doesn’t move so she pulls the gun out of her jacket’s pocket to compel him.

“C’mon…get moving. Let me show you around!”

At the sight of the gun, he does as he’s told. Jin vaguely recognizes this town. It was an old farming neighborhood. His father had looked into investing in a vineyard out here and had Jin check it out years ago.

He took Namjoon with him because he knew that he couldn’t resist a free wine tasting session. Why was it that millionaires couldn’t resist free stuff? He’ll never understand.

He recalled Namjoon spitting out random knowledge about the town’s history. Before all of the wineries took over and bought all the land, this town was mostly known for farming something else…what was it, he thought.

Miya instructs him to open the gate while she keeps the gun pointed at him.

“Where are we?” He says as he carefully pushes the gate open to enter the property. It was dimly lit, save for a couple of street lamps and other high-density lights from neighboring vineyards.

She laughs. “We’re back in my old stomping grounds, baby!”

Then it dawned on him. Gravensteins. The town used to be known for farming Gravenstein apples.

This was where Miya grew up. She leads him towards an old, abandoned cottage whose framework looked very questionable.

“It’s perfectly fine, Jin. After the fire, I had it assessed. I come here every now and then…when I need to think,” she divulges.

After the Hwangs up and left the orchard, her father fully intended on putting it up for sale but for some reason, he hung on to it for some odd, sentimental reason. Eventually, when his company grew, he transferred the title over to Miya–who didn’t originally want it.

She resented living here because it was dirty and did not truly reflect who she was on the inside. But recently, she found herself randomly driving out here to find some form of comfort and solace. Even though the old landlord’s house has long been demolished, the cottage remained standing.

There was no furniture in this cottage–all it had was a small wooden table and a couple of chairs–which Miya directed Jin to sit in while she stood in front of him, a foot away, in what used to be her mother’s kitchen.

“Mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure, baby,” Miya says.

“Erm…how did you get that?” he says, motioning to the gun.

“Oh, this thing?” She tilted her wrist haphazardly. “It was daddy’s…but he let me borrow it during one particularly–” she inhaled sharply before continuing, “–interesting trip to Prague. I was trying to unload one of his paintings and the contact wanted a bit of a buy-one, get-one deal, if you will.”

Jin was horrified to hear of the risks that Hwang put his daughter through. Unfortunately, Miya was brainwashed into thinking that her father always had her best interests in mind by repaying her with lavish shopping sprees and ritzy vacations after each transaction.

“I didn’t end up using it, though. I just–looked them in the eye, stood my ground. They instantly knew that I wasn’t fucking around so…they backed off,” she said simply.

The truth was, she was absolutely terrified during that trip. She repeatedly asked for a bodyguard but he refused to pay for it–saying that it would only spook the buyer.

‘I believe in you, princess,’ was his sendoff to her before she got on the plane.

It was close to a year before he was able to ask her to go on another trip–which happened to be the most recent one.

“Anyway, he didn’t have much use for it so I just tucked it away in my vault at home,” she chuckles. “I didn’t realize that I would ever end up taking it out of there at any point.”

“What did you hope to accomplish by doing this, Miya?” He asked the question before he could stop himself. It might irk her, he thought but perhaps if he kept the conversation going, investigators would have had time to ping his car’s location.

‘You just never know if you’ll ever get lost or something–without your phone,’ he recalled Namjoon’s reasoning.

It was another reminder for him to thank his friend for talking him into installing the GPS tracker feature for this car–on top of all of the other extra add-ons that he already had in the Aston.

She let out a humorless laugh. “Honestly? I wanted to put you through the same thing I’ve been going through these last few days. I thought that taking away the one person who made you happy would do the trick. I did not expect your heroics back there.”

“But why? Why wouldn’t you just take me?”

“It was just too easy,” she admitted. “That’s like if I shot you dead right now–it would just be too quick.”

His blood ran cold. He felt their progress slipping away.

“If you did that, you’d end up just like your dad–and you’ll pay an even heftier price,” he says. “I…I don’t think that’s anything you really want to do, Miya.”

“And how do you know, huh? This is probably the longest conversation we’ve had–ever! And now you’re trying to pretend that you know me?”

“I know that you’re blinded by your dad’s ambition. He’s made you think that you’re entitled to anything–”

“Because it’s what I deserve! And I deserve the best!” She says, pointing the gun at him.

He instinctively puts his hands up but he doesn't break eye contact with her.

“I understand that,” he says, as empathetic as possible. “Like I said on the drive over here–our parents only want what’s best for us–and they never fail to let us know that while we’re young, which is why they made all of these choices for us then. But at what point should we break away from that? When do we decide that we know what’s best for ourselves?”

Her face softens but she doesn’t put the gun down.

“What do you mean? You’re saying that my dad was wrong this whole time?”

“I’m saying–I know how difficult it is to break away from their shadow–to be your own person. When we’re young, we just take whatever life lessons our parents teach us and adopt them as our own.”

“That’s easy for you to say–you didn’t live my life,” she says.

“And I’m not saying that I know what your life was like. I’m not here to dismiss your experiences. I guess I…what I’m trying to say is that, at some point, I didn’t want my parents to map out the rest of my life for me. I wanted to figure things out on my own,” he explains.

“Once again, easy for you to say, rich boy,” she says dismissively.

