#Ink is a immature little shit

[verysium]

i assume that you listen to the weeknd sooo may i ask for a quick the weeknd song associations w bllk characters perhaps? if possible. i like the way you think of each character and im curios if we have a common perspective at some point

😭 if you mention abel in any ask to me, there is no way it's going to be quick and easy. this took me like a week to process and even longer to formulate my answer. it's difficult to assign just one song to each character because the discography is just so versatile, so there may be some overlap.

THE TOWN

this song is basically kaiser if he left someone in his past prior to joining bastard münchen in his rise to fame. i envision a reader who was with him during the early years of his career (maybe as childhood friends), and he abandoned them when his big breakthrough finally came.

"you did many things / that i liked, that i liked" the covert narcissism here was the selling point. now i'm not saying kaiser is a pathological narcissist, but the way he thinks inherently revolves around himself. he only likes people because they have something he likes. you have to possess something he actually wants before he even bats an eyelash at you. and even when you do get into his good graces, it's conditional. in other words, kaiser's buddy-buddy system is entirely based on value. how much value are you going to provide him, and how long is that value going to last? hence why he's so obsessed with isagi because our little blueberry sprout protagonist has both the novelty and adaptability kaiser desires.

"you made me feel so good / before i left on the road" i know this sounds like some shit a frat boy would spew, but here me out. i think the reason why half the fandom absolutely bashes kaiser's character is because his actions come off as emotionally immature. making arrogant claims with nothing to back them up? having no personal boundaries? manhandling other people? projecting his own insecurities in the form of jealousy? that sounds a lot like some of the male specimens i've seen in today's society, particularly those who make podcasts for a living. kaiser is not a hot bad boy. he's just pure jerk in some cases, and a tragic backstory is not going to justify those actions. but to apply that to a romantic relationship? some of y'all are not ready to hear this, but kaiser is not going to make a good boyfriend. he would most definitely use you.

"you deserve your name / on a crown, on a throne" if there's one thing you should know about kaiser, it's that he will find a way to pay homage to his past, even if it wasn't a good time for him. so despite the way he absolutely ghosted you years ago, he will find a way to enshrine your existence within his. i have a running theory that kaiser's tattoos are actually for the girl he left back at home. he'd probably get your name inked on his knuckles or something.

"but i remember on the bathroom floor / 'fore i went on tour / like you said we couldn't do it again / cause you had a thing with some other man" i've read a lot of fics where kaiser has a possessive meltdown whenever reader finds someone else after their break-up, or even just the reddit theories that kaiser will flip out when ness finally leaves him. i'm going to add my own take on this. yes, kaiser will freak out but only after a long stage of denial. at first, he's going to be unfazed because there's no way you'd actually leave him. and even if you did find another man, you would inevitably come crawling back to him. in his mind, the fact that you two should be together is about as debatable as defying the laws as physics. which is to say, there is no debate.

"now that i heard you're single /...i'll give you something to live for" mr. steal your girl is back. kaiser may be rash and impulsive in his everyday life, but his patience is limitless when it comes to biding his time against his enemies. you're finally big enough to eat, yoichi...does that ring any bells? he will literally wait just so he can see your new relationship crash and burn. and when it finally does, he will swoop in during your time of emotional need and make you co-dependent on him. this man has the self-seeking opportunism of a whole vulture committee.

"and it feels so priceless to me / that you're always free" ok but this double entendre??? like priceless as in you're valuable to the point you're free from anyone's definition of value. but also priceless in the way you're worth nothing, and people can have you for free. this is literally kaiser in any relationship where the other party overcompensates for him. i'm going to use ness as an example. i think kaiser knows how much ness is willing to do for him, and he appreciates it (he better lol) since ness is one of the only people he can actually get along with. but at the same time, the fact that ness would literally do anything for kaiser is also the reason why kaiser takes him for granted. given the large supply of admiration and support, it's only logical that the demand for it should wane. the key to keeping kaiser's attention is scarcity. you can't be too distant from him, but you can't be too close either. if you're right in the optimal middle, then you're scarce, and all scarce things are rare and, subsequently, valuable.

PRAY FOR ME

this song could work for so many characters, but i'm going to go with noel noa because i haven't talked about him much. he fits into this model for "the strongest" character (akin to gojo in jjk or "the little giant" in haikyuu!!) this mentor/role model archetype is incredibly significant in the protagonist's journey to the top. noa is isagi's primary motivation and presumably his greatest obstacle if he were ever to become the #1 player in the world. the tragic aspect to this archetype is that we often aren't given the full picture for these characters. their internal consciousness is eclipsed in some way because the story is written from the perspective of the protagonist. noa grew up in the slums of france, but the manga doesn't actually focus on any of the struggles he had to face. all of that is implied and sometimes even expected. his strength (or at least the image of his strength) becomes everything, and he can't afford to lose any of it. i think that's the saddest part about any character considered the strongest. they push themselves to the top but simultaneously back themselves into a corner.

"if i'm gon' die for you / if i'm gon' kill for you / then i'll spill this blood for you" i know noa's peers like to shit on him for being so serious all the time, but when you're raised in the kind of environment where everything has been against you from day one, the survival mentality is literally ingrained in you. a lot of his advice to isagi is centered around this idea of eliminating any wishful thinking. he can't count on anything that isn't certain. so if he's going to have to make a sacrifice, it has to be worth it. i think that's also why noa doesn't relate to any of the other world class players. he isn't driven by greed or fame or popularity. the egoist mindset doesn't arise from his own personal ambitions. it's simply how he's learned to live life from a young age.

"my heart don't skip a beat, even when hard times bumps the needle" noa is solid. like rock solid, 10 on a mohs hardness scale. but more than solid, he's incredibly sharp in his focus. he specifically tells isagi not to try and play god because he's seen so many other players try to do that and fail. they get caught up in what their goal could mean: victory, prestige, grandeur, control over others. but to noa, a goal is simply a goal. he doesn't care if this is a win or a loss for his team. he doesn't care if this will put him at rivalry with others. all he needs to do is figure out the most efficient way to get a black-and-white ball through the net. and he's so goddamn good at this. he's mastered it to the point he can focus on what he desires right now in this moment and block out everything else as unnecessary noise. hence, he doesn't get overwhelmed by external pressures. everything about him, even his ego, is intrinsic. and that's what makes him the best.

i'm running out of room, so i'm just gonna list the next few below:

starboy: i've seen this song being assigned to either rin or kaiser, but now that i re-evaluate it, i think the self-deprecative and bitter tone fits sae best.

call out my name: reo listened to this the day nagi left him. i was there, so this is a reliable primary source. it is his breakup song.

heartless: i would assign this one to sae. the melody, the vibe, not so much the lyrics. the overall impression just fits him. i don't know how to explain it.

the hills: this song suits barou, and you cannot tell me otherwise. i'm gonna blast this every time he makes an entrance in the manga.

lost in the fire: this is oliver's pre-game anthem. he's not actually as cool as the song implies, but he likes to think he is.

don't break my heart: this is rin when he's acting butt-hurt. his first big heartbreak was from a 180-cm redhead who drinks salted kombucha every morning and has ugly shorn-off bangs.

die for you: honestly this song was made for the children of divorce who grew up with a messed up conception of love and avoidant attachment style, so obviously i'm going to assign this one to hiori.

too late: kaiser plays this from his stereo while he sips on a martini and contemplates self-destruction. he recognizes that he was in the wrong, but is he actually going to apologize? hell no.

moth to a flame: this is isagi being the homewrecker he is. he's not innocent enough to be completely pardoned. i would classify him as either chaotic good or lawful neutral.

gasoline: niko would suit this song cus he can be somewhat nihilistic if he wants to be. also because i headcanon him as someone with a disorderly sleep schedule.

the morning: uh....honestly idk. this one stumped me. it's giving that one barou backshot where he was training shirtless. but it also reminds me of that one kaiser panel with his 300,000,000 salary.

sidewalks: kunigami plays this song while working out. he is the og grinder. started from the bottom and clawed his way up to the top.

how do i make you love me? ness plays this while doodling in his "operation make kaiser fall in love with me" notebook.

less than zero: this is kira after isagi ousted him from popularity. not much else to say.

[miasudare]

Something that I imagined last night

Error is fighting, maybe against Ink or someone else. People are beside him, trying to help with their bests. Screams in the streets, people running, kids crying...

Was he the bad guy? Another genocide? Who was watching all this? It's not important. He was given a job, he would just get it done. He had to because he liked that his head was still connected to his neck and didn't plan to get executed any time sooner. That was also a purpose, staying alive and enjoying while he did.

Now that he thinks of it, what was the purpose of a glitch? Just destruction sounded dumb enough to start doubting... Error saw himself as a simple being, probably simpler than most of the abominations Ink called "friends." The timeline crashed; he trapped himself in the save screen and then in the void, leading him to just feed off of the au's whole being. Like a little slug, connecting to the au and just sucking the information to live.

Was this a purpose? Did he have emotions? Or was he coded like that? Did he have free will? Honestly, who did... But it's fine. Everything is fine. He could just blame his actions on this. He couldn't just fix himself by re-coding. Or at least he can't do that. If they wanted to fix him, they would've done it long ago, right?

Anyways, swing it right to left in pain... His fingers weren't fully recovered yet. The tips cracked, the pain making his hands shake as he dodged the attacks he would call "pathetic" or "immature" that didn't even need his full attention.

"I have better things to do."

"I don't remember asking."

"You can't just keep sliding the easiest ones to me to have actual fun. Just let me go get the big guy"

"I'm not sliding shit, Error. Do your job, fight the ones that they assigned. Plus, you can't even use the strings properly."

Infuriated groans, tired eye rolls. His potential was being wasted. But no can do, the "know it all boss" said so. He looked at his hands, his anger growing. His thumbs were already bleeding just from swinging for 5 seconds.

But like basically, he lifted something with the strings but it was so heavy that the strings just removed the nail-like parts of his finger and cracked them open. And he started spacing out in a battle. Idk I find this inspiring for some reason

[yesyourstalker]

Another draft dump the stuff that I started but never finished or this didn't have any contacts to add it.

Some of it is a little bit 🔞 only like a little bit like it's mild as fuck.

_______________________________________________

Neta: not every long trip to the bathroom is a crisis mahi!! ......... Sometimes I just need to take a shit.

Mahi: 45 minutes though????

Neta: I don't have good eating habits

_______________________________________________

Mahi: sorry about my boss he's mentally ill

Customer: I figured

_______________________________________________

Ikkan: slopping spree??

Noji: shut up It was a good name at the time, okay?

Ikkan: slopping spree??? Hehehehehe sloppy spree!??!!

Noji: shut up!

Ikkan: slopping spreehehehahahahaha.... Hey babe!

Neta: hem?

Ikkan: You. Me. tonight? We're going to have a -hahahahahah we gonna have a slopping spreehehehehe * inhale* hahahahahahahaha.!!!!

Noji:...................

Ikkan: All right, all right. I'm done. I'm sorry... Hahahahahahaha!

Noji: they call me the immature one

Ikkan: slopping spree!!!! I can't.... Hahahahaah I can't breathe. Hahahahahah

_______________________________________________

Neta: well we're locked out

Ikkan: Why are are we locked out

Warabi: he dropped his apartment key

Neta: drop my key

Ikkan: how are you going to get inside

Warabi: your key

Neta: can't

Warabi: why not?

Neta: he left it

Ikkan: I forgot

Warabi: call cirrina

Neta: can't

Warabi: why not

Ikkan: not here

Neta: at her mom's

Warabi: we can pick the lock.

Ikkan: we can't

Warabi: Why not?

Ikkan: we need a pick

Neta: we don't have a lockpick

Warabi: we can try a fin pick

Neta: can't

Ikkan: not possible

Warabi: how come

Ikkan: we don't have fins why would we have a fin pick

Warabi: oh yeah

Neta: I can call a locksmith

Ikkan: we can't

Neta: why

Warabi: they're closed

Ikkan: they close at 6

Neta: ok so now what

Warabi: I don't know

Ikkan: don't you have a spare key

Neta: I don't

Ikkan: Why not?

Neta: didn't get to it

Ikkan: should of made a copy

Mahi: I have a copy

Warabi: mahi has a copy

Ikkan: we can use their copy

Neta: where did they find a copy?

Mahi: made it

Ikkan: they made it

Neta:... Ok......................... wait...... MAHI! when did you get here

Mahi: I was bored so I was going to sneak into your place to play your Nintendo... So you need to get into your place or what?

_______________________________________________

Warabi: what do you mean? I'm not your work wife. I thought we loved each other??

Neta: No you are not my work wife. You're not even close to it.

Warabi: how about your work child?

Neta: No Mahi is my work child.....*sigh* ....who is currently high and trying to hide it... What did I tell you about that, managers cannot be high at work.

Mahi: I got them from his apartment. Don't tell him

Neta: I'm right here

Mahi: oh ..... I got them from his apartment. Don't tell him. Hehehehe

Neta: mkay..... Anyway, the closest person to a work spouse is probably...... Uhhh... Mrs Candice right here. Come here babe, She's my work wife.

Candi:awwww makes sense. You remind me a lot of my actual hubby hehehehehe

Warabi: that what makes her your work spouse and not me?

Neta: We're the oldest, we both have kids, we talk shit. We hang out after work. We force our partners to hang around each other uhhhh we both use the same ink dye.

Candi: we went to that toxic waste concert together

Neta: yeah we did. We were so drunk! Heheh

Candi: I pierced your junk! remember after the concert?

Neta: she did! Hehehehe I was also there when you were getting Your sternum tattooed. We held hands

Warabi: didn't know you guys had such a close relationship outside of work

Candi: Yeah we're best friends. If our spouse died, do you think we would marry each other?

Neta: oh my cod yessss! Of course I'd marry you if our spouses died hehehehehehehehehe let's kill them! hehehehe

Candi: yeah let's kill them and run away together hahahahahahaa I'm pretty sure they plan on killing his first anyway heheheheheheheehe

Warabi:.....................

_______________________________________________

[Ikkan explaining the difference between an alto clarinet and a bass clarinet]

[Baja talking about an obscure band that only consisted of clarinet players]

Ikkan: we're both autistic anr't we?

Baja: yeah

Ikkan: and we both have music based interests

Baja: yeah looks like it

Ikkan: hmm

Baja: does this mean your best friends?

Ikkan: I think so, yeah

_______________________________________________

Neta: with one of you little shits went through our night stands and took shit?! Mahi?!

Mahi: I didn't! I stay in your living room!

Ikkan: Warabi?

Warabi: I was on a date with baja

Neta:.......... Mizole you're really quiet right now. I don't like it

Mizole:..... Why would I want to go to a shoe box you call a home when I can stay in my actual house.

Ikkan: hmm

Neta:..........

Mizole: ............ I don't see why you're so worked up. I mean what was so important in that nightstand of yours? I mean, how do you know someone went through it?

Neta: I know someone went through it because my adhesives for my insulin monitor are all messed up! Some of the candy that I have for my low blood sugar has been eaten! And my new pack of cigarettes are open!

Ikkan: our glasses or smudged! The book mark for a novel I'm reading is fucking gone along with my guitar pics! and my charging plug was detected from my vib-hm. ..............

Mizole: ........ Hm? What was the last part?

Ikkan:.. nothing.... just... don't go through our stuff. .............. [Leave]

Mizole:heh he seems on edge.. - OW! The fuck was that for!? Mahi!

Mahi: this doesn't involve me.

Neta: next time I'm going for your throat. little shit..... never step into my home again!! ......*ugh*......Ikkan.

Mahi: what was in their nightstand that was so important!

Mizole: ikkan has information and a number of the studio director and a producer. He's working with his old band front roe. They're planning on working on the soundtrack and I want to see if I can get wet fool in on it .

Mahi: Why didn't you just ask him about it?

Mizole:.... why ask when I can just steal the gig from under him and get the job before he does

Mahi:....... Okay.... Do you still have any of the candy left?

Mizole: of course I got you candy babe.

_______________________________________________

Ikkan: what's that? What is that under your shirt?

Neta: oh it's nothing.

Ikkan: it looks like a new tattoo. Did you get a back tattoo? Let me see

Neta: babe we're in public I don't think it a good time to- ehhhhh!

Mahi: hay boss do you know where the- nevermind

Ikkan:.......... Oh Neta.............. Is that my Bass?

Neta: yeah I felt bad covering your name up with the electric eel. I wanted something dedicated to you.. and I really like your thigh tattoo with my bass. I thought that was nice so I wanted to do something matching yours.

Ikkan: oh........'made to love and to be loved'........ Neta. This is so..... Oh I don't know what to say

Neta: I was going to surprise you tomorrow after our date..... Heheh..... You've been rubbing my back for a while now... Uh-

Ikkan: close the store.

Neta: wh?

Ikkan: close the store now. We're going home.

Neta: we close in 10 minutes

Ikkan: I don't care, we're going home.

Neta: but we still have custom-

Ikkan: Neta I want you....

Neta:............. Every one leave!

Mahi: but we-

Neta: mahi you're fired get out......Warabi you're also fired leave

Warabi: what?!?!

Mahi: we're not really fired let's go.... YOU GUYS ARE GROSS

Neta: fuck you get out of my store! [Kissing]

_______________________________________________

Neta: *snoring*

[knock knock knock]

Neta: hu uhh mehhe...... Coming! It's 2am what the fuck.... ... Mahi .. what are you doing at this time of night??

Mahi: me and Warabi got into a fight. Baja is sleeping in our bed tonight can I stay here?

Neta:....................... Come in.

Mahi: thanks...

Neta: so what was the fight about?

Mahi: something stupid. Warabi wants to get a bigger apartment and separate bedroom rooms and he wants Baja to move in. I can tell you tomorrow.....*yawn*.... Good night...*sleeping*

Neta: All right......oh you're just going to sleep in the middle of my bed with no room for me. It's okay, I don't mind....*sigh*.. I'll just sleep on the edge I guess.....*snoring*

_______________________________________________

Mahi getting into shit @fish-at-fish-fish-resort

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Letters

TW: Referenced human experimentation, mild dehumanisation, referenced torture, referenced abuse, obsession, possessive behaviour, extreme paranoia, and infantilisation

——

They come twice a week, every week.

Dream's not sure how letters manage to get sent to a brand new server, but like clockwork they end up on his doorstep regardless, “Dream” written on the envelope in scratchy red pen, spelt correctly maybe half of the time.

“Dear Dream,” they always begin, written more like the author knew vaguely those were the words used to begin a letter instead of their actual meaning, the politeness contrasting with the rest of the text, even the elegant, clearly heavily practiced font different to the childlike chickenscratch the rest was written in.

“Today I saw you on the telly and I thought you were poggers,” one might say, before going into naive fantasies about how cool it must be to be famous. “Wilbur said I shouldn’t try and be like you but I made my own mask,” another might, a mix of fawning idolisation and immature complaining about overbearing family members.

What first seemed like the ramblings of any young fan- he had plenty from his Manhunts- eventually turned into a fascinating puzzle. “Were you made in a lab too? I was. I got injected with a lot of painful shit,” one said, casually in the middle of complaining about having to learn maths. “Did you know Technoblade taught me to fight?” another said, something he’d have taken as wild bragging if it didn’t come with details about him no random kid would know.

Strange anecdote upon anecdote built up. “Did you know wolves don’t do that pack shit? They raised me for a bit, I know,” might come through one day, “Wil says I’m smart but I didn’t even know how to read before he taught me. I’m a Big Man but I feel like a stupid kid,” another.

And each one always, always, ended with “your new best friend, Tommy Innit!!!!!!”, written in big bold text that took up half the page. Even after months of no response, the enthusiasm shined through, that childlike wonder and adoration, that hero-worship.

How little he knew. Dream was no hero. No one was, if you lived long enough. But still, it warmed his heart and fascinated him both. Dream had always considered himself a scientist at heart, and this “Tommy” seemed like an enigma just waiting to be cracked.

One he wouldn’t figure out just through letters.

Smiling, Dream carefully loops through each letter in perfect cursive as he writes, ink bright green and glittery. “To my dearest Tommy,” he begins- after all, he doesn't know any other Tommys, so it's not a lie- “I have a spot open on my server, and your kind letters touched my heart…”

No letters show up at his doorstep anymore.

Some days, Dream dreams that they do. He opens the door to the prison, and there’s the same chickenscratch lettering. “Dear Dream, I'm sorry for being so ungrateful,” they always begin. “Always your best friend, no matter what, Tommy Innit!!!!!!” they end. When he wakes, they leave him feeling more empty and numb than the nightmares of isolation and pain.

It’s become a daily routine to read through them whenever he gets that feeling sinking through his stomach. He gets that feeling a lot, now, gnawing through him like a wild animal. If he were any more naïve, he'd say it was regret. If he had any hope in the rest of the fucking server, he'd say it was longing. But Dream wasn’t an idiot. Not anymore.

It’s almost like Tommy is right there with him when he reads those words. He hears his voice, the loud way he laughs, the softer tones as he shares the thoughts he tells no one else. One, Dream is sure he wrote while sobbing, and reading it in that sad, too-quiet tone brings back that same odd, all consuming satisfaction he misses from exile. That one is his favourite.

Once, it was odd little details and casual strangeness that drew him to the letters, made him keep them safe and secure so he could study them night after night. Now, it was the simple affirmations that stuck to him. “I know you’re a good person,” and “I wish I could be just like you,” and “I love you, man, I wish you were my brother unlike Wilbur he's so lame.”

Tommy admired him, once. Tommy trusted him, once. Tommy loved him like a brother, once. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn't, he was the only sane person on this Prime forsaken planet. Tommy didn’t hate him. Tommy doesn't hate him, he can’t, not the same Tommy who wrote such fawning praise in these letters, not the same Tommy who clung to him like a frightened animal in Exile. And if that Tommy was gone, Dream would claw him back if it was the last thing he ever did.

“Your new best friend,” they said. Always, that’s what they said. And they were right- Tommy, the only person to never betray him, never plot and scheme and grasp for power. He saw it in everyone else’s eyes- that greed, that desire. Even Punz, Dream knew, only followed him for convenience- what other reason could there be, with that power-hungry look, that eagerness for more? Thinking such thoughts was already a betrayal- what reason was there to want power other than to use it to hurt him? It was a knife in the back, every ambitious word, yet Tommy, innocent naïve Tommy, never had that glint in his eye, that hidden blade.

He misses that sweet Tommy, that childlike wonder poorly hidden behind an angry facade. The Tommy forever captured in letters, the Tommy he'd brought out through fists upon those beaches of Logstedshire. Kind, loyal, adoring. Practically worshipping the very ground Dream walked on, like the God he was. His biggest fan, his loyal protege, his best friend, his most beloved little brother. Not the angry, spiteful shell everyone else had twisted the poor thing into.

Dream would save him from them, soon enough.

