#No matter how much of a pain in the ass this city can be

[sachermorte]

You, thinking: Should I move to Niederösterreich? NÖ

NÖÖÖÖÖ REPEATING

I honestly think I would live a deprived miserable life even five minutes outside the Stadtgrenze. I would cry. They'd have to put me on life support. No matter how miserable the MA35 is, I'm staying here.

Also they'll have me arrested for having a gender out there 😔

[wholoveseggs]

Heyy gorgeous! I’m here once again lol. I was thinking about enemies to lovers this time. Elijah and reader despise each other. She’s always getting on his nerves and he’s always making her embarrassed etc etc. She’s also misbehaving - like interrupting him mid sentence, being sassy and he’s just trying to hold it together. One day they get into a fight or they have to train together (like he did with Gia in s.2) and there’s just too much sexual tension between them. Some angry sex and so on…? Thank youuu🥰

Misbehavior

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah Mikaelson is controlling, arrogant and absolutely infuriating, you don't know how anybody can stand him. That is... until he gets you in his bed.

♡♡ Thanks for the request lovely @msveronicag ! I love this idea so much and I got a little carried away with it ♡♡

8.2k words - Warnings: smut, dom!elijah, blowjobs, choking, spanking, rough sex, tinsy bit of ass play, Elijah being a smug little control freak...

You were back in New Orleans, visiting your old friend Marcel. He turned you nearly fifty years ago and he had always been a mentor figure for you. You left the city to go travel the world and discovered everything it had to offer. But you always remembered your roots, and Marcel was still the man you looked up to the most. So, when he called, asking if you wanted to come help him keep the peace and order in the city, you were happy to agree.

You knew the Originals had arrived in town and you were interested in meeting them. They were an endlessly fascinating bunch of lunatics from what you heard, and you couldn't wait to meet them.

But when you finally got the chance, you were surprised by a few things, number one, they were all ridiculously hot.

And number two, you instantly hated Elijah Mikaelson.

He was just so arrogant and stuck up. His constant use of posh words annoyed you to no end, and his perfect hair was just begging to be ruffled.

He just strolled into Marcel's loft one day and started giving orders. Talking to Marcel in a way that immediately pissed you off. You didn't like to hear your friend being talked to like he was beneath anyone, and so you spoke up.

"Excuse me," You drawled lazily, looking up from where you were perched on Marcel's couch. "Just because you're some original pain in the ass doesn't mean you get to control everything."

Elijah was clearly used to being obeyed. He slowly turned to you, regarding you with that arrogant sneer you came to detest in just a matter of minutes. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.

"I beg your pardon?" He asked, looking at you as if he could barely see you.

You hated when someone pretended not to hear or understand something. Especially when they understood perfectly well, but were hoping for you to be scared into backing down. Well, that wasn't happening.

"If you didn't understand, I'll repeat it in simple terms that even your elderly ears will comprehend," You snapped at him, standing up to meet his eyes more equally. "Be. Nice."

He gave you a slow, crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes, then he looked back to Marcel with his eyebrows raised. "Are you going to control your little pet?"

You saw red, and opened your mouth to respond, but Marcel gave you a look that screamed 'don't', so you kept quiet, glaring at Elijah.

You couldn't stand the man, the way he would always be wearing a suit, his perfectly styled hair, and those dark, judgmental eyes that seemed to always be on you, looking down at you.

He was just one of those rich assholes who saw a regular person like you as something lesser, and you weren't going to let him walk over you. You'd think after living for one thousand years he would have gained some insight on human behavior, but no, he was just an old, pompous jerk.

You weren't sure what the hell Elijah and his siblings had done to Marcel to make him act the way he did around the Mikaelsons. But he was different around them. More obedient and less himself. You didn't like how the Originals acted like they owned the city.

Regardless, you weren't stupid enough to make enemies out of them. They were valuable allies, so you kept quiet for the most part, and just rolled your eyes and sighed whenever Elijah would open his arrogant mouth.

Marcel needed you to help train some new vampires that had turned recently. You would have them do drills and spar. Things were going well, the new recruits acclimating well to their new state of being.

When you saw Elijah and Marcel enter the room, you immediately felt defensive, you knew that prick was going to say something.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him, his presence putting everyone on edge.

"Keep training," You said, gesturing for them to keep practicing. They were hesitant at first, but did as you instructed.

You walked towards Elijah and Marcel, trying to get the man to leave before he said something wrong and ruined their progress. You stood between the two men and looked up at Elijah with a forced, tight smile.

"Is there something you need? I'm a little busy here." You told him.

He raised his eyebrows at your tone, looking at you as if he was studying you, his eyes moving from the top of your head to your feet, and it felt like he was stripping you naked. He glanced around the room at the others with an amused smirk, and it irked you to no end. He turned his eyes back to you, tilting his head.

"They're not doing very well, are they?" He said, looking down at the trainees.

One of the vampires completely missed their punch and fell over, they were still adjusting to how strong they had become.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "They're new, they're not perfect yet. And you're not helping, your presence is distracting them." You told him. You weren't about to admit he was right. You weren't going to give him that satisfaction.

“They need a proper example on how to fight,” He smirked and looked at Marcel. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order."

Marcel nodded, then stepped forward. "Come on, I'll show them." He said.

But Elijah shook his head, holding his hand up. "I'm not talking about you."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "I'm not sparring with you, Elijah. You're too powerful." You told him.

You weren't scared, you knew you could handle yourself. But, he was an original, and you were just a vampire. He would win, easily. And you had no interest in being humiliated by him.

"It's just a friendly match, it doesn't have to be a contest," He said, and you didn't believe him for a second. "Unless you're afraid of getting hurt." He taunted.

You could tell he was enjoying this, he had a small smile on his face, his eyes shining with amusement. He knew you couldn't back down. If you did, he'd call you weak, and a coward. That's just the kind of guy he was.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, getting into a defensive position.

"Ready?" He asked, and you nodded.

Before you could even react, he punched you, and you went flying across the room, landing on your side, and you heard him chuckle. "This is who you got to train your recruits Marcellus?"

You growled and stood, launching yourself at him, and he dodged your hits easily. He grabbed you and twisted your arm, holding it behind your back, and you hissed at the pain. He pulled you closer, and his lips were next to your ear. "Yield."

"Never," You snarled, and he laughed.

"So, prideful, but I can break your arm and force you to yield." He said, twisting your arm more.

"C'mon Elijah, let her go," Marcel said, and Elijah smirked.

"As you wish," Elijah said, releasing your arm, and you turned to face him, glaring. "I thought you were stronger than that, but I was clearly mistaken."

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that hurt.

"I think that's enough for today," Marcel said to the vampires, and they all filed out, leaving the three of you alone.

"I don't know why you insist on acting the way you do," Elijah said, shaking his head. "It's quite unbecoming."

You raised your eyebrows. "Oh yeah, and how exactly do I act?" You challenged.

"Childish and impulsive." He answered, and you scoffed. "You need to learn some manners." He added.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. He was insulting you, and talking down to you, and it just pissed you off even more.

"Enough, both of you," Marcel said, getting in between the two of you. "You're both acting like children."

"Maybe because I'm dealing with a child," You muttered under your breath, and Marcel gave you a stern look.

"She's disrespectful, and ungrateful," Elijah said. "Perhaps I should teach her a lesson in obedience." He threatened, his eyes flashing darkly.

"No one needs to be taught a lesson in anything," Marcel said, looking pointedly at you. "Just. Stop." He sighed. "Both of you, just stop. I have a headache, and you two arguing isn't helping."

You glared at Elijah, and he glared back, but neither of you said anything. Marcel let out a long sigh and walked away, his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I need a drink," He muttered.

You watched him go, feeling a little guilty for upsetting him. He had a lot on his mind and he needed your help, not your petty arguments with Elijah.

"He's right, you know," Elijah said, and you turned your glare on him.

"You think I'm the problem? You're the one who antagonizes me, and talks down to everyone. What's your deal, anyways?" You asked, crossing your arms.

His lips turned up into a smug smile, "I'm not trying to upset you. I'm simply stating the truth."

"I don't like you." You said, shaking your head.

"The feeling is mutual," He said, and you raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" You asked, and he laughed, moving closer to you.

"You constantly have your mouth open, yet nothing of substance comes out. You look down on me, despite knowing nothing of my past, and you think I owe you something. Your insolence is tiresome, and I'm sick of seeing your face." He said, his eyes boring into yours, and his gaze was so intense it was hard to maintain eye contact.

He was so close to you now, and his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. "Your mere presence is distracting."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. You were angry, but you also wanted him. You hated that, but it was a truth you were having a hard time denying. You couldn't stop your eyes from moving over his body, and the way his stupid suit fit him so well, showing off his body.

"Well I think you are a self-righteous prick who can't accept the fact that people are allowed to have opinions that differ from yours. Just because you've lived for a millennia doesn't mean your opinion is more valuable than mine." You said, your eyes going to his lips, then back up. "You need to chill the fuck out and not take yourself so seriously. We aren't all your fucking minions. We don't all bow down and worship you."

He leaned in and his breath was fanning over your face. "You have got me all wrong."

"I don't think I do," You said, tilting your head up. "And you don't scare me."

His lips curved into a smirk and his eyes looked down at your lips, his hands coming up and gripping your waist.

And then he was kissing you.

His lips moved slowly over yours, and his hand cupped your jaw. He kissed you with such tenderness and care that you didn't know how to react. You didn't know if he was just using this as a way to humiliate you, but you were too far gone, and you kissed him back.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn't stop yourself, and you didn't care anymore. He pulled you closer and his tongue swiped at your lower lip, and you let him in, moaning softly as his tongue moved over yours. He was an excellent kisser, and it annoyed you as much as it turned you on.

He pulled back, a smug smile on his face, "that's what I thought."

You blushed and looked away, your head spinning from the kiss. "Asshole."

He laughed and stepped away from you, adjusting his tie, "You're welcome."

You were so annoyed and flustered, and you glared at him. "Fuck off."

He chuckled and left, leaving you standing there, confused and aroused.

He was infuriating.

You had decided to leave New Orleans. You hated that Elijah was getting to you, and you didn't want to risk him using your feelings against you. You knew it was a mistake, he was messing with you in ways you didn't even think possible. You knew about his reputation of being manipulative and cruel, and you weren't going to get sucked into his game.

You had everything ready to go, you just had to tell Marcel. He would understand, although you weren't going to tell him about Elijah kissing you. That was just embarrassing.

But when you got to his loft, the only person there was Elijah. Sitting on the sofa, reading a book. He looked so good he was practically glowing, and you wanted to punch him for it.

He didn't look up from his book, "Marcel is out."

"I'll come back later," You said, turning, but he was in front of you, blocking the exit.

"We need to have a little chat," He said, looking down at you, and you sighed, crossing your arms.

"About what?" You asked, tapping your foot anxiously and looking at the door, wishing you could escape.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He asked, and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"I'm not avoiding you, I have better things to do than waste my time with an arrogant prick," You said, and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"That's not true," He said, taking a step closer, and you took a step back, not liking the intensity of his gaze.

"Yes, it is." You said, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Why did you come here?" He asked, moving closer again, and you walked backwards until your back hit the wall, and he was caging you in.

"To tell Marcel I am leaving." You said, and he cocked his head.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and you frowned.

"Away."

"Why?" He asked, leaning forward, his face inches from yours.

"Fuck off." You said, exasperated by his line of questioning, it was none of his business.

His eyes flashed dangerously and he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, holding them tightly.

"You are not as smart as you think you are," he growled, his lips inches away from yours.

You could feel his arousal pressing against your stomach, his hips pushing into yours.

"Neither are you," you snarled, trying to get out of his grip.

But he held your wrists tightly and leaned down, his teeth scraping against your neck.

"You talk so much, yap, yap, yap. But you never say anything meaningful," he whispered, his breath hot on your ear, "perhaps I should put your mouth to better use."

Your heart was beating frantically and your pussy was soaked. The tension between the two of you was finally breaking and the hatred was dissolving into something else entirely.

"I'd love to see you tr-"

His mouth was on yours before you could finish your sentence. It was rough and needy, his fangs digging into your lip, and his hands still pinning your wrists above your head.

His knee moved between your thighs and you moaned, rubbing yourself on his leg.

Elijah chuckled darkly, his tongue tracing the wound he'd made.

"How pathetic," he murmured, his hips rolling forward, his hard cock pressing against your core.

"So is your dick," you lied, trying not to gasp at the sensation, it definitely didn’t feel pathetic.

His fingers dug into your wrists, his eyes flashing with amusement and arousal. His free hand slipped underneath your dress, stroking your wet pussy.

"And yet here you are, dripping wet, and ready for me," he smirked, his fingers slowly circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Wearing a cheap, skimpy dress, practically begging me to fuck you,"

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," you groaned, your hips moving in rhythm with his hand.

He slid his middle finger inside your cunt, pumping it in and out, his palm grinding against your clit.

"Oh so, this is all just a figment of my imagination, is it?" He asked, adding another finger.

Your legs were shaking, and your breathing was heavy. You couldn't think straight, his fingers were hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck," you moaned, your back arching.

He kissed you hungrily, his tongue dominating your mouth, and his fingers pumping faster.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his teeth grazing your neck.

"No," you moaned, but your hips were moving on their own, seeking release.

"I wasn't asking, darling," he growled, his eyes meeting yours, compelling you, "Cum."

His voice echoed in your head, and you could feel the wave of pleasure wash over you. Your orgasm ripped through you, his fingers still moving inside you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

You were trembling, your legs barely holding you up, and your brain fuzzy.

He let go of your wrists, and pulled his fingers out of you, before licking them clean. He took a step back, smiling at the look on your face as he adjusted his cufflinks.

"Now, on your knees," he commanded.

Your legs obeyed immediately, sinking down and looking up at him.

"What a lovely sight," he said, smirking.

He cupped your chin, running his thumb over your lips.

"I've been imagining your lips around my cock, since the first day I saw you," he said, unbuckling his belt, giving your cheek a little slap.

"Now open up and take it all,"

You opened your mouth and he shoved his cock inside. He was big, bigger than anyone you had ever sucked off. And he wasn't shy about using his power to keep you in place. His hands were tangled in your hair, tugging and pulling, and his cock was hitting the back of your throat.

Your eyes were watering, but he didn't care, he kept going, using your mouth, making you gag. He felt amazing on your tongue, hot and hard, and the taste of him was driving you crazy. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the more he fucked your mouth, and your hips were rocking, desperate for friction.

"Look at you, taking it so well, such a good girl," he praised, his thrusts becoming deeper, and his voice sounding strained.

Your eyes met his, your mascara running down your cheeks. He looked so good, his lips parted and his eyes glazed with lust. His dominating nature was intoxicating, and you were drunk on his cock. The feeling of him sliding down your throat, and his moans of pleasure, made you feel so good, it was addictive. Your hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit, and making yourself moan around his cock.

He slapped your face gently, tutting.

"Naughty girl," he said, his voice a low rumble, "keep touching yourself, and I'll punish you."

You looked up at him, and rubbed yourself faster, daring him to stop you.

His eyes darkened, and he pushed himself deep inside your mouth, his cock pulsing as he cummed down your throat.

"Swallow it," he ordered, and you did, licking his cock clean.

You were a mess, your makeup smeared, and your body trembling with need. You wanted to be fucked. So. Badly.

Elijah looked at you, a smirk playing on his lips. He grabbed you by your hair and pulled you to your feet, his eyes roaming over your body.

"Such a pretty thing," he said, pushing you back against the wall, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin of your neck, "I knew you could behave."

He pulled his handkerchief out and wiped the tears and mascara from your face, before putting it away.

"There we are," he smiled, tucking his cock back into his pants, and buckling his belt.

"Are you not going to fuck me?" You asked, frustrated that he was leaving you unsatisfied.

"Oh no, my dear, that's your punishment," he said, grabbing a bottle of scotch and pouring a glass. He glanced up at you, seemingly confused on why you were still standing there, and nodded towards the door.

"You may go,"

You huffed, and walked towards the door, feeling angry and humiliated. But his voice stopped you.

"Oh, and darling?"

You turned and saw him grinning at you.

"Don't think I'm done with you,"

You were definitely leaving now, you had to. You couldn't stand another moment in New Orleans. The way Elijah had used you and humiliated you. You couldn't handle it, you had to get away. You needed to be as far away from him as possible.

But Marcel insisted that you come to a party he was hosting, it was a goodbye celebration for you. And you didn't want to let him down, he was one of the few friends you had.

You were packing your things, planning on leaving immediately after the party, when you heard a knock on your door.

You opened it to find a large box, wrapped in beautiful silver paper and tied with a blue ribbon. There was a card attached to it, and you picked it up, curious to know who it was from.

Wear this. I will be picking you up at 8 – E

You groaned, not wanting to see him. You had been doing your best to avoid him, and this was not helping.

The dress he had sent over was gorgeous, it was black and long, and the fabric was silky. The straps were thin and delicate, and the cut was low, and it was sexy, but not revealing. It was an expensive designer brand that was impossible to get, and the fact that he had somehow just had one that was your size pissed you off.

He was so smug and cocky, and the worst part was, he had great taste, and the dress was perfect. You didn't want to like anything about him, he was even good at being infuriating.

At exactly eight a car arrived to pick you up, and Elijah was in the backseat, waiting. He was dressed impeccably, and his eyes roamed over you, a smirk forming on his lips.

"You look stunning," he said, as you sat down, and the driver pulled away. "It's nice to see you in fine clothing."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the compliment, and staring out the window. His hand went to your thigh, pushing up the dress a little to reveal the top of the stockings you were wearing.

"Is this for me? How thoughtful."

You swatted his hand away, giving him a glare. "I don't dress for any man. I dress for myself,"

"Of course, I would expect nothing less from a strong independent woman," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, refusing to engage with him. He leaned over, his lips brushing your ear, and his fingers sliding over your thigh. "You do lots of other things for a man though, don't you?"

You bit your lip, the memory of being on your knees for him, and how good it felt to have him fuck your mouth, flooded your mind. You kept your composure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"No," you said, glancing at him.

He chuckled and put his arm around you, his fingers dancing along your bare shoulders. You wanted to push him away, but the heat of his body was nice, and you didn't hate the way his touch made you feel.

"We shall see about that."

When you arrived at Marcel's party, you were greeted with cheers, the local vampires loved any excuse to celebrate.

Marcel gave you a hug and poured you a drink, "I'm going to miss having you around, but I understand."

You gave him a smile and took a sip of your drink. "I can never stay in one place for long,"

"I know, and that's what I admire about you," he said, before turning to a vampire who had come to talk to him.

You were standing alone, looking around at the crowd of people. Trying to avoid Elijah, but also keeping an eye out for him.

"Having a good time?"

His voice made you jump and you turned to find him standing behind you, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"It's alright," you shrugged, trying to act cool, and not like you had just been caught looking for him.

"You seem lonely," he said, leaning closer.

"I'm fine, thank you," you said, taking a step back, but his hand reached out, grabbing your arm, and pulling you against him.

"You keep lying, why is that?" He whispered, his breath warm on your ear.

You shook your head, your heart racing. You could feel his body pressed against yours, and his lips ghosting over your skin.

"Is it because you're attracted to me?" He asked, his tongue darting out and licking the shell of your ear.

"No," you said, but your voice was unsteady, and your breath caught.

"Oh, so you just suck any man's cock then? That's an interesting hobby."