“We may not have the same experiences but I’m human, too, Miya. You think everything comes easy just because of money? It doesn’t. It buys you nice things but it can’t buy you real friendships…It can’t make a loved one stay once they’ve decided to leave you. Money can’t take away the heartbreak from that. And just the same, it’s not money that helps you heal and find happiness again. You may think that a new pair of shoes or a flashy new car is enough to fill that hole but it’s not real.”

“I still don’t understand why you would want to work so hard when you can literally just snap your fingers and have everything dropped on your lap?”

It was ridiculous, she thought. Why would Jin spend all of his energy working when he stood to inherit his father’s millions without ever lifting so much as a pen?

He put his hands down slowly in a show of vulnerability. “Because it’s not how I was raised. And truth be told, I didn’t want to live my life like that, Miya. It’s one thing to live out your parents’ dreams but it’s far more rewarding to switch courses and chart your own path.”

Just then, they hear light footsteps approach.

Miya gasps, surprised that anybody would follow them out here. She stiffens her arm and cocks the gun at Jin.

“Any more tricks up your sleeve, Mr. Kim?” She says through clenched teeth.

He puts both hands up once again as he remains seated. He was ready to shit himself but instead, he took a deep breath, gulped, and tried to calm his heartbeat.

“I don’t have my phone on me, Miya—how would I—“

A quiet voice pushes through the door. “Miya?”

She flinches, seemingly recognizing the voice, keeping her aim at Jin. “Don’t come in here!” She yells.

“Sweetheart, please,” her mom says as she comes to view.

Jin is surprised to see Miya’s mother here. He knew how much of a risk it was for her to come out to see her daughter since he assumed that their relationship had been strained since she turned on her husband. He wasn’t sure if her presence would do more harm than good.

“What the fuck are you doing here, traitor? I don’t need to talk to you!” she spits out bitterly.

Her mother winces. She knows that their relationship hasn’t been the best over the years because her husband monopolized and essentially molded Miya’s mentality. He invested all of his hopes and dreams into his daughter. He lived vicariously through her.

She chose to fade into the background and tried to be as supportive as she could. By the time she had realized what her husband was trying to do, Miya was deep into her father’s mindset. They were two of a kind–she couldn’t just undo that behavior overnight.

When they inherited all of their landlord’s money, it didn’t sit right with her–but her family was happy. Her daughter was happy, or seemed like it.

And then her husband got greedy–and so did Miya.

Her family had been slipping further away from her…all because of the money.

“You don’t need to talk but you will listen,” her mother says firmly while she glances at Jin, quickly deducing that he was unhurt…for now.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t care for you as much as he did. I let him control our lives.“

“Mom, please. You enjoyed it, too. You took the money and gambled it away at every chance you got,” she seethed.

“That’s right. I gambled it away…because I wanted to get rid of it! All of it! And maybe you think me naive but I thought that if it was all gone, that maybe, just maybe… we could go back to the way things were. The money ruined us...he ruined our family!”

“He did what was best for us, eomma!”

“He did what was best for himself!” She interjected. “If there’s one thing I know that Dick Hwang can do really well… it’s running a long con. He was so good at it that even he managed to con himself—tricking himself into thinking that he was doing it for our family…for you.”

“But he loved us! He loved me!” She insisted.

Her mother shook her head. “Sweetie, someone who truly loved you would not put you through this. Would not make you do things that you didn’t want to—“

“No, I wanted it! I wanted to travel! I wanted all of the pretty dresses and all of the nice things! I wanted the handsome rich boy that nobody else can seem to get.” She seemed unaware of the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“That’s not you talking, Miya. That’s your dad…he made you think that that was what you needed.”

“But I was happy,” she sobbed as her hand shook, while pointing the gun at Jin.

“Oh, baby…you have it all wrong. Those things won’t make you happy. You’ll always want more of it…It will never be enough.”

Miya was rendered speechless. All these years, she worshiped her dad and all of his grand ideas. She felt his love and never doubted it but it had driven her to do things that were normally considered deplorable.

“Come on, sweetheart…it’s not too late for you…” her mother pleaded gently as she tentatively holds her hand out to Miya.

She peers at Jin then back to her mother’s outstretched hand–she tightens her grip on the gun while she wrestles with the decision.

******

It’s been over six hours since Miya took Jin. Apart from Namjoon’s last update, there hasn’t been any word about what was going on…if Jin was still safe.

You close your eyes and offer a silent prayer. Please let Jin be okay. You repeat it over and over in your head—like a mantra…something concrete to cling to in your desperation.

You wrap your arms around yourself, fear and hopelessness slowly taking over you.

“YN. Here you go, sweetheart,” Jin’s mom gently coaxes you, her voice centers you back into the room. She hands you a cup of chamomile tea. You take the cup and saucer gratefully, the rattle betraying your trembling hands.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from tears you’ve held back since arriving at Namjoon’s hours ago.

Haejin sits across from you on the larger sofa, holding hands with Jungkook as they watch the news. You see them steal brief glances at you, their faces riddled with worry and anxiety. You stared back at them blankly as you couldn’t even offer a reassuring smile or a tear despite all of the emotions bubbling up inside.

You looked over at Namjoon, Ji-yun, and Jin’s dad, who stood around the kitchen counter, all serious and speaking in hushed tones.

Jin’s mom oddly busies herself in the kitchen as well–trying her best to keep mind distracted.

The TV drones in the background with the local news on. You hear faint sounds but you couldn’t bear to see bold headlines repeatedly flashing on-screen.