Sighing, Dream struggles to quite get the words straight as he writes them, shaking hands pressing down too hard on the paper. He writes a million things he wants to say, things he can’t say. Things he will say once he had Tommy back safely, once he had his best friend back. “To my dearest, Tommy,” he always begins- after all, he had no one else left to care about, so it’s not a lie- “I have missed your letters dearly…”

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||Hot Spring vacation!!||

*Waving* Hello, I had a short idea for a drabble, so I hope you like it. It involves a few but you'll see when you read it but I hope you like it. This is a short funny drabble for @demon-blood-youths

||Drabble Summary||

The Class of 1-A has invited the fractions from NYC to Japan once more for a all out vacation. It was a way to say sorry and hope they forgive them for what happened. So right now, they were having fun enjoying the vacation but it seems one person was excited and wanted to have a little fun. Now who could this be? Read to find out.

||Warning||

~Some light nsfw is seen in this drabble

~Beat up will be present (you'll see)

||Guests in this Drabble||

The Class of 1-A is guest stars in this but belongs to the MHA anime and manga. Some of the classmates are muses of mine that I rp with so they will be present.

Yuuka Nakano, Ashley Butterfly, Rex oxford mills, Willow, and Jinx along with their fractions belong to me.

Van ink, Kali, Joshua, Fin, Ethan, Guam, and Matt (How is hanging out with Ryu again but is told this in another area of the hot spring) along with their fractions are in this. They belong to @demon-blood-youths

((Note: This drabble will have grammar mistakes and errors in it but it was written for fun so please understand. With that said, please enjoy.))

It was another nice night here in Japan, with the 1-A class spending time with the fractions from NYC or America. They invited them for a month vacation to relax and chill since things have been calming down and being fixed up. Of course, they accepted the invite so we go to now with the guys who was speaking to one another in a boy hot spring together.

"No." The boys looks annoyed at Minoru who was looking at them confused. They were just getting ready to spend time in the relaxing hot springs but it was a separated bath. One for the boys and one for the girls. Right now, the girls were in the hot bath talking and relaxing together while some of the guys were in the boy hot spring but they were trying to talk some sense into Mineta who wanted to do some 'peeping' into the girls side.

"Huh?! Why not! Are you guys even curious a little! I mean, the girls are on the other side!! I beat they are super cute and all!! So many cuties just on the other side of that wall!!!!" He wanted to but the guys had a sweatdrop shown on the side of their heads before one bonks him on the head.

"OW!"

"You know you can't! And second, you shouldn't cause trouble when the girls can either kill you or worse, kill us if we let you!" Bakugo shouted annoyed at him as he was shaking scared with some of the boys sighing.

"He's got a point. It's rude to peek on the girls like that. It's really immature and we are not trying to end up on their hit list. "Fin said sitting in the hot spring with a hot towel on his head. His boys were happily relaxing with smiles.

"True. We are not like you when it comes to that. Besides, you do realize the girls will not like the idea of you peeking on them?" Ethan said with arms crossed seeing some of his boys in his fraction agreeing.

"True. It would not be wise indeed." Light said with arms crossed with the other guys sighing as Bakugo drops Mineta into the hot spring water as he comes back up.

"Geez, you guys are no fun! I wish we can but besides, I know some of the girls are on the other side are dating some of you so wouldn't you-"

"If you keep talking, you'll get worse than that." Rex oxford mills warns him since that includes him trying to peek on his girlfriend Kali.

"Huh? But I just-" He stops seeing a murder aura from the blind quirk user but he gulps to be silent. Yeah, he blinks but crosses his arms to sit. He did hear the girls laughter and talking on the other side.

"Though, relaxing like this is nice for once without chaos going all about." Shdwkyz said while seeing the guys from the DBT agreeing.

"Yeah, for once it's..nice. No crazy shit going on and whatever.." Navarro said but the 1-A class still agrees.

"But, we are still hoping you guys are enjoying the vacation right?" Shoto said but looks to them as the guys agree.

"No worries, we are. It's nice that you guys invited us to come for a vacation so thanks." Jaron smiled as the guys were happy and relaxing. However, Mineta was trying to listen in with the girls talking.

~~Girls side hot spring bath~~

"You gotta relax a bit more Ashley! It's alright!" Ink laughed happily while Ashley butterfly was nervous looking at the water. She's never been in a hot spring bath before but the other girls were trying to help her relax.

"Think of it like a small hot bath but you can feel your troubles melting away." Momo said sitting by her classmates and seeing Yuuka relaxing beside Oblivion who was relaxing as well.

"I..Is that s..s..so?" she mutters seeing Momo nod.

"She's got a point. Just come on and just relax! You'll be alright!" Jinx smiled to happily help her with Ink as the two get her in, hearing a squeak from her. She got in the water but she was feeling herself sat down to looking shy.

"See? Nice right?" Jinx said as her girls were happily relaxing while blushing.

"I..It is really n..nice...." Ashley mutters blushing to seeing the other girls talking with smiles. Even Echo was relaxing like a happy little puppy but if she had a tail it would be wagging.

Melinda was smiling with eyes closed even Vivi who was relaxing too. "This really is nice right, Vivi?" she asked.

"Mhmmm.." Vivi said with eyes closed relaxing. "I was told the hot springs in japan were quite lovely.."

"Yeah, we got that a lot. They do say the hot springs is the best here!" Mina laughed as the girls sigh to relax. However, Vanessa had a question.

"But..that leaves one thing. The other side are the guys..you don't think they would..." the other girls looks to hear but thinks.

"Hmm, No, I'm sure they wouldn't. The only one you might have to worry about is Mineta. He's well.......a bit of a perv but we should be alright.."

"H..Huh? A perv?" Ashley asked.

"Uhhhhhh....." Ink blinks confused but Kali glares. Great.

"Well, as long as he isn't stupid enough he won't die this night." she warns with the girls showing sweatdrops on their faces. Even so, they relaxed on this night before hearing a giant splash on the guys side with a few shouts. "Hmm?"

~~Boys side Hot spring bath~~

"MINETA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" Shdwkyz was soaked with his hair covering his face as some of the guys from his fraction was soaked too coughing. Mineta was trying to climb but he looks or tries to be.

"Nothing! I was just trying to-"

"You were trying to peek! You idiot! You are going to get yourself caught and you'll get us in trouble!" Rust said glaring at him.

"Again, you can't blame me! I just wanna have one small peek! Just one!" he said. "And wouldn't you like to know since your girlfriend is on the-"

"Oh no, your not peeking on Breezy you idiot!" Rust said holding his human fist up glaring at him.

"Mineta you really shouldn't. You know how the girls are even when you tried doing that in class." Midoriya said worried. Besides, he's seen the girls anger, well some of them, and he knows enough.

"That and the point you'll end up getting a worse punishment." Ethan warns.

".....You guys are no fun you know?" he said but saw Shdwkyz walk over to hit him on the head as he yelps. He saw a angry snake above him ready to beat him up.

"Why are you hitting me!?" he said holding his head.

"Because your being stupid. Why don't you behave and stop trying to be a pervert!" he said.

"It's not my fault! Besides, I bet your sneaky that you could use your quirk to slither in the shadows to peek! Same with that viper girl!" he points that Shdwkyz felt a vein showing on his head now showing his eye twitching.

"Y..you!....your lucky I don't have my blade or I would have-"

"Easy Shdwkyz easy!" Jaron said waving his hands as the guys pulls him away from the scared Mineta who was seeing the others sigh. Maybe they need to keep a eye on him.

"Even so, we should just relax. And no peeking Mineta!" Kirishima warns as he saw Mineta grumbles sitting back in the water. He was curious of the girls as they were chatting and yet he was having trouble with not wanting to.

So the guys went back to relaxing with no trouble and worries. Denki was happily seeing the guys talking or relaxing in the bath now without Mineta trying his hardest to behave. Though, thinking of the girls on the other side well.....that's when he stood up.

"THAT'S IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT! I HAVE TO SEE!" He rushes over to try climbing the wall as the guys saw.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? GET BACK HERE!" Bakugo shouted as the guys were trying to catch him. He dodges while rushing to the wall. He saw the boys trying to stop him as he got nervous.

"I NEED TO SEE! JUST LET ME SEE ONE TIME AND I'LL STOP!" He said running around as the other guys tried stopping him.

".........You know he'll break that promise right?" Denki said as the boys sighs seeing him running left and right with some trying to catch him.

"NO RUNNING AROUND THE HOT SPRING!" Ida shouted trying to stop them. Mineta kept running but he dodges Bakugo trying to grab him. He dodges Shdwkyz and Jaron who crashes into one another. Even Rust slams and trips into the hot spring.

The guys was making a racket with the girls looking from their side wondering what is going on. Fin saw his boys trying to catch him but they ended up crashing against one another.

"You'll never catch me!" Mineta shouted as he scales the wall blushing. "Just a bit closer and it's all girl heaven!!" he laughed climbing.

"Tch, that's it! I'm blowing him sky high!" Navarro said showing a bomb and-wait how did he get that in here!?

"Navarro, you wouldn't dare!" Fosh said panicking as the young bomber glares. "If you do that you might-"

"He's right Navarro don't!" Izuku said worried as Navarro looks.

"Then what do we do!? He'll get us all in trouble if we let him peek! I don't need Echo shouting my ass off because of him!" he said but the guys looks that Yuga had a idea.

"How about we just blast him to knock him out. I'll do it!" He focused but the others in the class saw him aiming right at the wall. Then they go into a panic knowing what might happen.

"NO NO NO NO DON'T SHOOT!!" They shouted but it was too late seeing him fire his navel lazer right at Mineta but also at the wall. That's when a big explosion resulting in the water going up in the air happened with both sides coughing and trying to clear the smoke. Though the guys were coughing as they were trying to find Mineta.

"Damn it! Where did he go!" Shdwkyz said coughing. However, the smoke clears as the guys look but they wished they didn't. Their eyes widen seeing the wall destroyed but......they saw the girls side as they were standing but soaking wet. They did see Mineta who was happily nuzzling against something soft to show he was nuzzling into Ashley butterfly's chest.

"Soooo soft...and warm. What a nice spot." he said giggling with his cheeks red. However, Ashley was shaking blushing red, tears shown in her eyes, as he was nuzzling and hugging her.

'Your so adorable...your boobs are soooooo nice..' he said nuzzling against her chest more. Showing that perverted creepy smile.

"A...ah...ah..."

She shook more with more tears in her eyes to shut them before suddenly.....

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

"THE FUCK!? GET OFF OF ASHLEY YOU PERV!!" Echo said kicking him off but he hugs her as she twitched.

"Your even cute up close! So soft too but they are pretty nice at this size!" he said.

"THE FUCK DID YOU SAY YOU ASSHOLE!! GET OFF OF ME!!"

Mineta giggled but saw the other girls. They tense seeing his hands making grabby motions with blushing and drooling. However, Ashley was still crying covering her chest.

"You girls are so cute!!!" He said but some of the girls scream covering themselves but that's when the guys on the other side covers their eyes.

"ASHLEY!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?" Rex shouted from the boys side hearing her screams and some of the girls.

"GET RID OF HIM!!" Mouse said in shock.

"HOW DID HE GET OVER THE WALL!?" Willow's voice was heard covering herself.

"HE MUST HAVE CLIMBED IT! FUCKING PERVERT!" Luna shouted angry.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!?" Kali shouted but Mineta even happily was dodging to land against Melinda who yelps to push him away from her covering her chest.

"WHY WEREN'T THE OTHER GUYS WATCHING HIM!?" Kali said as the other guys kept their eyes covered.

"GUESS NOT!" Ming said seeing Mineta hopping around happily seeing the cuties with Ink confused while Jinx was seeing the girls panicking.

"GOD DAMN IT, MINETA!" Bakugo said covering his eyes. However, Kirishima was nervous hearing Kali's angry shout.

"NO NO! WE WERE BUT YOU KNOW HOW HE IS-"

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE!! JUST GET RID OF HIM!!" Kali shouted at Kirishima.

"LADY HEAVEN! I'M IN HEAVEN!" He said even hugging Yuuka who was struggling.

"WILL YOU GET OFF OF ME!?" she said but as he was nuzzling her chest, he heard sparks of electricity to slowly look then goes pale. A very angry Oblivion was seen while her eye was twitching.

"....Uhhhhhhh.....I didn't mean it?" he laughed but he only got bonked hard on the head to knock him out but sends him crashing into the wall back to the guys side. The guys on the other side kept their eyes covered blushing red.

"......" Yeah the girls were pissed right now.

"Now I know you girls are mad but please hear us out-" Rust tries to say but Mineta coughs to look.

"It was worth it!" he said but passes out. The girls said nothing but sighs before looking to them.

"You. Saw. NOTHING! Get it!?" Kali said as the guys agreed before Melinda uses her powers to get towels for the girls to cover themselves up and leave quickly. Mouse with Mina was carrying a knocked out Ashley out to leave the guys. They lower their hands but looks silent.

"........You know they are going to kill us right?" Rust said.

"Don't remind us Rust we know.." Shdwkyz said annoyed with Bakugo shaking Mineta and shouting at him. Well, at least the vacation was still alright. For a bit.

~~Somewhere during that event in a private Hot spring~~

Matt was even here but relaxing with his boyfriend/mate Ryunosuke but they saw the chaos going on to look silent. "What do you think that was?" Ryu asked but Matt opens one of his eyes while Ryu was rubbing his shoulders.

"I don't know but sounds like someone is in deep trouble." Matt laughed but the two goes back to relaxing like nothing happened. Rynosuke sighed but he smiled, happily cuddling and still rubbing Matt's shoulders.

"Well, I'm sure they are fine.." he said then kisses the top of Matt's head while blushing a little loving being close to him. Matt smiled while he was relaxing too. Seems their night was well so good for them. That was something else so it was all fine.

[extravaguk]

sex education 2.0

pairing: college!au, jungkook x reader

summary: "Are you calling me boring?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, looking at you dumbfounded and visibly offended. You roll your eyes, taking a napkin and leaning forward to wipe the crumbs of garlic bread on his lips.

"First of all, don't talk with your mouth full, you pig. Second of all," you stop to take a sip of your coke, aware of Jungkook's expectant eyes on you. "A little, yeah." 

wordcount: 9k

genre: smut - angst(? not rlly - fluff, like tons bc im a slut for fluff

rated: m (duh!2.0)

warnings: alcohol and weed consumption, just jk and tae being bros having bro convos, switch!reader, switch!jk, but mostly dom!jk, dirty talk, glimpses of poorly written bdsm, reader being a jealous and ‘insecure little bitch’ (her words, not mine),slapping (dont worry i tried to make it funny), how i met your mother spoilers (sorry im a gemini i spoil shit), spanking, degradation kink, back at it again with the spit kink, slight anal play, beware!of jungkook being a sweetheart, a lil mean at the end but a sweetheart nontheless.

read sex education here!

Three months of being in an actual commitment with Jeon Jungkook, your brother's partner in crime since the young age of five and, therefore, a common denominator throughout your childhood and teenage years, has proven to you a few things you never knew you would discover about the boy himself: Jeon Jungkook is definitely not what you thought him to be. 

You thought growing up with him would've been enough telltale about everything that made Jungkook be, well, Jungkook. He wasn't as immature as you had believed prior to the beginning of your relationship, he was funnier than you remembered -although maybe you found him funnier now that Taehyung wasn't in the picture to interfere with infantile inside jokes that you never were able to grasp-, and smarter than he had ever let you known before. Although you're sure the main reason his grades had started to improve was solely you and the way you rewarded him by opening your legs everytime he passed an exam. 

But above all, if there was something that had truly surprised you about Jeon Jungkook was the fact that he was truly an absolutely and undeniably softie.  

You loved it. Loved the random scribbled love notes he sometimes left in your backpack before kissing you goodbye to leave for his own class, loved the Spotify playlists he made exclusively just for you -with genres that varied between sappy and romantic and wanting to tear your 'wet ass pussy' in two-, loved the late night texts filled with emojis telling you how much he missed you when both of you were too busy doing assignments and studying to see each other -even if it hadn't even been 48 hours since you last saw each other-. You loved how careful and sweet and thoughtful he was. You really did. 

But.

"Are you calling me boring?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, looking at you dumbfounded and visibly offended. You roll your eyes, taking a napkin and leaning forward to wipe the crumbs of garlic bread on his lips.

"First of all, don't talk with your mouth full, you pig. Second of all," you stop to take a sip of your coke, aware of Jungkook's expectant eyes on you. "A little, yeah." His mouth falls open and you supress a laugh. You really shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but there's something about Jungkook's reaction to his ego being bruised and that terribly adorable pout on his face that just makes your insides tingle with joy. 

"What do you mean? I've had plenty of girls in bed before you, like a whole lot, and none of them have ever called me boring! They loved this adventurous and fun dick, alright? Why do you think-" you raise a brow, scrutinizingly. It still amazes you how with just a simple expression and no words needed, you can make all color from Jungkook's face banish and how quick he is to reach for your hand across his bed. "But I only love youuuu, and you're the best thing that has ever happened to me and my dick like, baby, have I mentioned how head over heels I'm for you?"

"Only like five times today." rolling your eyes again, you pull your hand from his to toy with the peperoni piece on your slice of pizza. Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, he was starting to get truly concerned now. You couldn't possibly...?

"Are you not satisfied? I mean, do I not make you feel good or...?" there's clear worry in his voice and that makes you meet his eyes, shaking your head hurriedly. Now it's you who take his hand in yours.  

"No! No, babe. I love sex with you! I love everything you do to me, I love how you treat me, I love how you make me feel. I'm a hundred percent satisfied, I swear, It's just..." you sigh, dropping your gaze to rub slow and reassuring circles to the ink adorning his skin. "All I'm saying is... I may also want to experience what all those girls have experienced with you, y'know... the not so vanilla stuff. But you always seem to be scared to try new things with me, and I don't know if it's because of m-"

"Baby," Jungkooks soft voice calls out to you, removing the pizza box in between the two of you to slide closer to you on the mattress. He craddles your face with his fingers, tilting your chin up to make eye contact with you. "_____, don't say that. I just don't ever want to cross any boundaries. I don't want to hurt you or do anything you might not like or regret later, you know that, right?" placing a small kiss on your lips, you hum in content nodding your head yes.

"I know that." you pull him for another brief kiss, oddly not caring about the faint taste of garlic and spice on them because that's what love will do to you. "But what if I do want you to hurt me? What if I want you to fuck my mouth with no mercy until I cry and slap my face after you've cum all over it while you call me a slut?" you pause, eyes meeting his through your eyelashes. "Or viceversa."

It's not that Jungkook is afraid. Because Jungkook is afraid of nothing in this world. He will murder any spider in his way, he will throw a punch to anyone who denies mint chocolate ice cream as the superior ice cream flavour -and he knows that means he will have to literally fight like the entire population on planet earth-, and he will Rey Mysterio you if you ever discredit or deny his incredible skills playing Overwatch.

Jeon Jungkook prides himself in being fearless in every aspect of his life. Except when it comes to you. 

So yeah, maybe he was a little afraid. Because hearing you use the words 'choke', 'slap' and 'slut' in the same sentence did things to him that he didn't deem possible considering none of you were newbies anymore to intimicy. You have been together for three months, for God's sake, but you still made his cock twitch like the first day and he's sure in twenty years you'll have the exact same effect on him.

He didn't want his most primal instincts to overpower the respect and love he'd harboured for you since you were kids because at the end of the day, one, you were still his best friend's little sister, two, he appreciated you too much to ever cross any lines, and three, as cliché as it sounded, you were nothing compared to the girls he had been with previously. What he feels towards you cannot be compared to anything he had experienced before. 

And fuck, was he in a predicament. Because you made him weak in his knees for you and you were not even aware of it. You were not aware of how badly he has wanted to explore and take things way further, way out of both his and your comfort zones. But he's terrified. He's terrified because all he wants is to to take care of you and what if he fails at the one thing he's swore to himself? What if he lets the darkest side of him consume him and at the same time consume you? What if he does actually hurt you, not just psichologically but also physically?

He would never be able to forgive himself. And neither could Taehyung.

And that, was also tormenting him.

Taehyung seemed fine with the two of you dating -or at least that blow to Jungkook's face seemed to ease things between them-, but Jungkook is not dumb and has felt his best friend slowly distancing himself. 

Sure, they were still best friends and will ever will. Taehyung is loyal to Jungkook and Jungkook is loyal to Taehyung. Has been that way since they were five and that will not change just because Jungkook's caught feelings for his little sister.

But the phonecalls were not as often and not as long as they used to be; in rare occasions Jungkook could sense a certain type of awkwardness between them that really had never happened in their friendship, and sometimes Taehyung's jokes seemed to hold more truth than lightheartedness. 

And to top it all off, Jungkook's dilemma regarding you was eating him alive and, usually he would turn to Taehyung for girl advice, only to later realize he was also frightened of doing that. 

But a Friday night at 2 a.m, Jungkook decides he can't take it anymore. 

"Sup, man." Taehyung's voice answers Jungkook's phone call on the second ring, like he always does. 

"Hey, bro." Jungkook clears his voice, suddenly feeling self conscious. "Are you busy?"

"I don't know," his friend seems to be chewing on what Jungkook bets is red Skittles -yes, only the red ones- because he just knows him too well. "Are you busy still fucking my little sister?" 

Taehyung chuckles at his own joke, but Jungkook doesn't. He knows there's no malice, but he can't help to think there might be. He settles for a sigh. "Yeah." he can hear some shuffling on the other side and the clicking of a computer mouse. Jungkook would also bet he was playing Among Us and he would lie if he said he wasn’t disappointed he hadn't called him to play with him. "Y'know what, it's not even important, I'll just call y-"

"Come on, man. You haven't even laughed at that and you usually laugh at everything I say even when no one else does." Taehyung swirls in his chair, his attention fully focused on his best friend. "Seriously, what's bothering you." Jungkook takes a deep breath, rubbing the side of his face. 

"It's about _____."

"_____? As in, my little sister? Who you're fucking?"  

"Tae, dude-"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Go on." Taehyung stiffles a laugh and waits patiently for Jungkook to continue.

"She um... Fuck, I hope this isn't weird, dude. I really do. She wants to like... rough it up in the bedroom, I guess? And I just... I don’t know... I'm terrified dude." There's silence filling the gap between Taehyung and Jungkook and Jungkook almost feels like throwing up. 

"You're coming to me for sex advice... about my little sister?"

"I know, dude but... Who else I'm supossed to talk to? Jimin? Hoseok?" Jungkook sits up on his bed, an ugly knot beginning to form in his stomach. "I mean, you're my best friend," Jungkook swallows again, voice cracking. "...right?"

It's Taehyung's turn to sigh after a few seconds before he replies. "Forever and always, bro." His tone settles Jungkook's uneasiness. There's nothing but honesty in it. "Listen, Guk. I really don't know what kind of advice to give you because, literally, ew. But I do know my sister, and if that's what she wants and she's communicated with you about it, it’s because she trusts you. And I trust you more than anyone in my life. So there you go, man."