You tried to move away, but his grip tightened, and he turned you to face him. His expression was teasing, but his eyes were dark and intense.

"I apologize, I'm not usually so crude. It's just that seeing you in this dress..," he trailed off, his eyes roaming over your curves, his voice thick with lust.

You blushed, your skin burning, and your pussy getting wet. He was so close, his hands sliding down your body, his touch setting your nerves alight.

"I don't like you," you said, but it sounded weak, and he grinned.

"I know," he murmured, his fingers finding their way under the hem of your dress, dancing along the bare skin above your stockings.

"So why are you letting me touch you?" He asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"Because you are irritatingly fucking hot," you admitted, your body melting into his, his closeness clouding your senses.

"Ah, and there is that honesty I have been searching for," he smirked, his hands gripping your ass.

"Shut up," you said, your eyes locked on his. "Why must you be so arrogant?"

"It's not arrogance, it's confidence. You should try it sometime."

He was smiling now, his eyes twinkling. He had truly pissed you off with his boundless ego and you were done with him. You gave him a little push and then stormed out the exit. Marcel would have to understand, you just had to leave this stupid city, right now.

Elijah followed you, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you into a side room, away from the noise and bustle of the party.

"Have I upset you?" He grinned, pressing you against the wall.

"Yes," you seethed, your jaw clenched, and your blood boiling. You pushed hard on his chest, but he didn't budge, just looked down at your hands with an amused expression.

"What can I do to make it better?" He asked, pressing his palms into the wall on both sides of your head.

"Fuck off."

His grin widened, and he leaned in, his nose nuzzling against yours.

"No," he said, his lips brushing over yours. "I don't think I will,"

Your eyes closed as his mouth captured yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, his lips moving slowly, exploring yours. It was intoxicating, his taste and scent overwhelming. You felt yourself giving in once again, kissing him back, your hands clutching his shirt, pulling him closer.

He hummed, pleased, and his hand slipped behind your head, angling your mouth for deeper access. He was such a control freak, and it only turned you on more.

"You like me," he stated between kisses, his hips rocking forward, his cock hard and straining against his pants.

"No I don't ," you lied, trying to ignore how good his body felt against yours, his lips trailing down your neck.

"And yet, here you are," he smirked, his fangs scraping along the skin, "ready and willing."

You moaned, tilting your head to the side, and allowing him better access. He ran his fangs along your pulse point, nipping at the skin.

"Tell me you don't want me, and I'll stop," he whispered, his hands pulling the straps of your dress down, his mouth trailing kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

"I don't," you moaned, even though you knew it wasn't true. You wanted him, desperately.

"Naughty little liar," he said in a teasing tone, his hands squeezing your breasts, and his thumbs rubbing over the hard peaks of your nipples. He was getting you so worked up, it was so infuriating and so arousing.

He suddenly stopped touching you, moving back and leaning against the wall across from you, acting like nothing happened, his hands clasped in front of him.

You looked at him, confused and turned on.

"What the fuck?"

"Tell me you want me," he said, his expression smug.

"I hate you," you replied, frustrated, scowling at him and trying to fix your dress.

"That's not an answer."

"I'm not going to beg for it," you snapped, annoyed and desperate. You hated that he had this effect on you. You wanted him so bad, but he was making you work for it, and the game was getting old. But there was a part of you that liked it, the way he was challenging you, the power play, it was hot. But he was pushing his luck. 

"I’m just going to go find someone else," you said, trying to sound cool and disinterested, but failing miserably. You were too flustered, your skin flushed, and your breath short. 

He laughed, shaking his head and holding out his hand, gesturing for you to take it. "I don't think so," he said, a smirk playing on his lips, "come here."

You looked at him, hesitating, but your desire won out, and you placed your hand in his.

He smirked, his fingers interlacing with yours, and he guided you upstairs. His pace was slow, leisurely, and it was maddening.

"I thought you lived at the compound?" You asked, following him down a hallway.

"I have multiple residences," he said, unlocking a door and pushing it open.

You rolled your eyes, of course he did, he was so fucking extra.

"After you," he said, his eyes shining with amusement.

"How chivalrous," you muttered, stepping inside.

His loft was elegantly decorated, with a large four poster bed, and expensive art on the walls. It was so very him, but you kinda liked it.  His taste was refined, and the space was masculine and sexy. You could already picture how the night was going to go, him fucking you on the large bed, the curtains drawn, and his fangs in your neck. Your pussy clenched at the thought, and you bit your lip. This man had you all twisted up, and he had barely even touched you.

His hands found your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, and his lips brushed the back of your neck. "Do you like what you see?" He murmured, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass.

"It's alright," you smirked, turning and wrapping your arms around his neck. "The view's pretty good," you teased, looking into his eyes.

"Get on the bed," he murmured, his breath hot on your skin.

"Or what?" You teased.

He didn't say a word, just stared at you, his gaze intense. You felt a rush of adrenaline, and excitement, and you decided to push your luck. He was so cocky, and it was time to put him in his place. You stood your ground, trying to maintain eye contact, but it was impossible, he was so dominating. He gripped your hips, and lifted you up, throwing you onto the bed. You landed with a bounce, and he was on top of you, his hands pinning your wrists above your head.

You giggled and tried to break free, using your forearms to try and push him away. He was such a powerful man, and it made you feel vulnerable, but in a good way. In a way that had your pussy soaking, and your skin burning. He smiled and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Behave," he warned, his lips moving down to your chest, and his fingers tugging at the top of your dress.

"Make me," you taunted, knowing it would set him off.

He ripped the dress off of you, making you gasp in surprise, and he sat back, his gaze roaming over your body, clad in nothing but the lingerie and stockings.

"I don't have any other clothes here, asshole!" you whined, annoyed that he had destroyed your beautiful dress.

"I'll buy you more," he said, his voice husky and deep, "so many more,"

He slid down, his tongue running over the swell of your breast, his hand pulling the lace fabric aside. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, and bit down, his fangs sinking into your flesh. You cried out, the pain mixing with the pleasure, and the sound of his low growls vibrating through you.

You squirmed and pulled this hair, trying to get him to stop, but he just bit down harder. Your back arched and you whimpered, tears forming in your eyes.

"Elijah!"

He released you, and licked the wound, sealing the bite, and making the pain subside.

"Are you done being a brat?" He asked, his hands stroking your sides.

"Yes," you panted, still trying to recover from the bite.

"Good," he murmured, his lips trailing down to your stomach.

He pulled at the band of one of your stockings, letting it snap against your thigh. He did the same to the other, humming softly as he did, before finally moving down, and burying his face between your legs.

He was frustratingly good with his tongue, his mouth sucking and licking, his hands spreading your thighs wide. You could feel the pleasure building, and your orgasm fast approaching. Your hands fisted in his hair, and you rolled your hips, trying to ride his face. But he held you still, controlling how much pleasure you received.

He eased two fingers inside you, slowly pumping them as his lips closed around your clit, his tongue swirling over it. You kicked your legs, the sensation was intense, and you were so close, the pressure building in your core.

He curled his fingers and the dam broke, a loud cry tearing from your throat as you came. He continued to work you, prolonging the bliss, and making you tremble.

He stopped and looked up at you. His face was glistening and his pupils were dilated, his eyes dark.

"Just admit that you like me," he teased, kissing your inner thigh.

"Not a chance," you smirked, still catching your breath.

He growled, and flipped you over, yanking your ass up, and spreading your cheeks.

"Then I'll have to make you," he said, his thumb tracing the seam of your asshole. His other hand coming down and spanking you, making you squeal in surprise.

He rubbed the sting, soothing the pain, and then smacked you again, this time a little harder. You gasped, burying your face in the pillows, and your fingers digging into the sheets. He alternated, slapping one cheek, and then the other, the pain becoming more intense each time.

"Elijah!"

He ignored you, his hand coming down on your ass, hard, and you cried out, your body shaking. He kept going, the blows landing faster and faster, and you were sure there were tears running down your face, the pain overwhelming.

He paused, his fingers ghosting over the heated skin.

"I'm sorry, am I being too rough?" He asked, his voice thick with sarcasm.

You glared over your shoulder at him, and he smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I thought you were a gentleman," you shot back, annoyed with him.

"I can be," he purred, his finger dipping lower, and tracing the entrance of your pussy, "when I want to,"

You moaned, pushing back against his hand, and his fingers pumped slowly. His other hand went to the back of your neck, pressing your face into the mattress, holding you still.

He added a third finger, stretching you, and making you whimper. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Just give in," he whispered, his voice husky and low. "It'll be so much easier."

You bit your lip, trying to fight it, but he was too skilled, and your will was fading. You moaned, rolling your hips, and grinding against his hand.

He pushed his thumb into your asshole, making you gasp, and he chuckled, his other fingers curling and hitting your g-spot. The stimulation was overwhelming, and the pleasure was building fast. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension in your core reaching its peak. He was relentless, his fingers and thumb pumping in and out, the sounds of your wetness filling the room. You were moaning, begging, pleading, the need for release consuming you.

"Tell me," he commanded, suddenly stopping. "Tell me how much you like me." His hand moved from the back of your neck and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, and making you gasp.

"Fine! Fine! I fucking like you, ok? I like you! I like your stupid face, and your stupid hair, and your stupid sexy accent, and your stupid dick!" You snapped, frustrated and desperate. You couldn't take the teasing anymore. "Are you happy now?!"

He chuckled, letting go of your hair, and pushing your head back into the pillow. He leaned down and kissed your ass cheek, his lips brushing against the hot, sore skin, before he moved, flipping you onto your back. He spread your legs, and settled between them, his fingers running along your thighs.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you, and kissing him hard, biting his bottom lip. You were tired of waiting, and you needed him. He growled, his hands cupping your face, and his tongue plunging into your mouth. The kiss was passionate and desperate, his body pressed flush against yours.

You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, and running your fingers over his muscles, feeling the strength of his body. You then tugged at his belt, taking out his cock, and stroking him, your thumb swirling over the head.

He smiled and groaned as you touched him, his hips thrusting into your hand. You spread your legs wider, but he made no move to enter you, his hand moving between your thighs, and rubbing your clit. You moaned, the sensation too much, and you pulled at his wrist. He was being so fucking frustrating, and you wanted him inside you, now.

"Stop teasing me," you complained, glaring up at him.

"Why? its so much fun," he said, smiling wickedly. "I could watch you squirm for hours." He pushed the tip of his cock against your entrance, circling your clit, but still not penetrating you. 

"Tell me again," he said, "tell me how you like me, how much you want me," his hips rocking, his cock pushing and withdrawing, but never going deep enough to satisfy you.

"You are an arrogant prick, who knows exactly what he does to me." You said, your breathing labored.

He smiled and slowly eased into you, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt him inch his way inside, and you moaned, your head rolling back. He filled you completely, stretching you, and making your body burn with pleasure. It felt incredible, your pussy throbbing around him. He groaned, and nipped at your neck, his fangs gliding against the skin. You clutched at him, your nails scratching his back, as his hips started moving, slowly fucking you. 

You were already on the verge of orgasm, the tension coiling inside you, ready to snap. He felt too good, his cock hitting all the right spots, and his fingers playing with your clit. You were falling apart beneath him, your back arching, and your thighs quivering. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he affected you, as the waves of ecstasy washed over you, you bit down on your lip, trying to hide just how good he felt.

But it was no use, your body betraying you, your cheeks hot and your walls tightening around him. He smiled and kissed your neck, his tongue swirling over your pulse point.

"See, it's not so hard to give in," he purred, his hips slowly rolling.

"Shut up," you managed to get out, still panting, and your limbs weak.

"Already cumming on my cock, and we haven't even really started," he teased. He began to fuck you in earnest, thrusting hard and deep, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each stroke. 

You gripped his biceps, your nails digging into his skin, and you could feel his muscles flexing under your touch. His cock was so thick, stretching you, you spread your legs wider, wanting him even deeper.

"Look at you, so desperate for me," he smirked, his hands moving to your hips, lifting them and changing the angle.

You moaned, and he chuckled, his lips ghosting over your neck.

"So responsive, and so beautiful. My sweet girl," he whispered, his words washing over you.

"I'm... fuck- not… your girl." you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your heart pounding in your ears.

"Maybe not yet, but you will be," he said, his voice confident, his eyes locking with yours.

He was so sure of himself, and it only turned you on more.

"You wish, Mikaelson."

He laughed, his breath warm on your skin. He thrust hard, hitting the spot deep inside, and making you cry out.

"I do," he said, his eyes searching yours, "and I always get what I want."

You knew it was true, he was so fucking cocky, and the worst part was, you wanted him to have you.

He leaned back, pulling you up with him, and holding you in his lap, his cock impossibly deep inside. His hands went to your hips, guiding your movements, and his eyes never left yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, rocking your hips, and taking him deeper. The way he was looking at you, intense, and possessive, it was doing things to you. You couldn't tear your gaze away, your chest heaving, and your nipples brushing against his chest. You squeezed his cock, trying to make him go harder, faster, but his pace remained steady, firm, his grip on your hips tightening. It was all too much and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by him, and everything you were feeling for him.

He groaned, and smacked your ass, hard. You whimpered and dug your nails into his shoulders. His hands ran up and down your back, soothing the sting.

"No hiding," he said, his voice firm. "I want to see all of you."

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes, your eyelids heavy, cheeks flushed and your mouth open in a silent moan. 

"That's it," he murmured, his lips capturing yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. "Show me how much you like me," he teased, nipping at your lower lip.

You placed your hands on his chest, moving your legs to straddle him, and his cock slid deeper. You rocked back and forth, slowly at first, and then increasing the pace.

His expression was serious, his eyes fixed on you, and his hands holding your waist. It was like he was memorizing every inch of your body, and the way you felt, the way you moved. You could see the desire in his eyes, the lust, and something else, something softer.

"I like the way you're looking at me," you murmured, your nails dragging along his chest.

He hummed and grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back, his other arm wrapping around your waist, and pulling you flush against him.

"I like the way you feel," he replied, his hips rocking into you.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, knowing it would get a rise out of him.

"Only the ones I can't stop thinking about."

"Mmm, are there many of those?"

He laughed, shaking his head, and kissing your shoulder.

"None that compare to you."

His words, so unexpectedly sweet, made your heart flutter, and a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"Elijah..." you breathed, and he seemed pleased by your reaction.

His hands went to the small of your back and he pulled you closer, your breasts pressed against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, your skin warm and slick. The anticipation of what was to come sent a shiver down your spine. You threaded your fingers in his hair, gripping it as his hands went to your ass, guiding you on his cock.

"You don't have to leave, you can stay here with me," he said, his voice low and his eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head, not wanting to give in, not wanting him to know how much he affected you. How much you actually wanted that, wanted him.

"I don't like you that much," you replied, your lips brushing his as you spoke.

He smiled and kissed you again, his hand running down your back. You rolled your hips, grinding against him, your clit rubbing against his pelvis. Your movement picked up, and he moaned into your ear, his grip on your ass tighter. You could feel the pressure rising, the intensity becoming overwhelming. Your body tensed, your orgasm close, and Elijah gripped your hips and slowed you down, wanting to make the moment last.

"Stay?" He whispered, his nose nuzzling yours.

"You are so annoying," you muttered, and his chest rumbled with laughter.

"Is that a yes?"

You nodded, and his lips pressed against yours, his hands lifting you up and down. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound. The kiss became messy, both of you chasing the pleasure, the friction and the heat almost unbearable. You broke the kiss, panting, and the coil in your core snapped.

You moaned his name in long, drawn out syllables, your forehead pressed against his. He held you tight, his body tense as your pussy clenched around his cock. He watched you, his breathing heavy, his eyes glazed with desire. His hands traced your spine, lightly grazing the skin, and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You could tell he was fighting the urge to cum, wanting to drag out the moment. You looked at him and gave him a small smile, no more teasing, no more games. You touched his cheek, and kissed him, the kiss soft and sweet. Your breath caught in your throat, the intimacy of the gesture overwhelming. His arms tightened around you, his lips moving against yours, and you knew he was falling too, his control failing him.

He let go of your hips, his fingers clutching your ass. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rode him hard and fast, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. He groaned into your mouth, his cock throbbing inside of you, and you felt him cum, his warmth flooding your body. You rested your head on his shoulder, catching your breath, and trying to make sense of what just happened. You never imagined that sleeping with Elijah would feel so right, so complete. Your mind kept telling you that this was a bad idea, but the connection between you was too strong to ignore.

He kissed your neck, his lips grazing the skin, and you let your eyes drift closed, succumbing to the warmth and comfort of his arms. He really was too good at this. 

"I meant what I said, about you staying." He murmured, his breath tickling your ear. "I like you, a lot."

He pulled away, brushing a few errant strands from your face, his fingers lingering. His dark eyes held nothing but sincerity and you knew then, in that moment, that despite your resolve not to like him, this wasn't just going to be a one time thing.

"I know," you sighed, your hands stroking his jaw, "you are very persuasive."

He chuckled and kissed you again.

"You'll stay?" He asked, his smile growing.

"I'll stay."

"Good," he hummed, kissing your neck, and nipping at your earlobe. 

His lips captured yours, and he kissed you, the passion and desire still burning. He kissed you until your lips were bruised and swollen, until your heart was pounding, and your skin was flushed.

"I still think you are an asshole," you said, once he'd pulled away.

"And I still think you are a brat," he smirked, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

You laughed, and rested your head on his shoulder, enjoying the moment, the closeness, the warmth of his arms, and the steady beat of his heart.

You couldn't help but surrender.

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[haeryna]

feeling so high but too far away to hold me ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ;༊

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: satoru and suguru come to a critical conclusion, but is it too late for them to mend what was broken?

tw: angst, homophobia, abandonment, mentions of (unintentional) self harm, mentions of illness, barely proofread

notes: title taken from halsey's "without me." all images were taken from pinterest and are NOT mine! i'm not sure if i like how this came out but oh well gotta get through it lol. banner is from @/cafekitsune!

Lately, Satoru has been thinking a lot more about you.

He shouldn't be. Choso's been on his ass for stupid mistakes, like a slight misstep during practice, or the way his voice wavers ever so slightly on notes that are well within his vocal range. Nanami grumbles a bit more when recording sessions extend even further. Haibara brings him an extra water bottle during practice. Even Sukuna is slightly nicer to him, as if he can see how much Satoru is struggling.

Satoru hates it. It makes him feel weak, because he knows now that he misses you more than his heart can bear. He has women throwing themselves at him left and right, so why does a girl from a town he left behind make something in his chest twist? By all accounts, Satoru is thriving. He has a wonderful relationship with his boyfriend, his boy group has broken record after record with each single they release, and Satoru has just signed onto a brand deal with Chanel.

(He knows you're not just a girl, you were his. The only person he could bear to share Suguru with, the only person who could see past his flirtatious facade and say, "It's okay, 'Toru, I'm here for you." He knows the reason why he forces himself to believe you would have only shunned him like his parents, is to run from the realization that he abandoned you in the most horrific way possible.)

It doesn't help that his managers handle all of his social media accounts, and go through all his mail. As soon as him and Suguru signed onto the same agency, their phone lines were decommissioned, and they were given highly protected personal phones. You wouldn't be able to reach him even if you wanted to. Hell, they barely even saw Shoko, and the only reason was because they were both the only people who trusted her to take care of their medical needs.