KIMCORP HEIR–STILL MISSING

It was coupled with an inset photo of Jin as the news anchor mentions the link followed by clips of Hwang’s arrest and some mention of an unhinged daughter.

A sob escapes your throat and your hand flies to your mouth immediately to try and contain anything else threatening to spill out.

Haejin is suddenly at your side, one arm around you while the other holds your free hand.

“YN? D-do you want us to call your dad?” She asks gently.

You shook your head vehemently and clutched her hand. You couldn’t speak and knew that if you did, it would snap that lone strand of your resolve that you clung on to.

You called your dad hours ago to give him a brief rundown of what happened. Although you had initially feared that you would be risking another untimely trip to the hospital, you decided to appease him and give him direct information rather than keeping him in the dark and having him learn about this on the news.

You repeatedly stressed that you were safe and that the investigators were doing everything that they could to find Jin.

After placating him, you called Taehyung and begged him to stay with your dad while you tried to deal with the anxiety and the rest of your feelings.

You glance at your watch. It’s after 11:30, heading toward midnight. Was it really that late? Had it been that long?

Deep down inside, you prepare yourself for the worst. You close your eyes for a few seconds, take a deep breath, before you open them again.

There’s a knock on the door and Ji-yun, being closest to the entrance, answers it.

Right then, you hear a shriek, and suddenly things seem to move in extreme, slow motion for you.

You turn your head towards where the sound comes from in time to see Jin’s mom zooming across the kitchen and towards the doorway.

“Holy shit!” Namjoon and Jungkook exclaim almost in unison.

Haejin gasps and abruptly leaves your side. You see vague shapes of Jungkook getting up from where he sat, and Jin’s dad–all moving in the same direction.

There in the entrance, stood an exhausted-looking Jin.

He’s still wearing his button-down shirt, whose sleeves were now rolled up to his elbows and his suit pants. He’s holding his suit jacket and his tie in his hand.

You gazed numbly at him, trying to work out whether he was an apparition or if he was actually, really here.

He tosses his jacket and tie on the floor in time to catch his mom, who throws her arms around his neck and peppers him with kisses all over his face.

Minutes ago, she was calm and collected but at the sight of her son walking through the door, she completely loses all poise and unleashes all of her pent up emotions.

She sobs into his chest.

“Mom?”

Jin gazes down at her, completely at a loss.

“Darling, you had us all so worried,” she whispers.

“Mom…I’m here.” He sounds grave but tries to mask it with some light humor as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, reassuring her.

“Oh, Seokjinnie,” she chokes, wrapping her arms around him, weeping into his neck—all self-restraint forgotten—and Jin doesn’t balk. He just holds her, comforting her.

Tears pool in your eyes.

“Hey, dad.”

“Jin,” he utters, right before he embraces both of them, his eyes closed in relief.

Haejin squeals something unintelligible before joining her parents, hugging all of them, too.

Finally, the tears you held in for most of the night start to freely run down your cheeks.

He’s here, he’s fine, you try to convince yourself. But you stayed rooted to your position, firmly frozen in place. Part of you didn’t want to interrupt their family reunion while the other half was still in shock.

His dad is first to pull away, wiping his eyes and ruffling Jin’s hair, as if he were still a little boy.

Haejin releases them and his mom steps back a second later.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” his mom mumbles as she wipes her tears.

“Hey, mom—it’s okay,” Jin says with a small smile. He draws her back into his arms and kisses the top of her head.

“I’m here. I’m good. That was—the longest drive back,” he chuckles as his eyes shift to his best friend.

“Hey, bro,” Namjoon says as he approached him, giving him a brief hug.

Thankfully, Namjoon’s federal asset was able to get through one of the agents on-site to inform Jin that his family was waiting for him here. They offered to drive him back but he declined saying that he was unharmed and perfectly capable of driving his own car back.

After over an hour of on-site questioning by agents, Jin insisted that he didn’t want to press charges and asked them to show Miya some leniency. They had already put away the real bad guy after all.

While most of the caravan split off to take Miya and her mom back to federal custody, Jin got one escort all the way back to Namjoon and Ji-yun’s home. The feds would have to follow-up with more questioning tomorrow but for now, they agreed that Jin just needed to be back home with his family–who were extremely worried about him.

“Joon—thank fuck for talking me into getting that fail-safe GPS tracker!”

Namjoon smiles sheepishly. Ji-yun and Jungkook go in for brief hugs as well, relieved that their friend is home safe.

“What’s with the welcoming committee?” He looks up and scans the room until his eyes lock with yours.

“Son, what happened to Miya? Where is she?”

“They uh–took her away. It’s a long story, dad and…I’d really prefer not to relive it right now,” Jin says.

“Seojin-ah! Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again! Do you understand?” His mom half-shouts at him.

“Yes, mom.” He wipes her tears away with his thumb and hugs her once more.

As his mom pulls away to compose herself, Haejin approaches him again and shoves him on his chest.

“What the fuck!” she blurts out, and she, too, is in tears. “You think you’re bulletproof now? Volunteering as a hostage? Are you an absolute idiot?” She says in rapid-fire succession.

“Alright, alright…let’s–calm down. I’m here now, in one piece,” Jin mutters.

“I’m glad you’re safe, hyung.” Jungkook says a little gruffly, trying to hide his emotion.

You were so overwhelmed with Jin’s family showering him attention that you barely notice Haejin returning to your side.