Relief washes all over Jungkook's body and he lays back on the bed again, heart not beating as hard as it was a few seconds ago. 

"Thanks, dude." Jungkook smiles. "Sorry for calling you so late."

"No problem, bro." Taehyung smiles as well, swirling his chair back to his computer screen. A weight of his own being lifted. "Among Us next time?"

"Yeah, I'll let you know. Good night, bro."  

Taehyung calls Jungkook's name before he can hang up. "Hey, man?"

"Yeah, man?"

There's a pause between them and then Taehyung speaks. "I love you, man."

Jungkook supresses the threat of tears about to spill because he knows Taehyung would try to bruise his other other eyebrow if he ever found out. Or hug him to death. Or both.

"I love you too, bro."

"This reminds me of the first time you gave me a blowjob." Jungkook chuckles, watching you get down on your knees between his spread thighs, make up free and sporting a similar low messy bun as that time he's mentioning, except this time you're wearing one of his hoodies engulfing your smaller frame. Proof that this time around, you're exclusively his and no one else’s.

"You mean the blowjob of your life." you giggle as you reach out to pull down his sweatpants, deligthed to see he decided on not wearing any underwear. Your spit on the back of your hand and immediately wrap it around the base of his rock hard cock while his own darts out to push the strands falling down your face behind your ear, heart eyes emoji looking down at you looking up at him. 

Your tongue swirls around the tip timidly, swallowing the drop of precum oozing as he sighs heavily and lovingly. "Every blowjob you give me is the blowjob of my life." he unties your hair from the band holding it together because he prefers his fingers to be the hair tie, prefers to be the one to guide the bobbing of your head up and down his dick. 

You hum in appreciation against him, cherry balmed lips wrapping fully around the head of his cock and he hums back. "Love seeing you on your knees for me with your pretty mouth stuffed, fuck." You take him deeper, closing your eyes. 

Your hand moving accordingly to your mouth and your panties already wet, clinging to your folds. It's really not your fault Jungkook is the most delicious eye candy on earth and how fast can the mere sight of him make your pussy lips quiver. You slurp around the head obscenely , a moan of yours mixing with a moan of his. "Hands on your back." 

You obligue, removing your hands and growing excited at the dominating low tone his voice exerts. The grip he has on your hair tightens and controls your motions, pushing you further down his dripping shaft until your nose hits his pubic bone. He holds you there, his own eyes closing shut and his dick twitching insde your mouth. A thrust of his hips make you gag and has one of your hands flying to tap his leg two times, letting him know you were in need for air. 

He releases you, pulling you back until his cock is pulsating in front of you. He looks down at you, both breathless but the difference is you look so messy. Eyes watery, chest moving heavily and saliva leaking from your lips. 

Yeah, there was a reason Jungkook hasn't been like this with you before. The sight of you submitting completely and looking so nasty was too much for him to handle. He might never want to see you any other way than this. 

"Isn't this what you wanted, huh?" the free hand that had been supporting his weight on the matress grasps your face harshly, making you lock eyes with him.

 "I thought you wanted me to choke you with my cock like a little whore?" you nod your head eagerly, unable to form words. Your pussy throbs, prompting you to rub your thighs to get some sort of relief as his thumb smears the spit adorning your lips. You're quick to envelop it in the warmth of your mouth, an involuntary moan leaving your throat. "Such a pretty slut," he lets his cock slap against your cheek, removing his thumb to move his hand back to his previous position. "Open again."

You do, his length entering your mouth again -that you gladly accept- and then he's shoving you down by your hair. "Shit, gonna fuck your mouth so good..." 

And he does, not holding back anymore, his hand thrusting your head along his shaft until your throat tightens around him repeteadly, struggling for breath. But you take it, you take the aggresiveness and the degradation because fuck, you've been waiting for so long to know what this feels like. To have Jungkook be mean and have this type of control and power over you and you're enjoying it a bit too much. 

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum, leave your mouth open." he releases on your tongue, not able to look away from the image of you with tears falling down your eyes and mouth drenched with him and your spit, some of his cum staining down your chin and the corners of your lips that he gathers with his thumb and pushes back into your mouth. He groans, watching you swallow all of it like a good girl, your tongue grazing around his digit for the remainings, gaze not leaving his. "Let me grab my phone real quick, I need to take a picture of this."

You were definitely not the jealous type.  

You prided yourself on being able to recognize when your behaviours were due to your own insecurities and removing all sorts of feelings of uncertainty from your mind. You never liked toxic patterns or the glamorization of them and your relationship with Jungkook was proof. You knew relationships were supossed to be based on blind trust and faith in your partner and yours definitely reciprocated in the same way. 

"So can anybody tell me why Eunha is basically all over my boyfriend right now?" you wish you could blame your state on Hoseok's weed, who's sitting on the left side of the couch right next to you at the frat party. You really wish you could have an explanation for the way your heart tugged in such a weird way and your stomach swirled dangerously until almost making you nauseous. You really tried to blame your overthinking on the joint you had just passed to your friend. 

You knew it was bound to happen someday, especially considering Jungkook had always been a ladies' man and the kind of attraction from both men and women he was able to manifest, willing or unwillingly. You just never thought it would happen so soon and in such way that made you clench your fists so tight and your nails dig into the palm of your hands so painfully. 

"I mean, they did have like a long fling a few years ago, didn't they?" Seulgi, sitting on your right, chimes in. 

That was true. Longer than most flings Jungkook ever had before you.  

"Yeah, before she dumped him." Hoseok adds.

Your eye twitches and your jaw contracts. Because that, was also true, and it was mostly what was bothering you so much. 

Had it been Jungkook the one to move away from his situationship with Eunha like with most girls, you wouldn't have such a problem with the way she's shamelessly leaning towards him from across the room. Or the way she's twirling a strand of her hair between one of her fingers while battling her lashes. Or the way she's hysterically laughing at whatever he was saying, because your boyfriend was funny, but he was not that funny. 

You were not the jealous type, and Jungkook definitely wasn't giving you any reason to be, because as coquettish as the blonde was being or as provocatively as she was pushing her tits into his arm, he politely keeps his distance and tries to also engage with Jimin in conversation, leaving her pouting. But that wasn't enough to not make you start seriously questioning your feminist ethics right now. 

"Wait, you're not jealous, are you?" Seulgi turns to you, offering you the joint -how long had you been focusing your attention on Jungkook and Eunha to not realize it was your turn again to smoke?-. You take it, hesitating between answering right away or taking a hit before doing that. You were never a good liar. You look between your two friends who are looking back at you with their eyebrows raised.

"I-" you close your mouth and run your fingers through your hair. "Maybe? I don't know what I'm feeling and I don't like it one bit." 

"Aw, babe." Seulgi squeezes your knee, eyes showing you sympathy. "Jealousy is a natural response to any relationship."

"I know..." you take the joint in your hand, taking a long drag before letting the smoke out. "I just don't want to sound like an insecure little bitch!" you whine. "I don't want to be like 'Oh, why would Jeon Jungkook, a God of the Olympus, dare give his attention to a peasant as unworthy as me!?' Like no, he's just a man. A little less mediocre than most but a man nontheless. I'm not going to doubt myself or other women just because he's more beautiful than most, and hotter, and funnier and has a massive co-" you notice you're getting carried away by the look of disgust in Hoseok's face and Seulgi trying to hold back a laugh. 

"Anyways, he's lucky to have me. We're both lucky to have each other but sometimes I feel like I might be the luckiest out of the two. And seeing Eunha looking so pretty and throwing herself at him is triggering me because..." you pause to take a deep breath and lounch back on the couch. "What if he realizes one day that I'm luckier than he is and he could be luckier with someone else?"

There's, ironically, a long silence. Ironically because the sound of Travis Scott making the walls tremble is anything but, until Hoseok speaks.

"I think you feel that way because you still haven't seen how that boy looks at you, _____." and then he motions to the spot from across the room you had been observing for too long, the spot where Jungkook is now glancing at you after noticing your detectable distress, with a frown on his features. 

'You okay?' he mouthes, his fist raising in the air in a thumbs up, questioningly.  

Your heart jerks, and not out of bitterness or envy caused by a girl trying to get your boyfriend's attention. Because his attention is always entirely on you, no matter how many feet are separating the two of you. 

'Yes' you mouth back, with a nod of your head and an encouraging smile that has formed itself on your face. He beams as well at you. Mouthes an 'I love you' and puckers his lips in a flying kiss that makes you giggle. You mimic him, your heart tight against your chest. 

Hoseok is right. You have nothing to worry about.

Jungkook is in love with you. Sometimes, he thinks, he's too in love with you.

"Can't believe I'm letting you do this."

"Can't believe you're such a pussy."

Jungkook huffs in annoyance. He would smack your ass right now if his hands weren't restricted by a scarf of yours he had never seen before to your bedpost. He would also send you a mean look if his eyes weren't covered by the only tie he owned and had so generously lent to you. 

When you mentioned you wanted to try this, he expected you to be in this position. Not the other way around.

He's sprawled on your bed, only his boxers covering him as your legs straddle his waist and you tighten the hold of the scarf around his wrists sternly. He winces and manages an 'Hey!' He knows you're only wearing your panties because he can't feel anything else and he's felt one of your naked tits brushing  his face as you tied him up. He also tried to catch one of your nipples in his mouth as a form of punishment, to no use because you swiftly backed away from his attempt. 

"I've never been a bottom before, this is new for me." he says. He really doesn't mind any of this. He's just not used to it. He knows he'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on a little bit, even if he'd rather be the one to have you completely unmoving and naked beneath him. Especially now that you're skimming your nails up and down his torso.

"Mm, good to know." your lips follow the path your fingers created, from the center of his chest up, moving steadily and tracing soft kisses over his flesh. 

"Don't worry. I'll be gentle." you croon, dragging your tongue from the pulse of his neck to his earlobe, nails scraping lightly over his left nipple. Jungkook shudders, air sucked in through his teeth as his mouth opens on its own. Taking advantage of this, you place a kiss on the corner of his lips before slipping your tongue inside. 

He answers simultaniously, his own tangling with yours, swallowing each other's moans. Your hips set a slow peace, clothed cad core griding over the length poking between your thighs. His hips move unvoluntarily, trying to find some sort of friction to make up for the fact that his hands are unavailable to knead your ass and pull you closer, if that was even possible.

You separate from him, raising on your knees. Jungkook whines in protest, hips buckling up from the mattress to try to meet yours again.

"Jungkook, I'm serious, stay still!" 

"I take it back." his voice shaky and hands straining against the tight hold the scarf you tied around has on them. "I don't like this. Untie me so I can fuck you, babe." he complains. You sit on his tiny waist, your thighs trying to stop his movements. 

You take a moment to assess him. He looks too beautiful for his own good: hair courtaning his forehead, biceps bulging and abs flexing. You can't see his eyes but you know they might be glassy. You bite your lip to supress a whine of delight. You almost consider doing as he says. Almost. 

But you mantain your ground. Your jealousy from the other night had been crawling slowly from within these past few days and since you couldn't take it out on Jungkook any other way because he really wasn't to blame, you figured you'd try something new to punish him and let some of your supressed anger vanish. 

Twisting your body back to pull down his boxers, not all the way, just enough to have his cock springing free from the confines of the fabric and slapping against your asscheeks.

"Has toxic masculinity seriously polluted your brain so much you can't take this seriously?" you fall forward, one of your hands balancing you beside his head as the other wraps around his neck, a tentative hold not yet to constrict his breathing. 

He gulps, his body's tense and his Adam's apple is prominent under your touch. All he can see is black but he'd do anything to watch your pretty tits bouncing in front of his face. "I don't like this conversation either." he pouts.

"Then why are you so hard?" you grin, holding yourself back from laughing as he hesitates for an answer. You lean closer, mouth against his ear as you whisper. "I'm so wet right now, I could take you just like this. No lubrication at all and my pussy would just swallow your dick." Feeling his girth still between your ass flutter, clearly affected by the sultry tone of your voice. You remove your hand from his neck seeing as he has stopped moving obediently. Reaching back, you slide your panties to the side and align your entrance to the head of his leaking cock. 

"Fuck, baby, please~" Jungkook's pleads fills the air, hips desperately back in motion and sliding just a few inches inside your drenched heat. The warmth envoles him instantly, your pussy pulsates around him and neither of you can't help the in synch groans tearing from your throats. 

"Just the tip" you lick your lips, your voice betraying you as you resist the urge to glide the rest of his lenght inside your quivering core.

"Just the tip, my ass." 

Out of sudden, Jungkook is swiftly lifting his hips from the matress, sinking all the way in. You cry as your body jumps forward, face hidden in the juncture of Jungkook's sweaty neck. His thick cock stretches you out as nice and deep and perfectly as he always does. You mewl. This was not supossed to happen at all.  

"See? This is what you really wanted." you can hear the chuckle threatening to spill from his lips, anger starting to boil inside of you again. 

Regaining a little bit of your lost control, you lift yourself on your trembling knees and sit back again, the tip of his dick hitting your cervix. You groan in unision, placing your hands on the hard planes of his chest and steadying yourself to try to reclaim your dominance. Finding it troublesome, because Jungook is set on having it his own way, his thrusts meeting yours in perfect synch.

You really shouldn't feel your climax approaching so soon but somehow battling for control while bickering with Jungkook is about to send you over the edge and that's making you even more annoyed.

"I swear to God, Jungkook. If you don't stop moving and shut the fuck up..." your murmur through gritted teeth, jaw slackened and eyes fluttering shut.  

"What?" he spats, breathing rugged and voice coarse. "If I don't shut up, you'll wha-"

The sound of a sharp smack echoes inside your room and Jungkook's movements freeze on the spot. His head is turned to the side from the impact, and a faint print of your fingers is adorning his  already stinging cheek. None of you mutter anything for a few seconds, until concerned words start to rush out of you.

"Ohmygod, Jungkook, I-"

"Did you just slap me?" Jungkook is unmoving, his mouth agape and you can picture the incredulous expression his eyes might be oozing. "Baby, what the fuck?!" You're mortified. Your hands cover your mouth and your eyes, wide open, stare down at him although he can't stare at you back.

"Babe, I don't know why I did that, you wouldn't stop talking and I know that's not an excuse but it-" 

"It was fucking hot." a breathy laugh in disbelief leaves his chest. Your forehead creases, hands falling down to your chest to try to steady your incessant heartbeat. His tongue darts between his pearly teeth, a smug smirk on his features. An eyebrow of yours raises as you size him up, the realization that his body is completely motionless now hitting you.

Lurging forward, you pinch his jaw between your fingers, your hips carry on their grinding on their own accord. He releases a raspy moan, your walls clenching around him as another hit strikes his cheek, softer this time. 

"You gonna be good to me?" you mutter against his lips. He nods slowly, his mouth salivating as your hips swirl on top of him. He blindly tries to reattach his mouth to yours, but you dodge him, going for the skin of his clavicle instead. "Can I fuck you slow like this until you're filling me with your cum?" He squirms when he feels you sucking a pretty purple bruise on his flesh, your cunt dropping all the way down his cock, leisurly grinding against his pelvic bone, looking yourself to find some relief to your clit. 

"Ah!" his head tilts back, back slighlt arching as you soothe the mark on his neck with your tongue. "That m-might be s-sooner than you think, babe" he admits timorously, swallowing the lump in his throat, the veins on his neck on full display. 

You sigh in content because, thankfully your orgasm is also closer than he thinks it is. "M-me too-" you gasp, your face buried on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush his ebony hair, nails gently scrapping his scalp as you keep the tortuous movements of your hips against his, his girth hitting that spot just right everytime until you feel the knot in your tummy finally snapping. "C-cum, J-Jungkook, I-m-"

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice because he has been holding back from it for a while now, not really willing to admit he was enjoying this as much as he was. With a thrust of his own fused with the way your pussy is tightening around him it's enough to send him over the edge, an unpredicted cry emanating from his vocal chords harmonizing with your own, his whole body tensing as your walls milk every single drop of his cum. 

For several minutes you stay just like that. Jungkook's hands still tied, blindfold still on, his mouth still agape as his chest rises and falls until his breathing becomes steady again. And you, on top, your fingers tangled in his dark locks, your breath fanning against his neck and his release dripping down your thighs. You stay like that until your body starts shaking with uncontrollable laughter. 

Jungkook tilts his head towards yours, eyebrows furrowing and eyes still covered.

"What was that noise?" you manage through your giggle fit. "'Aaah!'" You've never made a noise like that before, I can't- it was so funn-"

Even while still being strained and blindfolded and with you making fun of him, a loopsided goofy smirk starts making an appearence on Jungkook's features. 

Fancy dinner parties were never your thing. 

Wearing heels that were too high -specifically to try to match Jungkook's height-, a new expensive dress that you were surely going to return as soon as the event was over because you definitely could not afford it and socializing with Jungkook's clique was definitely not the way you envisioned your Saturday night going. 

At least Jungkook had barely been able to keep his hands for himself at the sight of you wrapped in emerald green silk and lace. But even that couldn't make you feel less uncomfortable and out of place. 

Yugyeom, one of Jungkook's friends, had definitely more money than your boyfriend had previously let you know. Apparently, being a 'lil rich' as Jungkook had mentioned meant booking a luxurious restaurant to hold a dinner party with at least fifty people who looked just as 'lil rich' as Yugyeom's Gucci tuxedo.  

'It'll be alright babe. Yugyeom always insists on celebrating his birthday like it's an Oscar after party. We'll just eat some of that disgusting caviar and then head home to watch Netflix, I swear'. 

And yes, caviar was gross, but so was the fact that Jungkook had failed to mention a certain someone would also be making an appearence. 

After introducing you to a few of his friends and realizing that Mingyu's frendliness and amiability helped you feel more relaxed, he had excused himself to the bathroom, leaving you and his friend to entangle in a heated conversation about How I Met Your Mother's finale season. 

You were thankful for Mingyu's humble nature and easygoing talk for a few minutes until you finally spotted your boyfriend making his way back into the room, stopping in his tracks to acknowledge a group of friends from his class. 

Again, you wouldn't have such a problem with a certain blonde if she would just stop looking at Jungkook with stars in her eyes and pressing her cleavage against him while playing with her hair. It was hard to keep track of your conversation with Mingyu while Eunha was standing right next to your boyfriend and seemingly ogling up at him. It was also hard to not let your mind waver to dangerous territory when you took notice of how disgustingly good they looked together. 

Just two attractive people who would look disgustingly good together. 

Mingyu's voice makes you turn back to him. 

"...I don't know, like, Barney was a womanizer until Robin, you know? He changed for her! They were just perfect for each other, but they had to throw it all away by killing the mother and then making Robin marry Ted? And Barney going back to his old ways?" Mingyu sounds exhasperated and you would laugh and find it cute if your stomach wasn't tugging again in a way that made you regret drinking so much wine so fast. Specially after his last statement.  

"That's what I'm saying." you mumble, turning your attention back to your boyfriend in the crowd.

Jungkook wouldn't go back to his old ways. He loves you. There's nothing to worry about.

But as you watch him start to make his way towards you, you also watch the way Eunha grabs the sleeve of his blazer to pull him back. She leans in, whispers something in his ear to which he just shakes his head, says something that it's impossible to decipher from here you're standing and simply walks in your direction. 

Still, as much as you tried to be neutral and objective and not a 'jealous little bitch', it's almost impossible to hide the sour expression on your face. It's impossible to unclench your jaw throughout the entire evening or lose the too tight grip on your glass of wine. Even when Jungkook whispers in your ear if you're okay, you merely nod yes. You avoid eye contact with him and everytime he tries to slip your hand into his, you dodge him it by wrapping your arms around yourself, claiming how cold it is.

Jungkook is not dumb. 

He know something's up but he's also not stupid enough to cause a scene in public or preassure you into talking. So he settles on wating and being patient. Even as he slips his jacket on your stiff shoulders with pouty lips and his eyebrows drawn together, all he does is press a small kiss to the back of your neck. It takes all power within you to not throw yourself in his arms. 

But as midnight approaches and it's time to leave, you notice a change in Jungkook's behaviour as you say your goodbyes. His hand on your back is not just a soft caress, instead, his fingers pull you closer, dig into your skin as he drags the both of you to where his car is parked. Now it's him who avoids your gaze. His tensed jaw and his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek is a visible indicator that Jungkook is pissed. 

You know his body language as well as he knows yours. And now, as he opens the door of the passanger seat so you can slide in, the guilt and the remorse of acting cold towards him for hours is finally dawning on you. 

"Are you going to tell me now what was that about?" when he closes his own door shut, he doesn't bother to put his seatbelt on. Just grips the steering wheel as he turns to you. 

"I-I don't know what you're t-"

"You don't know what I'm talking about?" he laughs, not a bit of humour in it. "I know scenes like this make you feel uncomfortable but I actually thought everything was going fine. I leave you for five minutes with Mingyu and when I come back, you won't look at me, won't touch me, won't act like I'm your boyfriend. Like I did something wrong. So please, _____, tell me, what's going on?"

You know there's no excuse for the way you acted. You know it's not Jungkook's fault he attracts attention and it most definitely not his fault if an ex of his is still hung up on him. You know it's your own fault and you know you should not try to excuse yourself and fight back. You'd swore to yourself you'd push down any feelings of jealousy deep inside until they disappeared. But something about tonight makes you explode.

"Why was she being all over you?"

Jungkook's face twists in confusion. "What? Who?"

"Eunha! Who the fuck else? She was all over you a few weeks ago at Minghao's party, and she was all over you tonight!" your voice is louder than you would've liked but at this point all you care about is letting it all out.

"This is what all of that was about? Eunha?"

"Yes! I've seen her on campus as well! Always trying to get your attention! I don't care that you have friends in common, but specially tonight, she whispered something to you and she was looking at you like she-"

"Who cares how she looks at me? All you need to care about is how I look at you because the only thing I care about is how you look at me!" Jungkook exclaims, clearly exhausted of this conversation. 

You sink in your seat and look away as the knuckles on his hands turn white from gripping the steering wheel. 

"_____," he calls you gently,  but his voice mantains a stern tone to it. "We don't do jealousy. I thought we were supossed to trust each other blindly. Have I not proved to you how sickenly in love with you I am? Do you not trust me and what I feel?"

"I-... Of course I do. I-just... I don't know. You're right. That was uncalled for." you wrap yourself in the warmth of Junkook's blazer, trying to make his scent wash away any ugly resentment and guilt in your body. 

"Wanna know what she said to me?" a rethorical question, because he was going to tell you anyway. "She asked me if I was going to stay for Yugyeom's after party, way past midnight. Wanna know what I said?" he turns to you. "I said no, I'm spending the night with my girlfriend."