Suguru had tried, once, to ask about you, to get a way of contacting you. Shoko had looked him dead in the eyes, steel hidden behind soft brown, and told him that, "if you were just going to abandon her like that, at least have the decency to stay gone until they could commit to her fully." The way Suguru's face had paled only confirmed the worst for Satoru; you hadn't understood. You had seen their leaving as the worst kind of betrayal. Shoko had refused to tell them more, stubborn in her loyalty to you.

At first, it was easier to hide shame behind a kind of disdain. Of course you hadn't understood what it had been like, being rejected so violently by parents you once loved. Of course you hadn't understood what it was like to feel the noose tighten around your neck until you knew you would either run, or die. Maybe if you couldn't let them go, it meant you truly had never loved them anyways.

As the months grew, slowly and surely, the tangle of excuses unraveled. You might not have understood, but you had defended him silently in small rebellious ways. The eyeshadow palette that still sat at his vanity. The birthday card you'd made him when you turned 14, with a small rainbow under the phrase "I'll love you no matter what." You too had felt the noose; you'd spent years fighting it, fighting your hatred of the small town you were forced to grow up in. "Satoru, Suguru, Shoko," you would tell them, "one day we'll all move out of here into the nicest, fanciest apartment in the city."

Grief was love with nowhere to go, and in that particular moment, Satoru found your absence particularly painful. Sighing, he stretches, resting his chin on the back of the couch to stare at the clock. 12:36; Suguru was probably still awake. Quietly, Satoru pads to the spare room in the apartment he shares with Suguru that they'd converted into their music and production room. Unsurprisingly, he finds Suguru perched on an old barstool they thrifted, gently strumming the strings of the guitar you'd gifted him so long ago.

"Satoru," Suguru says softly, pausing. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Wordlessly, Satoru wraps his arms around him, nuzzling into the slope of his neck. After a few moments, he speaks.

"I miss her."

He can feel the way Suguru stiffens slightly in his arms, before exhaling, tension releasing from his shoulders. "I miss her too. I've been thinking, Satoru."

"That's dangerous for you," Satoru chides, and Suguru rolls his eyes fondly.

"You're such a brat. I've been thinking, what if we went back?"

Satoru blanches, staring at Suguru. "What?"

"Not permanently," Suguru hastily amends, knowing how deep Satoru's scars run. "Just enough to...I don't know, Satoru. We messed up really badly. I know there's a large chance she won't even be there anymore. She used to always tell us about how she couldn't wait to move to the city. But we can at least start there, right?"

The news of Satoru's hiatus caused enough ripples for even you to notice it. Despite the fact you avoided anything to do with both his and Suguru's music career, every news outlet, radio channel, and social media post had something to say about it. Hell, you couldn't even open the local newspaper without seeing his face plastered on it, lamenting his temporary break from the group's next comeback.

Frowning, you slam the kitchen cabinet door a bit harder than necessary. Why should you care? If anything, you should be gloating with this piece of information, that not everything was perfect in Gojo Satoru's idol career. Yet, a small part of you still worried. Was he eating alright? Did something happen to Suguru? Should you call Shoko?

The door chimes, startling you out of your thoughts. Your parents are back in the hospital undergoing another round of treatments but they could have came back early. Sighing, you walk over to the door, opening it without a second thought.

"Hi, what-"

In that moment, you feel several emotions. Regret, that you hadn't checked who it was before opening it. An odd blend of concern and fear; why had they come back, was something horribly wrong? Most overpoweringly, was the deep sense of anger that welled up inside of you, seeing both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru standing on your doorstep.

"You're here," Sator- Gojo, breathes, crystalline blue eyes greedily drinking in the sight of you. He reaches for you, but you flinch back.

"What are you doing here?"

You're surprised to see that Gojo seems hurt by that statement. Sugu- Geto steps closer. "We wanted to see you."

"Oh, so a whim?" You can't help the harshness of your voice, or the way that your voice trembles ever so slightly. "Its been years, Geto. Five years since you left, and you come back now? What am I, just an afterthought? I already knew that but my god you're such an asshole."

"That's not what I'm saying," Geto sighs, and you want to throttle him. "We missed you so much, I can't even-"

You can't help but cut him off, fists clenched and hot tears pooling in your eyes. "You could have left a note. You could have left me an address, could have reached out once you settled in, anything!"

It's Gojo's turn to speak, hands fidgeting as if he wants to pull you close. "Our managers-"

"I don't care!"

A hush falls after your outburst, and you can't help the tears that slip down your cheeks. "Did I really mean that little to you? I would have left with you, I would have done anything for you, so don't you dare try to come up with an excuse. Don't try to tell me that your managers stopped you. I loved you." Your voice breaks. "How could you?"

Both men look ashamed. Geto is the first to speak. "We thought you would have moved away. We lost our original numbers, and Shoko refused to-"

Your eyes flash. "Don't try to blame Shoko for this. Unlike the two of you, she stayed with me."

Gojo flinches. "That's not fair. We didn't have a choice, why can't you see that?"

A sardonic laugh escapes your lips. "See what? All I see is the choice you made in leaving me behind."

"What happened to you?" Geto breathes, and you fight the urge to slap him. "You were so adamant that you would get out of this town."

"Well I can't," you hiss. "Not all of us can abandon their loved ones without a second thought."

Gojo's face looks like you've just shattered his world. "You never left?"

Something in the way he says that breaks something inside of you. "Mom and Dad have whatever Grandmother had," you tell them. You're not even sure why you're saying this, but there's a sick sense of pleasure in watching it start to sink in. "There's nobody else to help take care of them. Whenever she can, Shoko will try her best to stop by."

"You've been alone," Geto murmurs, horrified.

Venom fills your mouth. "I have been since I was sixteen, thanks for asking. You think I didn't notice that you two were together? You never even said anything to me and I still figured it out." Gojo's face pales but you plow forward. "It was always Satoru and Suguru, Gojo and Geto, but what about me? I was there too, wasn't I?" Blood drips down your palms; you're digging your nails in hard enough to cut. "You two forgot about me. You discarded me, left me behind. Did you really think so little of me? Did you really think I would treat you like everyone else in this town?" You can see the pain in Geto's eyes. "As if it wasn't enough, I had to see you everywhere. It's nice seeing how quickly both of you replaced me with other women."

Gojo calls your name but you shake your head, vision blurring. "Go fuck yourself, both of you. Don't talk to me. I wish you'd never come back." Whirling back inside, you slam the door, ignoring the frantic banging and shouts. As you sink to the floor, you finally allow yourself to sob, curled up against the solid wood doorframe. I thought it was over, you think miserably. But somehow it hurts more than the day they left.

[vminity21]

Goodbye to Hello | jjk

Pairing: badboy!jeongguk x female!reader

Word Count: 25,102

Genre: fluff, lots of smut oops, mega-angst, strangers to lovers!au, fuckboy/fuckgirl!au

Warning(s): profanity, infidelity, mega-angst (im sorry), mention of alcohol, smoking, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m + f receiving), slight m!dom, nipple play, hand job, dirty talk, ice play, ass grabbing, mention of a sex toy, squirting, hobi is a bad boy in this too, multiple orgasms, smutty kissing, reader may or may not have accidentally become a fuckgirl in this story sorry not sorry; Rated: 18+

Credit to: @yoonoclock for making such an incredible cover for this story that has taken me two long years to write. It’s finally where I need it to be and thank you so much Monnie for using your talent to create a banner that truly embodies the story.

Taglist: thank you so much for your patience with me! @ggukkieland @thisartemisnevermisses @moonchild1 @familiarlikemymirror3 @gukniverse​

Summary: After a devastating break up, you immediately move in with your sister, leaving behind the country life to relearn the ups and downs of the city. Adopting a cat and gaining a new job at a retail store part time, life seems to gradually bring happiness and healing, but you did not expect for it to become even more interesting when you stumble upon the enticing yet alluring tattoo artist, Jeon Jeongguk. Will this be an adventure of a lifetime? Or will hello always lead to goodbye?

Golden specks twinkle sporadically like fairy dust creating a shimmering tint to the air that collects the attention of any individual trailing the pavement. Pollen. The groovy excitement of a stuffy nose and mildly itchy eyes sounds stellar compared to how you could be feeling. Sniffling roughly, you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily to relieve what little of the itch that you can and trotting up the steps to your realm of refuge, you can hardly stand the excitement of bundling into the arms of your boyfriend, Jung Hoseok, and relaying how lovely it is to wipe your nose every five minutes. Maybe even ask if you can borrow the sleeve of his sweatshirt as a tissue. Pause. Maybe not.

Entering the rental home, you hadn’t noticed how eerily quiet it seemed, not right away; especially when you are so used to hearing the raging shots of a video game mingled with the yelling profanity between Hoseok and his best friend Kim Namjoon who bicker over headsets about wins that neither of them were really close to. But, let the males believe, they indeed, almost triumphed. Settling your handbag onto the dining table, you tilt your head in confusion. Is Hobi sick today? Where is he?

The floors creak beneath your tennis shoes while you observe the kitchen. That’s funny. The dishes are cleaned and put away, and not one stray of lint is seen upon the countertop- Hoseok has always been clean as well as you, but he never went over the top unless he had company over, and by company you mean his mother. Thoughts drift to the possibility of him wanting to surprise you for whatever the case may be, and your heart flutters at the mere inkling while a smirk graces your lips. How thoughtful, you feel gushy at his consideration of you, and your steps follow the direction of your bedroom.

It is then that your life spirals in a cluster of emotions that you will never forget; sparks dancing in your vision while your chest tightens intensely in response to the sounds you hear echoing beyond the door. No. You want to scream, but your throat constricts, not producing any verbalization no matter how much your brain signals. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real. The moans persist. The mystery female is eagerly gasping his name over and over while your heart shudders at the pain severing every vein within your frame. A tear falls panging the floor- your body is so tense, you shiver through the anxiety, and you know deep down that confronting him will hurt even worse than if you were to take the high road and walk away.

Wiping the dampness from your eyes, you spin to compile your things as in your handbag that contains your wallet, car key, and cellphone, and you march outside, slamming the front door behind you to shed some of the anger boiling in your system; you could care less if he heard your grand exit or not for you blocked his number before you settled into your car. You may be able to run from him, but you cannot run from the excruciating pain erupting beneath your chest nor the cycle of questions that refuse to stop spinning because why? After three years together, why would he betray you like this?

The front door flings open. Hoseok runs onto the porch in pure panic, hair disheveled, only in boxers, mouth gaping open as his widened eyes search until they lock with yours. But it’s too late. You are already safe within your car. Even when you notice the slim figure of a woman in one of his t-shirts, you do not move your gaze. You let the stare down with your boyfriend linger enough to rest your case. The second he starts rushing down the porch steps in a way to catch up to you for whatever meaningless apologies- meaningless explanations that will pour from his mouth- is when you reverse onto the road.

Behind the steering wheel with no destination in mind, you come up with the only solution you find reasonable, and you make your way to the city with the intention of starting over, even if it means it destroys you.

-

A queue of ants scurry along the lining of the windowsill where the sun tinges the glass against your knuckles. Shrivel sounds of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence of the kitchen while you gulp the final bite of your snack. Sometimes when your hands feel cold, you leave it to the sun to indulge your skin with warmth before trekking to your room, but instead, the growling of your stomach and the distraction of observing the insects seems to help with the boredom. Dread happens to consume the depths of your chest at the subtle reminder of returning to work in the morning; Sundays always bring the feeling of woe because it is the end of relaxation before continuing the week of being overwhelmed. But you figure adulting is worth it in some ways, and as everyone else, you must work to provide and live.

The chirp of your cat, Kenai, alerts your attention, him pouncing onto the counter to rub his head along your free wrist. “If you’re hungry, just say so,” you coo sarcastically, knowing he is due for his dinner in a few minutes. He will be a year old soon, his yellow eyes squinting as he rubs his head against your palm before arching his back once you run your hand to the end of his tail. Your eyes flit back to the ants darting in search of whatever they need, and inwardly, you are uncertain how your sister, Monnie would feel about the bugs, but you always found them fascinating.

Jumping off the counter, Kenai excitingly follows suit, twirling against your legs as you saunter to the pantry to retrieve his food. You have officially lived with your sister for a year now, and adopting Kenai was one of the best decisions you have ever made besides moving to the city. It is as if you disappeared from the prior life that you once lived and you like it just that way. Kenai temporarily ditches you for his food, and you stroll off to the living room where the scenery of a huge, flat screen television shows your reflection on the empty screen.

Monnie happens to be a successful artist who fell in love with another known artist by the name of Min Yoongi. Together they have won the world with their talent, and you could not have asked for a better couple to be in your life. If there is a true definition of love, it is how Yoongi gazes at your sister- because she is the only woman in the world, he will do anything and everything for. Jokingly, you always tell the pair that you are just going to stick with your cat, but the sadness that etches within Monnie’s eyes reveals that she hopes you will find a good man of your own. She is aware of why you abruptly returned to the place you were birthed, and she is aware that you refuse to speak of it even if it is pent up to the brim of imploding.

When you met your ex, it was in a park of all places. Not high school, not college, not through a family member or a friend: a park. It was a romantic way to begin even though you will never admit it now, but it started so naturally. So simple. You were reading a book while he was creating one. The way you were poised apparently sparked an idea for a story he openly confessed later on in the courtship. He described the scenery around you and how enwrapped in the book you were as something meant to be written for others to discover. How he could imagine a story just from the vision you had no idea you were forming for him.

You fell for him fast. Hard. He was your first everything aside from kissing and as time went by, you agreed to move in with him. You never expected what was going to happen in the future. You never anticipated such excruciating pain from the betrayal, nor did you notice any signs leading up to it. He’s tried contacting you from other phone numbers, but after four months apart, he seemed to have given up. But, because the pain is still so raw, you can’t bear to face him. You will crumple like a piece of paper in his presence if you were to ever see him again. For now, you do all you can to just avoid the situation as much as possible. Besides, he has her now. Whoever she may be.

Alas, what does it matter? It is not like he is able to reach out to you anyways for he is blocked on every and any social media site you can think of, and thankfully your name was not on the lease nor was your name hooked to anything involving your ex, so it will be fine. Or so you tell yourself repeatedly until you lose track of the thought. But that uneasy feeling creeps back up and instead of reaching for the remote, you decide maybe a walk around the city will be better. Monnie isn’t due home until later and you are assuming Yoongi will be tagging along, so why not pass the time by exploring?

Loneliness seeps in the gallows of your heart while you rush through the app for a driver. There is not a specific destination you prefer over another, so you pick a store at random around fifteen minutes away. With the money your sister has, she doesn’t expect you to pay for anything, all she cares about is your happiness though you refuse to not work; for now, you have a part time retail job whilst figuring out a career path that will become your future in the long term.

One thing you will say, is you have not missed driving in the city, hence the reasoning of you summoning a chauffeur. Traffic isn’t your favorite as commonly pronounced by anybody, and with how overwhelming your brain can feel, you prefer to be able to drift into the zone out rather than pay attention. Gripping the strap of your bag, you eagerly watch the road while cars pass by letting the heat of the breeze sweep through your hair. When the signal of your phone alerts you that your driver is close by, you aim your focus in the direction of a slowing vehicle, stunned by the countenance of a sharp jawline and rainbow colors dyed into bleach blonde strands.

The beauty you are about to behold is way out of your comfort zone, nor have you felt this attracted to an individual since your heart was obliterated a year ago. “Hi-hi,” you stutter once you enter the passenger side, the driver nods once with a smirk in tow, his button up snug to his frame, an earring dangling from his right ear.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduces, “Location still the bookstore in the city?”

“Yes please,” you are shocked you sound audible, but you return a timid smile while shoving some loose hair behind your reddening ear. The clean scent of lemon breaches past your nostrils while you try to maintain your composure, “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” soft music plays in the background, yet the only sense you tune into is the pounding in your temples. Pull yourself together, he is just a guy who drives a car, who will safely take you to the bookstore, no biggie, you will survive, there are more important things to- “So, as a fellow book lover, I must ask, what is your favorite story?”

Oof. Conversation to minimize the awkward way your shoulders tense at the mere thought of looking over at him, you rummage through the possible answers, struggling to gather your words in a timely manner. “Very hard question,” you gulp, “It’s like asking to choose your favorite song or movie. Too many stories to explore,”

“And never a time you will run out of adventure,”

Eyebrows shoot up in response, “Right,” you smile, “Sounds like you love a good adventure,”

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” a soft chuckle escapes past his plump lips while he keeps his gaze ahead on the traffic. “Have you resided here long?” Shifting nervously in your seat, you watch the buildings of the city closely in a way to avoid Jimin’s gaze without obviously melting.

“Only a year, made a split decision to move in with my sister. You?”

Jimin flits his stare for only a moment, “For a long while. My best friend and I are opening a bar not far from the bookstore, you should come sometime. Invite anyone and everyone you want.”

“I love me a good drink,” bravery enters your frame while you briefly scan the smooth skin of Jimin’s face. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Taehyung has a lot of success in his business, and this will be his fourth opening so celebration is a must. He has a lot of sponsors and connections, the main being Kim Seokjin,”

Gasping, you immediately turn to him, “You mean the actor Kim Seokjin? You’re kidding!”

Laughing, Jimin’s smile stretches to show pearly white teeth, “I will allow you to punch me if I am,”

Deep down you try to suppress the memory of your ex-boyfriend who had written a script in preparation to be read for a potential movie, one that would, in hopes, hire Kim Seokjin as the lead. Hoseok is talented in the writing department and had dreams of becoming a successful author, but you gladly dismiss the memory when Jimin pulls to park for you to exit.

“Here,” swiftly he pulls out a business card handing it to you with a friendly grin, “The opening is in a few weeks, will I see you there?”

“One hundred percent,” clutching the card in your hand, you wave before shutting the door, turning to face the bookstore to hide the fact you would prefer to stare at Jimin whose face will haunt you for the time being. For fucks sake, I need to get laid. As you desperately insert the card into your wallet, you pause. Nay! Male specimens suck, they all suck, my mother said the purpose of a male is to produce a child that I clearly am not ready to birth from the womb that is my pretty pink uterus. That bleeds. Monthly. Because I am not housing a fetus I- Ew. Maybe you’d rather be an aunt. Or have an ovariohysterectomy. Maybe your uterus would like to be taken out of the equation in general.

And now I need a coffee…. Shit.

Since when have you been this intimidated by a good-looking man? And when have you found any of your sporadic conscious entertaining? Therefore, you passionately believe in keeping your mouth shut when you’re on a tangent because humiliation is not in your vocabulary. Or… Is it? Also, you hate admitting how long it has been since you have even been kissed, much less caressed lovingly until you fell asleep. Is moving on from heartbreak too much to ask for? The heat of Hoseok’s kisses trailing your neck were enough to make you come undone, but his betrayal outweighs the good times- good times that evidently weren’t enough for him. Huffing in congruent with the squeezing of your shutting eyes, you step along the semi-crowded sidewalk where people mind their business enough to leave you alone. Your hand must have pressed against your stomach for a bit because you can still feel the presence of the touch before you subconsciously removed your palm.