“It’s going to be okay, YN. He’s here.” Haejin murmurs comfortingly as she rubs your back.

“Uh…I hope you all don’t mind, but there’s someone whom I really need to see,” Jin tells his family. They nod, smile, and step aside to clear his path.

He moves toward you, dark eyes weary but bemused. From somewhere deep inside, you find the strength to will your feet to take a few steps and throw yourself into his open arms.

“Jin!” You sob.

“Shh…hey,” he says and holds you, burying his face into your hair and inhaling deeply. You raise your tear-stained face to his, and he kisses you briefly.

“Hi,” he utters as he cups your face, pulling you off his chest.

“Hi,” you whisper back.

“Miss me?”

You smile sardonically at his question. “Kind of, yeah.”

He grins. “I can tell.” And with a gentle touch of his hand, he wipes away the tears that refuse to stop running down your cheeks.

“I thought…I thought you—” You choke.

He nods knowingly, not allowing you to finish your thought. “I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?” he says with a light chuckle.

You instinctively smack him on the chest as he makes light of the situation while you were a nervous wreck for the last few hours. He laughs and pulls you in for another chaste kiss.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs into your lips.

Pulling away, you ask him, “I love you, too–but are you okay, though?” You touch his face, his arms, his chest…the feel of his warmth beneath your fingers reassures you that he is here, safe and standing right in front of you.

He doesn’t so much as flinch. He just regards you intently.

“I’m fine, see? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ugh, fuck! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” You fist at his shirt and pull him closer to you, prompting him to hug you once more.

Although he seems lighthearted on the outside, he felt immense relief on the inside. He didn’t think he’d see you again either. He relishes the feeling of this embrace—holding you even tighter.

“Are you hungry? Do you need something to eat?” You murmured against his chest. They were the oddest questions to ask but your instinct was to take care of him.

“Yes, but food can wait. I’d much rather go home with you. I’m…just so tired,” he admits.

Shortly after, he bids his family goodbye. He assures his mom that he would call her once you were home to ease her worries.

Jin drove back to your home instead of his, on account of some press still hanging around his building. He made a mental note to figure out whether he wanted to unload that property and purchase another one–preferably with a doorman since he didn’t need to be as discreet about it any longer.

You gave your dad and Taehyung a call on your way back. As soon as you both walk through the door, he engulfs both of you in a tight embrace.

In the short time that your dad has known Jin, he has treated him just like a son. He tried not to worry but he couldn’t help it. It was a huge sigh of relief for him to see both of you walk into the room in one piece.

As you both settle into your bed, you notice Jin staring blankly at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought.

“Hey–are you sure you’re alright,” you asked.

It took him a few seconds to answer. “For a moment there, I didn’t think I’d come home to you,” he confessed.

You nuzzled closer to him. “Well…whatever you said or did…you clearly got through to her.”

“I just think that she’s never had any real friends or anybody in her corner to support her unconditionally. If anything, it’s really sad and I feel sorry for her.”

You couldn’t honestly say that you shared the same sentiment.

“What’s going to happen to Miya?”

He sighs. “I’m meeting with investigators tomorrow. If there’s anything I learned today–and really, it’s what I should have been practicing this whole time instead of just saying it–it’s to not pass judgment so quickly.”

You exhaled deeply. It still didn’t change the fact that she said those things and demoralized you. Then again, you weren’t trapped in a room with her with a gun pointed at you. It could have ended differently…but maybe all she needed was for Jin to appeal to her good side–even though it didn’t seem like it.

“Anyway, I just hope she does the right thing for her sake.” Jin puts an arm around you and pulls you in tighter.

For a moment, you thought that maybe she wasn’t all bad. After all, she decided to send Jin back where he belonged–with you.

Part 9.5◥

Taglist: @deepseavibez @shameless-army @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @twogyuu @jakepralta @justmewondering-recs @taleasnewastime @se0kedinluv @bangtannoonalvg [open]

#bts #bts fan fiction #bangtan fan fiction #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #bts kim seokjin #bts jin #kim seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #worldwide handsome fanfic #worldwide handsome x reader #wwh x reader #wwh #kim seokjin x reader #ksj x reader #kim seokjin fluff #kim seokjin angst #bts angst #bts fluff #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin fan fiction #scale ksj #scale x ksj

[the-iceni-bitch]

Every Little Thing

Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!Reader

Words: ~4.3k

Summary: You and Colin are two slutty pea in a pod neighbors, but maybe you could be more?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex), idiots in love, excessive alcohol consumption, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Ugh, I love Colin and I can’t believe it took me so long to write him. Before I get a bunch of notes about it, they’re gonna realize their feelings eventually but it might take a couple fics because they’re both morons, but they’re pretty morons so it’s fine 😉

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Oh god, what the fuck was that noise? Why was your phone ringing at 8 AM on a fucking Sunday?

You picked up the offensive object and growled when you got a look at the caller ID.

“Colin, it’s Sunday morning, this had better be really good. I didn’t get home until 4 AM.”

“She won’t fucking leave.” He hissed over the line. “She wants to go out for waffles.”

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” You grumbled, rolling over onto your back and flinging your arm over your eyes. “Just ditch her at the fucking waffle place.”

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s like a second date. What about our deal?” That fucking deal, he definitely benefitted more from it than you did.

“You’re an asshole.” You mumbled, sitting up with an exhausted groan. “Gimme 5 minutes.”