None of you say nothing after that. He just puts his seatbelt on and starts driving. It's not too much of a far drive to his dorm, but the silence and the awkwardness makes it feel so much longer than it should be. You don't remember the last time Jungkook was mad at you. Actually, you don't think Jungkook has ever been mad at you. He loved the banter, loved to tease you, loved being competitive with you. But you had never seen him being avoidant of you. And that feeling tears your heart on the seat of his car.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask, voice barely audible, when the car stops at a red light. His dark eyes meet yours, his face immediately softening as he studies your expression. Then he picks one of your small hands in one of his big ones, brings it to his lips and lightly kisses your knuckles. He communicates with his eyes what he doesn't with words and it's enough to make you feel secure, at least for now.

When you finally arrive at Jungkook's room, he holds the door ope for you and lets you walk in, but he's still unusually quiet. So much so, you start to worry you might have fucked up big time. 

You stand there, not knowing what to do as you watch him sit down on his bed, slipping his shoes and socks off and loosening the tie around his neck. His hair, that was perfectly styled a few hours ago, is now messy by the amount of times his hand has pushed it back. He looks too yummy, and you hate the fact that tension and a little bit of fighting has managed to make him look as delectable. 

You ignore the heat starting to form in your belly because now it's not the time to be horny. Not when you still need to apologize and make things right. He's rolling  the sleeves of his black shirt down his forearms when you decide to speak. 

"Jungkook, I'm very sorry." you start, as you remove his blazer off you and place it on the chair right in front of his desk. "I don't know why I acted the way I did. I dont get easily jealous and I really don't think I am but..." your throat constricts your words for a moment. "The more I love you, the more frightened I get when I think that one day you'll realize I'm better off as your best friend's little sister. I-I dont know what I'd do with myself if that ever happene-"

"Take off your dress." Jungkook's impassive voice and emotionless face startles you and you freeze on your feet. 

"What?"

"Did I stutter?"

His elbows rest on his knees and he's holding your stare with his. His doe eyes lack that free spirited and amusing glint they usually have. He looks bored, scrutinizing you. He's not challenging you. He's commanding you because he knows you will obligue. 

That's why you gulp and slowly slide the straps of your dress down your arms until the fabric pools at your feet. His eyes waver along your naked breasts, nipples perking up like the mere intensity of his gaze is ordering them to. He doesn't make a move and doesn't say anything for a few seconds. He doesn't compliment you like he normally would at the sight of you almost naked in front of him.

His lack of words make you feel insecure, regardless of how turned on you are. You're used to Jungkook being reassuring, you're used to his lighthearted jokes and his playful kisses in the bedroom. But you're not used to Jungkook telling you what to do and keeping his distance while doing so. Your arms move on their own to hide yourself.

"Don't. If you hide from me, I swear to God, _____." he watches you as you let your arms fall back to your sides, your chest moving up and down while you struggle to breathe. You can't deny Jungkook's gruff voice and his eyes studying every bit of skin available to him like he hasn't seen you naked before is not making your underwear stick to your lower lips. 

"JK, I just don't think this is the right moment to-"

"On my lap." your heart skips a bit, a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

"Jungkook-"

"I said, get on my lap, face down." he says again, this time slower. One of his eyebrows quirk up. "Or would you rather me drag you myself? Or make you crawl?"

Your eyes widen, and your feet are quick to approach him. Your nipples tingle, your core is throbbing and your cheeks are adorned by a beautiful blush that Jungkook doesn't miss. 

He doesn't move until you're in front of him, just to help you lower yourself on his lap, your cheek and your nipples touching the mattress and your ass up. You close your eyes when Jungkook skims his fingertips over your skin, his carressing relaxing your body until he eases your nerves a bit. He sighs when he notices the way that poor excuse of a thong sticks between your folds as his strong hands massage your buttcheeks. 

He's taking his time, his fingers gliding over your soft skin, his breathing too calm for your liking. Until one palm of his hand collides sharply against your right cheek, sending your body forward. You gasp, the stinging making your body want to pull away. But he's quick to catch both your wrists behind your back, keeping you in place. 

"Jungk-!"

Another smack, this time harder, on the same cheek. 

"Did I give you permission to talk?"  

Smack. This time on the left cheek. Your back arches on its own will, presenting more of your ass to him unwittingly. Your eyes squeezed shut and bite the inside of your cheek as you rub your thighs together. You keep quiet as his hand lands another blow on your ass. 

"That's a good girl. Now," his voice is gentler this time as his hand soothe your reddened cheeks. "do you think what you did tonight was okay?" you say nothing, only a mewl slips past your lips. Another smack. "Answer me."

"No." you lick your lips, anticipating more. 

"Do you think it was funny to pull a stunt like that?" 

Smack.

"N-no!"

"No, it wasn't. Spread your legs for me." you do as you're told and he finally pulls down the drenched piece of lace down your thighs. He leans forward, spreads your cheeks with one hand as he lets a glob of spit fall directly into your lips. He makes you gasp when his fingers start sliding up and down your folds slowly. 

"I've had to put up with this kind of behavour since the day you begged me to fuck this tight, virgin pussy like the little slut you are." you whine, face red as humiliation starts to creep in. Jungkook slips one finger in, pumping it slow and easy. Your hips move to take him deeper.

"I tried to be a gentleman, you know?" he says, adding a second finger. "I've tried to treat you nice and sweet and be the best boyfriend I could be to make you happy and keep you satisfied in every sense of the word." his thumb finds your clit, rubbing tortuous circles. 

"Been compeletely whipped since I kissed you for the first time. Haven't looked at other girls because I just can't when I have everything I want to look at right in front of me." murmuring, he starts to get lost your pussy and how it swallows his fingers and how obscene you look and sound, dripping right on his trousers. He watches his fingers moving in and out, almost hypnotized. "Yet, somehow..." he pulls away. You whimper in protest. 

"Somehow, you still seem to doubt me." His hand smacks your cheek again, wet fingers spreading your essence all over your skin.

"P-please, please." you cry. You miss Jungkook's sadistic smile before he releases the grip on your wrists, still keeping you on his lap. Both his hands spread your cheeks now, and another glob of spit falls right into your asshole. His fingers find your cunt again, easily taking you almost over the edge.

"If you could only look at yourself right now... All spread out for me like a needy whore in heat" his thumb teases your unexplored rim, hesitantly, coating it with his spit and your own arousal. He presses in slowly. You gasp, your body tenses and Jungkook stills his movements immediately. There's silence for a few seconds. 

"Too far? Should I stop?" and there's your Jungkook, concern lacing his voice. His free hand caresses your back, your body relaxing, laying back down obediently. His fingers are still inside you and his thumb is still asking for entrance. He leans forward, placing a small but comforting kiss on the bruised skin of your right asscheek. 

"Go on." you whisper, but he doesn't move right away. This time, it's his own body that tenses momentarely before going back to his tranquil demeanor. He breathes through his noise as his fingers pick up where they left off. 

"Yeah?" you swear you hear him swallow a lump in his throat. "Gonna let me finger this tight little ass like a good slut? Mm?" his thumb slides deeper, slightly stretching you out while his fingers work your pussy in a solid rhythm. "Gonna let me stretch you out little by little until I can open you up with my cock one day?" his movements speed up, fingers sliding out of your cunt to play with your clit and his thumb slowly moving in and out. "You don't wanna talk now? You just want to stay silent while I fuck your ass and-"

And then you're cumming, so unexpected it takes both of you by surprise. Your hands grip onto Jungkook's sheets, your thighs clasp around his hand as you scream his name. He doesn't stop though. He rides you through it, encouraging words mixing with filthy insults that prolong your orgasm until you're squirming beneath him. 

"Shit, baby... My hand is soaked." he mumbles, as he slowly removes his fingers and thumb from you. "You okay?"

You faintly nod your head yes, not able to find words through your dry mouth and your pussy still convulsing. 

"Good. Get on the bed. On your hands and knees." 

You somehow manage to slip from his lap and position yourself as he says. Except your arms and legs are shaking. Although the sound of Jungkook undoing his belt and his hands gripping your hips and bringing you towards him until the head of his dick is at your entrance is enough to make you forget about how tired your body is. You surrender to him, not even bothering to hold yourself up on your arms, your fingers crumbling the sheets and your face buried into the pillow. 

When his cock enters you, a pitiful moan leaves your mouth. His thick lenght slides into your heat, filling you perfectly as he always does. It's a wonder how well he fits inside you. 

"Such a perfect slut for me. Always ready for me to do whatever I want with her, since day one. So tight, so ready. So, so perfect. All mine." he talks as measured as he moves, dragging each word out as his hips find a nice tempo. 

Then he doesn't move for a while with his dick buried between your walls, and you know he's holding himself back. You turn your head slightly to look at him. He catches your eyes instantly. Sees your mascara running down your watery eyes, and your smudged lipstick and your messy hair and then he's giving you that look. That look that lets you know that Jungkook is, indeed, whipped for you. Leaning in, he presses his shirt-covered chest to your sweaty, naked back. His cock dives deeper, not an ounce of space between you as he lovingly kisses your cheek until his mouth finds yours. 

He kisses you hard but soft, tongue meeting yours for the first time since you entered the room. Jungkook is not a man of words. He's silly, and a jokester, and finds it difficult to express how he's feeling. But when he kisses you, or looks at you, when he touches you, or when he makes love to you, even if it's as dirty and filthy as right now, he's always able to transmit exactly what he can't vocally.

He's telling you there's no other place he'd rather be than here, with you. 

When he pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, his hand moves to the back of your head, fisting your hair in a tight hold that makes you arch your back and desperately moan for him.

"A-and you're mine." you sob.

It's like something snaps inside of him. He growls and suddenly his hips lose control. He nails you against the mattress, his grip on your hair pulling your head back, his lips against your ear as your cunt clenches around his cock. 

"Just yours. All yours." his grunts send shivers down your spine and you're close again, even in the painful and uncomfortable position your body is in. Being at Jungkook's mercy and him being at yours is enough to have you seeing starts.

"This is the only pussy I want wrapped around my cock. Your lips are the only ones I want to kiss. You're the only one I want between my arms." It only takes two flickers of Jungkook's free hand against your nub and his next words to tip you over. "You belong to me, and I belong to you."

You squeal as you come, and Jungkook bites your shoulder to keep himself from doing so as well as he follows shortly. He fills you up with his release,  but he doesn't release you from him. He wraps his arms around your frame, both your bodies becoming soft as he rolls over to one side with your back still pressed to his chest, cock still inside you. His lips find their way to the skin of your shoulder and the back of your neck. His breath fanning your flesh makes you smile.

"That is so not like my sister. I'm telling you, she never gets jealous." Taehyung says over the phone. He's munching on something again and Jungkook would bet all the money in his wallet again he's eating Skittles. Red Skittles. "So, everything cool now?"

"Yeah, man. We just talked it out, you know?" Jungkook's gaze falls on you, laying on your stomach on his bed, laptop iluminating your face, earbuds on and your head moving to whatever music you're listening to. Jungkook would bet all the money in his bank account it's Shape Of My Heart by The Backstreet Boys. Or at least that's what he's been able to guess so far. He was never good at reading lips, specially when trying to guess boybands' lyrics. 

Friday's nights meant late 1990's/early 2000's pop nostalgia for you. It meant shaking his head and spending the following week trying to get Britney and Xtina songs out of his brain for him. Although lately, he hadn't been trying that hard. Jungkook sighs in content, not really trying to cover the fact that he might be looking at you like a starstruck teenager. Which, it was totally fair because that's exactly how he feels about you. "Communication is key, bro."

He keeps watching you until your head perks up and catch him gawking. You smile at him and he smiles back.

"By 'communication is key' you mean you actually fucked my little sister silly right? Bro, I swear, I'll block your numb-"

"Sorry man, gotta go." 

"And now you're gonna fuck her silly again, right? You son of a b-"

Jungkook hangs up just as you take your earbuds off, making his way to you to kiss you silly.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?”��

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

[anxious-ace]

I'm making a part 2 to the AU/headcannon shit post because damn it's getting long:

The soul-less sickness, as I already stated, only affects those that have no soul

You can catch it from another soul-less person (only after you lose your soul, if you sold it)

(If you were born soul-less, good fucking luck)

It's considered a variant of the inkness (the symptoms are very similar)

Has killed more people than the inkness (yes soul-less people can still die)

No one knows where it came from or how to kill it (but it can be killed)

Felix has borrowed Jack's uniform to do "stuff"

Zaleria is the leader of this clan of immortal time keepers

They all live in a cave out beyond Inkwell in kinda separate houses

Porkrind is absolutely canon and he absolutely still sells stuff (like the medicine for the soul-less sickness, I think that's illegal since he's not a licensed doctor)

The symptoms (of the soul-less sickness, and I guess the inkness too) are very similar to those of Angiostrongyliasis and Anisakiasis

Those symptoms being abdominal pain, nausea, vomiting and weakness, fever, central nervous symptoms (Angiostrongyliasis) as well as malnutrition (Anisakiasis)

(The abdominal pain and vomiting are symptoms of both)

Pluto doesn't usually travel with the circus (they have to get a sitter) but he's still around

Little!Sheba would always be seen protecting little!Felix from bullies and his dad

He will fight a bitch that mocks her weight/size in return

I don't know who would be the oldest out of the two of them or how they met (all I know is that Sheba and Felix don't have that much of an age gap)

I might make Sheba older because I think it'll be funny when people assume that the wisecracking and seemingly immature one is younger and the quiet and more calculating one (at least some times) is older and get very embarrassed when they find out that the opposite is true

Sheba does behave like a protective older sister when it comes to Felix and the soul-less sickness (his brother is, of course, also very protective whenever it strikes)

Like, they will not let just anyone touch him, not only does Felix have to know you (and vice versa), but Sheba and Jack also have to know you (and vice versa again)

Felix only really let's Sheba, Jack, Oswald, Kitty, Lillian, Karina and Charlie touch him when it happens (Charlie is usually tasked with alerting the others because he's only ten and can't do much in that kind of situation)

Sheba will just take Felix outside (during social events) if he feels uncomfortable/is having a panic attack and will do breathing exercises with him

Sheba was one of the first people that Felix came out to

Sheba can and will carry Felix whenever the soul-less sickness strikes

Even though he has a fear of fish, Felix will still eat tuna

(It's literally the only fish he'll eat)

He and Sheba have full on wars on April fool's day where they exploit each other's phobias

I like to imagine his old professor's house to be like a museum

(He is basically a human Blathers)

Jack is the reason for Felix's butterfly phobia

(He kept telling him that butterflies drink blood which made Felix think that they all do, he knows they don't but still)

As for his fish phobia, that's thanks to the fact that one knocked him into the water during a family fishing trip and drowned him when he was 3 months old

Felix's old professor is why he's a member of the Committee of Archeology (COA)

The class he taught was sponsored by the COA, but he explicitly requested they let Felix join

This was almost right out of college too (Felix boxed for a few years before officially joining the COA)

They're this international group of archeologists that decide where their teams go + what they do at the site, they speak to the locals, tell them what they want to do at the site and ask if they can collect artifacts from that site

Most of the artifacts in Aurora County are on family or business-owned properties (very little gets dug up)

Some businesses have paid the COA to find artifacts on their land

The COA aren't a political body, but they do deal with local and international law a lot

They have a code name for archeologists who just steal artifacts instead of asking locals or doing it legally ("he's a Jones archeologist")

(It's referencing Indiana Jones who basically robs the temple among other countless crimes he commits)

The COA has a multitude of lawyers that make sure the COA follows international law

Museums have paid them to put artifacts in them, but they kept saying no (unless the locals and government let them)

Locals usually make the decision to put things in the museum themselves (the COA has to know that they 100% want historic artifacts from native civilizations in a museum though since they give the info and estimated dates they need)

They basically need a certificate of expedition before they do anything

Toons can choose to have a human name (ie. Cup chose Conner and Mugs chose Mat/Matthew) so they can fit into the human parts of the country easily

Jack's wife's name is Aroa and his part of the family (him, Aroa, Karina, Inky, and Winky)'s last name is Bolea

[v-velvetykisscs]

Safety Net

Chapter 3

"Come in." a voice from within says clearly, with a neutral tone. Jean turns the right doorknob, opening the door softly, stepping in.

I mirror his step and subconsciously position myself behind him, shielding myself from whoever was inside.

"Hey Eren, I came in to report o- Shit man it fucking reeks."

Jean pinches his nose, and when the scent reaches me my nose burns. Weed and whiskey fill the air. "Crack a window open dude, have you been basking in this smell all evening?"

A husky voice, fills the silence: "What do you care, this is my fucking office." the male coughs, his tone amused.

I'd expected him to scold Jean, but their informality had stunned me.

What had Historia pulled me into? Why hadn't she told me about this place? About these people? How had these series of events unfolded in a single night? I felt like I would never understand.

The more I thought about it, the more I didn't want to understand. I wanted to escape this feverish nightmare as fast as I could. That man was going to draw his gun on me and Toria without giving it a second thought. I can't let that affect me now.

This man is going to give me my answers, whether it's by choice or by force. It didn't matter to me.

"-She insisted on speaking to you." Jean explained, his body half turned to eye me as he spoke. 

I'd zoned out.

My hands were clammy and my heart thrummed in my ears. I inhaled, frowning slightly. I clenched my fist.

"Well then, If you'll excuse us."

Eren had said, ushering him out of the room solely with his authoritative tone.

I feel a small breeze sway past me as Jean walks out. My eyes darting around the room, trying to take in as much detail from within the darkness. Heaps of paperwork are stacked on a small table in the opposite corner of the room from me. Dark figurines above furniture. Trophies. Then, my eyes caught onto his desk; black and smooth, a coffee stained mug had been used as a pen holder, 2 ink pens spilled out of the mug onto the desk for use. A grey apple laptop laid folded in the middle of his desk. A tiny, turned over picture frame on the left. An ashtray to the right of it and a half empty glass of whiskey. The bottle nowhere insight.

Could use some.

I finally allow my eyes to land on the man before me. The twisting shadows of the room only display the sharp angles of his jawline, a pair of full lips and a perfectly straight nose.

No stubble, he must be young.

He slowly rises from his seat and walks slowly toward me, one hand in his pocket. He's wearing a navy blue suit and his white shirt is 4 buttons undone, showing a glimpse of muscle. He moves smoothly around his desk and stands in front of it, he leans back, tilting his head up a little, revealing a pair of emerald eyes staring right at me, illuminated by the dim corridor light. His shoulder-length hair glistens in the light; like smooth, silk curtains.

He uses his free hand to raise two fingers in a beckoning motion.

"Come and sit" he speaks.

As I take measured steps towards the leather cushioned chair, he holds the back of it, waiting for me to approach it and pulls it out for me to sit. I plop down on it softly, maintaining hard eye contact. I catch a small whiff of his personal fragrance: a mixture of pinewood, men's deodorant and a hint of cologne, entwined with the intoxicating smell of the room. I cross my legs as I eye him retreat to his own seat. I tear my eyes away for a second to eye the bookshelves on either side of the room, then to the wide, window panes taking up the space behind him, the yellow city lights half hidden by blinds.

"Seems like you haven't caught a break today"

"Not by choice." I respond, with venom.

He reaches for the blunt resting on the ashtray and holds it between his index and thumb, placing it between his lips and using a lighter to ignite it. We both look down at it as a bright orange flame forms at the end of it. He takes a puff and blows it out behind him. I hold in a cough. He reaches behind his head to tie strands of his hair back.

His calmness is beginning to irritate me.

I inhale and place my hand on the table.

"I came here to get answers, not to get some half-assed sympathy." I watch his face for irritation or outright anger but he takes another drag of his rolled up grass. 

He wasn't going to give in if I'd kept with this method. I had to catch him off guard.

He chuckles. "You've got fire, I like that."

I stay silent, my eyebrows in a hard line and my jaw clenched.

I stay focused on his movements, awfully calm to my liking. He drops the pot back into the tray and reaches next to it to grasp the glass of whiskey. Suddenly I take notice of the discoloured white bandage around his moving hand, encompassing his entire hand and knuckles as he downs the rest of the bitter drink with a small gulp.

Why isn't he hiding it?

"Seems like a nasty injury you got there. Is it recent?"

I don't miss his eyebrow quivering in the dimness.

He's surprised.

"It is, I got it taking care of something."

"You mean someone."

His mouth stretches into a smirk.

"You catch on quick, doll."

He's twisted.

"I don't want to know about you or your filthy business, I just want out." I assert.

"Nothing's ever that easy. Now that they've seen you they'll want to go after you. They know you're with us."

He's off his rockers. He can't seriously think that after being forcefully dragged into his mess I would wilfully stay.

"They? Who's they?"

"My brother and his men."

I laugh in pure disbelief:

"Oh so that's what this is about: a petty, fucking gang war between 2 immature brothers. Great. What's next? Initiation? Training? Killing?"

"Pretty much, yeah. But the killing is not necessary unless you're in immediate danger." His tone is light.

This is a joke to him. He finds this entertaining.

I stand wordlessly and move towards the door.

Note:

Here's chapter 3, sorry it's a little shorter than the other two. There's gonna be more coming soon. Thanks for reading <33

[shwazzberryswriting]

Thin Walls

Pairing: Xiaojun x Original Female Character, BUT this is mostly about Yangyang, Hendery, Lucas, Ten, and Winwin being idiots

Genre: Crack, Comedy, Humor, WayV Being A Mess

Summary: Yangyang and Ten weren't supposed to know about Xiaojun's hookup on their last night in Bangkok, but there they were, in Lucas and Winwin's room, everyone but Kun were listening to Xiaojun have a better night than them next door. ---- This is my companion piece to my 500 word drabble "The Last Night in Bangkok".

Word count: 1.7k

Rating: PG-13; sex talk and mentions of sex noises, one kissing scene, some swearing

Author’s Note: I never intended to write anything beyond those 500 words in my drabble, but it’s inspired this crack piece. I kept thinking about a scenario where the guys would be immature and listen in on Xiaojun. I can’t help myself when I touch stuff in crack territory. Thank you for reading!

------------

    It was supposed to have been a secret but Yangyang picked up on a scheme happening when he saw Hendery leave his hotel room just 20 minutes after they returned to their hotel. WayV had had an eventful day in Bangkok, and they were all supposed to be getting ready for bed since they had a flight back to Seoul the next day.

    "Wow, you smell like a million bucks," Hendery said as he exited the room, looking behind him.

    "When are you leaving?" Xiaojun's voice responded, soft and calm, which meant he was nervous about something.

    "Where are you going?" Yangyang spoke up, walking out of his room, which was directly across from Hendery's room. He’d wanted to hang out with Hendery and Xiaojun since Ten and Kun left with their manager to grab some late night snacks from the convenience store just across the street.

    "Don't break your bed," Hendery said before Xiaojun shut his lips tight, his eyes narrowing slightly, and shut the door on Hendery. With a self-satisfied grin, Hendery finally turned to face Yangyang. "Hey, man. Uh, Jun has a fever and I don't want to get sick so I'm rooming with Lucas and Winwin."