The bookstore is a popular joint in your opinion. It stands four stories high with the fourth floor having a garden center where people can read and smell the perfumes of flowers in peace. Unfortunately, you are not in the best mood for getting lost in the lines of a tale considering you were too busy thinking about your erm, lady possessions, so you tread what you hope will be enough distraction until you feel satisfied enough to go home. It’s funny the curveballs life will throw at you especially when twists and turns decide to expose themselves in the unexpected ways everyone wishes will not happen unless it gleams nothing but happiness. Sadly, for some, the hits of negativity must spark lessons before one reaches the promise land, so when you make a turn into the alley way leading to a popular coffee shop, you do not anticipate the way your life is going to change. Nor do you fathom the string of events that are about to follow when you stumble upon a leathered frame, sucking in a puff of a cigarette while he flicks at his eyebrow shimmering with a piercing, leaning against the wall where he swallows roughly. Undercut freshly done, his nostrils release the smoke in what seems to be slow motion while you halt in place.

Holy shit.

Tattoos ornament the entirety of his knuckles and wrist alluding to the beginning of a sleeve that’s covered by the thick material of his jacket. For all you know, he may not be one to approach, yet the tug of your heart is so strong, you try with all your might to make the executive decision to return to the bookstore, but alas, it is too late. Brown irises glance to your frozen figure right when he takes another drag of the cigarette, lifting an eyebrow in evident interest while your jaw drops unintentionally. “I’m-I’m sorry,” you bow in tiny, “I didn’t see you there.” Cringing, you know damn well that you saw him, and he sees right through your little white lie.

“You’re fine,” he replies, studying your expression, tossing the cigarette to the ground to muffle it, “Not the best place for me to smoke, but it’s the least populated area,”

At a loss for words, you nod in response, the guy barely pushing off the wall to stand straighter, the smell of the cigarette lingering. “Well, I guess I’ll be going.” You say under your breath, walking with a mission toward the coffee shop to catch your breath. How in the world can somebody be that attractive? First Jimin, now this guy? Why hadn’t you moved to the city earlier? Uterus, it is not time to ovulate! It is not the time! The ding of the bell alerts your arrival to the staff, and you contemplate your order deciding to try a new flavor of coffee. Surprisingly, it is not nearly as busy as it typically is, so once you retrieve your order and pay, you search for a secluded table to descend into for some form of solitude. And, to recover from the interaction with the guy from the alley. You have never smoked a day in your life, but he made it seem so tempting, which in your case is nowhere near normal, so you shake the strange attraction from your mind as best as you can.

Sipping the hot liquid frequently, your sister has always teased that you delight in drinking coffee in the evenings, but it is your comfort go to especially when you need something to do, or to feel relaxed. The bell of the door echoes prompting the immediate noticing of whoever the customer is that entered. Swallowing abruptly, your heart leaps at the sight of the guy you literally saw fifteen minutes ago in the alley. A creeping blush spreads along your chest soon touching your cheeks to the point you wish you could hide. In a way, you attempt, sinking a smidge in your seat wondering if that will prevent him from noticing your presence.

Nice try.

Between the minimal number of customers and the efficiency of the employees, a tattooed hand linked to a coffee cup slides into the seat across from you, tilting his head curiously when you toss your sight to bask in the glory of his profound attraction. You are in so much trouble. “Hi, again,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the quivering of your cold fingers, and to tame the flipping of your ovaries. “Did I scare you enough to make you confront me?”

Smirking a breathy laugh, he takes a swig of his coffee, “I’m not scared of anything.”

“If not fear, what brings you to my table?”

Wetting his bottom lip, you are proud of your feigned courage, but you genuinely are shocked by his sudden presence. Did you leave an inadvertent impression? Quirking an eyebrow, a small smile remains on his lips, “A confession.”

“If it’s sweet talk, I’ll pass.”

Leaning forward to perch his elbows on the table, he folds his hands showing the tattoos you inwardly reveled in earlier, his head poises to the side while he presses his knuckles to his chin casually. “Bold of you to assume I was here to compliment you.”

“Ouch.” You deadpan. “But then again, my mother’s compliments are all that matter to me. Anything you say is irrelevant.”

“Oh,” gradually laying his intertwined fingers onto the table, he challenges with a stare that can make any human being melt into the wooden floor. Fuck. “Then I guess telling you that your shirt is inside out isn’t going to change anything.”

Gasping, your palms fly to your chest where you instantaneously look to see the lines of your t-shirt that clearly expose the fact that you indeed left the house with your shirt on wrong. It is not as embarrassing as one may think, but you were unaware of the food stain dazzling along the side of your boob. Which in this case, makes you blush harder knowing that his eyes may be lingering in an area where no man is welcome currently. But why do you lowkey indulge in the idea of him taking a moment to sweep you up and down? Get a fucking grip, y/n.

“Well,” you sporadically move to position yourself in the seat where the point out will no longer be as obvious, “I appreciate how observant you are, but at least it’s not the worst thing to discover. In public.”

Chuckling under his breath, he shrugs, “I agree. Just figured I’d inform you, otherwise, my intentions are pure.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms again, remaining comfortable in your chair, “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“If I wanted anything, I would have asked already.” He murmurs, “And I always get what I want.”

“Fearless and greedy,” you are vastly grateful that the uterus doesn’t make noises when it’s craving to house an infant, especially with a man as ballsy and gorgeous as the one before you. And why the hell are you even thinking of children at a time like this? Any other male specimen would have made this conversation creepy, but this guy is so alluring that it doesn’t seem to bother you in the least. “What’s your name, Cigs?”

He chokes mid-sip, “That’s a new one.”

“What’s the norm?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Not if it’s sexual.”

“Oooo, then I’ll never tell.”

“Pure, my ass.”

“I never said I was pure, milady, I said my intentions with you were pure.”

Eyeing him questionably, you stifle a jeer, “Not sure if that’s an insult, but I’ll take it.”

Smiling enough to where a glimpse of his teeth is seen, he reaches a hand forward, “I’m Jeongguk.”

“I’m y/n.” Kindly, you take his hand returning the greeting with a grin.

“And I find you extremely striking. I mean that with all sincerity.” Gently, he presses a warm kiss to the back of your knuckles before releasing your clammy hand. “Now go fix your shirt before my OCD destroys me.”

Groaning, your mind wants to focus on the sensation from his lips on your skin, but instead, in mild humiliation, you shake your head kiddingly while you mosey to the restroom. Remembering to bring your purse, you hadn’t realized you left your phone behind on the table next to your drink. Returning, you’re shocked to see that he’s left; your phone and coffee appear untouched, yet you feel the sting of disappointment for you enjoyed the bickering even though some may find it strange. It has been a while since you have been in proximity with a man of such nature, especially one whose features leave an imprint on every crevice of your brain.

The ride home holds nothing but thoughts of the lad who mysteriously approached you at your favorite coffee spot, mostly questions of wonderment of who he is. Jeongguk, sure, but what is his story? Shoving the thought past your mind, you enter your room once you arrive home and feed your cat, slipping into your pajamas and collapsing onto your bed releasing a long sigh. Slamming your palms to your face, the keen chirp of Kenai sounds as he pounces onto the bed, rubbing his head against your cheek until you split your fingers to peer at your cat lovingly. “You have already eaten, you brute. Let me simmer in sadness please.”

Eventually you give in, petting him before you find your eyelids heavily craving slumber. It is the next day when you awaken to sunshine pouring through the blinds casting dancing shadows upon your bedspread. Kenai’s fur tickles your cheek where he has cuddled cozily to you, which is the usual with your cat, and gazing fondly at your furry friend, you blindly pat your desk to grasp your phone to sneak a Snapchat. “Don’t you move, KiKi.” Angling the phone, you take a photo, posting to your story to show off how precious your animal is. You were so lucky when you found your cat. After the devastating blow to the chest a year prior, the first thing you did was visit a shelter not far from Monnie’s house in search of the first animal to win your heart.

In all honesty, they all did, but one look at the small fluff puff, pressing his paws against the glass, meowing for you to notice him was all it took. He purred the moment your hands wrapped around his small body, his cold nose sniffing along your face that was stained with tears. He was the little superhero besides your sister that you needed to find some form of healing. Kenai hasn’t left your side, and he refuses to. You never knew a cat could love you so much, even on the nights you wake up with him sprawled across your trachea. His love may be smothering, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kissing the side of his head, his sleepy eyes remain out the window where birds zip past to distract him. Throwing the covers off you, the number one thing you do is brush your teeth, changing into your work clothes, and tying your hair up out of your vision. Kenai eventually follows you with all the hopes of getting his breakfast which you prepare, and before shuffling into your tennis shoes, you check your phone where your eyes enlarge to the rising beat of your heart.

Jeongguk is typing….

“What the hell?” You mouth. The guy from yesterday added you on Snapchat? How? The only thing you can think is your phone happened to be unlocked unless he was able to open the picture app to scan his Snapchat code. Either way, you are not wanting to admit how pleasantly surprised you are, and when the familiar tone of the Snapchat alerts his official message, you hold yourself back from replying to him too quickly.

It's an exuberantly strange feeling, how giddy one can become all because of a mere message of someone where their interest lies. And the nervous tingles at the bottom of your stomach ignite as you ponder every and any scenario involving the mysterious lad. You have yet to reply, nor do you have any clue what to expect, but you deeply hold nothing but genuine curiosity of how this may play out. Will he be interested in you? Are you ready for someone to be interested in you? That may be the more accurate question. Hoseok hurt you beyond words, but will Jeongguk do the same if you do end up finding him enchanting? What if he doesn’t think you are enough? With all the women in the world, it seems that you can’t hold a guy down enough to seem worth it. Stop it. Wincing, you grit your teeth knowing the negativity needs to end now. Of course, you are enough. You have always been enough, and nobody should make you doubt otherwise. “Anyone who doesn’t see the good in you is at a loss. You are literally the epitome of kindness,” Monnie’s words repeat in your head, uplifting you enough to focus your mind on other matters. Like, preparing your brain cells for the workday ahead.

Finicking with your uniformed red vest, you greet a fellow coworker with a smile, “Good morning, LenLen! Is it five o’clock yet?”

Giggling, LenLen’s face lights up at your question as she finishes folding a pair of jeans to set upon a display. “It is somewhere.”

“Good point,” walking the isles of the store to tidy up the shelves, you can’t help but wonder if it has been long enough since Jeongguk messaged you. Giving it another ten minutes to ensure the coast is clear of customers, you sneak into the breakroom, unlocking your phone to see what he said. You are appalled at yourself for being so consumed in the fact that a guy you just met has taken time out of his day to reach out to you and you wish you could maintain your cool.

‘Dude, your cat looks just like my hellion, Flounder.’

Smiling at what you have read, you click to save the message, so you don’t forget what is being talked about once you exit the snapchat, and you are nearly losing your mind when Jeongguk’s Bitmoji appears a few seconds after you start typing. Uncertain of what else to say, you respond with, ‘Prove it.’ GAH! You grimace, that’s what you have to say? Prove it? Beating yourself up, you forget to breathe the moment the red icon shows that Jeongguk has sent a picture of what you are assuming is his cat. Opening it with the click of your thumb, you are amazed how identical Flounder and Kenai are even considering they could be potential siblings, what a small world right? ‘First off, LOVE the name’, you reply, also realizing you are blushing because also within the picture, a side profile of Jeongguk shows that he is smiling.

Knowing you will have to return to the floor soon, you decide to let Jeongguk send at least one more message before you have to be a responsible adult. ‘Right? It was either Sushi, Tuna, or Sardine, but I thought Flounder would be more fitting and unique. Tetra is my other cat and she’s the worst about stealing my food.’

‘Sounds like Kenai can finally make some friends! And attempt to steal a morsel alongside.’

Typing out the message, you hesitate to send, but with the shared love of felines you honestly feel as though Jeongguk will not overanalyze your reply. Anxious for lunch break, you handle the hours with ease, conversing with LenLen from time to time to figure out who has done what on the chores list. LenLen speaks of a guy that she met recently, with a square jawline and hair as curly as a bowl of ramen noodles, yet his bright smile is what drew her to him. You talk of how happy you are for her and hope for the best, chickening out to tell her about Jeongguk, especially with it being, in your opinion, extremely too soon to mention.

Retrieving your food, you hide away in the breakroom where your eyes immediately glue to your cellular device anticipating whatever Jeongguk has said. ‘Hell yeah, my babies would love that, they do very well with other animals, surprisingly. Hey, sorry I left so soon yesterday, something came up.’

‘It takes a bit for Kenai to warm up, but he will adapt just fine. All he cares about is his stomach being full. No need to apologize, I totally get it.’ Eyebrows furrowed; you can’t help the wonder of what made him leave so soon. Also, you are not one to press further, if he wants to explain himself then he will. Otherwise, you hope that everything is okay with him.

It has only been a few days when you enter the coffee shop again, making it obvious that it indeed is your favorite, and you are shocked the employees don’t know you by name yet. Or so you assume. It is when you see Jeongguk taking a sip of his drink searching for an empty table, your heart leaps as if on cue. You are starting to assume that maybe he is a recent frequenter of this same coffee shop too. Why else have you seen him twice in the span of a few days? You’ve never noticed him here before this week, so now you wonder if he recently moved to the city. His leather jacket hugs his frame as his hair is styled to his liking. You hardly notice the way your mouth waters instinctively and you snap back into focus when you are next in line.

Pretending you didn’t notice Jeongguk, you decide to find a seat a short distance away just in case by some chance he acknowledges you. With coffee in hand, you pick a spot and not even sixty seconds later, you hear the familiar click notification of someone typing on Snapchat. Jittery, which you wish wasn’t so obvious, you carefully reach for your phone seeing: Jeongguk is typing… lighting the screen. Without thinking, you immediately lift your gaze to see him staring at you, a mischievous smirk gracing his pink lips.

Just for his delight, you play along spinning some storybook thought that you two are forbidden lovers hiding from the community by texting instead of speaking to one another in person. Get a grip, y/n, you scold yourself mentally. Opening the message, it reads: may I join you in coffee matrimony?

Shaking your head along with a breathy laugh to his cheesy statement, you respond with a pun, only if you keep me brewing, Tatts!

The creak of his chair echoes as he slides it back. Shyly, you hold his stare, watching him and his thick boots walk to settle into the chair across from you. “Clever,” he muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Strands of his hair fall at the outer corners of his eyes, and you breathe in the faint scent of his cologne. This time, you do not get a whiff of any cigarettes, so you question if he’s even had one today. “If you’re not careful,” he deliberates, “I might have to show you what it’s like to get creamed.”

“Hm.” Arching an eyebrow, you catch on to his game, and if he wasn’t so damn alluring, you wouldn’t even give this conversation another thought with anybody else, “You better hope it tastes as sweet as sugar.” He doesn’t expect you to say that. He may have had women fall hopelessly at his feet, and as much as you feel you might be the next one, you definitely aren’t going to show it. Not right now.

“I hear that the ladies like it steamy.”

“Or iced,” you shrug nonchalantly. Ice play has always been a curiosity of yours, but he doesn’t have to know that. When he doesn’t seem to come up with another pun, you chew the corner of your lip before you lean onto the table yourself, inching as close as you can that the table between you two will allow. “Tell me, Boots, how is it… that a guy with this tough exterior can be so delicately precious about his cats?”

He gestures with his hands. “What can I say? I have to set a good example.”

You harrumph humorously. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He feigns surprise. “You think I am incapable of being a good role model to my children?”

“Oh please. All you have to do is keep their food bowls filled to the brim and you’ve already won dad of the year.”

Jeongguk winks, bringing his hands together to interlace his fingers reminding you of the tattoos you wish you can visualize more. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he smirks.

You have a hard time breaking his gaze, but you clear your throat when it lingers a bit too long. “Anyways,” you attempt to change the subject, “I hope all is well.” You’re really hinting about why he left so suddenly the last time but knowing men do not always pick up on hints, you know you will accept whether he gets what you mean or not.

“Seeing that you put your clothes on right today, my OCD hasn’t been triggered.”

“Happy to see I’ve made a difference in your life.” You playfully sneer.

“It’s the little things that count.”

You feel your uterus squeeze. How the fuck is he so damn attractive for? “I’ll keep that in mind every time I dress.” You say it too quickly without thinking, your cheeks glimmering blood red. He quirks an eyebrow tauntingly.

“I can always help.”

“Nice try, Cigs.”

Except… You want him to try. That itching desire travels through your chest, and you wonder maybe… just maybe, you can get his help. Not necessarily with getting dressed because you swear you are competent to do so, but… maybe he can cure the curse of loneliness, even if it’s just for the moment. You want to deny that you hope it will be much more than just this moment. You can’t explain any of this. Are you trying to impress him?

Uncrossing your ankles underneath the table, you do slide your feet forward taking the tip of your boot to tickle up his leg and you can’t help the smirk that graces your lips when he sucks in a hiss. There’s a tad bit of space on the chair where you place your boot, gracefully taking your other foot to nestle on the other side of his hips. You don’t know what is taking over you, but it’s divine, and now you can’t stop yourself especially with his eyes tempting for you to continue. “I’m gonna need help with more than-”

“How’s it going?”

You jolt, boots slamming to the ground when your wide eyes shoot to see a smiling employee who clearly is going from table to table to check on customers. Stammering, you lick your lips while Jeongguk tries not to laugh in response to your sudden shock. “Goo-good!” You plaster a wide smile while the employee bows swiftly to then waltz to the next table as if they didn’t intrude on your façade to win over this incredibly attractive man across from you. Fuck, you grimace. How embarrassing.

When coffees are finished and downed in clumsy silence, you reach for a stick of gum, offering Jeongguk a piece so you don’t feel so insecure about the coffee breath. He offers to walk you home, but you tell him the bookstore is where you plan to be next. You’re not ready to go home because home is where you will replay the humiliation of what just happened repeatedly. You need a distraction.

Side by side, the pair of you set off down the alley, your nerves still shooting through your limbs while anxiety of what to talk about tackles your brain cells. You’re really trying to forget already, but it’s too fresh to just repress. Maybe there is a sliver of comfort with the silence, but of course, you overthink that as well because when do you not overthink?

You know what? You saw the pleasure in his eyes, there wasn’t a smidge of doubt in his expression when his body responded to you in the coffee shop. Noting that the alley is empty, you take the opportunity. If he wasn’t the slightest bit into you, he wouldn’t be adamant on making sure you arrive to your next location safely. But you need to think fast before you exit the alley. “Cigs!” You blurt. He stops the second you do. The gravel beneath his boots being the last sound you hear before adrenaline takes over.

Your hands grip the front of his leather jacket and when he clues in, as if rehearsed, his large hands grasp your hips, walking you backwards until your back gently bumps against the brick building. His gaze is intense as if preparing you what you are asking for while your mouth parts in yearning for whatever he is about to do. He over towers you, and your eyes never move even when his palms slide to your waist, his shaky exhales leaving his nostrils. His lips are pressed together. When you think he’s about to kiss you, he slams his eyes shut, shifting nothing but his forehead to lean to yours as your eyes flutter closed. Waiting.

Tingles resonate across your skin and the longing is immensely strong, you don’t want to hold back. You hadn’t realized that the back of your hands are against the brick wall as if you have surrendered to him. In a way, you have. The seconds feel like minutes, and when you think he will finally connect with your body, he pulls away. His hands ghost your waist.

For some reason, you keep your eyes closed. His lips then brush warmly to your forehead and with that, you hear the crunch of his footsteps disappearing as he did the first time you met. Your eyes peel open, and it’s like Jeongguk is a figment of your imagination because now:

he’s gone.