“You’re the best!” You could hear the fucking grin in his voice and rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, I fucking know.” You didn’t wait for him to confirm before you hung up on him, stretching your whole body as you moved to put on some clothes.

It only took you a few minutes to pull on some old jeans and a sweatshirt and then you were stomping across the hall to Colin’s apartment, determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him. 

“Colin Shea!” You pounded on the door viciously. “This is your wife! I found your little love nest! What hooker do you have in there now?”

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you heard a commotion from inside, someone was cursing up a storm and you were pretty sure you heard a couple of slaps.

“I can hear you in there.” You tried to make it sound like you were on the verge of tears. “What about Colin Junior? I’m not raising that baby on my own, you bastard!”

The door slammed open and a very angry looking woman stormed out, shooting a glare over her shoulder and calling Colin a motherfucker as she scurried down the stairs. He came rushing after her with a frustrated look on his face, rubbing the side of his jaw and scowling when he got a look at the shit eating grin on your face.

“My wife?” He asked incredulously, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his naked torso as you just continued laughing at him. “That was kinda mean.”

“8 AM on a Sunday, Shea.” You booped his nose with your finger and winked at him before turning to head back to your place. “You wake me up before 10 AM on a weekend and you take what you can get. I’m going back to bed.”

“Wait, Y/N, don’t you wanna have breakfast or something?” He jogged after you, ignoring the glower you shot him as you opened your door. “I’ll make you my famous eggs.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I got in at 4 AM?” You frowned at him when he kept you from closing your front door. “Colin, quit being so clingy. If I wanted to have breakfast with some annoying dude I would’ve actually brought that lawyer from last night home.”

“A lawyer, huh?” He was giving you one of those stupid looks that he typically reserved for girls he was trying to bang but that he definitely knew didn’t work on you. “And that didn’t even do it for you.”

“I mean, I still rode that beard for a good hour, but he was super depressing.” You kept knocking your door against his foot with an annoyed air. “Which is why I need to sleep, so get out of my fucking doorway.”

“Fine, we’re hanging out later though!” He called as you slammed the door in his face.

You just ripped off your clothes and crawled back into bed, burying your face in your pillows and cursing the sun as you did your best to fall back asleep.

It must have happened at some point, because you woke up six hours later with a mouth full of cotton and absolutely drenched in sweat. Why was it so fucking hot?

The pillow case tried to come with your face when you rolled out of the bed and you threw it away from you with a huff as you padded to inspect your air conditioner. 

It wasn’t on. You knelt in front of it and whined as you tried flicking it off and on and nothing happened. This could not be happening, not with summer just about to start. It was supposed to be in the 90s today. No matter what you tried, it didn’t turn on. Granted, all you tried was unplugging it and plugging it back in, but that always worked with your computer.

The call to the repair company was no luck, they were closed for the weekend. This was going to suck, you fucking hated being hot. You moved to your kitchen to try to find some way to cool off after opening every damn window in your place to hopefully get some kind of air circulation going.

That’s when you spotted it. 

The frozen margarita machine you had bought on an absinthe fueled online shopping spree and never gotten around to returning. It was like a little miracle right there in your kitchen, designed to help you cool off and get drunk so you could forget about how fucking hot it was while you did the week’s worth of chores you had been procrastinating.

You hummed happily when that first gulp of frozen tequila goodness slid down your throat, and maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing but who fucking cared, it was hot. Time flew by as you downed those things like it was your fucking job, scrubbing your pots and pans and singing little songs to yourself.

Music started drifting through your open windows but you barely registered it even as you started singing along because it was Queen and how could you not.

It was the third time you had filled that margarita machine and you were feeling fantastic, dancing around your kitchen as you continued cleaning your dishes. Whoever was playing music was still going strong and you began belting when they started doing Seven Seas of Rhye.

“You are mine, I possess you, I belong to you foreveeeEEER!”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your badass high note devolved into a shriek and you turned to chuck the cup you were holding at the intruder on the fire escape, cursing when you saw it was Colin. He managed to duck out of the way at the last second with a muttered fuck and you sighed as you watched your mug sail over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Shea, that was my favorite mug!” You pouted, stamping your foot a little and taking another gulp of your margarita. “What the fuck are you doing on my fire escape?”

He gave you a stupid cocky grin as he watched to try to lean on one hand on your counter and almost go down when you missed it at the last second.

“Are you drunk, honey?” Fuck him for calling you honey, that wiley asshole. “We could hear you singing from the roof.”

“I’m just a little buzzed.” You hiccupped. “Who’s we?”

“My band.” He crawled into your apartment and caught you when you tripped over your own feet again, still grinning at you like an idiot. “The ones you were singing along with.”

“That was your band?” You had never realized how blue his eyes were. “You guys sound great!”

“Yeah, you sound pretty good yourself.” He grabbed the cup you were holding and gave it a sniff, coughing a little before he set it on the counter. “Maybe you should come hang out with us instead of drinking what I think is blended jet fuel and ice all by yourself.”

“If I’m gonna hang out with you guys I think I should bring a pitcher of margs.” He was really fucking pretty, had you noticed that before? “Don’t wanna be a bad hostess.”

“Oh, baby, you’re wasted.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you felt your chest flutter a little bit. “No more margs for you. Come sing with us while you sober up. No, no.” He pulled you back when you tried to crawl out the window and started dragging you towards your door. “Ladder doesn’t really seem like a good idea right now, let’s take the stairs.”