    The door to the right of Xiaojun's room swung open and Lucas walked out, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

    "Hey, Jun's hot date arrive yet?" Lucas asked Hendery in a stage whisper.

    "No! Shut up before we get caught!" they heard Xiaojun's muffled voice demand from behind Hendery.

    "Jun's getting laid?" Yangyang asked. Hendery and Lucas froze as they stared at WayV's youngest member.

    "Uh," was all Hendery managed to say before the elevator doors nearby swung open loudly and they heard Ten's voice.

    "...takes me forever, too," Ten was talking to a chick who had a nose ring, her jet black hair tied into short pigtails.

Ten and the chick stopped nearby where Lucas, Yangyang and Hendery were standing as they continued talking. She and Ten were pointing to the tattoos on their bodies, and he grinned as she pointed to a large tattoo on her right hip. Part of it was visible as she was wearing a yellow crop top, her fingers gliding over the ink on her skin. Why were Xiaojun and Ten flexing their hookup skills?

    “Hey, you all should be in bed,” Kun said as he handed a bag to Yangyang. “We have a flight to catch in the morning.”

    “We’ll manage, Kun-ge,” Lucas replied as Kun handed him a bag of crisps though Lucas hadn’t asked him to buy him a snack. “You should get to bed, though. Old people are very grumpy when they don’t get enough rest.”

    “Don’t make so much noise,” Kun lectured the guys as Hendery and Yangyang joined in on teasing Kun. “Go to bed soon.”

    Kun and their manager left for their room next to the room Yangyang was sharing with Ten.

    “Hey, Ten, did you get a drink?” Lucas spoke up immediately, waving his hand in front of Ten’s face.

    “Uh-yeah,” Ten replied, turning his attention away from the woman he’d been talking to. “Are you guys OK? Why is everyone out in the hallway?”

    “Um, have a good night,” the girl said, giving Ten a polite smile. “I’m meeting my date here.”

    “Bye, Malee,” Ten said, having gotten her name when he’d entered the elevator with her.

She gave a nervous laugh as she walked to Hendery and Xiaojun’s room, and knocked on the door, paying no mind to the 4 guys staring at her. Granted, Ten was the only one checking her out, while the other guys were busy wondering how Xiaojun had charmed a chick who seemed too cool to be into a nervous weirdo like him.

    “Hey,” Xiaojun greeted with a bright smile when he opened the door to his room. His eyes lit up as his date greeted him cheerfully.

    Malee placed a hand on Xiaojun’s shoulder and kissed him as she took his hand with her other hand, guiding it to rest on her hip. Xiaojun slammed the door shut behind him, seeming to not have noticed that everyone but Winwin and Kun had witnessed him kiss a girl Ten had been flirting with. Yangyang threw his hand over his mouth and made spurting noises, trying to stop himself from laughing as he saw the confused and affronted look on Ten’s face. His eyes were furrowed and his mouth was hanging open in shock. Lucas and Hendery joined in on the snickering as Lucas pushed his bandmates into his room. By this point, they all had to keep together to prevent Kun from finding out.

    “So she’s hooking up with Jun?” Ten asked, sounding offended, once Lucas and Hendery brought everyone up to date on Xiaojun’s last night in Bangkok.

    “How many people are we going to have in here?” Winwin demanded, curled up in his bed, his eyes glued to his phone. “I was told it was just Hendery.”

    “Shh! Shh! Shh!” Lucas shushed, waving his arm in the air as he sat close to the wall that was facing Xiaojun’s room, putting his ear close to the wall.

    “Really?” Ten scoffed, giving Lucas a stink eye as Hendery sat down on Lucas’s bed and opened up a bottle of water to drink.

    Yangyang stood next to Lucas and mirrored what Lucas did. Both guys threw their hands over their mouths as there were sounds of what had to be Malee moaning followed by what unmistakably was Xiaojun groaning. Lucas’s eyes went wide as he continued to listen and Yangyang doubled over, laughing so hard no sound came out. He fell down to the floor and weak wheezing noises came out of him before Ten bent down to check if he was OK.

    “Xiaojun!” they heard Malee say loudly, her voice both rough and sweet, before there were more sex noises from both parties on the other side of the wall.

    Xiaojun and Malee continued making plenty of sex noises and Winwin continued to shrink into his bed and hide under his covers while the other guys were trading commentary. As Lucas ate his crisps, he gave an impressed nod at a noise Malee made. Hendery traded snacks with Yangyang as Ten laid down onto his stomach on Lucas’s bed.

    “No, baby, put that away,” Ten said, pointing at Yangyang as he saw Yangyang pull out his phone. “We can’t record this.”

    “What?” Yangyang replied. “I’m going to take a selfie, so I can show Jun what I looked like when he got lucky. ‘Xiaojun, I took this when your date screamed your name,’ it’ll be funny to see him get embarrassed. Ten, do you remember when you thought that girl was into you but it’s Jun she’s into?”     Hendery and Yangyang began snickering while Lucas gave a shit eating grin as Ten got up and motioned like he was going to choke Yangyang, but merely shook his head and sat down at the foot of Winwin’s bed. They were all stuck in the room, both intrigued and mortified at being able to hear Xiaojun getting laid.

    Things went quiet until Lucas realized that Xiaojun and Malee had moved to the bathroom. He, Yangyang, Hendery and Ten moved along the wall to get closer to where Xiaojun’s bathroom was located. The noises in the shower sounded much more lewd which made Hendery’s face turn red and he squealed into a pillow as he got into Winwin’s bed.

    “Did you really have to?” Winwin groaned as he felt Hendery sit down next to him. “You guys all act like you’ve never watched porn or something. Go to bed.”

    Unable to put up with the heightened horny state of his room, Winwin left to find some peace and quiet in Ten and Yangyang’s room. It was his loss, because 5 minutes after Winwin left, the guys were finishing their snacks when they heard Xiaojun and his date talking.

    “It’s too bad you won’t be here for another night,” Malee said. “My college is doing a fashion show tomorrow, and my friends are throwing the after party. They would have totally loved to meet you and your bandmates.”

    “At least you and I got to meet each other,” Xiaojun replied.

    “Wow! That’s smooth,” Lucas said in a stage whisper. Ten looked impressed too.

    “Let me know if you return to Bangkok soon?”  Malee said, her voice sounding hopeful.

    “I mean, I don’t know if-when...you know,” Xiaojun was beginning to stutter over his words, clearing his throat a little too much. “I can’t-always know-I mean, I would like to-”     The guys all began snickering as Xiaojun’s true nature sprung to life. He’d just had wild sex and didn’t start to fall apart until he had to wrap things up.

    “This is the guy who landed a hot date,” Ten said softly to himself.

    “You’re so cute,” they heard Malee say in response to Xiaojun’s word vomit. “I had a great time.”

    “Say something,” Ten gritted through his teeth when there was nothing but silence for more than 5 seconds.

    “Come on,” Lucas said softly, raising his fist in support of Xiaojun.

    “Uh, yeah,” Xiaojun said as he sounded like he forgot how to use words, “you were...you’re such a beauty.”

    “You’re so sweet,” she said, her voice overflowing with affection. It was shocking to all four guys that somehow this girl found everything about Xiaojun appealing, even when he was being an awkward weirdo. “You’re so cute when you get shy with me. I can’t leave you yet.”

    “Malee, I can get my-oh, fuck-yes!” they heard Xiaojun’s voice say loudly.

    Lucas’s eyes went big and he returned to pressing his ear against the wall. Hendery and Yangyang looked at each other with their mouths open as they froze at the unexpected twist in Xiaojun’s hookup.

    “You’re kidding me,” Ten muttered, throwing his hand over his mouth.

    Xiaojun made high pitched noises, and Hendery and Yangyang could take it no longer, falling onto Lucas’s bed as they gave out belly laughs. They rolled around and kicked the air and the bed as the sex noises continued. Lucas joined in on the laughing, and Ten could only shake his head in disbelief. When they heard Xiaojun make the real farewell with his date ten minutes later, Ten talked the other guys into finally going to bed.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“Come closer--allow me to spin you a story.”

A fun little aesthetic update to the blog, my dear readers.

Recently, I commissioned the talented @loliya-art to bring the little cursed Raven to life. They created a variety of cute expressions for her, so I will be utilizing those assets in some of my responses to non-requests.

Please check out loliya-art and consider supporting them!

Who is this mysterious maiden cloaked in black feathers?

It’s Raven~

Twisted from the raven of the infamous Alice in Wonderland riddle, “why is a raven like a writing desk?”. She never existed, was never truly depicted--now, she is an idea given a form.

Random headcanons for her under the cut.

Raven is a young lady! However, she often refers to herself as they/them, since she feels that a narrator/storyteller must remain “neutral”.

150 cm tall; she is a smol birb.

She lives in Crowley’s attic. The room is piled high with books and papers, littered with bottles of ink and quills.

Constantly reminds her Uncle Crowley he should be more responsible--though he just caws right back that she should just relax and enjoy her school life.

Sometimes she helps out Uncle with his duties, since she feels bad that he has taken her under his wing at no cost to her.

Keeps a diary to record her adventures and observations. She thinks she’s being clever about where she keeps it, but we all know it’s stuffed under her pillow. (No peeking allowed, or she will peck you!)

Her taste in fashion is very gothic lolita.

Jumpy, especially around loud sounds.

Has the appetite of a bird, but she’s very curious about trying new and exotic dishes.

Besides the obvious hobbies (reading and writing), Raven also likes to people watch, raise little plants (they help perk up the room!), and brew (as well as name) new colors of ink. Most recently, she made a lovely peacock blue-green and labelled it Brilliance.

Special talent? Making increasingly outlandish excuses to avoid romantic scenarios and advances. She knows the tropes and how to disrupt the mood but it’s a shame that a certain eel knows exactly how to twist her words against her.

Her guilty pleasure is snuggling up with a good old fashioned romance novel or shoujo manga...but she will vehemently deny it if you ask her about it.

Speaking of denying things, she does that a lot. What a tsundere. It’s more of a defense mechanism than anything, since she is still rather emotionally immature.

Her big words and self-important way of speaking are just a way for her to mask how easily flustered she is...as well as to hide her deep-seated trust issues.

Despite how serious she tries to be, Raven does find herself daydreaming a lot. Daydream about what, you ask? Of her happy ending. A bird is allowed to dream, right?

She would describe herself as pragmatic and sharp-tongued--but at one point, she was innocent, gullible, and soft spoken. Raven hates that old, foolish version of herself.

Her mortal enemies? Savanaclaw and Rook. That entire dorm is teeming with predators--and Rook is a predator in his own right. They just rile her feathers up—though recently, she has started to get along a bit better with him.

Friends with Riddle, if only for their shared distrust of the Leeches. They have little tea parties and shit talk the twins over scones and sandwiches.

Not particularly close to any of her other peers. She gets along with them just fine, but seems to hold people at a safe distance.

Do not ask her what her opinion is on leeches or eels. She will snap at you.

Raven uses her powers of observation and skill with wordcraft to mend the relationships of those around her. If two friends are fighting? She’ll get them to reconcile. Someone’s looking for love? She’ll give them a slight nudge.

How selfless of her--or is that the curse talking, the tomes calling for new tales to be penned, and the raven looking for inspiration?

Not the best athlete. She has very slow reaction times and is just...overall clumsy. The only thing she is decent at now is running away from things that scare her.

Generally frail and weak. Sucks to be her. Can’t swim, and can’t fly (at least not in her human form). Again, sucks to be her.

True to her namesake, she has the ability to turn into a raven, though it only seems to happen during moments of intense distress or weakness. After a certain amount of time elapses, she turns back into her human form.

Raven can summon an enchanted swing set to fly her human form here and there. She has decorated it with ribbons and tissue paper flowers to make it look pretty.

Hates the hot weather--it makes her molt.

You know what else she hates? Leeches. They’re the absolute worst.

Know what else she hates? Jade Leech. He’s the absolute worst.

[hermannsthumb]

"newt isn’t sleazy and is also too busy wrestling with the ethics of hitting on his hot TA if the guy is 5 months older than him to even notice" pleeeease write this

Anonymous asked: "When I Kissed the Teacher" AU ft professor newt and his hot 5-month-older TA hermann

and coincidentally, this older one

Anonymous asked: i just rewatched mamma mia 2 and was wondering if i could request a "when i kissed the teacher" newmann fic?? love your writing!!!!!!

Ask And Ye Shall Receive. sorry ive been MIA 😔 concept from this post I made earlier this month. idk what class newt teaches that hermann would be qualified to TA for but just like, decide for yourselves

---------------------

Newt’s never been a list-making kind of guy, or--for that matter--even really a planning ahead kind of guy, but certain circumstances have thrown his life more out of wack than usual lately, and he kind of needs the stability the like of things like lists offer. Desperate times and everything. Or, at the very least, Newt is desperate. 

So Newt plans, and plots, and deliberates, and he even agonizes a little, but most of all, he makes a list.

On one half of the page, he writes pros. On the other, he writes cons. On top, he writes--what else?--Hermann.

The problem started in late August. Newt knew for months he was going to be assigned a teaching assistant come that semester--it was him, after all, who’d suggested it to the dean in the first place--but the Hermann Gottlieb of extensive, impressive, overachieving CV and overly-former cover letter was a far cry from Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh. Newt expected a dork, frankly. Someone too socially awkward to feel brave enough to thank someone for holding a door open for him. He expected a PhD student so eager to please he’d cater to Newt’s every whim, whether it was grading horrendous freshman lab reports or fetching him a sandwich from the commissary between class sections. 

They met for the first time at the campus coffee shop. Hermann was dressed in an oversized pair of slacks, a threadbare green sweatervest, and honest-to-God saddle shoes; the buttons of his Oxford were done up all the way, from the collar to the cuffs, and an ornate cane was settled against his thigh. His haircut was tragic. “Dr. Geiszler,” he said, all clipped and English, and held his hand out to Newt. “Hermann Gottlieb. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m an admirer of your work.”

"Sup,” Newt said, and tried to bump their fists together.

Newt knew he was in deep shit then. It wasn’t just because Hermann was gorgeous (which he was, in a sort of weird, frumpy, ripped-outta-1945 way), or that the scowl he proceeded to level Newt with made his soul wither and his heart race a little bit too fast, but both of those things in conjunction with a big one: Newt was, and is, so fucking love-starved. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of being made a professor when he was as young as he was and completing a PhD before he completed puberty. His early twenties should’ve been spent dyeing his hair terrible colors and adding to his already impressive tattoo collection and having questionable hookups with other young twentysomethings; unfortunately, the only young twentysomethings Newt ever seems to come across are his students, and he has a very strict code of ethics. Not to mention it wasn’t like he was getting any action before that as a weird, gangly teenager with peers several years his senior. He was bound to latch onto the first genius hottie who crossed his path who wasn’t trying to flirt their way into bumping that B- to a B+. And better yet, Hermann is five whole months his senior!

The shit only got deeper when the semester started. No, Hermann was not the sort to fetch Newt sandwiches, or coffee, or Aspirin from his office, nor was he the sort to handle the dreaded lab reports (at least not unless Newt handled them with him), and he definitely wasn’t eager to please. Newt, anyway. If anything the opposite was true: he seemed to actively derive enjoyment from undermining Newt at every turn.

“Wrong,” he’d mutter during class if Newt screwed something up in a lecture, or “No, Geiszler, you’re doing it wrong again,” or “How in the blazes did you get three bloody PhDs when you can’t even do simple addition?” and snatch Newt’s dry erase marker away to scrawl his own answers on the whiteboard. It was less like having a TA and more like having...well, a bitchy, annoying co-teacher. Or, God help Newt, a colleague. And boy, did he wave those five months over Newt’s head like a fucking flag. Newt was immature; inexperienced; clearly not as serious about his studies--his completed studies--as Hermann. Meanwhile Newt’s class (bright young twenty somethings, taller than Newt, cooler than Newt, with more friends than Newt) would giggle and snicker, and Hermann would look smug.

It drove Newt fucking batty.

It also made him, like, super turned on.

The two can co-exist. Apparently. Hermann Gottlieb is already helping Newt discover new and existing concepts; what a fucking excellent TA he is. Someone give that man a raise.

So Newt draws up a list, and he writes Pros, and he writes Cons, and he writes Hermann. The pros are regrettably easy to come up with, because Hermann is Hermann, and (bitchiness and undermining of Newt aside) it’s unfair how many he has. Hot. Stupid sexy accent. Stupidly smart. This is crossed out and replaced with so smart he makes me feel stupid (in a good way), because it seems like an important distinction. Glasses on chain. Mysterious. (In a tall, dark, and handsome way. Sort of. Average height--which is tall to Newt, pale, and handsome. He still scowls more than he talks, which makes him feel mysterious. In a Bronte sort of way. Newt can picture Hermann drawing a billowing cloak around his shoulders and stalking some desolate moor in the moonlight, though in this case maybe’s more of a puffy parka than a cloak.) In tiniest font of all is makes me laugh, because Hermann does, goddamn it, with his snide asides and cutting remarks and sarcasm, often not even directed at Newt when it’s just the two of them alone in Newt’s office at night.

The placement of “is my TA” on the chart is acting as a particular annoyance to Newt, entirely on account of the fact that he can think of several pros and cons for that as well, and he’s not sure whether to nestle it between dark eyelashes and once called me a moron in front of my class and I got a hard-on or beneath sweaters smell like sweat and mothballs, has annoying tic of clearing throat when lost in thought, and the dick wins 86% of our arguments. Sexy forbidden fling. Abuse of power. Is older than me so it's not as weird as it could be? I’m his boss. The school’s paying Hermann though, not Newt, and it’s not like he’s going to scurry off to the dean and demand Hermann’s funding slashed if Hermann turns him down (which he’d most likely do). But it still feels like a breach of ethics.

On the other hand, Hermann is exactly the sort of guy he’d try to pick up at a bar if he still did things like that. (Tenure, rather than giving Newt breathing space to kick back and relax a little, has only increased his obsession with his work, and now when he gets a Friday night free to himself he mostly switches crap on the TV and falls asleep with his cat on the couch.) It’s about the experience, the impossible task of seducing someone who--by all accounts--is too straight-laced and tight-buttoned to indulge in something that debase. They were always the best in bed. Tension, Newt knows, has to snap at some point.

He’d like to wrap Hermann’s personal piano wire around his thumb and bang away at the keys until it snaps, too. Ethics, Newt thinks (folding up the list and stuffing it out of sight), his ass.

Newt sacrifices a Friday night with his cat and Unsolved Mysteries in favor of working on a solution to his Hermann Problem. Swamped with work, he tells Hermann over the phone, it fucking sucks, dude, I could really use your help in my office, and Hermann grumbles, and snaps that Newt should learn to be better prepared for his own damn classes, but declares he’ll be on campus in half an hour and that Newt will be ordering him takeaway for dinner as an apology.

The door swings open at half past five. Hermann is bundled in that heavy parka and scarf (which, even for a Boston November, still looks a little too warm), and his hair is damp. “Is it raining?” Newt says, perhaps stupidly, because there’s not a single droplet of water anywhere else on Hermann’s body.

Hermann makes a face at him and pushes the door shut with his cane. “No,” he says, tersely.

“Then why...” Newt touches his own hair.

“I was taking a bloody bath,” Hermann snaps. “I don’t work on Fridays, as you well know, Newton.”

The use of his full first name stings Newt oddly even as the notion of Hermann luxuriating in a bathtub excites him. “That’s Dr. Geiszler,” Newt snaps back, because goddamn it, he’s Hermann’s boss, he deserves respect, and then mentally adds a small, depressing tally to the Cons half of the board. Ethics, ethics. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He throws his scarf and coat viciously at the small couch in the corner of Newt’s office, then takes his usual seat across from Newt. “Well? Where are those papers it’s so crucial we grade?”

Hermann in a bathtub, Newt thinks. Hermann naked. Papers, Newt thinks. “Papers,” Newt says, and he shoves a stack at Hermann with twice as much force as he means to, causing several to flutter to the ground. “We need...to grade them,” he says. Hermann naked, in a bathtub, maybe some candles lit around him, some nice music on, daydreaming about that wretched professor he works for. Damn it. “I have a pen,” he says. “To grade.”

“What on earth are you saying?” Hermann says. “Be quiet. I can’t concentrate with your abominable prattling on.” Then he mumbles something that sounds like incessant, rips the top paper off the stack, and begins to slash at it in red ink. He doesn’t bother gathering the two from the ground.

Why did Newt invite him here, again?

Oh, right. He pushes his glasses up his nose and feigns casualness, pulling out another paper for himself to grade. “A bath,” he says. “Just to, uh, relax? Or...?”

Hermann narrows his eyes. “Or?”

Newt shrugs. “It’s Friday. Were you getting ready for a date or something?”

This time, Hermann’s mouth twists down into a frown. Almost suspicious. “Why do you care?” he says.

“I don’t,” Newt says quickly. “Just making small talk.” God, he could picture some stud of a computer science PhD candidate winning Hermann over with techno babble--or maybe one of his fellow students, ugh, maybe they made a study group together that meets Friday nights, and Hermann was getting all gussied up, goddamn handsome astrophysics grad students--

“I was relaxing,” Hermann says. “You must be aware at this point you cause me a great deal of stress, Dr. Geiszler, on a daily basis.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

He gives up on the small talk after that. Hermann’s promised takeout arrives--a small carton of pad thai--as does Newt’s--a large carton of the spiciest thing they had on the menu--and they eat in silence. They have about three-quarters of the papers to go when Hermann suddenly sits back in his seat with a groan and rubs at his eyes under his granny glasses. “Bugger,” he says. “I can’t fathom this one for the life of me. I’m too tired.”

“It’s getting kinda late,” Newt agrees. “Maybe we should--”

“It’s not that,” Hermann says. “I had a glass of wine earlier, and--oh, it doesn’t matter. Your students need to learn how to write in a way that’s actually bloody legible--it’s like chicken scratch.”

Newt hops up and leans over his shoulder, squinting down at the page. Hermann’s hair smells nice, like something floral, and his skin has a small hint of what could almost be cologne. Why is Hermann wearing cologne? “Okay, let me see it,” Newt says, struggling to keep from getting lightheaded at the close proximity to Hermann. “I’m used to that kind of shit.”

“No,” Hermann says, drawing the paper close to his chest. “I am perfectly capable of managing it on my own.”

“Dude,” Newt says, “let me look at it, seriously. Hermann--”

He manages to tug it away from him. The handwriting is pretty bad, but the math seems to be worse. “Didn’t they do the readings?” Newt mutters under his breath. “That’s not even the right equation for the diameter. I gave them a cheat sheet, man.” They’re junior year engineering students--they should know this shit.

“I know what the equation is,” Hermann snaps. “I can grade it on my own. Give it back.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t know,” Newt says, “I said this kid--”

“It’s the radius squared--”

“Hermann, dude,” Newt says, “I know you’re--”

And that’s when Hermann grabs him by his skinny tie and kisses him, hard. 