-

You never expected to hear from him again, but as days pass, it’s crazy how one person can enrapture the entirety of your thoughts even with the distractions from work because Jeongguk has mastered it for you. And that is how it has been the rest of the week, giddily waiting on his every text and enjoying every bit of the conversations shared between you two as if the sexual tension in the alley never happened. Eagerly, you toss and turn at night due to the cycle of daydreams rehearsing in your mind rent free, but you can’t help yourself, you love to imagine the possibilities of a real adventure with someone you want to spend time with again. If it ever happens.

“You’re glowing.” Monnie’s eyes squint as you grin away to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator for an electrolyte drink.

“I… cleansed my face?”

“No, it’s not that.”

Teasingly scoffing, you take a swig of your drink, “I... am… expecting?”

“Nice try,”

You nearly choke on the second sip, “C’mon, it’s not that impossible. You don’t know my schedule.”

“I know it enough to know that you haven’t missed a birth control shot since you became physically intimate, and that was practically decades ago.”

“You can just say sex you know,” you retaliate, “And for your information, I had sex last year.”

“Yeah, practically decades ago.”

“Fine. Ten or so excruciatingly long years ago, I had sex.”

“So, in conclusion, you are not with child.”

“Yet,” you ploy, letting Monnie glare at you as she slowly steps out of the kitchen. Who are you kidding? You don’t have time for kids, and you know it. Despite what your uterus wants, you do have to find a stable time to want to produce so for now, you shall wait until the time is right. Hence, why you remain on birth control until you know for sure. Otherwise, life goes on as always. Besides… you do recall the last time you had sex. And… it wasn’t with Hoseok. A secret you will take to your grave if you have to. A secret that happened one drunken night weeks after you and Hoseok broke up. And, you never went back hence why it has been a year since you’ve had sex.

You had guilt as if you cheated on Hoseok even though you did not in fact. Either way, you throw the memory into the depths of your mind and try to force yourself to forget how plush the man’s lips felt along your skin. Instead, you replace it with the brief kiss Jeongguk left on your forehead which feels so out of reach.

During the time of messaging back and forth, one evening, Jeongguk offers to call you due to an atrocious event happening at your workplace that you and LenLen got involuntarily involved in. A customer apparently read a sales sign wrong and didn’t realize it until checkout and no matter how much you and your coworker tried explaining things, the customer was not having it which leaves you to call a manager. Overall, it was a situation that unfolded that you honestly wished didn’t hover in your brain cells, but when Jeongguk calls so you can rant, it means the world.

“You are quite attractive and that’s one hundred percent a compliment, and I’m not one to just throw those around to male specimens.” You confess after long conversation. It’s like you moved on from the awkward interactions. Plus, you convince yourself that you came on too strong the last time you saw him.

He snickers on the other line and vividly you imagine his smile, tickling your tummy like the beating wings of multiple butterflies. “Why, thank you. You definitely have my attention, too, ya know.”

“Well…’ You press the knuckle of your thumb to your bottom lip for a second, “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“And you also deserve to be respected. I’m sorry the customer gave you and your friend such a hard time. If retail is no longer what you want to do, my stepbrother owns a well-known bookstore. I remember you mentioning your love for books at one point and I’m sure he will offer good pay.”

“You would do that for lil’ ole’ me?”

Chuckling lightly, “Anybody with a smart mouth like yours needs a break too.”

“Oh shucks,” though he can’t see it, your cheeks flush a hot shade of red. “Consider me interested! I may give the store some more time since I don’t want to leave LenLen stranded so abruptly, otherwise, I might put in an application just cause.”

“I’ll keep my stepbrother posted.”

You thank him before you decide to head to bed, dazed on cloud nine as you hang up the phone.  

-

It doesn’t matter how busy you are, the second you see the:  Jeongguk is typing…. Notification it’s:

Halt. Stop everything and scramble to unlock the phone screen. Breathe. He is just a guy. He is just a dude with tattoos. Okay, must read message in sixty seconds to not seem desperate. Force yourself to Google search ‘kittens’ to distract your frantic desire to reply immediately to his every text. Does it work? Partially.

So…. I was wondering, would you happen to be off in the next few days? It’s been a minute.

Double take. Eyes enlarged. No way. Inhale. Release. Slowly but clearly, you reread the Snapchat message as if your life depends on it. How long has it been since you two have been messaging back and forth? Maybe a few weeks? But how should you respond? Maybe not as excited so you don’t appear deprived? Or seem super excited so that he knows you are most definitely wanting to meet up? You were super proud of yourself with how contained you stayed when he called you however long ago. Nay, appear neutral. Come across dainty with a sprinkle of bad ass, that’ll get him…. Right? Okay, maybe not.

Funny you ask because I happen to be off today. Send. You squeal internally. You genuinely can’t help how stoked you are in seeing him; the next question is, what is his idea of fun aside from the coffee shop? You are honestly up for anything even if it’s admiring the night sky on a roof with glasses of wine. Or, admiring his tattoos and him explaining the meanings of each one. You have always wanted to get a tattoo yourself but have yet to decide not only what to get but when the right time will be. As with anything, you want the first time to be special. That’s what she said, as you roll your eyes at yourself. Your uterus sure likes to talk, and you really hope you can keep yourself tame once you see him again because a year of no intimacy is already hard enough; and you atrociously hate admitting that you sometimes become lonely for a partner even though healing this past year has been a roller coaster. Even trying to avoid the temptation to reach out… to the last man you entangled with.

Shuddering with guilt, you stroll to the kitchen upon waiting for Jeongguk’s response, and you notice beneath a magnet the card the driver, Jimin, had given you forever ago. The day you met Jeongguk. Carefully shifting it out from under the magnet, an idea does form. Maybe Jeongguk would like to meet you there at the opening. Does he seem like a ‘bar’ type kinda guy? Oh. You wince. What does that even mean? Who doesn’t like a bar setting with a few beers? Plus, it’s been a while since you’ve been to one so why not?

Well today is our lucky day for I happen to have the next 12 hours to find something fun to do. Whaddya say about joining me?

Bring it on, Cigs. You respond and despite the nervous jitters, you type more after the initial message you sent. I actually promised to go to an opening of a new bar that happens to be tonight. If I send the address, would you like to meet me there?

When he asks for the time and where, you send the information. You will get to see him tonight. Now all you can do is panic about what to wear and if you even have anything to wear for the occasion.

Fantastic.

-

Quivering fingers amidst clammy palms slide across the tops of your thighs while you steadily breathe. You, being the early bird that you are, arrive at the bar a few minutes earlier than what you mentioned to Jeongguk. The last you heard from him was when you both finalized the plan. To calm the nerves, you definitely need a drink. A strong one. Your maroon dress clings to your frame the way you like, and you made sure your make up was exactly how you like it to be.. You haven’t felt this confident since you left your ex. And you hope this proves that you never need a man to help you dress.

You ordered a cab to get there so you didn’t have to worry about driving, and you figure if you and Jeongguk still hit it off in person as you do through messaging, then maybe he can make sure you get home safely. So, you hope. Maybe even make up for lost time since the alley.

Sending a quick message to let Jeongguk know you have arrived; your eyes observe your surroundings, and you don’t see him anywhere just yet. Maybe he is stuck in traffic? You wonder. If he is driving, obviously he shouldn’t message you, so you show your ID to the bouncer after standing in line for a few minutes letting the uneasiness settle.

Bodies are scattered among the floor as music blares throughout the building. Laughter and the smell of alcohol is the first thing that comes to your nostrils while your eyes trail for some familiar faces if any happen to be here. Colorful flashing lights wave over the tables, walls, and chairs while people dance continuously, and you really hope despite the overall dim lighting you recognize Jeongguk the second he walks in. Regardless, you search for Jimin since he is the one who invited you, but you haven’t seen him thus far.

Swallowing down the nerves, you squeeze through the crowd until you reach the bar, asking for something strong for you to sip on until Jeongguk arrives. It’s been about ten minutes once your drink is in your hand, and when you check your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read the message. You contemplate phoning him, but know it’s too loud to try, so you assure yourself he will be here. You have full confidence that he will call you if he is running late. Which… technically at this point he should have called you by now.

To divert yourself from the sinking feeling, you watch the bustles of people having the time of their lives when a particular human being causes your shoulders to stiffen and your mouth to run dry. Flashbacks of that night flicker in your mind as a weary sense of dread subdues you. The secret you have kept concealed from the world. Stay calm, y/n. Remain. Calm. You hardly remember how you got there, but you noticed how handsome he was, how his hair was loosening from the gel, and his smile put you at ease as you two laughed together. He was drunk, too, but both of you were still aware enough to know what was happening. What was stirring between you two. All you held onto was how he was the first to make you laugh in weeks during that time.

You knew you shouldn’t have been there, but you didn’t care, and you were desperate to feel something. Freshly single and overruled by anger, you let it win. When you kissed him for the first time, he froze, and you pulled away. But he held your eyes, flitting between them without a single word. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you back, and you remember the way his palm felt on your cheek. The way the kisses grew aggressive and emotional as if he felt the guilt from keeping the secret buried from you. Knowing his best friend was in the wrong for what he did to you, but he knew it wasn’t his place to tell you the truth. But boy, had you made it your place to entangle with this guy who was giving into what his emotions were displaying. He wanted you to feel special. It was like his kisses brought an apology you wished your ex would have given you.

So, in a strange yet erotic way, you let it all go with him. Drunken, slovenly kisses until the pair of you started to sober up enough to experiment further. You can’t remember much of the foreplay, but you do, however, remember when he pressed himself into you, riding smoothly as he kissed every inch of your face and your neck. His hands didn’t exactly know where to touch, but his lips did, and that was enough. He moved in you so gently.

When you had awaken the next morning, you laid flat on your back while tears streamed from the corners of your eyes. You don’t know how long you remained there. You don’t know how long you silently cried. But you left before he woke up. You left before you both had to take in account of what you two had done. What you two had shared.

Now here he is in the present.

Kim Namjoon, Hoseok’s best friend, is here, and he spots you almost as immediately as you spot him. Gulping, you do not know what else to do other than spin around immediately and face the bar contemplating to chug every ounce of the alcohol remaining in your glass. Setting your drink down cautiously to not spill the contents, a rear of nausea raises its ugly head. What is Namjoon doing here!? The last time you saw him was the night you would do anything to forget.

Heart hammering, you squeeze your eyes closed. Namjoon may have given you a good night to hold on to for a while a year ago, but it wasn’t anything more than that. It couldn’t be. You were full of anger and a brief desire of revenge, and you were drunk, and you were-

Large hands lean upon the counter of the bar on either side of you as you suck in a breath. You recognize those hands. Those hands are the ones that slid along your body while you pleaded for more. And the countenance of his frame over towers you as you feel the tip of his lips centimeters from your ear kindling goosebumps along your arms. But these hands aren’t the hands you’ve been waiting for. Not one tattoo shows on these hands.

“Long time, no see.” Namjoon says into your ear. Mustering enough courage after steadying yourself, you turn to face him for the first time in a year. His eyes are as filled with longing as they were the night you last saw him. The kind of longing that wonders of how you feel about what occurred. If you still ponder it.

“What are you doing here!?” You say amongst your trembling body. You try to stay firm though you know deep down none of this was Namjoon’s fault. Trying to set your jaw, you take in the way his shirt tugs at his muscles, and the way his hair is gelled to perfection. You have forgotten how beautiful this man is, but Jeongguk. Where the literal fuck is Jeongguk? He is who you want deep down. So where is he? “Never mind that,” you shake your head, realizing he has every right to be here as you do. “What do you want?”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker along your face momentarily before he speaks. The way his dominant gaze holds you in place could drive any woman mad. “To make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh bullshit.” You say through gritted teeth because not only is Namjoon’s proximity bringing unwanted emotions, but it is also bringing the memories of Hoseok. Memories you really have tried not to relive.

Namjoon’s eyes squeeze shut. “y/n, I’m being serious. You fell off the face of the earth since…”

“Since what? Since Hoseok? Or you?” His mouth shuts automatically. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. What happened that night… It was my fault. I know that, but it shouldn’t have happened.” The anger for even saying Hoseok’s name after so long of refusing to is a strange feeling. Namjoon swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and you visibly see the guilt in his eyes because he agrees. Hoseok has been his best friend since they were kids. “How long had you known by the way? About the other girl? Who is she?” He releases a sigh, shaking his head while he tilts his gaze downward in shame. He knows. Of course, he does. He’s refusing to answer the question, but you ask another one anyway. You know it’s too loud to whisper, and from your peripheral, you may have gained a few stares, but you raise your voice just enough for Namjoon to hear. “Does… he know?”

“That we fucked?” Namjoon answers quickly, his eyes locking with yours. “Of course not.” He’s not going to risk losing his friendship is what you are reading between the lines.

“Good.” You refuse to move your gaze. “Keep it that way. Please.” He’s still so close. And you breathe in his scent. Your hand brushes his chest, while your forehead touches to his chin. Both of you share a silent understanding. A pact.

Namjoon is about to say more but you politely shove his arm out of your way ignoring his reach to stop you. You’re scared that you will give in to the thought of him from all these emotions. Whatever he has to say, he can keep it to himself. For now. You need to catch your breath.

Checking your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read your message and at this point, you have no idea of where he is or why he even bothered agreeing to show up if he truly had no intentions of seeing you again. Maybe you should have known better. He has the bad boy persona just from his stature, but maybe for once you wanted to believe you could get excited about someone again. Maybe he was the distraction you hoped for and needed, and now that your nerves are shot, and your heart is aching from all the emotions, you’ll do anything at this point to rid of it all.

Regretfully forgetting your drink at the bar and realizing after you move to another section of the place, you happen to see Jimin whose face lights up with recognition. Air escapes your lungs yet again because you forgot how attractive he is too. You notice he has been conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin which makes you want to faint since he is so famous and you have yet to meet a famous person, but for right now, despite the tears wanting to spill down your cheeks from the interaction with Namjoon and the acceptance that Jeongguk will not be showing up after all, you are so thankful that Jimin is making his way towards you. Until your emotions settle, you cannot risk humiliating yourself in front of a celebrity of Seokjin’s status. It would be too much.

Your jaw almost drops though when you catch a sudden glimpse of your coworker LenLen who is snug against a man with fluffy hair a short distance away, and you realize that this must be the man she’s been talking to you about! You tell yourself that you will make sure to say hey to her if you get the chance. It’s about time other conversation is shared that is not related exclusively to work.

“Hey there!” Jimin smiles fully, bringing your muddled mind back to attention. He leans in for a quick hug before pulling away. “You look amazing!”

Blushing, you feel where his fingers stop at your elbows. He has such a kind aura about him that makes you feel safe, so you hope he invites you to hang out, especially since LenLen happens to be in the group Jimin has been socializing with from your quick assumptions. “You look good, too!” You feel like you’re shouting, but you don’t care. You are somewhat relieved to finally have somebody to hang out with no matter how quick it lasts. “How is the opening going? Everything go according to plan?”

“Hell, yeah it has!” Jimin beams. “Taehyung is beyond happy with the results. The line outside is insanity!”

“So happy for you both!” You say, and before you think you may have some form of solace, you wonder where Namjoon is or if he miraculously left, but instead of him, you notice someone else. And you beg the heavens on why you can’t seem to catch a break.

Heart shattering to the floor, your eyes widen, and if Jimin is chatting, you definitely can’t hear him over the loud pounding of your heart in your temples. Is this the real reason Namjoon approached you? That he tried to stop you? To warn you?  

If the forbidden person you are frozen by sees you, you don’t care, you need a reason for his heart to break. Something worse than him finding out that you slept with his best friend if he ever does. Hoseok pauses the moment he sees you standing there; a strange look of confusion dawns him instantly as his eyes look from you to Jimin and back. You can’t help the way your gaze automatically drifts to see if you find her, too. The girl he chose over you, but you do not see a female near him. Not yet. You tell yourself that you never want to know who she is, but there is always that sick vengeance of discovering.

Jimin’s eyebrow arches as he follows your gaze. Whether he knows Hoseok or not, that part is the least of your concerns. Jeongguk stood you up, Namjoon confronted you, and your ex-boyfriend who you loved for three years that relentlessly ripped your heart out of your chest- is here and it is too overwhelming to describe right now the full-blown panic shredding every fiber of your being; the utter disbelief how this shit show of a night has unfolded. You wish you were drunk enough to ignore this inexplainable pain. You wish you had a place to escape to.

But… Maybe Jimin is it. If Jeongguk didn’t want to be, then maybe Jimin will.

Despite his furrowed eyebrows, when Jimin turns just enough to look at you, it’s all it takes. Briskly, you cup his face, pressing a kiss to his cloud-like lips while he stumbles in surprise. Relief floods your quivering frame when he doesn’t even remotely hesitate to kiss you back. His lips are enticingly soft and pure, and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss letting the tip of his tongue brush yours ever so slightly. He tastes of peppermint and booze, and he tastes so good, you get tipsy just off his lips. You move your hands to lock behind his neck while his fingers find a hold on your waist. “Well damn,” he says breathless against your lips while peppering short kisses in between his words. “If I would have known, I would have done this much sooner.”

Gripping loose strands on the back of his head, you lift onto the tips of your toes. “You won’t regret it,” you purr into Jimin’s ear, gaze tauntingly floating to stare right into Hoseok’s, whose eyes widen in enormous shock, before Jimin pins you to his frame as if your clothes are a barrier he wishes didn’t exist. Everywhere is too crowded to really notice the way you two lock lips for majority of the evening. And you are well aware that you two are not the only ones making out.

You know Hoseok is watching every second, probably fuming, probably balling his fists, probably justifying every reason he has to interrupt. You hope he is watching every grip of Jimin’s fingers on your ass, the way his lips suck your neck, or the way he twirls your body under the spotlight if a song he likes comes on. You know the jealousy that’s bubbling beneath Hoseok’s chest is about to erupt. But he also knows better than to intervene between the woman he betrayed and who he is assuming to be her new boyfriend. Because it’s too late. You wouldn’t take him back even if he begged. Because whoever she is out there, she knows what she did to you, too. How she couldn’t even show her face when Hoseok burst onto the porch the day you found out. How her breasts were rounded beneath Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt you painfully remembered was missing when you finally had a moment where your emotions didn’t get the best of you. She had that shirt the entire time.

You hadn’t planned to invite Jimin over. The night drives on and you see that Jeongguk at this point, indeed, read your message, but didn’t bother to respond. Didn’t bother to even make an excuse. To explain why he left you to unintentionally fend for yourself. He could have been here. He could have saved you from tonight if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

You hop into Jimin’s car willingly and he drives you home, kissing you and kissing you while your clothes hit the bedroom floor. Jimin slides on a condom before he pushes into you from behind when your body pins to the wall, him pounding as if to the beat of a song while his teeth dig into your shoulder, into your neck. “Deeper!” You squeal. “Keep going, ah-!”

You do not care about the sounds that have echoed from either of your mouths or the number of positions you two have attempted. You lost count after four. You don’t care that you just met him a few weeks ago. You don’t care how you are going to feel in the morning. Yes, you are aware that you are sober this time. But you want Jimin to keep moving inside you until you forget about your one-night stand with your ex’s best friend. Till you forget about Hoseok’s betrayal that haunts your mind and shreds your heart. Till you forget about the girl who took part in ruining your life. Till you forget about the tattooed man who you hoped would rescue you.

Cigs.

Fuck you, Cigs.

-

The morning comes quickly coupled with a pounding headache while you groggily stretch your arms and legs amidst the tangled bed sheets. You accidentally brush warm skin causing you to jolt upright. Wincing, the pounding in your head worsens, yet you turn just enough to assess that you one hundred percent just hooked up with the hot driver who co-owns a bar and is best friends with a celebrity.