You tossed your head back as you laughed, slapping his chest while you leaned heavily on him and let him guide you through the hall and to the stairs to the roof. Those were some firm pecs, you were a little marvelled at the way your palm just bounced right off so you slapped it again.

“Wow.” It was like your hand was moving independently from your brain as you gave him a pretty brazen squeeze. “Your tits are fantastic, Colin.”

“Holy shit, Y/N!” He was laughing hysterically when he shoved the door to the roof open. “Your drunk game is on point sweetie. Guys, this is Y/N, the killer vocals you heard from downstairs. She’s a little tipsy.”

They introduced themselves and you promptly forgot all of their names, your hand trailing down Colin’s chest until you could press it against his abs. This was getting weird, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before. But seeing and touching were apparently two very different things.

“We still doing Queen, boys?” You said, finally tearing your eyes away from Colin after poking him in the bellybutton and grinning when he made a noise like the Pillsbury doughboy. “Cos I’m good with whatever.”

“What about some Journey?” He slung his SG over his shoulder and watched you carefully as you grabbed the mike one of his bandmates was handing you. “You wanna sit down, hon?”

“Don’t call me hon, sweetheart.” You teased, giving him a wink and tapping the mike a couple of times. “I’ll be fine. Journey feels a little basic but ok. Faithfully or Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’?”

That grin he gave you should not have been affecting you like this, maybe you did have too many margaritas. The bassist started playing the opening riff to Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ and your grin got even wider, your hips moving to the beat as you kept your eyes on Colin. You laughed happily when he joined in with the guitar part, joining in after the piano had done its thing and losing yourself in the music.

He could not take his eyes off of you, he was pretty sure you’d never been this fucking cheerful around him before. Not that you were especially grumpy or anything, or that your typical dry wit didn’t immediately endear you to him. But seeing you with that goofy grin as you sang every fucking Journey song they had in their roster until the sun set was not helping the already prodigious crush he had on you. 

Now the two of you were sitting on the couch he had dragged up there months ago and watching his bandmates pack up their gear, saying goodbye to each of them as they headed down the stairs and left you two to lean against each other and sigh happily. You had your legs flung over his lap as he plucked at his guitar strings lazily, kicking your feet slowly and leaning back on the sofa as you watched him closely and sipped on a bottle of water.

“You ever do any actual performing, honey?” He asked, his fingers running over your calf absentmindedly. “Cos with that voice you could probably line up some gigs.”

“Just karaoke.” You murmured. You were definitely sobering up now, but you were still hyper aware of his hands on your skin and it was giving you some feelings you weren’t totally sure about. “Lemme see that thing.”

“What?” He gave a little huff when you grabbed the neck of his guitar and pulled it into your lap. “Baby, do not tell me you play.”

“I mean, it’s been a little while, but I think I remember a couple chords.” You gave him another grin and his chest started to hurt.

“Jesus, a couple chords?” He laughed to cover the absolutely filthy sound he almost made when you started playing, it was like he had made you on a computer. “Honey, that’s Led Zeppelin.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy Zeppelin.” You teased, turning your body so you could lean against his chest and not missing the low rumble you felt when you tucked your head against his shoulder. “It’s Coda.”

“Uh-huh.” Being this close to you was doing something to him, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to smell your hair. 

“Why haven’t we slept together, Col?” Fuck it, you might as well do this.

He choked on the water he was drinking, turning his face so he didn’t spit it all over you as you stopped your playing and grinned at him.

“I seem to remember giving it a good try when you moved in.” He managed to get himself under control and turned his face back to you. “But you said you had a rule about not fucking people who live in the same building as you. Something about not shitting where you eat.”

“That’s about sex with coworkers.” You said, scrunching your face up as you tried to remember what your exact justification had been.

“Which is what I told you.” He tried to scoot away from you but you followed after him. “To which you replied, ‘doesn’t matter, not gonna happen’.”

“Huh, that seems awful short-sighted of me.” You scooted closer again and this time he let you. “C’mon, we’ve fucked almost everyone else in this city, we’d have gotten to each other eventually anyways.”

“Jesus, what a romantic sentiment.” He was trying to focus real hard on his softeners, but they weren’t working with you squirming against him like that. “You really want to do this?”

“I mean, I think we’d enjoy it.” You set his guitar aside and turned so your chest was pressed to his. “It’s not like we’re gonna catch feels, or anything. Just gonna see what all the fuss is about.”

“Right.” Maybe this would get his little crush out of his system. “Let’s not do it on the roof, though.”

“God, no. My place?” You stood up and started heading towards the fire escape.

“Yeah, ok.” He watched you climb down to your apartment before sliding down the ladder after you like the damn frat boy he was.

As soon as he climbed in the window you were dragging him towards you, swallowing his tiny cry of surprise when you pulled his mouth to yours. His lips were unbelievably soft against your own, and when he opened up and stroked your tongue with his? 

Fuck.

“Shit, Colin.” You purred when he started trailing his lips down your throat. “I feel like maybe we should’ve done this sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His voice was muffled as his mouth moved to your chest, one hand moving to hook under the neckline of your camisole and pulling on it until your breasts popped out. “Well fuck me. No wonder you know so much about fantastic tits.”

You laughed at that, arching into his face and grinning down at him as he buried his face between your tits and gazed at you through his lashes. Those stupid, long as all fuck lashes that were brushing against your skin as he mouthed at your soft curves. 