They stare at each other afterwards. Hermann’s eyes are as wide as saucers; his mouth is hanging open. Newt’s tie slips from his fingers, which then fall limp to his lap. “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks.

Hermann is gone with a swish of his parka and a loud clack of his cane. And with a stack of papers Newt still has to somehow get through. Figures.

Their next few classes together are subdued. Hermann doesn’t interject any of his biting commentary or corrections, or even offer critiques of Newt’s lack of professionalism (when in the past his skinny jeans were such an easy target), and when the period is over, he practically sprints from the classroom before he and Newt can be alone together for even a second. It’s fine by Newt. Whatever. Maybe Hermann can get over it over Thanksgiving break, and Newt can try to get over the memory of Hermann’s strong fingers tugging him down, Hermann’s floral shampoo, Hermann’s chapped, wide lips against his, the little grunt of shock Hermann made as he did it, like he couldn’t believe his own audacity...

It’s not likely.

It’s December, the last week before finals, and Newt’s in his office bundled up in a sweatshirt (because the heat never seems to fucking work in here), revising a draft of an exam, and dreading the thought of trudging home in the snow, when there’s suddenly a knock at his door. Anticipating some overeager freshman here outside of office hours, he doesn’t look up as he says “Come in.”

A familiar clearing of a throat.

Newt shoots straight up to his feet. He knocks a mug of coffee to the floor in the process. “Hermann,” he says. “Uh. Hi. What--what are you doing here?”

Hermann shuts the door behind him, then takes a careful step forward. He’s back in his big dumb coat and big long scarf. “I thought I ought to tell you myself first,” he says, primly. “I’ve submitted a request to the dean to be reassigned to another professor next semester. Our research interests are far more in line, and I don’t imagine our personalities shall clash as much.”

“Oh,” Newt says, pretending his heart isn't sinking in his chest like a hunk of lead. Was he that bad of a kisser? He feels like he deserves a second shot at it--he wasn’t ready last time, you know, he bets he’d really wow Hermann if he had a fair heads up. “Are.. are those the only reasons why?”

“No,” Hermann admits. “They’re not.”

He crosses the room, and corners Newt against his desk before Newt even realizes what’s happening. “They’re not,” he says again, then adds in a murmur (lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Newt’s hair), “Dr. Geiszler.”

Neither of them talk much, after that.

[meganshinsou-tm]

Crimson|Ink. (m)

↳ chapter thirteen: wounded

❧ genre:  tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima

❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: minor panic/anxiety attack

❧ chapter song: Wounded by Good Charlotte

♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

Hot and suffocating. 

That’s all Kirishima felt at the moment, his blood peaked boiling temperatures and the air around him became thick. Unwanted images wouldn’t stop playing on a endless loop in his head as he chugged down another glass of whiskey and hummed upon feeling it burn down his gullet. 

Kirishima was starting to sweat and he let out a breath, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe his brow and look around. You weren’t there anymore, just a minute ago you were hauled out of the club over Bakugou’s shoulder and now Kirishima had no reason to stay. His fun and happiness was gone – you were gone.

Groaning, Kirishima kicked his bar-stool out from under him and he stood up to stomp from the bar, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. Sero who was at the other end turned his head at the commotion and frowned. He gave Shouto a look and squeezed his shoulder before ending their small talk and following his friend outside.

The club door slammed open and Kirishima stalked out of it, mumbling to himself about how idiotic he was and how he was going to beat Bakugou within an inch of his life the next day. His hands reached into the back pocket of his jeans to fish out his truck keys when he suddenly heard that sound. 

The blood pumping organ in his chest started to flip and he looked up, red eyes scanning the area until he found the source of that sweet and beautiful laugh that he’d recognize anywhere. When Kirishima had found you, he sighed and narrowed his eyes, clutching the keys tighter in his fist and feeling his heart plunging straight into his stomach.

Bakugou had you seated in the passenger side of his SUV, turned and facing him as he attacked your neck and jaw with playful kisses and bites, his fingers squeezing and fluttering on your sides and making laughter fall from your lips. That stupid smile formed on your face before the blonde surfaced and claimed it with his own vile mouth in a rough kiss.

‘That’s mine’, Kirishima thought while he watched and bared his teeth.

That smile. That laugh. That mouth. You. It was all his … or it was supposed to be his. 

Kirishima took a deep breath and went to walk towards you and Bakugou until he was being pulled back by the elbow. He grunted and turned his head to look and find that Sero had his elbow wrapped in tape, a grin on his face as he tugged at Kirishima and started to drag him away in the opposite direction.

“The fuck, Sero?”

“We’re going for a walk Red, chill out.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and pulled his arm back. “Can you at least let go of me so I can actually walk then?”

Sero chuckled and released his friend. Kirishima looked back once more to see Bakugou walk over to his side of the vehicle and get in before he turned back forward and walked alongside the raven haired man. Kiri shoved his hands into his jacket pockets with a sigh and looked at the concrete below him.

“So what the hell did you say to make her go home with Blasty and not you?” Sero questioned and pulled his beanie down over the tips of his ears.

Kirishima shrugged, shaking his head.

“Nothing at all.”

Sero quirked a brow and looked at the red-head from the side. “Obviously not.”

“Look, I made this dumb joke about how it was odd that fuckhead back there wasn’t trying to cock block me when he acts like she’s already his territory or something. She got pissed about it, saying she doesn’t belong to anyone and why the fuck did it matter to me that she got attention from others. She asked if I had something to tell her - like she knew something but I just froze and I didn’t say anything. I think that’s what did it more than anything.”

There was a small pause before Sero began to laugh. Kirishima watched his friend shake his head, the action only seemed to make him angrier.

“The fuck is so funny?”

“Do you not think before you talk, dude? Of course that made her angry. You act as if you want her one second and then completely blow her off or bring up Bakugou the next. You not saying anything was probably just icing on the ‘pissed-off’ cake. She really did give you an open invitation to tell her all that shit you’ve been feeling, that she knows you’re feeling, and you fucking blew it. Think about it, man. How would you feel if the roles were reversed? If she had been tugging you along the entire time while you knew she had feelings but didn’t wanna fess up, but you also had someone who is treating you well right there? You’d be pissed off and going after Katsuki too. You can’t be pissed at her for that, Ei.”

Kirishima blinked and stopped walking. Quirking a brow and looking at Sero with his red eyes narrowed and a growl forming in his throat. 

“What do you mean she knows?”

Sero raised his own brows and chuckled nervously before looking away and whistling into the cold air. Trying to pick up his pace a little more. The red-head started walking again, faster, to catch up with Sero. He was fuming from the ears and roughly grabbed him.

“What the fuck did you tell her huh?” Kirishima barked, putting his friend in a choke-hold.

Laughing and trying to fight the massive man off, Sero struggled to get his reply out.

“Dude, it’s painfully obvious, to not only everyone else but also her, what your true feelings are! She’s not dumb you idiot! (Y/N) figured it out on her own by asking the right questions alright?”

Sero finally found an opening and roughly elbowed Kirishima, making him release and let go of him. After straightening his clothes, Sero playfully pushed his friend and shook his head.

“Hitoshi explained it perfectly! He said you’re both like these two elementary school kids and instead of being nice and showing your feelings in a normal way, you’re mean to her and when she goes home crying to her parents and asking why you’re so mean they explain that it’s because you like her. We’ve all been trying to tell you Ei to just fucking tell her and make a move, because she knows! Why do you think she forgave you after that shit you pulled the first time huh? (Y/N) had a feeling there was something different about you man, that’s why that night hurt her so fucking bad because she knew you were lying, then when we all pretty much confirmed it, she decided to give you another chance, to right your idiotic wrong - because she’s crazy for your dumb ass too!”

Kirishima sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. Just the mention of Hitoshi had him getting pissier but not only because he didn’t like the dude, but - because he was right. They were all right. 

Kiri knew he was acting childish. The more time he spent with you and getting closer, the more he realized just how immature his actions were and how uncalled for they were. 

He hated to admit that Hitoshi was right but he would admit that Sero was right as well. Kirishima briefly put himself in your shoes and thought of how angry and hurt he’d be had you dragged him around, denied him after getting his hopes up, after kissing him the way you do. Sure he may have witnessed you and Bakugou locking lips but there was no way you were kissing his friend with even a shred of the passion and desire you had for him.

“What the fuck have I been doing?” Kiri quietly breathed out after a long moment, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he looked up at the sky.

Sero smirked and stood next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezing it, his own eyes looking up at the sky too. 

“Red - we’ve all been wondering that same exact question. Of all the people in the world, in that shop, she wants you and to be honest ... Ei, she really needs you. You don’t know half the shit that girl has been through, you think you’re protecting her by not getting involved but in reality, getting involved is the way to protect her.”

Kirishima looked down to Sero, tilting his head and going to question but Sero was already answering.

“I can’t tell you, man, I’m sorry, I promised her.”

“No, it’s fine. I get it. She trusts you,” Kiri sighed and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and gave his friend a half smile, “That’s just something I’ve got to earn as well.”

Sero smiled and watched Kirishima start to walk back in the direction they came from, wrapping his coat around him tighter and walking to catch up. 

“So what does that mean?” 

Sero couldn’t help how his smile widened, his friend gave his signature sharp-toothed grin and stood up a little straighter.

“It means I’m gonna go get my girl.”

“You never told me you had a dog!”

Bakugou chuckled as the two of you entered his unusually lavish home and were greeted by a black and brown doberman - well more like tackled to the ground. 

The blonde didn’t bother helping you up, letting the animal drown you in excited licks and woofs, in fact you seemed to be enjoying it and actually smiling for the first time since you entered his vehicle. His hand ruffled your hair and pet the dogs head when he passed and scratched at his chin.

“You didn’t ask princess. Want anything to drink?”

Giggling and hugging the massive dog close and let it continue to love on you, your head nodded.

“Uh yes please, anything you got is fine. What’s his name?”

Walking into the kitchen, Bakugou smiled and talked over his shoulder, “King Explosion Murder, or just King for short.”

A hearty laugh escaped from your chest at the ridiculous name and you cupped the dogs face, pressing your nose to its wet snout and shook your head.

“You poor baby, I’m sorry your daddy gave you such a terrible name!”

“Hey, he’s a killing machine with an unquenchable thirst for fucking blood! I wasn’t going to name him something like Max!”

At the same time, you and the dog both looked at Bakugou with an expression that was asking if he were serious. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene and shook his head. You went back to loving on the animal, cooing and talking to it like a child, rubbing his belly as he rolled over onto his back and drooled, tongue hanging out and tail wagging. Bakugou smiled and let you be, it was a pleasant change in mood from how you acted on the drive to his home.

All throughout the drive, you had grown quieter and quieter. It was fucking weird. Usually you never shut up, especially around Bakugou, always full of jokes and taunts, trying to get any kind of reaction or attention from him. It was odd for you to be so - shy, or better yet, nervous. 

The tattooed blonde could feel the anxiety slowly growing more and more and just dripping from your body inside of the SUV. He even asked at one point if you were alright, to which you answered with, “I’m fine, never been better.” 

It was short, empty. Bullshit.

The silence allowed Bakugou’s lust to die down and his head to clear, not that it wasn’t clear to begin with but most of his rational thinking was hazy when he had you melting so quickly beneath him against the wall of the club. 

Bakugou realized why his friend was so damn crazy about you the second he kissed your lips and heard those needy whimpers. It took everything he had to not take you then and there or even in the vehicle. Aside from that though, Bakugou also knew that it wasn’t just the physical stuff that Kirishima was so crazy about, it was also just in the looks your eyes would give, the way you’d speak out names like they were some sort of enchantment, and just you being - you. 

Any man would be out of his goddamn mind to not be crazy over you and any man would take this chance, this vulnerability you had right now, to swoop in and steal you for them-self. As much as he wanted to be one of those men, Katsuki Bakugou just couldn’t.

It was your silence and itty bitty “I’m fine,” on the drive home that told him everything he needed to know. It was all he needed, to know exactly how to take care of you.

“That red-headed idiot fucking owes me,” Bakugou mumbled to himself quietly as he started to boil some water for coffee. 

While waiting, he got out his drip-brewer and filters, set them up and looked in a cabinet for some coffee beans. In the background he could hear the sound of a dog toy squeaking, probably from King going and finding it to bring to you. Soon the toy was heard being flung across the room, followed by the sound of claws against the hardwood as King tried to catch traction to run off after it. You laughed and Bakugou chortled, he’d be damned if he admitted it to anyone’s face but that laugh did something to him. 

Pleased with himself, he rubbed his hands together then walked back over to you, holding a hand out.

“Come on princess.”

You looked up at him after tossing the dog toy again, King taking off. 

“No drinks?” You asked while taking Bakugou’s hand and letting him help you to your feet.

“I’m drip-brewing some coffee and it’s gonna take a few minutes until it’s done. Now if you don’t have anymore questions, lets go.” 

He replied, still holding your hand and leading you out of the room and down the hall until reaching a bedroom.

You quirked a brow and felt nervous all of a sudden. Bakugou looked at you from the corner of his eye after you took a deep breath and squeezed his hand, it was clammy in his and you hoped he wouldn’t notice. 

The blonde walked you over to a massive king sized bed, a dark-red bedspread laid out with plush matching pillows.

“Sit down for a second,” Bakugou instructed and you obeyed.

He stood before you, taking your chin between his finger and thumb and making you look up at him. You swallowed thickly, your own fingers fiddling as his red eyes stared down at you. 

Bakugou leaned down enough to kiss your lips, the kiss being much softer than the ones shared at the club. You quietly whimpered and kissed back, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. Bakugou groaned softly, his hands cupping your face tightly but with a gentle care to them. 

It was so new to you, the way Bakugou was kissing and touching you, it was so … sweet. Almost sad; like it was the last time he’d kiss you. 

Your fingers started to tremble and you tried not to cry, for some reason there was something taking over you, emotions starting to surface but you didn’t want them to boil over. 

Not tonight. Not here. Forget him.

Hesitantly, Bakugou finally pulled away from your lips, his crimson red eyes staring back into yours once again and searching. His thumbs brushed your cheeks and he huffed a breath of air, smiling the faintest of smiles.

“Tell me the truth, are you okay?”

Your heart started to slowly descend down into your stomach, suddenly feeling nauseous as you looked back into his eyes. 

Red eyes. His eyes. 

No, they’re not his eyes. 

You blinked rapidly, chest heaving from suddenly panting. Bakugou quirked a brow and repeated the question. You nodded, clearing your throat and looked away.

“I-I’m fine Katsuki.”

Bakugou grunted lightly before standing straight. His knuckles brushed against your cheek before he turned away and walked over to a dresser. While he started to dig around in one of the drawers, you sighed and rubbed the side of your neck suddenly feeling awkward. It was strange, you never felt awkward around Bakugou. Only what felt like a few minutes ago, you were all over the guy, begging him to bring you here, all for one thing. 

Your cheeks started to heat up and blush at the thought now, you did come here for one thing. To forget.

Your eyes closed and you nodded. 

Your hands came up and gathered your hair to one side before going to the cropped jacket you wore and nervously sliding it off. Next, your fingers slipped under the shoulder straps of the dress and pulled it down your chest until it rested around your hips. Suddenly you felt cold and shivered, feeling the air against your skin as you sat there halfway exposed, only a black lace bra gracing your chest. 

Bakugou turned around, his eyes widening when they fell upon you sitting there, waiting. He held a garment in his hand, his fingers clutching around it tightly while he took a deep breath and walked back over to you and dropped it on the mattress.

“You really are a work of art, you know that?” He breathed out and let a finger lightly run down your sternum and over the black ink of the octopus that marked your skin.

Your teeth chewed at your lip and you softly smiled, your hands finding the belt of his jeans and going to undo the buckle. 

That was, until strong hands were stopping you. 

You grunted and looked up, Bakugou looking down with soft eyes and an expression you couldn’t, or didn’t want to, decipher. Your eyes narrowed and you tried to go for the buckle again but Bakugou quickly grabbed your wrists and stopped you once again.

“What do you think you’re doing, princess?” He asked in a tone that dared to hold pity.

Teeth bared, you glared at the man before you.

“Uh - what I came here for. Now are we going to do this or not?”

Bakugou sighed and shook his head, lowering your wrists and letting go before placing a hand to the back of your head as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You scoffed, the gesture making the blood in your veins boil and a fire rage behind your eyes, something was up and you knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“No, we’re not doing this.” Bakugou replied.

You sniffled, fighting back the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes and stung like a thousand bees. Out of rage, your palms made contact with Bakugou’s abdomen and pushed him back, making him grunt and slightly stumble backwards. He went to talk but you quickly cut him off with a whimper that shattered his own heart into a million pieces.

“You f-fucking asshole,” you spoke with a shaky breath, hand coming up to wipe at your eyes before going to pull the dress back up your body, “W-what, I’m not good enough for you e-either, huh? Fuck you b-both and whatever sick g-game you’re playing.”

Your vision started to blur, the tears were now free-flowing and you started to break down. Clumsily you tried to slip one arm into the dress straps and struggled which only made you sob harder.

“God fucking damn it!” You yelled out and slipped from the edge of the bed and onto the floor, bringing your knees up and curling in on yourself against the bed.

Bakugou cursed and quickly fell to his knees and crawled to your side, grabbing your body and pulling it into his arms and lap. You struggled against him and beat at his chest, trying to get away. 

“Make up your f-fucking mind K-Katsu ... god I can take the rejection from h-him but not you.”

Bakugou hushed you as he pulled your head back and against his chest, his hand petting your hair lightly, letting you sob into his shirt.

“Princess, it’s not that I don’t want you. Fuck, I’d be goddamn mental if I didn’t want you! You have no idea how much I’m restraining myself from just claiming you as my own and telling everyone else to fuck off.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” You cried out.

Bakugou smirked and cupped your cheek, looking down at you and making you look back at him through the tears as his thumb wiped some of them away. He shook his head and sighed, resting his forehead down against yours.

“There isn’t a damn thing wrong with you.” Bakugou kissed your forehead before speaking again. “Baby, you don’t want me. You want him.”

Your head shook frantically, teeth gritting and the blonde only smiled and kissed your cheek.

“Don’t shake your pretty little head at me, you do want him and I know it’s hard to believe right now but - he wants you too. I can swallow my own pride enough to see that, to make sure that you don’t do something so fucking stupid with me that you’d regret the moment you saw his stupid face again tomorrow, no matter how pissed off you are at him right now. I know you’re hurting right now and only want to forget about him but you and I both know you don’t really mean to erase him entirely, just long enough for the hurt to go away right?”

You shrugged, sniffling and nodded.

“Right. Look I told you I was going to take care of you tonight, and I don’t fucking back down on my word. You did agree to doing things my way so -” Bakugou paused and grabbed the clothing off the bed and held it between you, “Just take that shit off, put this shirt on and let me take care of you. Let me feed you, we can talk however much or little you want to, I’ll try and answer whatever questions you may or may not have and I’ll just be here for you, alright? I’m not letting you be alone this time, not like the last time.”

Bakugou cupped your cheek and made you look up at him, a look on his face that asked if you understood him. By now your crying had somewhat calmed and you were breathing fine. After a long sigh, your eyes blinked and you nodded yet again, cupping his hand on your cheek and kissing his palm.

“Okay Katsu, we’ll do things your way.”

He smiled and placed a quick peck to your lips before brushing your hair back. 

“That’s my girl. Now take your time, my bathroom is through there if you wanna wash up or anything. Meet me back in the kitchen when you’re ready, I’ll start making you something special.”

The two of you stood from the floor, before Bakugou could turn to leave you quickly wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him tight. He grunted from the force and chuckled as he hugged back and kissed the top of your head, ruffling your hair before you released him and allowed him to walk out of the bedroom. 

You took a deep breath and started to remove the dress from your body, leaving it on the floor and replacing it with what was one of Bakugou’s t-shirts. It was a few sizes too big which worked perfectly to cover the lower half of your body. After going to his bathroom and washing your face, you opened the bedroom door to leave and yelped when King quickly sat up from his spot on the floor.

Smiling, you pet the dogs head and he followed you back into the kitchen where Bakugou was already prepping food. You cleared your throat, rubbing the side of your neck and stood next to him. 

“Can I help you with anything?”

The male smiled and shook his head before wiping his hands off and turning to pick you up by the hips and sit you on the counter-top.

“No princess, you just watch and talk,” he replied and reached for a coffee mug that was full and handed it to you. “Here’s your creamer and sugar with coffee.”

You giggled and took the mug, thanking him before drinking it eagerly and humming at its warmth and taste. Looking down there were ingredients laid out and being prepped for what looked like one of your favorite dishes.

“Katsudon?” You chimed.

Bakugou nodded, “I told you I was making something special for you.”

“Wow Katsu, I didn’t know you were so domesticated!”

The blonde glared at you and nudged your knee with his elbow. “Shut up before I spit in it! Now you wanna tell me what Shitty Hair did?”

Pressing the mug to your lips, you took a massive gulp of the coffee and rose your brows. Feet swinging from the counter, you sighed before replying.

“I don’t even really know - we were doing so well and then tonight we just clicked, you know? We got a little carried away and he suddenly just brought you up, saying you acted like I was ‘your territory’ and that just set me off. Maybe I shouldn’t have let it get to me like it did, but it did. I gave him a chance Katsuki, a massive fucking chance to tell me what he was feeling, what he wants, and you know what he did? Absolutely fucking nothing!”

Bakugou hummed and nodded, looking at you briefly with a smirk.

“So you do know, that he likes you, that is.”

You laughed and nodded, rubbing the side of your neck.

“Of course, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, I’ve always sort of known. Sero and Denki actually confirmed it for me that day you and Kiri left for whatever reason. I have to say though, your friend has an ass-backwards way of showing that he likes someone. I swear he drives me up a wall with his back and forth shit but since we have been doing so good lately I thought that just maybe he finally was done with his bullshit but I guess not?”

Bakugou started to cook the meat he prepped and looked your way, quirking a brow.

“What, you asking me?” He chuckled.

“Well - yeah. Katsu, you’re the closest one to him and you’ve known him longer than I have.” You sighed and slightly frowned, looking down at the coffee in the mug and tracing the rim of it with a fingertip. “I feel so fucking dumb ... he makes me feel so dumb but even after tonight well, you were right, I don’t want to write him off entirely just yet but the question is, shouldn’t I? I mean I’ve given him chances, chances to keep rejecting and hurting me. I’m stupid right, to hope that he’ll change?”

Getting emotional again, your nose scrunched as you sniffled and caught a whiff of the food cooking. Looking over you were surprised to see how far the blonde had got while you had ranted. Bakugou got to a point to where he could let the food just simmer and he moved sideways to stand between your knees. He took the mug from your hands and sat it on the counter, replacing the loss of warmth from it with the warmth of his own hands as they took yours. His red eyes looked up and he smirked.