Fuck.

Your palms slap to your face. You weren’t even intoxicated, so how could you let this happen? You may not have been drunk off your ass, but you sure as hell were emotional and that can be equally as dangerous as taking shots of the strongest alcoholic beverage out there. “Shit,” you murmur to yourself, watching the slow fall and rise of Jimin’s breathing. Kenai chirps outside your bedroom door and you realize it is probably past his breakfast time. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you can, you freshen up and brush your teeth. Twice. Just in case if you ultimately decide to continue this rendezvous before you kick Jimin out.

Shuddering, you wonder how loud you might have been last night. And by that you mean, was your sister home? And did she hear the commotion you let out the second you got Jimin alone? If she was home maybe, you could handle that truth. What also concerns you is if Yoongi was home too. You couldn’t bear facing the two of them if they were home while you tackled Jimin like a football player between the sheets.

Oh, when will all this humiliation end!? You want to scream outwardly. It’s been never ending. And, when you start to dress into a nightgown, you finger at the red mark on your shoulder. A reminder of where Jimin had been. And you hate that you like it.

Leaving the bathroom trying to rid the thought, you see Jimin is fully awake and putting on his shirt, his pants already hugging his toned legs. His hair is unkempt from the night before, and it looks cuter that way with his array of colors dyed with the blonde. “Hey there,” he smiles brightly when he sees you. You notice him pop a piece of gum in his mouth which you figure is because he never planned to bring a toothbrush… Because he hadn’t planned to sleep with anybody until you ferociously pounced.

“Hey,” You reply softly, crossing your arms to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. Kenai is still meowing outside the bedroom, frequently pawing at the door.

“Somebody’s pissed.” Jimin chuckles, pointing at the door.

“He’s starving 24/7 and likes to remind me just as often.” You kid, eventually stepping to sit on the bed. You aren’t sure how to feel about last night. But at the same time, should you regret it? The way Jimin’s eyes swept your body, to be honest, you kind of don’t regret it. “How did you sleep?” You try to make small talk to prevent any uneasy friction.

“Wonderfully.” He smiles again. “I hope you did?” He stands, rounding the bed to gently take a seat next to you. The smell of mint from his gum wafting to you tempting you to taste it.

“I did.” You return his smile, leaning in to touch a small kiss to his plush lips. Your headache is starting to dull some which makes you feel better. “Thank you for last night. I had fun.” You lean your forehead against his cheek as he leans back into you.

“I had fun, too.” He says quietly. Taking in a deep breath, he stands as you follow suit. “I better get going. Taehyung has been blowing up my phone wondering where I am. Really, I mean it when I say I had fun. Maybe… we can link up again soon?”

Hand in hand, you lead him to the front door while Kenai excitingly runs his furry body against both of your legs. Giggling, you kiss Jimin some more, “I’d like that.” A couple more kisses and you smile against his lips, “See ya.”

“See ya.” He nods, kissing your cheek one last time before taking off. As much as you wish that your heart would be soaring through the sky: it doesn’t. All your head can seem to obsess over is why Jeongguk stood you up. Was it all a game? Just to get a high that a girl wanted him, just for him to leave her stranded. What gives? In the end, is it really worth the explanation? You are so sick of getting screwed over.

“Who was that?”

“GAH!” You jump causing Kenai to dash wherever he can to hide. Your heart nearly stopped beating and your hand flies to your chest with relief when you see the teasing stare of your sister, Monnie.

“Monnie! For goodness sakes, you scared the fuck out of me!”

“Well!?” Monnie, not missing a beat, bellows. “Who was he!?”

“Nobody.” That is your first response as if you need a defense mechanism.

“Nobody!? With the animalistic sounds I heard last night, you have the absolute nerve to tell me that was nobody!?”

“He’s… He’s a guy I met a few weeks ago,” you try to reply while your heartbeat attempts to calm.

“He is cute,” she coos. “Like smooth like butter cute. Like the butter you slab on a piece of crisp toast cute. He can make anybody feel warm and fuzzy. Girl, I’m telling you right now-”

“Okay, we get it! I know.” You aren’t sure how to cope with the chagrin reddening your cheeks, or the dulling headache on top of it, but you manage somehow. “Please tell me Yoongi isn’t here.”

“Lucky for you he’s at a conference and has been since yesterday afternoon, so he didn’t hear a thing. I was supposed to go but I got-” She mimics what is supposed to be a cough into her hand. “Sick.”

“Oh! You are ridiculous!”

“It’s called, my sister brought home a cute guy for the first time in a decade, and I must hear all about it.”

“Nope!” You say trying to brush past her. “By the way, it’s only been a year.”

“Not anymore-!”

“Gah!” You clap back, slamming your bedroom door, and diving onto your bed, the mattress bounces your body while you scream heavily into a pillow. The scent of Jimin is everywhere in your room still and your sister’s voice keeps rattling on about how she just wants you to be happy and that you deserve to be even though in your heart, you have no idea when that day will come. Eventually you will confide in her about everything, but for now you will bury your face into the pillow and let the tears flow until you fall back asleep.

-

Monnie reluctantly gives you space, but only because she has ‘somewhere to be,’ and she is ‘not going to let you make her late.’ So, she says. You give Kenai an extra bit of food in hopes to win back his forgiveness and you dress out of the nightgown considering another trip to the coffee shop. Your eyes burn slightly from the crying earlier. After last night, you happen to note that you never got Jimin’s number which is probably a good thing so he can avoid the hot mess of thoughts spinning profusely in your mind. Between seeing Namjoon and Hoseok last night and hooking up with Jimin, you can hardly imagine what the two could have said after seeing, not only you, but you sucking faces with another guy. Though it’s nice to have male attention from time to time, you didn’t expect it all to unravel at once.

Some people would make you feel so stupid for your actions while others would praise you for being so bold and independent. You’re single and you can do whatever you want. Are you really mad that you hooked up with Jimin last night? Out of desperation for running into your ex? Or are you more broken about Jeongguk standing you up, and ashamed that you are upset about it when you only have seen him twice?

You can’t help the way you feel. You inhale and exhale deeply. Running from your thoughts is all you want right now.

Entering the coffee shop, you ordered a cab and left a tip because you really despise driving, and here you are in line eventually ordering the same drink you got last time. Why you feel to look for Jeongguk, you wish you didn’t. Training your eyes to focus on what is in front of you- you grip the coffee cup once it’s placed on the counter, and you find a small table in the back away from as many people as you can avoid.

He has his reasons, but you really hope that the reasons weren’t to play with your feelings purposefully. Even though that’s exactly what it looks like. Inwardly, you accept that you probably will never see him again, and you also convince yourself that maybe Jeongguk really was a figment of your imagination. The messages on your phone will say otherwise, but for now, with the hot liquid of your coffee stinging your tongue, you will continue convincing yourself that he is a simple figment of your imagination.  

That thought lasts about thirty minutes, when your coffee is halfway downed and the view of a tatted hand glides upon the table where you feel your throat shrink. No fucking way. You keep your gaze on your coffee cup, the faint smell of a cigarette wafts in your direction and you refuse to look at him. Anger blares inside you. You can tell he is gradually taking the seat across from you because it is pretty evident how rigid you are in response to his presence. He can tell you are annoyed. Maybe even furious.

“Hey…” He forces once he scoots the chair closer to the table. You stay silent. “Look, I-”

“What do you want?” You look up finally. His look is firm, but guilt stricken all at the same time. He presses his lips together. “No, really. Amuse me.” You wave a hand at him. “Was it a one night stand you wanted? Because you could have just asked.”

His eyes enlarge but only slightly. “No. No, that’s definitely not-”

“Then what? What do you want?” You rarely give him a chance to speak before you start gathering your things. To prevent unwanted attention, you toss the coffee cup into the trash can on your way out, Jeongguk on your heels. Marching toward the sidewalk that you can follow back to the city; you huff in exasperation when you feel his hand curl around your arm.

“Let go of me!” You say loudly, thrusting your arm away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. Just- just let me explain-”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” You try to walk away.

“y/n. Please.”

You thought you lost your shit last night when you attacked Jimin’s mouth in front of Hoseok. And you thought you lost your shit this morning when you sobbed into your pillow. But this anger and desperation and sadness that you have kept pent up since the day you discovered Hoseok’s infidelity is about to explode. And it’s about to explode in what you know will embarrass you for the rest of your life. Or… it just flat out won’t.

Scoffing, you pause, spinning to face Jeongguk, whose hands raise as if to calm you down, but you are far from calm. “You know what?” You say slowly. “That whole spiel about how I deserve to be respected was a whole load of bullshit wasn’t it?” You step forward making it clear that you aren’t done speaking, and though Jeongguk claimed weeks ago that he wasn’t scared of anything, there is the slightest hint of fear you gather in his eyes though he straightens to let his arms hang loosely at his sides. “I’m starting to think there’s no such thing anymore. First, after three years, with who I thought was the absolute love of my life, three years, he cheats on me with some chick I still to this day do not know who she is or how the fuck they met. So, for unplanned revenge, I fucked his best friend and guess what!?” You throw your hands up, “They both were at the bar last night. Both. Of. Them. How the fuck does that happen!? I move to the city to run away from my problems, and they follow me anyway. They fucking follow me as if I need that reminder. As if I need to relive that heartbreak over and over again. As if I deserve it- to have it thrown in my face.” Running your hands through your hair, you choke back a sob. You refuse to cry in front of this man who is basically a stranger but not really. You don’t notice the remorse showing in his eyes after revealing your limited yet very detailed confession. How he could have easily prevented this.

“I meet you once, and for the first time in a year, I finally know what it’s like to be excited again. To have something to potentially look forward to.” You laugh one syllable. “And yet, I don’t fucking know a single thing about you. Where you’re from, where you work, why you suddenly start coming to this coffee shop when I have never seen you there before, and I keep beating myself up for being so damned hurt about this when you’re a total stranger.” You can’t even look him in the eyes. “And there you are, completely leaving me stranded in a bar when you said you’d fucking be there. Respect, my ass. Have a nice life, Cigs.”

“You do deserve respect.” Oh, why do you pause? “I fucked up last night, okay!? I um…” He trails off, shaking his head as if to rid of whatever he originally was going to say. “Something came up-”

“Is that what it’s going to be every single time!? Something came up!?”

He winces when he acknowledges how bad it seems. “Look I- I know how it sounds. Please. Just let me make it up to you.”

Scanning him from his styled hair to the charcoal color of his boots, the thrilling sense of lust clouds your frame simultaneously to your mouth watering. It takes everything in you not to rush forward and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. But, at the same time, you see a guy who completely ghosted you on a night you may have needed his company most. And, if he was willing to do that to you last night, why wouldn’t he do it again?

The anger is still written all over your face and your demeanor. Sneering, your lips curl.

“No.”

And you stomp off toward whatever destination you hope to find as you did a year ago when you ran from disappointment. You wonder how it feels for him to see you walk away this time.

-

It doesn’t matter the day or the hour. Every time you step foot into the same coffee shop, he’s there. Jeongguk is there. Sitting a table away, keeping his eyes on you. Waiting for you to cave. You have ignored every single message he has sent. Every call he has attempted. Yet, you are also fighting the urge to just be near him. Give him another chance. Maybe it’s the fact that you truly do want to know where he was the night, he stood you up. But is it worth knowing the truth? The only thing you didn’t mention the last time you spoke to Jeongguk was the one night stand you had with Jimin. Not that it was any of Jeongguk’s business, but still. You don’t want to appear like sex with strangers is something you do all the time, because it’s not. And even if it was, it’s nobody’s business but yours.

You decide to walk the city. If he follows you there, then so be it. Compiling your things, you head out onto the sidewalk, letting the breeze nip your skin. The recent memory of LenLen asking about Jimin and you trying your best to answer her questions without blushing replays. She told you about Taehyung and how him and Jimin are best friends which you happened to already know and you relay to her how happy you are that she found Taehyung. You also apologize that you didn’t get to say hello, but she winks at you for she witnessed the reason why.

When you start reaching the city, you hardly can believe the huge sign, flashing upon the tallest building, of Hoseok’s face which roots your feet to the cement while tears spring in response. Cursing under your breath, you realize that one of the books he had been working on back when you two were together must have been released, the one he continuously spoke about. The one inspired from the script he hoped Kim Seokjin would film a movie with. The one that began with you. Which means, if it has become a success, then now you are going to see his face everywhere you turn. And, if the movie is made, that’s even more publicity Hoseok will gain and even more often you will have to see his face. The more hurt you will endure.

“Damnit,” you want to sob. Out of all the places you think to turn, you flee into the bookstore just to almost collide with a book stand filled from top to bottom with Hoseok’s novel. Fret overpowers your system, and you rush out the doors the second you see it, and you figure maybe walking home, no matter the distance, will help clear the stress out of you. Even though you know it won’t. Because at this point, you give up being in public.

You nearly slam into a figure from your rushed state and when the whiff of a cigarette mingled with cologne greets your nose, you know exactly who you’ve run into. “Why are you doing this.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Why are you following me, Asshole? Did I not make myself clear?”

“I told you I wanted to make it up to you.”

“And I told you no from what I recall.”

“I have short term memory loss.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Nemo-”

“I’d prefer if you joined me.”

“You really are asking to get smacked.”

“I like it rather rough.”

“And I’d like for you to leave me the hell alone.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“And why should I?”

His eyes flit between yours, “Because I can’t let it go. I messed up.”

“You don’t deserve my forgiveness if that’s what you’re implying. To be honest, it’s ridiculous that I’m even mad about it to begin with. I don’t even know you.”

“See, but you have every right to be. You should be mad.”

“Okay. Well then accept that I’m pissed at you and move on.”

“I shan’t.”

You could laugh. You almost laugh. But you hold it together because you can’t just let him think he can get away with how he just randomly leaves you stranded. When you both almost kissed in the alley way, you could sense that his desire was as solid as yours. He acted as if he wanted you. So, why did he just walk away? What is the point in pursuing someone who will always walk away?

Shoving past him, you wish you would have driven this go round so a route of escape would be available. But unfortunately, you didn’t think this through. The only place you can think of is the garden center above the bookstore that you have only visited every now and then this past year. What of Hoseok could possibly be up there? A mural? Stalking in the direction of the building, you avoid making eye contact with the huge ad about your ex, and eventually round the store to find the elevator. There are only a few floors before you reach the top and once you elbow the button to awaken the elevator, the last thing you expect is Jeongguk to follow you right in when the large doors slide open. But honestly you should have expected it.

You elbowed the button for the top floor where the smell of flowers waits for you, but you can’t ignore the tension simmering once the doors close. You bite the corner of your lip in agony, the ding of the elevator agonizingly slow. “I know you’re not about to stop and smell the roses, Eyebrow.” Referring to his eyebrow piercing that makes your insides lustfully shiver, you’re shocked he takes all your nicknames so well, but then you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. “Why can’t you just take a hint?”

His finger presses to your lips, vanishing your words as he seductively shushes you. And he shifts to stand in front of you, his nose dangerously tickling the side of your cheek while your body fights to not react to the arousal forming below. He whispers, “I don’t need a hint to know that you want me just as much as I want you.” Whimpering, your eyes trace his face, the way his jaw curves, the way his eyes set firmly to you with no intention of moving. Did you hear him correctly? Did he just admit that he, in fact, wants you too? “So,” he continues, slipping his finger away from your lips, he brings his mouth to yours while you sigh in pleasure. Fuck. Your body begs for him to close the gap. Begs for him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. Not yet. “I suggest you behave yourself if you want to keep me tame.”

He is doing to you what you did to him that day in the coffee shop making an effort to seduce him. But this time, he is winning more than you are letting on. When the ding of the elevator brings attention to the opening doors, Jeongguk sighs, “We’re not going there.” Reaching back to hit whatever button he chooses; you don’t even move to see. He can take you wherever he wants, and you could smack yourself for conceding.

“What do you mean?” You murmur, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I um,” he tilts his head as if embarrassed. “I live here. So, we’re going to the third floor.”

“Excuse me, what?” Your mind is trying to make the connection how it’s possible that he lives on the third floor of your favorite bookstore smack dab in the city. You’ve heard of people who have homes above the places they own, so… Does that mean Jeongguk owns the bookstore? You thought he said his stepbrother owns it? His hand finds yours when the doors slide open again, showing shelves upon shelves of books with sparse customers quietly reading or viewing the array of covers.

Your brain cells are racing but never reaching a finish line as your eyes frantically scan the hallway the pair of you are entering. You try to appreciate the feel of Jeongguk’s hand holding yours, warm and firm and surprisingly safe though you wish you hadn’t lost the will to fight. Why is it so easy for him to melt your anger away? To melt your sadness? To heighten your senses.

He scans something, you assume a card, before opening a large door, flipping on the lights to show an area of simplicity and barely any furniture to decorate once you step inside. The scent is new as if it has just been built, but you know that is impossible considering this bookstore has been around for years. Automatically, you both kick off your shoes. “My stepbrother used to live here before, so I moved in.” He says as if reading your mind. “That’s why there’s not much here, but there’s enough to keep comfortable.” He gestures toward a sofa awkwardly sitting in the middle of what you assume is the living room and loud meows start echoing the second you see a few cat towers sprawled out. Flounder and Tetra.

“I remember you saying he owns a bookstore… it’s here?” You say in disbelief as the cats come flying to greet you and Jeongguk. How can you be mad anymore when these sweet little fluff puffs are rubbing against your legs, mewing for attention? Jeongguk giggles while he tries to bring back the conversation.  

He shrugs, unintentionally dismissing the sexual tension that concocted in the elevator only seven minutes ago now that the cats are out and about. “He’s an actor now. He took over when his dad retired.”

“…What do you do?” You’re quiet and you don’t mean to be, but you’ve been struggling with mixed emotions for what seems like an eternity. At this point, you accept if this is a dream versus reality.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, head looking downward. You lick your lips when your eyebrows furrow, but strangely you understand this shame. If your sister didn’t have money, you’d be homeless. Your parents live far away, and in all honesty, you don’t truly talk to them as often as you should. You work part time at a retail store because you can’t seem to get your shit together enough to work full time otherwise, you’d be in the same boat… you’d be doing just that. Nothing. “I used to work as a tattoo artist before I moved here, but um… you may find this hard to believe, but I got my heart broken by someone I fell in love with when I was eighteen.”

“You?” You croak. You mean it to come off as a joke but fail miserably. He finally tilts his head up, softly grinning.

“Yes, a tatted asshole that wears leather and smokes cigs can be capable of falling in love and getting heartbroken instead of causing the heartbreak, Macchiato… Happy?”

Why this vulnerability is happening is unbeknownst to you, but you are very happy that he seems to be opening up. He all but admitted he wants you, too. So, the least he can do is try. Try letting you see past the mystery. Try staying instead of leaving. Saying hello instead of goodbye.

“How long were you two together?” You may have spilled the beans of how long you were with Hoseok, not that Jeongguk knows who he is, but three years is a long time.

“Five years. Found out she cheated on me, too… I lost myself for a long time. Ended up at a different girl’s house every week to numb the pain and never called them back the next day. Became addicted to smoking cigarettes. Went to parties quite a bit… Got drunk, you name it… Moved here with my children the second Jin told me I could. That’s when I finally calmed down and realized, I needed to change before it got worse.”