“Jesus, fuck.” You wound your fingers through his hair when he dragged his tongue over your nipple, tugging on it softly and guiding him further into your apartment. “God, you really know how to use that mouth of yours, sweetie.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” He teased, moving his face back to yours and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he started carrying you towards your bedroom.  “You wanna find out, though?”

“You tease all the girls you fuck this much?” You nipped at his lips and grinned when he moaned into your mouth, reaching behind you to open the door to your bedroom. 

“Nah, that’s just for you, baby.” He cooed, giving you a quick peck on the lips before dropping you on the bed with a huff.

Every place his fingers touched sent a jolt of heat through your body straight to your core, your eyes never leaving his as he started kissing and nipping his way down your torso after pulling your cami over your head. He grinned against your thigh when you moaned after he yanked your shorts down your legs, sucking a soft bruise into your flesh before rubbing his face over your clothed core and inhaling deeply.

You throbbed under his lips as he pressed gentle kisses over the fabric that covered your mound, hooking your legs over his shoulders and trying to grind into him when he tugged at your panties with his teeth and let them snap back into place teasingly. His fingers skimmed up your legs until he could hook them under the band of your panties and drag them off you, sighing heavily when he settled back between your thighs and got a good look at you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He spread you apart with his fingers and flicked his tongue out to run over your slit softly, moaning when he finally tasted you. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You ran your fingers through his hair and beamed at him, rolling your hips against his face when he sucked your pussy lips into his mouth with a low hum.

Colin chuckled into your cunt at that, pressing gentle kisses all over your soft folds before dragging his tongue over you in a heavy stripe. Your body reacted immediately when he reached your clit, your back arching off the bed and your legs curling around his neck as he repeated the same process but at a much slower pace. 

Two of his fingers slid inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and you keened, gripping his hair by the roots and tugging hard when he started stretching you open while his lips drove you wild. The rhythm of his suction and release matched the curling of his fingers inside you and made you want to scream, your free hand reaching above your head and digging hard into your pillow as your body tried to rise off the bed when he brought you right to the edge of your peak right away. 

“Col, Colin, oh fuck.” He felt like your thighs were gonna suffocate him but those sounds you were making for him had him past the point of caring about a silly thing like oxygen. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Your whole body seized against his face as you let out a gorgeous fluttering moan, soaking his lips and chin in your release as he hummed with satisfaction into your pussy. He sat up when you finally released him, removing his clothes in a rush as he watched you pant underneath him and run your tongue over your lips. God, you were fucking beautiful, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to do this.

Before you had a chance to say anything he was hooking your knee over his elbow and thrusting into you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion and releasing his breath in a thin hiss when he felt your satiny walls flutter around him. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel amazing.” He ducked his face to catch your lips with his before pulling back with a groan. “Shit, I forgot a condom. Uh, I’m clean, just got tested last week.”

“God, you’re fine sweetie.” You brought a hand up to cup his jaw and ran a thumb over his cheek in a soothing gesture. “Also clean and I have an IUD, so we’re peachy. I am a little mad at you though.”

“Yeah, why?” He wasn’t too worried, you were still grinning at him as he started moving his hips slowly.

“Well, Jesus, fuck, you’re big.” You almost lost your train of thought when he tilted your hips just a bit and his cock hit you deep. “I usually like to reciprocate oral, sweetie. I barely even got a look at what you’re packing down there.”

“You’ve seen it before.” He groaned when you wrapped your free leg around his hips and rolled your body against his.

“Just glances though.” You gripped his biceps and dug your nails in, biting your lip as he continued dragging his length over every inch of you at an agonizing pace. “And never hard.”

“Honey, there’s no way I’m pulling out for you to take a good look so you’re gonna have to make due.” He teased, grinding against your clit and grinning when your eyes fluttered closed.

“Fine.” You huffed, frowning a little before winking at him. “We’re switching then.”

“What?”

You didn’t answer, just giving him a cocky grin and gripping his hips with your thighs. One quick move and he was under you, a small sound of surprise leaving his lips when you were suddenly straddling his hips and grinning down at him.

“Oh yeah, that’s better.” You placed one palm on the center of his chest and curled your fingers through his chest hair as you rose up on your knees before sinking down again nice and slow, loving the low groan you felt reverberate in his chest when you clenched around him. “Good for you, Col?”

“Yes, yeah, s’ good.” He was completely mesmerized by you, his eyes trailing over your body as you arched your back and continued to ride him. 

The way he was reacting to you was making it hard for you to focus on what you were doing, his eyes soft and relaxed on yours and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly moved his hips to meet your own. You could’ve lost yourself in those eyes if you really wanted to.

Shit, none of that.

His fingers started trailing up your sides when he fucked up into you suddenly and he lost it at the way your tits bounced for him, sitting up with a whine and nuzzling into your chest before wrapping his lips around your nipple as he started bucking wildly.

“Shit, fuck, Colin.” He was hitting your cervix with each punch of his hips and it was taking all your self control to not pass out from how hard he was railing you, wrapping your legs around him and dragging your lips over his jaw. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come again.”

“Yeah? Good.” He cupped your jaw and brought your face back to his, tugging at your lips with his teeth while he gazed into your eyes. “I wanna watch your face while you come.”

You kept your eyes open and trained on his, worrying his bottom lip with your teeth and resting your forehead against his as you felt a warm coil gathering in the pit of your stomach. It was like you were falling into those lust blown pools as he took you apart, your lips crashing against his as the coil snapped and you gasped his name into his mouth. 