“Are you sure you want my opinion and advice? I mean not like it’s bad, I only give the best!”

Your eyes rolled with a laugh, you leaned forward pressing your forehead to his.

“Yes, I need the great Katsuki Bakugou’s advice or else I’m going to lose my ever loving mind!”

The blonde chuckled and cupped your cheek and placed a quick kiss to it.

“Alright princess, but only because you said the magic words.”

Bakugou took a deep breath and ran a hand through his spiky hair as he went back to cooking.

“First off, you’re not dumb or stupid because he does like you. If he wasn’t as crazy as he is over you, then I’d agree that you are and that you should drop him fucking fast and move on but that’s not the case here. That idiot has been absolutely and disgustingly smitten with you since you walked into his fucking studio and got that damn tattoo. Believe or not, your guy is a hopeless romantic and believes in that dumb shit like love at first sight and ‘just knowing’. I know it may be hard to tell but Kiri truly is a good guy, he’s the charmer out of us all but he has changed since you showed up and he does have his reasons.”

Your eyes narrowed and you thought back to the night in Kiri’s truck and his excuse about having reasons for treating you like dirt. It only made you want to call bullshit. 

“You know this isn’t the first time I heard that he has ‘reasons’ for acting the way he does, so what the hell are they?”

The male only chuckled and shook his head, stirring the food around.

“(Y/N) I really wish I could tell you but that is for him to say, just know that whether you want to believe it or not they are very valid reasons, at least in the beginning they were. Me and the others have told that guy countless times to just put his reasons aside and man the fuck up but he’s still hesitant, he only wants to make sure that it’s - what’s best for you.”

“Well last time I checked I was an adult and can make my own damn decisions,” you snapped, jaw and fists clenching.

Bakugou snickered and nodded. 

“Oh I fucking agree and I told him that myself. Look - sometimes I think Kirishima’s quirk goes a little further than just his body and even into his own brain, causing him to be really fucking dumb! So I have a suggestion, if you truly want to know what you should do next.”

You nodded eagerly and leaned over, getting closer to Bakugou and he quickly caught your hand before it could make contact with one of the hot burners of the stove-top. You gasped and heard a growl coming from him.

“Be careful! God knows what would happen if we showed up tomorrow and you have a fucking burn of all things on your pretty little hand. I’d be dead!” 

Bakugou sat you back up where you were and shook his head.

“Knowing Kirishima, he’s gonna think a lot tonight about what he did wrong because trust me one of those other idiots will point it out for him. You can bet your ass that tomorrow he’ll try to apologize again, grovel and everything in between to make get you back on good terms with him. One of two things will happen, either he’s done being an idiot and tells you how he feels and things will get better or he doesn’t. If the latter happens then, well - call him a coward.”

You blinked rapidly and scoffed. “Pardon?”

“You heard me princess. Call him out on his bullshit and tell him how you feel! Tell him he either needs to shit or get off the pot before someone else comes and steals you away, guarantee, he’ll change real fucking fast. You see, you have yet to tell him your own feelings little one, so if he knows how you truly feel, that you’re stubborn about those feelings and want him to act on his own then I promise you that will solve the majority of your problems.”

“Hmm.”

It was all you could do while really letting what Bakugou said sit and saturate. He was right, Kiri wasn’t the only one who hadn’t made their feelings known and maybe you doing just that would show him that you are serious and you’re tired of the back and forth. Sure it may a little bit of tough love to get it through his skull but it would work. 

Kirishima was the type to take a challenge, same as you were, that’s why you both were so attracted to each other. Your relationship even from the first day was nothing but one huge challenge and the truth was, it always would be but that didn’t mean it had to be a bad thing. You smirked and looked at Bakugou, now finishing the katsudon and platting it for the both of you.

“You know if this backfires I’m fucking you up Katsu!”

With a wicked grin, Bakugou laughed and stood before you again, his hands on your thighs and gently squeezing them as his head tilted. 

“If this backfires princess, then that just means I can take a shot at being your man instead.”

You smiled and playfully poked at Bakugou’s nose before sighing and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging and holding yourself close to him. He shook his head, arms wrapping around you as well and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

You finally felt relief for the first time in ages about the whole situation and felt so appreciative of Bakugou in general. He could’ve been low and taken advantage of you, something you thought you wanted but what he knew deep down inside was something that would only end up being a regret. There was a newfound appreciation you had for him now and for his loyalty to his friend. With a hum you nuzzled your face into the crook of Bakugou’s neck, hugging him tighter.

“Thank you Katsu, thank you for taking care of me. I love you.”

Bakugou smirked and dared to feel his heart skip a beat, his hand rubbing your back softly.

“Tch, you gotta fucking remember, we’re a family and we take care of each other. No matter what, me, Sero, Denki, all of us will always take care of you princess. You just say the word and we’ll be there, no matter what.” He replied and turned to kiss your temple. “I love you too brat. Now, let's eat and get your ass in bed!”

Giving Bakugou a smile, you nodded and let him remove you from the counter-top and back down onto the floor. He instructed you go and sit at the dining table while he brought over the food and different drinks. In no time the two of you were eating, you mostly scarfed the food down not realizing just how hungry you were until the food hit your stomach. Bakugou would chuckle and smile proudly as he’d watch you eat and enjoy the meal he made. 

He was happy to see you finally at ease, he could tell that just from the talk, a massive weight had rolled from your shoulders just by the way your body seemed more relaxed. Bakugou felt more than accomplished and felt that all in all, despite your little tiff with Kiri, the night was good.

After eating, you both cleaned up the food and dishes, you yawning here and there, body slowly shutting down as you’d move slower. Once done, Bakugou picked you up like a child, to which you instantly melted into him and held on while he carried you back to the bedroom after shutting off all the lights in the kitchen. Eyes feeling heavy, you were in and out of sleep and faintly heard the sound of King’s claws against the hardwood as he followed along. 

Soon you were being laid down on the bed, body feeling heavy and sinking into the mattress, making you sigh at how comfortable it was. Bakugou pulled back the covers and positioned you underneath them before tucking them around you. He patted the spot next to you and King jumped onto the bed, quickly making himself comfortable right next to you and snuggling. Your hand pet him lazily and eyes tried to open and focus on Bakugou.

“You’re sleeping with me right?” You asked with a groggy voice.

A kiss was placed on your forehead and Bakugou brushed back your hair.

“Of course princess, you gotta let me change first though.”

After earning a nod, Bakugou smiled and went to change out of the clothes he wore, stripping down to just his briefs and going to the bathroom to wash his face before he returned, turned off the lights and crawled into the bed. 

Upon feeling his body sinking onto the mattress, you turned and wrapped around the male, cuddling him close and burying your face into his chest. Bakugou didn’t complain, only wrapped around you in return and started to pet your hair as the other hand pet King who was on the other side. You were perfectly sandwiched between him and the dog, feeling safer than you had in months. A few moments of silence had gone by and Bakugou was sure you had fallen asleep before you sighed and pet at his chest, mumbling something with a sleep laced voice.

“Katsu, I - I need to tell you something.”

Bakugou grunted, falling asleep himself and held you tighter, giving a light squeeze.

“Hah - what is it?”

“... I’m in danger Katsuki ... running, I’m running from him.”

At this Bakugou was quickly more awake and aware, he craned his head to look down at you in his arms. He felt his stomach lurch but he wasn’t shocked, he himself had thought this before.

“From who princess?”

Your face nuzzled more into his chest, warm breath fanning his skin and your lips fluttering against it as you spoke. 

“My ... my ex, he hurt me you know, my legs.”

The blonde nodded and continued to run his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

You started to quietly cry somehow in your half asleep state, choking on your words.

“H-he - I almo-most d-died Katsu, he j-just left me to d-die and - “

Bakugou cut you off quickly, his hand cupped your face, tilting your head up and using his mouth to silence your own in a kiss. Your eyes screwed shut and tears flowed yet again as he caressed your cheek and let the kiss linger, his warm lips enveloping yours in a comforting hug. When he pulled away, Bakugou let your face fall back into his chest and he shushed your cries, hand rubbing your back as King crawled even closer and laid his head in the curve of your hip.

“You’re safe now princess, I told you, we’ll take care of you, Red will take care of you. J-Just go to sleep, you need some rest. If you really want to tell me more then tell me in the morning over breakfast. Sound good?”

Your arms and legs wrapped around Bakugou like a vice and you hummed.

“Okay Katsu,” you kissed his chest, “Goodnight.”

Bakugou nodded and stayed silent as he held you, listening and waiting to feel your body grow heavier in his hold, for your breathing to slow and for you to finally slip into a deep slumber. 

King let out a quiet whimper and Bakugou smirked, his free hand petting the animals head and he kissed the top of your head before quietly speaking.

“Don’t worry King, we’ll protect her. I promise. That idiot better straighten up and do right by her, or else I will.”

[catharrington]

@harringroveweekoflove day 2: magic au

Special Responsibility.

Magic wasn’t for the weak of heart. Steve learned that the hard way after his heart was shattered by one Ice Princess. But even with a broken heart and a desire to never practice his mother’s old spells again, Steve still found himself jumping at the call to protect someone. Especially if that someone is Billy Hargrove.

(2.2 k words. Sorry I’m a little late on the day. I might have started writing today while on the clock at work whoops. This is a short one slightly inspired by The Craft but mostly inspired by my wish to see Billy feral.)

***

Steve had balled up and thrown away all his occult things years ago. All the candles and dried flowers, chalk and bleached bones, mushrooms, crystals, even his book that his mother gifted to him first day of high school.

Her long fingers rested over its dark bound cover like a birds claws around a tree branch. “Are you sure, Steven?” She asked without disappointment in her voice and somehow that hurt worse.

“It’s just not...,” Steve wanted to say his cup of tea but that was immature. More than anything he wanted to be mature, and wise and powerful but in time he realized he didn’t need his mother’s blessings or spells for that. “I am sure.” He steadied his eyes with her and for a moment her slim fingers looked like the claws of a demogorgon but only for a moment.

She simply nodded. And walked away.

Now Steve was walking alone down a gravel covered drive way to a Halloween party he didn’t want to attend. But Nancy had just gotten off the phone with him and the collar tight on his neck still pulled for her.

“I didn’t know who else to call. Who else to ask?” Her words turned up like a question in a cute way. She quickly explained that she went to the party for the live band, Jonathan was a big fan, but something didn’t seem right. The air was static charged. She felt in her bones the same way she felt that day in the woods she accidentally crawled into another dimension. 

Cold. 

“I didn’t know who else.” She repeated again. “I’m sure Chief Hopper would just shut the whole place down. And the kids? What? There’s alcohol!” She scoffed at Steve’s question.

“Sorry I asked,” Steve dragged his words and his hand over his face. Then he agreed to be there as quick as he could.

At the end of the road there was a barn holding up against the will of nature. It’s red wood melted to one side asymmetrically and it’s roof was missing on the other side. That hole allowed the glowing lights of the party to dance across the sky. They flickered and Steve’s grip on his bat tightened in his hand.

Nancy and Jonathan were standing outside They were wearing matching lab coats and bright blue face masks pulled down to their gaunt collar bones. Steve could laugh at the idea of them in matching surgeon costumes but he held it in. “Doctor,” he greeted cheekily.

“Steve,” Nancy was happy to see him. “We have another problem.”

The two surgeons rattled on about all the quirky things that happened at the party. Steve wasn’t fully listening as he held his bat hard against his shoulder. But the last part about a certain Billy Hargrove made his ears perk up. 

Nancy explained how he was on stage playing the drums actually decent, part of the band, I know I was surprised too, then he just wasn’t. Only Nancy would notice something that small. But Billy Hargrove was never one to let his presence be small. Jonathan explained that he tried to go into the back to look around but it was locked up tight. Very suspicious.

Steve did agree it was strange, but it wasn’t otherworldly. Nancy pulled his collar again.

“I felt it.” Her words were cryptic but serious. “The same quietness, the same gross feeling. It was like it was just beyond that door.” Her thin fingers worked hard at the material of plastic gloves being wrung out in her hands.

It went unspoken. The upside down.

“And you want me to what? Knock down the door?” Steve watched them. Their joint yes also went unspoken.

Inside the party was loud, painfully so. Steve kept his bat pulled tight to his side as he snaked behind Nancy and Jonathan. The door was in the far corner to the left of the stage. Before Steve even got to it he could feel the energy pulsing from its heavy metal frame. 

This wasn’t the same upside down energy, however, this was far more familiar. This was a black ink staining everything it touched. This was candle smoke heavy in the air rolling out from under the door like a wet bog. Steve thought he had given all this up. 

“I’m going in alone.” He demanded before he even considered the words in his head.

Nancy was aghast, “No!” But she didn’t last long under Steve’s half lidded eyes.

He walked up and pressed his hand against the cold metal door. It was locked, but that didn’t mean much to him. With a little prayer they didn’t notice, Steve casually lifted his finger and the heavy latch unlocked on the other side of the door. He pushed it open easy then closed it softly behind him, blocking out Nancy’s endless questions.

A narrow hallway lead into darkness. Steve held forward his bat as he followed it all the way down to a cellar. The walls were still mud, freshly dug, and the music of the party was still loud. But from center of the cellar steady moaning hung like a lure on the water. 

Steve’s eyes adjusted to the soft light of a few candles burning in a circle around a blackened spot. Steve didn’t need his eyes to completely adjust before he realized what he was walking into.

“This isn’t happening.” Was all he could gasp.

In the middle of the cellar was a painted white circle interwoven with spirals and intricate ruins. Candles dotted along each ruin, black as the inky darkness, and burning red hot. Inside the circle stood a locked cage and inside the locked cage stood a man. Steve felt his breath catch in his throat as he found Billy Hargrove.

Another needy groan ripped the cold air and caused Steve’s cock to give a kick. Billy was standing up and holding the bars of the cage with both hands, his forehead pressed between them, those golden curls darkened from being dripping wet. Steve noticed he was once wearing a shirt and now it was rags torn around the belt at his jeans. Cuts and lettering criss-crossed his tanned glistening skin, Steve didn’t need to come closer to know what they were. But he stepped closer.

Steve walked cautiously into the drawn circle. Billy gave another long moan as if he could feel the other getting close. Lifting his open hand to the cage bars, Steve felt the energy coming off in tendrils, thick and wet, like the lines of drool going down Billy’s chin to his chest. 

That mess of blonde hair lifted and Steve had to stop a gasp as he saw once bright blue eyes turned a ghostly white. Teeth opened from a heinous snarl and they were a matching holographic glow. Steve let his fingers press against Billy’s wet cheek, and trace softy to his wet lips where pressing into the skin returned him a growl. Billy turned slightly to try and bite his finger but was much too weak.

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” A voice rang out in the darkness, but Steve already knew he wasn’t alone.

Two cold pairs of eyes stepped out of the shadows to glare into Steve. A boy and a girl and they held a heavy bound book between them. “Thought you out grew us, Harrington.”

His family name was a mockery on their lips.

“Let him go, please.” he said simply. Steve kept his palm on Billy’s cheek.

The boy laughed from the darkness. “Right when the fun was staring? No. This is our night. This is what we can take.”

Steve shook his long hair. “You can’t take this.”

“Why! Why do you get to tell us what we can do!” It was the girls turn to speak. Her voice was shrill and other worldly. “You left us to rot for your fucking Princess Nancy! You can’t lead us anymore!” She swallowed hard and shook out her head of tight curls. “Enslavement is the word I summon!”

Steve turned his head sharply. He saw the two right outside the candles with lights illuminating their cowardice. Tommy and Carol wanted to kill Steve, and sure they had a right to try, but they had no right to touch Billy.

Billy who was quickly loosing a battle of wills inside a metal cage.

Billy who’s mane of California curls was limp from sweat.

Billy who looked right at Steve but couldn’t see him.

Billy who moaned for Steve but couldn't speak to him.

Billy who had done a lot of shit and talked more shit but didn’t deserve this shit.

Steve didn’t think as he moved his palm from Billy’s cheek to the heavy lock on the cage door. He pressed against it and the metal gave way obediently. Billy let go of the bars and fell hard to his knees. 

Steve wore a sharp glare as he spoke. “This ain’t right and you two assholes know it. Magic isn’t a game.” He pulled his eyes from the positively burning pair to Billy’s snarling face. He had become like a wolf, crouched low, his fingers dug into the mud and his teeth were still glowing. Rabid almost, he struck out and bit at where he imagined Steve’s hand was. So Steve knelt down softly and hovered his hand above Billy’s carved up chest as he started.

His mother’s written words fell out of his mouth easily, like he hadn’t gone years without practice. A foreign langue once not foreign at all that held so much power. Especially powerful from the tongue of a Harrington. Carol was almost screeching from the distance and he heard the telling slam of a book into the dust.

Steve could remember his mothers voice as she gave him his book first day freshman year. “With our name and power comes a responsibility. How you balance it. How you use it. All up to you. But know everything comes back around in a circle. Magic has a reaction, Steven. We who use it have this special responsibility.”

And that’s why Steve threw away his magic. He had seen the darkest side of it, the cruelest side. A white haired man who stole little girls from their mothers and ripped monsters from the walls. Steve knew the physical way a failure of that responsibility would manifest into a creature with elongated arms and a mouth for a face who hunted the blood of teenagers for food. From that day he had thrown away his magic and swore to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Billy was looking right up into Steve’s eyes now. One of his hands had wrapped around Steve’s thigh, pulling heavy on the fabric, and ripping it.

Then, as quick as a blink, the blue in Billy’s eyes was back. He looked around wide eyed and without understanding. Confusion looked really good on him, Steve thought fondly.

“Hear me,” Steve’s voice was low and casual as he spoke. “What is done cannot be undone. With my power I lay claim. Protection is the word I summon. Protection.”

Billy shook the cobwebs from his head. He was never one to take long to recover, but he allowed himself the small weakness of using Steve’s arms to brace himself as they stood. 

There inside the circle of black candles Steve held his new responsibility in his arms. 

Only for a moment, however, before he stepped away and demanded answers to where he was. What was happening to him. “Pretty boy?” He leered in a reassuringly familiar way. “You rip my shirt off?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and looked away. Thankfully the room was dark and the designs carved into his skin were already disappearing. “Yeah,” he responded. Pointing down to his thigh where the denim was ripped back and bloody. “Just a little pay back.”

They didn’t notice how Tommy and Carol ran from the room or how the noise of the party seemed to dissolve. Steve lifted his bat again and shrugged as Billy’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

Outside Nancy and Jonathan we’re sitting on the hood of his car. The party was cleared out by an electrical failure and even though Nancy swore it was the upside down, and what was going on behind that metal door, they had to flee with the crowd and wait like good teenagers in safety. 

She lifted her head from her hands as Steve casually emerged followed by a shirtless Billy. Standing to run to them she wasn’t as quick as the glare on Billy’s face, or the way he turned and walked away from Steve before she even got close. 

Stopping by Steve, Jonathan in tow, she was filled to the brim with questions. Just boiling out her ears with what she wanted to investigate. But Steve just waved her off. Silly, gross party games he explained shortly. You wouldn’t be interested. He held his former status over her head like a cat reaching for a feather on a string, then he kept walking. Not in the direction of his parked car. But in the direction of a steel blue Camaro roaring to life. 

Nancy noticed but she kept her mouth and fists tightly clenched. Questions for another time.

[nocturnal-jeon]

𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚜 ➛ 𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒

tattooed non idol!yoongi x female reader

@httpsoju for my wife 

also i really loved writing this UGH 

part one of the tattoo series

______________________

Yoongi let out what sounded like a deep, manly squeal as the tips of your thumb and index finger closed around the skin on his arm, pinching him. Shooting daggers into your soul, the tattooed beau sitting in your client chair opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

“Don’t fall asleep in my fucking chair, Min Yoongi.”

Reaching up with his covered hand, chipped black polish on his nails, he rubbed the now red skin with a scowl on his face. “I need you to give me like an hour and a half more, are you capable of that?” you asked with a teasing grin, staring up at him. In one swift movement, he flicked the exposed skin on your forehead causing you to swat his hand away. He let out a deep, throaty chuckle. 

“It’s really not smart to piss off the person who’s tatting up your skin,” you lectured with a shaking of your head. Closing in on the pale skin of his arm, you once again placed the needle against the soft texture, tracing the outline you had drawn. “My usual guy doesn’t take this long,” Yoongi had the audacity to say, picking up his phone and scrolling through it. You huffed. “Well, you can sit here and wait until he comes back, then,” you sarcastically said, lifting the needle off of his arm. 

He sighed deeply, slightly turning his head so he could see you. 

“Don’t be stupid. Just finish it,” he instructed, all with a small yet gentle smile on his lips. Enduring nearly five years of friendship with the passive aggressive twenty six year old seated in front of you wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy knowing someone who always came off as judgmental and cold. It took you years to be able to read him, and while there were large sections of him he wouldn’t let anyone reach, you could practically read the other parts like a book. 

And really, all it took was a few of his closest friends to realize the most shocking thing about him. He had a soft spot. Reserved just for you. 

Hearing Yoongi hiss as you ran the needle over the same place caused you to chuckle. “You’re running out of space,” you commented, removing the needle to wipe away blood and dye. He sucked his teeth, throwing his head back. “I know,” his deep voice spoke. “I think you should let me do your other hand today,” you suggested, gazing down on his clean, untouched hand that rested on the dark black denim clothing his legs. 

“We’ll see.” He winced as you applied a new, stronger amount of pressure to a certain spot. Looking down at the sparkling rolex on his wrist, he said, “I have plans later.” You scoffed. “What, to sit inside your vampire hut with the windows boarded up so the sun doesn’t bother you?” you joked causing him to nod as if that were true. “Curtains just aren’t doing the job anymore.”

It went silent for a few minutes as you focused in on an intricate and complex section. Getting bored with the basic apps on his phone, Yoongi turned his head to look at you, a little bit of his pitch black hair falling over his eyes. You had just the tip of your tongue sticking out of the side. You always did that when you concentrated. And he found it adorable. 

Would he ever tell you that? Or anyone for that matter?

Hell no. 

“Quit staring at me, Min,” you warned, eyes not leaving the spot they were trained on. “Just trying to make sure you don’t fuck it up,” he said, perfectly covering for himself. You raised an eyebrow as a reaction, but remained focused. Which he liked. No matter how much of a difficult asshole he was, you always remembered to stay focused on your craft. 

At the sounds of the bustling streets and a certain high pitched bell going off, you could only assume that someone had entered the parlor. But you didn’t have any appointments after Yoongi, so it was probably Jungkook. 

“I brought lunch!” the youngest chirped. Bringing the needle up off the skin so you could wipe the blood, you looked up and over at the tall teddy bear covered in tattoos. There was a stigma that men with sleeves of tattoos were scary assholes. And while Yoongi fit that to a T, Jungkook was the complete opposite. He was like a child who got left with a sharpie and got creative, making silly shapes and imagines on his arms and legs. 