“I’m so sorry… Sometimes people underestimate the pain of a breakup. Especially if you were with them for such a long time as you were.” It’s quiet a little longer than you mean for it to be, but the similarity of how the two of you got your heart broken is an odd coincidence. But then you gasp when a lightbulb clicks. “Jin!? As in, Seokjin?”

“Yeah?” He says unhurriedly. “Is that hard for you to believe?”

“What? No! I’m just- the Kim Seokjin is your stepbrother? He owns this bookstore?”

“Well yeah, he’s the reason the bills are paid for now until I, myself, can get my shit together.”

You know the concentration it takes to complete a puzzle? Well, this is one of those times. Randomly, you wonder. Does Jeongguk know Jimin since Seokjin knows Jimin?

“Do you know who Jimin is?” You spit out. How are all these male specimens connected? Either way, you are definitely not telling Jeongguk about the rendezvous with Jimin that’s for sure.

His eyebrows scrunch and you visibly witness the way his shoulders rigidify as if he knows exactly who you are talking about. “How do you know Jimin?”

“No reason, just wondering. I saw him hanging out with Seokjin at the bar you failed to show up to.”

“Hm.” He hums once. “Interesting.”

“He co-owns the bar with a guy named Taehyung…  My co-worker is dating him. Taehyung, I mean.” You’re having a hard time reading Jeongguk’s expression, but he attempts to not be so uptight.

“Did you… See anybody else there?”

His question hits you by surprise, but you know there is no way he could be referring to Hoseok and Namjoon… Could he? No, of course not. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know who your ex is specifically. You may have mentioned your ex and your ex’s best friend were at the bar, but you had never given any names. It’s as if Jeongguk is asking solely about someone else… But who?

Pushing your fingertips to your forehead, you release an exasperated sigh. “Can I use your restroom?” You need a moment to yourself. All this unwanted ‘solving’ isn’t getting you anywhere. And why is Jeongguk being so weird about Jimin? He doesn’t know about the hook up and Jeongguk is also not your boyfriend, so why does it matter?

“Yeah, this way,” he points in the direction of what you assume is his bedroom. “On the right.”

The door gently clicks behind you while your palms cling onto the counter when you’re securely within the bathroom. It’s huge. You can tell it’s spacious by the fact you can breathe amidst the anxiety. A jacuzzi and a walk-in shower, a door that you are confident is a towel closet is what you take in once you twirl around. It’s beautiful and so clean, it’s as if nobody has inhabited it in a long time. Either way, you don’t want to take too long, so you pull out a small bottle of mouth wash and complete a brisk breathing exercise before filing out into Jeongguk’s bedroom.

You hadn’t taken time to notice how large his bed is either. The covers are invitingly dark, and you can tell from the curtains that are slightly split show the windows to a magnificent view of the city. Whoever Seokjin’s dad had to construct this place was an absolute genius. A home inside a bookstore, that would be a dream come true for millions.

You brace yourself when you step into the living room, and you notice Jeongguk is preparing wine glasses, a bottle of red is in his hand as he begins to pour the crimson liquid. His cats are munching on some food that he put to keep them occupied. You can tell by his body language that he is going to change the subject regarding Jimin. “How did you know?” You say ultimately when you pull out a stool in front of the counter.

“Nothing a good bit of wine can’t fix.” He winks. “Plus, I figured it will calm the nerves, so we can actually… talk.”

You nod reluctantly, fingers pressing beneath the glass before you take a slow sip. The taste is sour with the mouth wash, but you know after a few sips that will change. A wave of calm floods your chest and limbs once you swallow. “Thank you.” You murmur. He leans on the counter instead of moving to take a seat next to you. He can’t take his eyes off you, and he can’t even explain how just being around you makes him feel. You bring a comfort he hasn’t had in a long time. He knows he has gone about it the wrong way, but he is determined to not let you go this time. No matter how much his ex keeps trying to reach out to win him back. He wants you.

“I’m really sorry about the bar.” He manages to say. He’s not the best with apologies, but he knows you deserve one. “That was really fucked up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No… You shouldn’t have.” You’re honest because you know what it’s like to be betrayed. Jeongguk of all people should get it too after admitting that he has been cheated on before as you have. You must stand your ground regardless of how weak he secretly makes you because no, this specific situation may not be seen as a betrayal, but it was not okay that he left you there alone. He does, however, want to confess everything, of why he didn’t show up. But something keeps telling him that it’s too soon. When he’s ready, he plans to tell you. But for now, he wants to prove to you that he’s not going anywhere this time.

“I know,” he murmurs.

Taking a longer sip of the wine, you rub at your eyes. “He really did some damage…” You admit, appreciating how easy it is for the pair of you to start opening up. This is something you have battled to talk about since the day you witnessed it. “I mean three years of my life I gave to this guy, and he just…” You throw your hand up. “He just throws every bit of it down the drain. There wasn’t even the slightest red flag. I came home. Heard them in the bedroom… Our bedroom. And I just-” You didn’t want to cry, but the tears greet you with the burn of your nose. “I just left. I don’t even know how long it had been going on. All I know is I blocked him on everything and refuse to give him the time of day. Because I can’t bring myself to face him. Or the pain of it all.” Jeongguk listens contently, sorrow filling his umber eyes. “When I saw him at the bar for the first time in a year, the anger that filled me at first, I wanted to do anything to make him feel the same devastation I felt that day. Sure, I slept with his best friend weeks after the breakup, but he doesn’t know that. And, as much as I want to say the revenge was satisfying… It wasn’t.” You tap your fingers on the counter. “Now I’m here. I’m here in this city, living with my rich sister, and working a part time job. It’s like I want to live in my misery… At least, I have my cat.” You smile, Kenai’s sweet face bringing you peace.

“It takes a long time to move on from something like that. What happened to me was nearly two years ago and it still hurts.” Jeongguk says because he knows exactly how that feels. He still succumbed to his ex’s every beck and call until he met you. That’s when everything started changing for him. Why he couldn’t think straight. When his ex was trying to distract him, his mind was filled with you. “I saw the guy she was cheating with once. I planned to confront him, but… chickened out. I knew if I wasn’t careful, I’d do something I’d regret.”

“Who was he?” You ask. Jeongguk raises his shoulders, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know his name. Just that Seokjin was working on a movie, happened to meet the guy and my girlfriend at the time was with him. Jin put two and two together and called me right after. He recognized her in some of the pictures I posted on social media before I deleted it all.”

“He’s an actor, too? The guy she was with?” You wonder.

“I’m assuming.” He speaks. “She never really met Jin before. Or at least, I never told her specifically that he was my stepbrother. That was a part of my life I tried to keep distant, but when he called me concerned, I knew why she was coming home so late. Or, why she didn’t panic if she knew Jin was my brother who was seeing her in the flesh with another dude.” Jeongguk wets his lips. “And that’s when he tried to help me cope by giving me his apartment here when he saw how far gone, I had gotten. And that’s why she learned to do research on who I’m connected to because apparently me and Seokjin know everybody due to his fame and fortune.” He means the fame and fortune as a joke, but you still ponder.

“So…” Your expression confused. “If that’s the case, how do you know Jimin?”

Jeongguk swallows roughly, “I asked you first.”

Now, it’s your turn to gulp. “About that.” The stool screeches from under you as you immediately stand, chugging every last drop of your wine before you clutch your things to your side. The indent Jimin left on your shoulder has faded some, but it still befuddles you knowing Jeongguk could clue in if he wanted to. “I-I have to go.” You really don’t, but the way your entire body is flushing, and your eyes are wide with panic. What else are you supposed to do? Running is what you do best. As if a lightbulb goes off, Jeongguk’s laugh reverberates behind you.

“Wait a minute, have you banged him?” Halt. You choke completely on your own spit; your trachea insults you while you cough up a storm. Goodness gracious. Why this? Why now? “You totally banged him didn’t you!? Holy shit.”

“So, what if I have?” You stifle another cough whirling to face him. “What the hell are you going to do about it?”

That’s when the air between you two immediately silences as if you gave him the challenge of a lifetime. Not even Tetra or Flounder are around to fill in the void. It’s as if you both are back in the elevator where the temptation became so alive, it was hard to ignore. It was irresistible. The only sound is your breathing as it increases after Jeongguk’s wine glass clinks against the counter. There’s a prolonged few seconds before it all becomes thunderous.  He makes his way to you as your purse slips from your quivering arm. Your breathing stops. His fingertips press to touch to the skin of your chest as he tickles circles. His eyes flit from your parting lips to the way your eyes start to show you’re imploring for him to not stop. He taunts you. Edging so close to you, his lips are barely on yours when he whispers, “I’m going to make you forget he exists.”

This time, you’re not letting him walk away from you. Not again. Not ever. Your palm finds itself gripping his shirt while you close the gap. The millisecond Jeongguk’s lips connect with yours, it’s electrifying. It’s as if somebody injected fireworks into your veins, shooting across your skin and awakening your senses ten times the normal, exploding across your mind, body, and soul. Your heart pounds so loud, you’re shocked if he doesn’t hear it. You’ve been with three other guys sexually prior to Jeongguk, but something about this is mystifying. Powerful.

His mouth moves with yours as you gasp into his kiss, letting him guide you until the back of your legs recognizes the arm of the sofa. His hand moves to tangle into your hair while you deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue finding yours as he caresses it simultaneously taking his free hand to slip into the front of your pants, but you’re not ready for him to pleasure you yet. You want to show him what he will miss out on if he doesn’t choose you in the end. But you weaken when his heated lips press slowly and gently along your jawline, the arousal you feel drips, his fingers sliding further to slip past your underwear until he runs his fingertips up and down your heat.

“Oh,” he moans with a slight growl burying his face into your neck from how drenched you already are for him. “Holy fuck,” he hisses, trying to keep himself tame. You love the sound of his fingers sloshing up and down against you. But you want it to be you on him.

Shoving him back to give you some space, his hand flies from your pants and he watches you not expecting you to kneel. And not expecting you to fumble undoing his belt, tugging it out of his belt loops, he hisses in response to the point you see his bulge prominently inside his pants. Oh, the way your mouth waters instinctively at the sight of his erection.

Unbuttoning his pants, you yank them down to his ankles, releasing his erection from his underwear where you hum pleasurably at his girth. Your hands run along his thighs seductively; his eyes darken with lust as you connect with them naughtily. Your palm then slides around his length, stroking him agonizingly slow before you take him into your mouth. Letting his precum welcome your taste buds before you hollow your cheeks, the warm skin of his being ignites your arousal even more. His large hand moves to the top of your head where your strands tangle between his tatted fingers. That’s when you begin, bobbing back and forth as speedily as you can, basking in his moans at how amazing you feel. Your hands cling to the bottom of his jacket while you continue your bliss eventually releasing him from your mouth to push him onto the couch where his back plops upon the cushions.

You push his shirt up to visualize his toned abdomen before dipping down to continue sucking, moving your other hand to massage his scrotum, giving him every bit of pleasure, you can to make him crave you. To make him pine for you. Another trick is up your sleeve when your hand returns to his being, following up and down with your mouth while he tries every way not to cum before he gets the chance to pleasure you more. “Holy fuck,” He groans in satisfaction which makes you continue your fun.

Your tongue laps around his tip before you wipe the spittle at the corners of your lips away. When you’re about to continue, he raises, pulling you to his mouth as he kisses you more, becoming hungrier as he shifts you closer. You can tell your clothes are getting in his way for when he pauses, dazed, his hands start to tug at your pants, eventually freeing you from them as you help kick them off. The air in the apartment is colder than you realize. Goosebumps start flying down your legs as you try to regain your focus on removing the articles of clothing off Jeongguk’s top half. Eventually, all linens are plopped onto the floor and your naked bodies are starting to feel every inch of warm skin, captivating every sense, every cell, every emotion, every lustful bliss.

He pauses and you realize his fingertips have paused at the fading spot on your shoulder. The place where Jimin’s teeth sank in. Holding your breath, you see the guilt in Jeongguk’s eyes as his lips become ajar as if he wishes that it could have been him instead. You aren’t sure how to read what he is thinking, especially when he runs the tip of his thumb over the area. But, in the heat of the moment, his other hand slides to the back of your neck where he slightly grips the strands of your hair stimulating you to bite your lip. He tilts your head just enough to cover the spot with his own mouth, sucking harshly on the skin to place his mark. To regain his status. You’ve never seen something so hot, it’s sending immense tingles all through out your frame. He then sprinkles kisses across your chest eventually trailing to your breasts where his tongue flicks over your nipples and the top of his head tickles your chin. Your whimpers increase while he sucks each nipple tenderly, your fingers indenting his back, and the way your vaginal walls leak onto your vulva- you cannot wait for more of this man. Your eyes sweep his figure. His tattoos covering the entirety of his arm.

Goodness, his body is ethereal, and from the way he takes in the view of you bare, you can tell he feels the exact same about you. Your lips tingle for his. Dragging him to you, he crashes his lips to yours, a new addiction you both know will be hard to break. The way his body presses to yours so passionately, it’s as if you have waited your whole life to feel this good. You can still feel the way his lips bruised you on your shoulder, and you adore the way it lingers.

“My turn!” His fingers deliciously dig into your hips, he slides you closer to him despite the limited room on the sofa, and his eyes absorb how sopping wet you are for him even still. He traces his hands to your thighs when you feel your heat clenching fervently for the desire that is taking over your system. Jeongguk wastes no time swiping a finger, sucking your leakage before his tongue starts lapping up every bit of your taste. What really catches you by surprise is how he continues the fast movements, flattening and pointing his tongue seeing which gesture makes you scream for him more. In between, he sucks your clit, taking one hand to reach for the spot above your clit where he massages nice and slow simultaneously while he feasts. “Oh, Guk,” you sigh with elation. “Oh, Guk, yes! Oh my gosh, yes, holy fuck, ah-”

You hardly can contain yourself with how this man is loving your body. He refuses to stop until you feel the powerful jolt of an orgasm, gratifyingly overwhelming your brain as your thighs squeeze together. Jeongguk already pulled away with pure ecstasy of watching you come undone for him. You are so dizzy; you can’t help the way your feet sink into the couch trying to overcome the sensitivity. When you try to shift, to sit up, Jeongguk hovers close to where he whispers, the smell of you reaching your nose.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before carefully lifting his body off you. His hands slide along your arms as he tenderly guides you. Before you can question, he interrupts by kissing you again. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a couple things I want to set up.” As much as you hate to admit it, your heat drips at the way he whispers this to you intensifying the elation. How many times does he plan to make you cum?

The anticipation as to what he’s about to do. What he’s about to show you. Your ears tune into the sounds of the refrigerator opening- his giddy footsteps jogging to the bedroom where you hear the start of running water. Not just a spritz from the shower… the jacuzzi. Holy fuck. When you thought of steamy sex, you never once thought about the jacuzzi. Your hands squeeze into your thighs, the sensitivity between your legs starting to dim. Your heat clenching around nothing as you feel your nipples bud against the chilled air now that his warm body hasn’t been wrapped around yours for a bit. You never really ventured with sex when you were with Hoseok. It was just the typical quickies before and after work depending on the mood with the occasional use of a vibrator. And with Namjoon, it was a drunken blur. With Jimin… It was just spicy vanilla with addictive kisses, but good enough to get the job done and not hesitate for a second round if there ever was to be a second round.

But with Jeongguk. He’s about to give you a night you hope to relive every moment you see him. When he steps into the living room after a few minutes, you had been biting your lip unintentionally, and you feel him kneeling when his tepid hands place on your knees to then gliding up your exposed thighs. He loves teasing you with his lips, talking against them to keep you on your toes. “I’m ready.” He whispers enticingly. You peel your eyes open, him holding your hands while he helps you stand.

When you enter behind him to his bedroom, you notice a golden bowl filled with ice cubes and bubbles from the jacuzzi mingled with steam is shown from where the bathroom door is open. “I didn’t know to buy rose petals and candles-”

“Oh, fuck that!” You gasp, grabbing his face to kiss him again and again. The excitement is so tremendous, his strong arms adhere you to his frame before he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking the skin before placing your back on his bed. Lifting your hands in surrender, he can have you however he wants. However, he needs you. His eyes trail to the ice cubes where he places one in his mouth taking a few long sucks. When you imagined ice play, you never thought you would actually get to experience it.

He then takes the ice and places it on your chest, the cold nips your skin in a pleasurable way and when he slides the cube onto one nipple then to the other, your shaky breaths echo within his bedroom. He then lets the cube glide downwards once your nipples stay budded till he pauses at the beginning of your vulva. “Do you want me, baby?”

“Yes!” You’re breathless, toes curling against the bed sheets, the cold of the frozen water bringing a subtle pain. “Yes, baby, please. I want you.” He lets the ice touch along your slit, causing your hips to rise involuntarily while he rubs it quickly, coating your heat with the chill. Just enough to absorb your taste. As you watch him intensely, he returns the cube to his mouth sucking more until he places it back into the bowl.

Without preparation, his hands, few fingertips cold, wrap around your thighs, shifting you to his starving mouth as he breathes in your scent. “You smell so good, baby.” He growls, his hair tickling your skin before his tongue starts to flick between your folds once more, the chill feel sending vibrations of desire up and down your body while you moan his name even higher than his previous feast. “Oh, Guk! Oh, baby! Holy fuck, you feel so good! Ah!” Your screams encourage him to flick faster, up and down his tongue presses, lapping up your juices while your hands dig into the comforter. Eyes rolling back, one by one, each of his hands reach to rub your nipples, rubbing so fondly while he licks you, making your arousal build even stronger, so intense, you can hardly breathe. His head makes swift movements while he continues to taste you furiously, not taking one moment to breathe himself. You feel another orgasm building, and before you can stop him, your hips buck to the amplifying sensation as the glint of you shines on his chin. He arches an eyebrow proudly as you melt against the comforter- completely and utterly gasping.

But he’s not done with you yet and you don’t want him to be.

He crawls onto the bed to hover above you, interlacing his fingers with yours that happen to untangle from squeezing the comforter. Still holding your hands, he then moves backwards, helping you up to lead you to the bathroom where he shuts the door behind him. Wherever he goes, you will follow. And so far, you are not regretting one bit.

The steam is still rising from the jacuzzi and when he pins you to the tub, he leans over you to press a button, the jets in the jacuzzi awaken and the entire bath is bubbling for you to enjoy. You smell yourself on his mouth, and when he kisses you again, this time it’s so loving. It’s soft. So mesmerizing, you can’t concentrate on anything else as his hands cup your breasts, rubbing your nipples so affectionately that your heat gushes below you as you moan helplessly against his mouth.

“Get in.” He demands and this newfound dominance is going to make you pounce. You tilt your head when you meet his knowing eyes.

“You first, Cigs.” His nose scrunching into the sweetest smile, you dizzyingly watch him step into the jacuzzi, letting the water engulf his frame before you find yourself joining, putting a leg on either side of his hips while you straddle him. His hands massage up and down your back slowly to gripping your ass. How much more stunning can this man be? When he said he was going to make you forget about the past, he wasn’t fucking kidding. And you are very much okay with that.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers suddenly and your heart swells at his words. Not only did he mean it, but you can feel how much he means it. It doesn’t take long for you to bring your lips to his after holding his gaze, eventually moving a hand to find his erection, posing above his length before he enters you causing you to gasp against his kiss before your body starts to move to the rhythm of his hips as he thrusts into you. The water splashes amidst your moans, him hitting your g-spot with every stroke.