The feeling of your entire body fluttering around him was too much, and he followed you with a low growl. He muttered your name under his breath as he spilled his cum inside you, holding you close to his chest and rubbing his nose against yours.

You fell on top of him when he collapsed back against the bed, the two of you laughing breathlessly as you tangled your limbs and molded your lips together before pulling back and gazing at each other some more. Both of you lost yourselves for just a beat, your chests heaving against each other’s before disconnecting and rolling off the bed in two opposite directions as you did your best to compose yourselves.

“I’d say you definitely earned all those screams I’ve heard coming from your apartment, Shea.” You teased, trying your best to lighten the mood and not dwell on the desire you had to ask him to spend the night. 

“Yeah, well I’ve always thought so.” He was avoiding looking at you as much as possible, searching the room for his clothes and fighting the urge to pull you back into the bed and snuggle with you. “Have you seen my converse?”

“Yeah, here.” You shoved his shoes at him after pulling an oversized tee over your head. “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, so…”

“Right, I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” He shuffled towards your front door and pulled it open before leaning back to look at you one more time. “You can join us for band practice any time, by the way.”

“That would be great.” That smile you were giving him made him feel like his heart was going to break. “I promise not to be sloppy drunk next time.”

“Aww, drunk Y/N was pretty fun, but ok.” He winked at you then left in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. 

You fell back on your bed and ran your hands over your face in frustration, hating yourself for coming up with this stupid idea because now all you wanted was to have breakfast with that beautiful idiot tomorrow after sleeping on top of his chest.

“Goddamn it.”

Colin grabbed himself a beer when he got back to his apartment and chugged it, sinking into one of his barstools and considering the fact that he was absolutely not over his crush after everything the two of you had just done.

“Shit.”

TAGS!!!! (If your name is scored it won’t let me tag you, check your privacy settings!!)

@slothspaghettiwrites@captain-asguard@starlightcrystalline@harrysthiccthighss@bonkywobble@chubbybuckydumpling@blackestpinkworld@egcdeath@wanderinglunarnights@wandering-spiritash@bval-1@chris-butt@badbleep88@shutupstevie@muzzyandbusy@sizzie9@isysen@babyb3ar@wanderingalice00@whxre4cevans@kaleeelizabeth58@angrybirdcr@unsaltedalmonds@amerikakapitanyy@lizette50@patzammit@dwights-new-plague@tenaciousperfectionunknown@daughterofthenight117@obsessivereaderchick@before-we-get-started@missmintyross@mariaenchanted@Marvel-baby@iwanttobekilledtwice@banditmarkymark@wayward-blonde@travistheaussie@thiskindahotkindamusic@stan-all-the-things@roleplaytaboo@jnkyrds@oops-aquarius@riemasonline@superoopuniverse @ethereal-beaut-y@Lex-Is-Up-All-Night-To-Get-Bucky@ambthegamer@tapouttt34@hobbitingryffindor@gudenuph@hevans-angel@rose-m22@jennmurawski13@dumb-ass-writer@kristopbishta@haleemah@yippikaiyaymotherfucker@violet-amxthyst@Thatzolagirl@misshale21@Chamorritaluv@ellefran@pinkdiamond1016@nonamenatalia@katexrichardson@aliceforbes@hornyhoursonly@tvckerlance@xoxabs88xox@phantompogues@ke1084299@ghotifishreads@chloehn@sherlocksmanwatson@partiesandblurrypolaroids@bwbatta@cherrychris@acceptyourselfloveyourself@itstaylorcale@miriamkb@needleandhammer@xoxonotme@Sunny223456@moments-tattoos-on-my-mind@thatsthewrongwallcraig@l-sofiamia-l@lemarvelsimpette@old-enough-to-know-better73@smokeandnailz@loverofaccents@inactivewhore@sohoseb@NINJA Q-TIP@amelia-song-pond@everything-is-all-clear@weasleytwins-41@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@girlwhofans@littlezombie666@xmusictodiebyx@moony-is-bae@mogaruke@nymariel@inmoix@sebastianstanswifey@jeremyrennermakesmesmile@jbreenr@glassesandthunderthighs@aerialclouds@mrs-kcathrb@rosalynshields@littlezombie666@malloryknoxx@hoseokmylovesworld@shynerdystudent@lharrietg@chrisevanseditsworld@dreck-t@Lisafrers@kaitieskidmore1@jane-doe6@vintagepigeon@cece5@brxttybottom@ntthuyy25@sweetcupcakegirl@nathalienight@lululuci-allonsy@umadirectioner@ice-dtae@chrisjaay@drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18@jack-skellingtons-stuff@chrissquares@msmarvelwrites@sweeterthanthis@gotnofucks@ozarkthedog@thefallenbibliophilequote@a-little-counter-esperanto@afriendlyblackhottie@cockslut-padalecki@gracechristo@ghotifishreads@tossacoin2yourwitcher@angry-angelic@grumpyashhh@fckdeusername@toni9@girlfriday007@starrybrock@simpcitylolz@weasleytwins-41@millennial-teenybopper@mochionly@archy3001@madbaddic7ed@yeolliedokai@I-lie-here-charmed

#natalie writes #colin shea #colin shea x reader #colin shea x fem!reader #colin shea x you #colin shea x y/n #colin shea smut #what's your number #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #smut #eighteen plus #eighteen and over #do not interact if you are a minor