“Hey, Kook,” you greeted with a sweet smile. Jungkook was too much of a softie for you to tease him. That didn’t mean that the sneaky maknae wouldn’t tease the shit out of you and Yoongi. “I got you your usual salad, y/n, and Yoongi, I got you your chicken sandwich,” the youngest spoke, placing the bags down on an empty table. 

You always asked for salads because you wouldn’t have to worry about it getting cold while you finished up with a client. “Here, give it to me,” Yoongi said as he reached out with his free, completely-covered arm. Jungkook reached his hand into the bag and handed his hyung the sandwich, giving him napkins, too. 

The strong smell of the well seasoned chicken wafted through your nose and made your stomach grumble. But you were almost done. You just had to hold out for a little longer. You tuned out the conversation Yoongi had with the youngest and focused all your attention on the tattoo that was coming together nicely. And while you turned your ears off for the most part, you couldn’t ignore the feeling of hunger rocking your digestive system. Looking up for a split second, you saw that Yoongi hadn’t eaten much of the sandwich, but it sat nicely in his hand as he took a sip of his water. 

Momentarily taking off the needle, you leaned over and took a big bite out of the other side of the sandwich, causing Yoongi to stop speaking and stare down at you. With a sly smile, you licked your lips as you chewed the sandwich, focusing your attention back on the tattoo as if nothing happened. 

“Ew,” you said, face scrunching up. “Why did you get pickles? They taste horrible.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “No, fuck you. You’re not gonna eat my food and complain about it like you ordered it,” he grumbled, taking a huge bite and chewing with his eyebrows furrowed. Most would call his facial expression a pout. But that was a word no one was allowed to use with Yoongi. 

Let’s not forget, he had that “bad boy” façade going on. 

But if you got to know him for long enough, you would realize that he was just as soft, if not softer, than the maknae sitting comfortably in an armchair, some game on his phone. 

Things were silent for a little as you finished up the tattoo, cleaning up the last of the blood before clapping Yoongi rather harshly on the shoulder, causing him to give a dirty glare. You just chuckled. “What do you think?” you asked as you angled a hand mirror so he could see without contorting his body. With a serious expression, his eyes ran over each small detail, accessing how well it was done in his mind. 

“Oh, shit. That one came out so well. Nice job, y/n!” Jungkook exclaimed, leaning over Yoongi’s body to see. You grinned. “Thanks, Kook.”

“Don’t let your head get too big. It’s merely mediocre,” Yoongi huffed in his deep voice that almost always lacked emotion. That meant you did a good job, he just didn’t want to admit it. After wrapping it, you found your eyes drifting down to his bare hand, everything in you wanting to be the first to put artwork on it. 

Yoongi followed your gaze, and once he saw that beautiful sparkle in your eye when the ideas were flowing through your mind, he chuckled. “Go ahead. Go wild,” he suddenly said, catching you by surprise. “But there isn’t a design you want?” you questioned, blinking just to make sure you heard him right. He shook his head. “You know I like to keep it meaningless down there,” he said, scanning his right hand, which was fully covered in smily faces and anime characters. 

As you put on a pair of fresh gloves and prepared red ink, something Yoongi didn’t have on his body, Jungkook joked, “What if she draws a dick on there?” Yoongi let out a laugh, rolling his eyes at the younger’s immaturity. “She won’t. She’s not that stupid,” he explained, resulting in a firm flick on the forehead from you. Hovering your body over his hand as you rested it on the table, you began to get to work, your tongue peeking out of your mouth as you began to focus once again. 

Yoongi leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to drift off to sleep. He was tired, after all. Well, he was always tired. 

After what felt like forever with the needle on his skin, causing no pain or discomfort, Yoongi’s eyes opened when you suddenly took the sharp object off. Looking down at his hand, his eyes widened at the sight of the word written in bright red, your messy handwriting he loved and hated at the same time shining right into his eyes. 

Date?

Looking up at you quickly, you swallowed hard as a light pink tint began to cloud over your cheeks. From the look in your eyes to the way you were fiddling with the gloves, he knew you were serious. And from the way you watched him with your lustful expression, breathtakingly gorgeous, he knew his feelings for you weren’t one sided. 

But Min Yoongi was anything but a sap. 

“Okay, I get that you’re obsessed with me and whatnot, but did you really have to permanently put that into my skin?” he complained, causing you to laugh. You knew that was his way of saying yes. “You guys are gonna be such a weird couple. You barely act like friends,” Jungkook commented, but both you and Yoongi shot glares at the young boy, causing him to immediately advert his eyes and get silent. 

“Well, how about we sit inside of my boarded up apartment and watch a movie later?” he suggested, a cocky smirk on his lips as a way to mask how he was screaming like an excited child on the inside. “Sounds good to me,” you said with a smile as you began to wipe the disinfectant over the newly tatted art. He winced as it stung a little. 

“You’re fine,” you said, giggling at how overdramatic he was. 

“Kiss it better, y/n,” he murmured low enough for just you to hear. “Min Yoongi, what are you five?” you asked, but nonetheless, you placed a kiss on his hand, a good distance away from the word. “Not there, idiot.” You looked up at him, confused. 

With his right hand, he pointed to his lips, a black lip ring securely wrapped around his plump bottom lip. You looked over at Jungkook who was trying to hide the fact that he was watching, but you could see his eyes darting over the top of his phone every now and then. A gasp escaped your mouth when you felt your body get pulled closer to Yoongi. 

“You’re taking too long,” he mumbled, his hot breath against your face as he stared at you with his cold yet caring eyes. Placing your hand, bare and yet to be decorated, on his cheek to steady yourself, you let out a breathy chuckle. “You’ve always been impatient, haven’t you, Min Yoongi?” 

Rolling his eyes far back into his head, his lips collided with yours. And on the contrary to his rough exterior, the kiss was soft and meaningful as his hands come down to hold your waist. Your lips moved against his perfectly as if his lips were a unique lock and only your lips held the correct key. 

Taking his bottom lip and pulling it gently with yours, Yoongi’s grip on your hips tightened. Crashing his lips on yours once again, the kiss grew heated as his tongue begged for access, repeatedly running alongside the bottom of your lip. 

You pulled away, however, keeping the distance of your heads close. 

“I bet your regular guy couldn’t have done that,” you said, a smirk on your lips. 

“You always know how to kill the mood, don’t you, y/n?” Yoongi groaned, causing you to giggle and pull away. After wrapping his hand, you prepared to get the bill ready as Yoongi stood up and stretched his limbs, giving glares here and there to a peeking Jungkook. 

“Aish, she asked you out first. Pussy much?” the younger said as he looked up at the eldest. Yoongi lifted his hand just to get a reaction out of Jungkook, and when the youngest cowered, covering his face, Yoongi smiled, pleased with himself. 

“You know,” Yoongi’s deep voice spoke behind you, startling you a bit as you calculated out the price. “Now that we’re a thing, is there a discount that comes with that?” he asked. You laughed and turned around, placing the slip of paper with the total price in his hand. “Nope.”

He frowned yet reached into his wallet and gave you his card. Just as you turned to make the transaction, his hand grabbed onto your wrist as he pulled you into him, a dangerous smirk displayed on his lips. 

He leaned in and you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead his lips hovered right near your ear, the cold metal of his piercing sending literal shivers down your spine. “The work was phenomenal by the way,” he whispered. Slowly enough, his head came back up so he could see your whole face. 

“Oh, I know,” you cockily said before removing yourself from him and going to do the transaction. 

“Min Yoongi, are you blushing?” Jungkook exclaimed loudly. Yoongi glared at the younger once again. “Jeon Jungkook, thank you for the lunch. You may go,” the older darkly said, though Jungkook knew it was all in good fun. “You can’t have sex while his tattoo is healing!” the younger shouted as he made his way back towards the door that led out to the loud streets.

You laughed while Yoongi’s hands formed into tight fists. Walking your way back over to him, you gave him his card back. “I swear I’m gonna kill that kid one day,” Yoongi warned, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. “Yeah, sure. You love him,” you pointed out. 

And I love you, too, Yoongi thought to himself. 

He always had. 

But in time he would tell you that, his tattoo goddess. In time.

“You know, you can always get it covered up,” you said later on once you were in the comfort of Yoongi’s apartment, his sleeved arms protectively over your body. But Yoongi would never get it covered up. If anything, he didn’t want any other tattoos on his left hand but that one. And he loved that you made it red. It made it stand out. It made it so that every time he was composing a song and he looked down at his hand, he would know that the girl he was chasing after for years did in face like him back. 

[potaetaezz]

|| Sweet Like Coffee || 10

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pairing: Nct Dream x Reader  [female]

genre/au: fluff | teeny bit of angst (to come) | enemies to lovers | Everyone is just a clueless bunch of weirdos, you get the drill… or so you thought.

warnings: slight swearing, immature content, underage drinking

A/N: its’s my first fanfic so no judgment lol | Jaemin is getting friskyyy | Longer Chp | here we go~

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You did end up regretting it. But not what you expected. 

Your lips didn’t meet Jaemin’s, and a part of you was grateful. Something happened to you when you were with him, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. You could say anything to him, do anything with him, and there would be no consequences, no regrets. That of course, wasn’t true. The minute you left you regretted your explanation, your candidness of your emotions, your feelings that won you over. You regretted the ‘I care’. You did care, something inside of you was making that very clear. But you didn’t want to. You couldn’t even distinguish how you cared, or in what way. 

There was a darkness, a greyness that inked his eyes, that told you to fall for him. There was a loss of control around him. You hated that. But most of all, you hated his ‘type’. His arrogance, his ego, his cockiness. Everyone always wants the ‘bad boy’, but not you. You craved someone who was good for you, someone who treated you right. Someone like Jeno. But Jaemin was confusing your thoughts, haunting your dreams. And you knew, that if you kissed him, those hazy shadowed dreams would come true. Sadly.

What you needed most right now, what you needed most whenever your emotions became too intimate, was space. You decided to take a step back from Jaemin that day. To take a step back from his bad influence, his dark, bitter eyes, his warmth. You didn’t like when your emotions became too inflamed, overly tenacious. For when your heart was aflame, it was all too easy to be swayed, by emotion, by luring eyes. You needed control, for if your feelings took over your power, took over your actions, you could make some very impulsive, unbearably regrettable decisions. 

                                                                 [7:09am]

You woke up to someone gently singing. A soft but hoarse voice. Lila.

‘How many people have the keys to my apartment??’

“Oh good your awake! Look Haechan’s party, we need-“

“Woah, Lila calm your shit okay, is that even today??”

Haechan’s parties were said to be unreal, and even that was an understatement. Crowds of people flowing in from anywhere to meet people, make bad decisions and have fun. No one knew anyone there, or barely anyone, and that’s what was so compelling. Haechan was basically a modern Gatsby in party terms. Of course, it would be amazing to let loose, have a drink, dance a bit. But you weren’t as sociable as Lila, and you couldn’t drink as much as Renjun. 

Renjun used to be like you, a little bit shy yet speckled with gregarious traits. But he befriended Haechan last year, and since then he could chug a naggin of vodka like it was water. And as for Lila, put her in the middle of any social gathering and she’d shine. You just- you didn’t know where you’d fit in - at the party.

“Yes, yes it is. Sooo what are you wearing?”

“Wearing? If I’m going uhm jeans—”

She interrupted before you could finish, with a half-suppressed laugh emerging. “Oh no honey, it’s a Halloween party.”

Leave it to Haechan to throw a Halloween party 2 weeks early.

“I’ll see.” You spit out, eyes smiling as Lila’s beamed.

———

Sitting down, staring at the empty whiteboard, you could feel something on you. A stare. Someone’s eyes mesmerising your figure, capturing you intently. Your back burned from the glare. You turned around. Fast. In hopes of catching the culprit with smoldering eyes.

Haechan. What a surprise. He always knew how to catch one's attention.

He quirked his eyebrows and passed a note to you. Once you gripped it, you could tell Jeno was curious beside you. Peering intently into its contents. 

‘You better come to the party. This is a personal invitation y/n.’

‘What a Gatsby move.’

You crumbled the note in one hand and shoved it into your bag, making sure both of them watched. He wasn’t going to influence your decision. If you were going, it would be for Lila, or for yourself. Not for some guy.

Your eyes gazed up to Jeno instinctively. He was focusing intently on the work on the board. ‘There has to be something beyond his smile’ you thought, ‘Eyes full of lust, some tantalising charm behind that innocence.’ Your blood warmed at the thought.

“So are you going?” his voice brought you back to reality.

You assumed he was on about Haechan’s party. “I don’t know” You chuckled lightly.

“You should.” His smile almost persuaded you, right there and then.

There was an attraction in his gaze, and you knew hoped he felt it too. You were falling deeper into the wrath of his smile, and you liked it. You wished nothing more than to reach over and fuse your smile with his. Nothing more than to simply talk with him, read with him, stay with him. Your feelings grew deeper and you hadn’t even noticed. Spending time with Jaemin really did confuse you. Little were you aware of how deep your feelings ran, in your veins, in your pulse. Little did you know how your tensions drowned away with the smile on his face. You weren’t an affectionate, sappy person, and you definitely weren’t good at expressing or understanding your emotions. Oh but only if you were. Haechan’s party would’ve gone a lot differently.

———

Arriving home, you noticed Ten was already there. Sitting right in front of the television, remote control in his hand.

“How was school?” He asked, trying to act brotherly.

“Do you care?” you laughed.

“Not really.” and he smiled brightly. “You going to Haechan’s party?”

You shook your head. As much as you like socializing, reading a book snuggled up with chamomile tea in your hand definitely beat it. During your final class, you had reached the conclusion that you were not going. You didn’t see the point, and at home, you could catch up on many missed episodes of your new binge tv show. ‘They’ll be fine without me’. 

lunalila560 : comin to Haechan’s?? [5:53]

imaginey/n :nahhh, too tired   [5:55]

——

[6:16]

A knock came from the door and in stepped Lila. She brought with her a huge blue gear bag filled with her most stylish clothes and makeup, because your most stylish clothes were probably your Christmas pajamas. She wore a short pink dress, with a black cropped denim jacket resting delicately on her shoulders. Black heels embraced her slender feet. Her hair was tied in two loose braids, with white glitter sprinkled casually over. Her makeup was classic with a dash of extra glitter to contrast. She was beautiful as always, and you were still in your pajamas, stuffing your face with popcorn as if watching a fashion show.

“Okay so…” she began. She held out a clothes hanger, your new Halloween costume hanging from it. “You’re coming, I don’t care what you say.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest. Lila had clearly put effort into your costume, knowing fully well you would’ve actually worn jeans. She was always so organised like that.

“So what am I?” You sat on the edge of the couch, leaning into her beaming eyes, curious of her plans.

“Lara Croft.”

You nearly choked on air as your eyes filled with uncertainty. Ten chimed in with appreciation. You shook your head but she argued; “Just trust me.”

Lila knew you so well, too well in fact. The outfit was unarguably perfect for you. Not too revealing, comfortable, something you could dance in. She wanted you to wear shorts, but knowing you, she chose green cargo pants with a slit around the thigh instead. 

She plaited your hair, pulling out the messy bits at the front. Made your makeup look effortlessly casual. Smeared brown paint like ‘dirt’ on your body and grey tank top. Tied a bandage around the slit in your pants as if you were injured. And of course, who could forget a (toy) gun in your hand. You couldn’t deny you actually liked it. 

———

Lila walked beside you up Haechan’s driveway, wearing her version of ‘Jessica Rabbit’. Your breath trembled. You could already hear the music. There were a few people outside. You were late, by approximately 2 hours, which meant the party already started. You gulped. Butterflies dancing in your stomach. No. Wasps, stinging. 

By the time you had reached the porch, it was too late. Lila’s arm linked in yours preventing your escape. The sweat clammed your palms, and your armpits, which you prayed the dirt could hide the stains. Before Lila grabbed the doorknob, her eyes met yours. Telling you that it was going to be okay, that it was safe, that you should breathe. Little did she know the reason for your racing heart. But before you could blink, she pulled the door open, music shrieking in your ears.

The party was loud, real loud.

The house was beautifully designed, but there were way too many people to appreciate it. The place was crowded, people everywhere, streaming from the top of the stairs, out of the innumerable rooms up there, and people headed straight into the kitchen downstairs, or what you assumed was the kitchen. The lighting was dim, you could barely make out Lila’s face beside you. People were hanging over banisters, screaming, chanting. Music blaring, deafening your ears. And everyone was clearly very, very drunk.

Lila’s shout met your ear, yet you barely heard her; “Kitchen….drink?”

It didn’t matter for her hand tugged yours into a room, the kitchen. You bumped into everyone, dancing, laughing. You focused your eyes on the floor. You weren’t ready to recognise people yet. You needed alcohol for that. And lucky for you, you were nearly there.

You looked up when Lila came to a halt.

‘Holy shit.’

There wasn’t enough counter to hold all the bottles. From vodka to whiskey, it had everything. You didn’t know where to start. Lila did, however, as she shoved a cup filled with something in your hand. Before you knew it, you too were laughing. You were very nearly drunk on the atmosphere, on the music. You took a gulp of the vile concoction before you felt the heavyweight of a stare settling on you. That familiar glare. You quickly forgot about it as Lila refilled your drink. If anything was going to make this night easier, it was alcohol.

“You came!” 

Renjun screamed beside you. He had a rather large glass in his hand.

“Ms.Croft.” He added, “enchante.” 

A laugh escaped your mouth easily, “And what may you be?”

“Ayy matey, tis’ I, Jack Sparrow.” He completely failed the accent, but A for effort.

“How fitting.” you quirked your eyebrows, “a pirate always does have a drink in his hand.”

He bowed, his pirate hat falling off. Then, nearly collapsing on the floor with laughter. You couldn’t help but laugh with him.

Your eyes wandered to Lila who was already talking up a ‘Joker’. 

The alcohol buzzed in your veins, your body warming up to its comfort. You followed Renjun to another lively room. He began chatting aimlessly with people, and you stood beside him. Your body swayed to the music, feeling looser than it did an hour ago. You were lost in conversation when a finger tapped your back. You turned to see Haechan, standing a touch too close.

“Pleasure to see you here.” His voice engulfed in lure.

“Pleasure to be here.” Words slipped easily.

“Nice gun.” He sniggered, eyes judging it but the smile on his face loving it. You held it out, pointing it at him. You pressed the trigger, releasing a pathetic squirt of water. His hands were up before you could attempt a wink.

He was dressed in a suit, a very Gatsy suit.

He held out a drink, one that smelled sweet accompanied by a strawberry floating on top. He winked, properly, as your hand grasped it. A wink followed by that carefree laugh. You spent some time with Haechan, talking about things you couldn’t remember, drinking things you couldn’t distinguish and dancing, as awfully as you’d imagined. The alcohol began to race, rush through you, bubbling, fizzing. You lost track of time, of faces, of songs. 

“Have you seen Jeno?” you asked.

“Oh, lover boy? Nope.” he laughed

Your heart sagged just slightly. You reminded yourself that these parties last all night.

‘I’ll see him later.’

Yet again, you felt a set of eyes find you within the growing crowd. It wasn’t Haechan, you soon realised for you were with him, dancing. You scanned the room, but there was no one you recognised.

Until there he was, walking sauntering down the stairs, holding your gaze. His eyes wandered from yours to your ripped tank top, down to your boots. Taking in all of you. His stare full of deceit and depth, but none the less intoxicating. He stopped in front of you, looking down at you, into you. His teeth taunted his lip, bit his lip. A smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Haechan disappeared, everyone disappeared, as if it was only you and him in the room.

You pulled out your gun, a smile taking over your mouth. “Hands up, Jaemin.”

He did as he was told, hands following your order. 

“And don’t you dare bite that lip.” You added, confidently. 

You traced his outline. His body embraced by a black suit. A white shirt peeking out behind his blazer. A black bowtie drawing your eyes to his neck, and then back up to his gaze. While you were admiring his suit, he pulled his own gun out to point at you. 

“Fair play.” he chuckled. 

“What even are you?” 

“You see, Ms.Croft” he began with that deep voice of his, “I was going to be your prince charming, but now, I’m your savior. It’s Jaemin, Na Jaemin.”

You couldn’t hold back a giggle as he winked. He surely was charming, but he was definitely no prince.

You forgot a lot, but the alcohol wasn’t going to let you forget how close you had been before. How close you had been to his bitten lip or his deceitful stare. 

“Care for a drink?” he asked.

“Of course.” but this time it was you who winked. 

It was when the drink met your lips that his head turned to the corner of the room. Yours followed. It was dark, you were borderline drunk, but you could always spot Jeno in a crowd. 

You dropped your drink. Your breath hitched.

Jeno wasn’t smiling at you, he didn’t even notice you. He was too busy sticking his tongue down some girls throat. His hands roaming her body, his mouth desperate, his teeth tugging at her lip. He was on fire yet your eyes watched, like ice.

You knew there was a part of him that was aflame, seduction lurking inside of him, he just didn’t want to show you. Disappointment tugged at your heart. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. You were frozen. You didn’t feel jealous or hurt (maybe a little bit). You felt pathetic, stupid for letting yourself believe that even the tiniest part of him was interested in you. Stupid for beginning to like him.

His mouth tore away from her, taking in oxygen when his eyes found you. Found you staring right back at him, at the girl, at their intensity. You almost saw a dim speck of regret in his eyes, but it was too dark to be true.

You panicked, his eyes still watching you. You looked to the ground, and then to Jaemin. His expression changed, from understanding to pure desire. You inched closer, making sure Jeno’s eyes were locked on you. You closed the gap between your beating heart and Jaemin’s. He looked into your eyes as if he was searching for something. Temptation speckled his iris. His hot breath meeting your cheek. Control disappearing from your grip.

Slowly, the music faded and so did the crowd, so did Jeno. It felt like it was just you two in the room, alone, a fraction away from each other. Your heart raced, breath shaky. His mouth searched for your ear, his voice ragged; “You’ll regret this.”

You opened your mouth to speak when his lips crashed against yours. You pulled away for an instant to see lust overtaking his gaze. Then he devoured you, lips moving in rhythm. Body melting into his. You could taste the desperation in his mouth, feel the want on his tongue as it plunged down your throat. His breathy sounds taunted your ear. His hands worked their way around your body, feeling each crevasse, each line until they settled a bit lower than your waist. Pulling you impossibly closer. His teeth teased your lips. Your mouth felt bruised but you couldn’t let go.

 His kiss was intoxicating. His passion ignited something in you. You couldn’t hold back a slight moan as his lips moved to your neck. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, pulling it. Want racing through your veins. His tongue demanding more of you, until you broke away, gasping for air. For a moment you tasted the alcohol on his breath, and it brought you back to reality. 

His smirk settled on you again.

His mouth dived for your ear once more, nibbling slightly before his hoarse voice spoke. 

“He’s still watching.”

_____________________________________

See you next time -> Wednesday 23rd xx

_____________________________________