Lips still locked to yours, Jeongguk wraps his arms around you before lifting you enough to lay your back against the other end of the jacuzzi. Water covers your body while the jets massage your skin as Jeongguk lingers above you, entering you once more, your arms hug behind his shoulders while he thrusts. His body molds so perfectly with yours, and you never felt so alive. His large hand moves to cradle the back of your head, kissing you so deeply that your head is spinning. You never want this to end. How he moves so beautifully within you. It’s enthralling. He is enthralling.

When he releases into you, the water washes him away, and he sighs into your neck while you two try to catch a breath.

“By the way, it’s Dory.”

Confusion hits you at his sudden, breathless remark. “What?”

“You called me Nemo. It’s supposed to be Dory. She has short term memory loss.”

Shoving him playfully, you splash water at him while giggles echo, him tackling you just to place kisses to your blushing face. You can’t imagine ever losing him at this point. For once, you feel promise even though a promise has never been made.

-

“You’re smiling.” Monnie says suspiciously as you dazingly exit your room.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It certainly is not. It’s about time you appreciate your life here.”

“I do appreciate it here.”

“Finally… Is it the blonde guy?”

Your eyes widen because you completely forgot that your sister has no idea about Jeongguk. “No!” You say quickly. “No, it’s not him.”

“Okay,” Monnie says slowly, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, something is making you act like a teenager, so spill it.”

“I will at some point just… Just not right now.”

Monnie groans in annoyance. “I don’t know what I have to do to get you to talk to me, but at some point, I need to know your life story.”

“But you do know most of it. We’re sisters, Genius.”

“The boring stuff. I want to hear the dirt. I’m nosy.”

“You wouldn’t be my sister if you weren’t.” You tease. “I will tell you everything when I am ready. It’s… a lot… Okay?”

Reluctantly, her arms loosen in defeat as she rolls her eyes, “Fine,” she drones.

To be honest, you hope to confide in LenLen as well. It’s about time you open to the people who you do trust very much. For the time being though, it’s been a few days since you last saw Jeongguk and he has been messaging you nonstop since then. You felt so bruised down there, especially when you both had intercourse the next morning before you left to go to work. Both were naked and finished brushing teeth, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. Your breasts smooshed to his back. He couldn’t resist you after that. He lifted you up to where your legs linked around his body. The sex started rough once you reached his bed sheets but ended gently driving your mind wild. His touch is like lightning and he nearly cummed back-to-back when he saw a wet spot under you from where you released post orgasm.

You do plan to see him again, and despite the endless thoughts of him, you figure a nice walk around downtown is a good plan. Downtown is super close to the city but has a smaller string of stores. It’s a different scenery, something to keep your mind from cluttering. It’s been a few months. You don’t go as often because that’s where Hoseok would take you on special dates. You figure with his popularity rising from his newly released book, he may not be downtown as often, so you feel it’s safe to tread.

Goodness though, the way Jeongguk’s touch has encapsulated you into another dimension, you can’t stop thinking about him. Or his lips. Or his smile. Or his laugh. Or his tattoos, how beautifully they decorate his skin. The way he holds you… He’s a dream you hope to always have. Hands cuddled into your jacket pockets, the sun shining brightly in the sky, twenty minutes into entering downtown where cars slowly drive by and the ‘open’ signs flash on every window, you decide to enter one of the familiar shops you happened to pass. Life gets even stranger because when you enter what looks to be a beauty boutique, from the colors and setting you recognize it as one you and Hoseok used to frequent way back when.

“She had me come double check inventory. Just make sure we get more of the eye shadow palettes in. At least, that’s what she requested me to say.” Eyebrows scrunching, you have heard this voice before. It’s oddly quiet other than a radio playing, and your eyes trail to an employee nodding and scribbling down whatever was said. Your heart nearly stops when you see none other than Jimin talking to the employee after shifting through what looks to be a pile of mail. You debate running out of the store, but you never got Jimin’s number, and so you make it clear you really didn’t use him even though you kinda did accidentally on purpose, you make the haste decision to let him notice you. He hasn’t done anything wrong.

He spins around after checking over a few things and looks up at you when you clear your throat. The moment his eyes register who he is seeing, his face lights up. “Oh my gosh! Hey there!” Jimin out stretches his arms, pulling you into such a sweet embrace when he reaches you, and you can’t help but let the relief loosen your tense frame. You melt into him.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“How are you?” He pulls away slightly to read your eyes.

“I’m good… I’m sorry I never thought to get your number.”

“No! No, don’t apologize. I should be sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m that kinda guy.”

“Oh God, no.” You chuckle. “You are just fine.”

Jimin presses his lips together in concentration, his thumb rubbing your shoulder. “My sister had me check up on her store which is why I’m here.” He motions to his surroundings. “With the stress of inventory, I could use a drink. Wanna join?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” You say.

 -

When the strong liquid welcomes your tongue soothing your limbs once you swallow, Jimin eyes you as you twirl the liquid in the glass. The restaurant is nice and dimly lit and you are very thankful that you ran into him when you did. It makes you feel better about what happened between you two.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You say after a minute. Not that you ever cared to ask. “I didn’t know she owned a store.”

Jimin smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, she’s a pain in my ass but I love her.”

“I relate on so many levels.” You chuckle, knowing Monnie would give you a look that could kill with an arched eyebrow in tow.

“Is… everything okay between us?” Jimin is curiously watching you, his expression still concerned about everything. At this point, you both have swapped numbers, promising to keep in touch. With how much your heart pines for Jeongguk, you know you won’t give in to anyone else.

“Of course, it is.” You promise. “I really mean it when I say I enjoyed your company. I just have a lot going on.”

“I understand.” He says meaningfully. “Want to talk about it?”

Considering your answer, you swallow briefly. “My ex… of three years cheated on me. Moved here a year ago.” You continue explaining how you ended up with your sister and how you were heartbroken about being stood up at the bar and how you ran into your ex and his best friend at the bar as well. All in one night. Adding that you are glad Jimin was equally attracted to you and how the distraction really helped overall.  

“Holy shit, you slept with his best friend!? You are bad ass!”

“Oh God, I’m far from it.”

“Dude, no, that’s the best way to get back at a cheater. I’m telling you. Oh, and um,” Jimin leans closer to you with a confident look, his thick lips poised in a mischievous grin, “I don’t mind you using me for whatever you want. I’m honored I got to be your first after a year of abstinence.”

You giggle, smacking his shoulder playfully. “To be honest, I’m glad it was you too. You are so sweet. I mean it. If anything, I hope we can be friends.” You reach to squeeze his hand, him running his thumb across your knuckles.

“Agreed.”

“How long ago did you and your sister move here?” You wonder aloud. “I remember you said you had been here for a long while.”

“About two years, but I am roommates with Taehyung for now. He’s pretty head over heels for his girlfriend so I’ll probably be living on my own soon.”

“That’s not bad at all,” you encourage.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I’ll love the space, but it gets lonely sometimes… My sister lives with her current boyfriend. I’m not the biggest fan, but he’s a successful novelist. Came out with a book literally like last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. What? “He’s… an author?”

“Yeah… I mean he’s a good writer don’t get me wrong, but her last boyfriend… She was with him forever and she did him so dirty. I felt bad for the kid.”

“Wait a minute…” Your head is spinning. This can’t be real. Calm down, y/n, it’s all just a coincidence. You are freaking out over nothing. “Wh-who was her ex-boyfriend if you don’t mind me asking?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but his phone, that has been laying right side up on the table starts to vibrate, a picture of a smiling woman shows. “Oh, that’s my sister.” He says, “Probably calling to make sure I took care of inventory. I should take this.”

“I- I have to go anyway,” you pretend to check your wrist when really stars are showing in your eyes, because that picture. Your mouth goes immediately dry. The shirt. The way her breasts are rounded beneath that shirt. Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt that went missing. The girl in the picture… she was wearing it. She was fucking wearing it.

“Hey, Min-a.” Jimin greets into the phone, waving goodbye to you, mouthing that he will text you as you dart away. Bile rises to your esophagus burning in its wake as you rush outside to the nearest trash can. Holy shit. You can’t breathe and you gasp between heaves. Everything is crashing down as you make the connection. It’s all coming together.

You never saw her face, but you saw her torso decorated with nice breasts and Hoseok’s shirt. Jeongguk mentioned that he was cheated on too and that she was with her new boyfriend who was going over a script with an actor… His stepbrother who is none other than Kim Seokjin. Hoseok has been writing for an actor who happens to be Kim Seokjin. Jimin personally knows Kim Seokjin. Hoseok is now out with a novel. She, Jimin’s sister, owns a store downtown, a store that happens to be one that you and Hoseok used to frequent because you loved their products, but when you left him, you never went back to that specific store. Meaning… he met her there. While you two were still together. But most of all, you remember how tense Jeongguk got at the mention of Jimin… Because Jeongguk knows Jimin. And then there was the confrontation Jeongguk almost had with the guy his ex-girlfriend cheated on him with who you can’t seem to comprehend it to be:

Hoseok.

This can’t be real. No, no this can’t be fucking real. You plead to the universe, wiping your lips with your sleeve as you try to keep the next bout of nausea suppressed.

Jeongguk dated Jimin’s sister who is now with Hoseok. The girl who he cheated on you with. You heard Jimin say her name. You can hardly collect your thoughts to think her name.

Min-a.

When the nausea starts to dull just for you to regain your composure. You run. You run home and you don’t stop until you burst through the door. Monnie and Yoongi are frantic when they see you, collapsing to the floor to catch your breath while tears stream down your face, sobbing as the pain shoots through your heart. Now, you have your answer. Nobody had to tell you. You accidentally stumbled upon it yourself. At this point, seeing the devastation pouring down your face, Monnie doesn’t give you a choice, she demands the truth. As Kenai rushes to sway his furry body against your legs to calm you, you confess and tell your sister and her boyfriend everything. From beginning to end- everything.

Finally, you let every emotion out, every secret released.

-

“So, you are saying that not only did you sleep with your ex’s best friend, Namjoon. You also hooked up with your ex’s new girl’s brother and her ex-boyfriend, too!?” Monnie connecting the dots while Yoongi’s mouth drops open in alarm. “Holy cannoli, if this isn’t the best revenge story ever!”

“I wasn’t looking for revenge!” You spew.

“Not with Jimin and Jeongguk you weren’t, but you have to admit, Namjoon was definitely revenge.”

“Well Namjoon, yes.” You agree with swollen eyes. “But the rest? I had absolutely no idea they were connected.” Your palm is plastered to your forehead, and though Jeongguk has messaged you and called twice, you’ve ignored everything. You don’t know how to approach the subject. Is his ex, Min-a, who is Hoseok’s girlfriend that he left you for, is she the reason Jeongguk kept walking away from you? Why he struggled at first giving into you? Have her and Hoseok been having problems? “No wonder why Hoseok was so… shocked.” You murmur. “I thought it was because I was kissing another guy in general, but it was his girlfriend’s brother.”

“Wowza.” Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t comprehend it. What a small world.”

“Now it all makes sense. They all know each other.” You speak. “That’s why they’re all connected. Holy shit.”

“I definitely know Kim Seokjin. Not personally, but we’ve seen a few of his movies.” Yoongi says crossing his arms, gesturing his elbow in Monnie’s direction.

“Oh yeah, how can we not know Kim Seok-” Monnie notices Yoongi eyeballing her playfully with a quirked eyebrow and she clears her throat. “I agree. They all know each other. Jimin and Taehyung are best friends who know Kim Seokjin because he is best friends with Taehyung. Kim Seokjin also knows Jeongguk because they happen to be stepbrothers and Kim Seokjin knows Hoseok because of the movie script and novel Hoseok wrote. Also,” Monnie takes in a deep, dramatic breath. “Hoseok knows Jeongguk because Hoseok stole his girlfriend at the time, and Jeongguk knows Jimin because he dated Jimin’s sister. Am I forgetting anyone?”

“My head hurts.” You groan.

“Ah, Namjoon! He is best friends with Hoseok and since he was in the same vicinity as everyone I have mentioned, he must know everyone. I’m sure he is familiar with Jeongguk because Hoseok probably told him.”

“You’re good at this.” You blurt. “Maybe you should be a writer.”

“I’ve dabbled a time or two.” She grins, holding a finger in the air. “And that concludes your shit show of a love life.”

“Thanks.” You roll your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t concur more.

When conversation finishes with your sister and her boyfriend, you feed Kenai and give him squishy hugs and kisses while he pelts his tail at you in annoyance. You don’t care how much he prefers his food over you sometimes, you want to give him kissies and he shall accept them. There is somewhere you want to be. Need to be. You just hope he will be there.

Ordering a driver after freshening up and putting on a light amount of makeup, you throw on some tennis shoes and make your way outside. Previously you were always uncertain of the destination you were going to go. But this time, you know exactly where you are going. He will always be who you run to. Jeongguk. You haven’t stopped thinking about him since the day you met him. It has all gone by so fast, yet there is plenty of time to become more than just a thought every other second. But, neither of you can proceed until the truth is told.

The drive feels tantalizingly slow as your leg bounces profusely in the backseat until you arrive at the bookstore. You swish some mouth wash from the mini bottle in your purse as you rush to the elevator after tipping the driver, spitting it into a bush before elbowing the elevator button. Your temples beat to your increasing heart rate. Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you recount everything. It’s time to lay it all out. No matter how risky.

Customers standing by on the third floor watch you zip past, and you try to follow your memory to Jeongguk’s door and when your feet stop before it, you inhale and exhale deeply to calm your nerves. You knock, letting your hope rise because you cannot wait to see him despite the words that haven’t been said. You hear running footsteps- and when the door opens, your breath hitches at his indescribable beauty. You see the way relief falls with his shoulders as he springs forward to hug you- pulling you into his home while the door automatically shuts behind you.

You take the time to hold him, bundling your nose into his warm chest while his hand moves to soothe into your hair. “Hey,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Where have you been? I’ve been super worried.”

“I know,” you murmur, squeezing him tighter. “I know. I’m sorry… Something happened.” You hear the rustle of paws running around the living room and you can’t help but smile at the reminder of the cats. Instantly your smile falls, however, because you know a serious conversation is going to take place. Shifting to step back, so you can see the entirety of his face, he tries to read your expression. He can tell something is wrong.

“I know how you know Jimin.” You can’t help it when tears brim, especially when you see Jeongguk’s body tense. As if he is trying to protect himself from unwanted memories. From heartbreak. He remains silent. “Min-a.” Your voice is hoarse when you say her name. Jeongguk’s hands move to slide into his hair while he sucks in his lips, squeezing his eyes shut the second he registers who you just named. There’s pain in his demeanor. Pain, you know all too well. “She’s who my ex-boyfriend left me for… Hoseok.”

Disbelief, the common reaction, is all over his expression while his lips part as if to speak, but he doesn’t. “Hoseok’s not an actor…” You murmur. “He’s a writer… He knows your stepbrother because he wrote a story he wants filmed with Seokjin as the lead.” You wet your lips. “I met Jimin the day I met you. And yes… I hooked up with him the night the bar opened, but I was so emotionally distraught, I needed something. Anything to distract me because I saw Hoseok there. And his best friend. And… I was devastated that you didn’t show up.” Your fingers touch to your lips as you try to keep your composure. “I had no idea who she was until today.” You admit. “Absolutely no idea.”

“I-” Jeongguk struggles to find the words, but he steps closer to you. “I think it will take time for the shock to settle, but…” He swallows. “I never meant to hurt you that night I didn’t show up.” You feel your tears panging hot trails onto your cheeks, Jeongguk moving to cup your face to swipe the tears away with his thumbs. “I was still battling with whether I should start over with Min-a. She kept trying to reach out to see me again, and I fell for it a few times, but the second I met you.” His forehead touches to yours while you take in his warmth. “The second I met you, there was no one else I could think about. Not even her. In a fucked-up sense, I wanted closure, too. I thought…” He pauses, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. “I thought if I gave her a chance to explain, maybe that would be enough for me to move on, but… she never showed up each time she reached out. I knew I made a huge mistake what I did to you and when you were all I continued to think about I knew… I knew it was you I ultimately wanted to be with. I’m so sorry I broke your trust. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“No-!” You croak. “No, it’s okay. It’s really okay.” You plea through the tears. His eyes well with them too while you both try to get through this pain. Together. “You were hurting, too. We were hurt by the same people. It’s all so unbelievable, I can hardly understand it.”

“Well, if I haven’t learned anything at all, it’s that karma’s a bitch.” Jeongguk forces a chuckle, brushing a slow, warm kiss to your lips. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore.” You feel the tenderness in his caress. His promise. This time clothes make a trail on the floor to his bedroom where your bodies cling together while love is made through the night. In the end, you hope he is the man that will mend your heart the way you hope to mend his.

No more goodbyes, Cigs.

No more goodbyes.

And that will be your promise.

-

Seven months later…

“Breathe, y/n.” Jeon Jeongguk reminds you as you take in a prolonged, shaky breath. The buzzing of the needle starts to reach your skin while his gloved hands gently touch your limb. “I promise you it’s not that bad. Do you see my arm?”

“I know, Babe. But I have never done this before. Cut me some slack here.” You whine. Closing your eyes, a prick of pain starts to tingle against your skin from the sharp darts of pinches leaving traces of black ink in its wake.

“Good.” Jeongguk encourages. “See, I told you. It’s not that bad-”

He notices you wince when he gets to a different area of your wrist where he is permanently inking your ‘delicate skin’ as you have been referring. You knew you always wanted a tattoo, but it took your forever to figure out what to get. When the idea came to get an ink print of one of Kenai’s paws, you jumped to it. Jeongguk, of course, pretending to be jealous, made it clear that he better be the one who tattoos you. The shop is closed for the day, but Jeongguk being one of the main artists, he’s allowed to do tattoos on his own time, so it is just the two of you in the facility.

You are astonished at how quickly it goes by. The needle stings, but the pain is durable. It definitely is not as bad as you anticipated. It only takes Jeongguk 45 minutes to complete Kenai’s pawprint on the underside of your wrist. “Alright, take a look and tell me what you think and then I’ll apply the wrap.” He sets the needle onto the metal table next to the chair you have been sitting in, and he takes off his gloves.

The skin is red, with small dots of blood as you expected from where the needle etched the ink, but you are blown away by how brilliantly Jeongguk did with your first ever tattoo. “It’s… It’s perfect.” Your voice breaks from the tears brimming. “I love it.” You smile wide.

He chuckles, elated by your response. “I love you.” Preparing the sticky wrap, he carefully places it, afterwards pressing a kiss to your lips. “You did it.” His smile lights up your entire world as he proudly kisses you again.

“Only because of you. I wouldn’t have survived with anybody else.”

“Yes, you would have. It’s not that bad. I told you!” Jeongguk teases, waving his tatted arm in your line of vision while he points at it with his free hand.

“Fine,” you drone. “I would prefer that it be you because it’s more special. Kenai is the love of my life aside from you.” Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow. “What? He loves you, too!”

“Are you sure about that because he’s really gotten Flounder wrapped around his toe bean.”

“He’s got you, too.” You wink.

You moved in with Jeongguk a few weeks ago, adapting to the new life. So far, it’s gone rather well. He may not throw his clothes in the laundry basket, but at least he knows how to make up for it later. Wink wink. You inwardly giggle. Though LenLen was sad to see you leave, not only did Jeongguk get you a job at the bookstore, but you are the store manager which is nice because on breaks, you can just chill at home.

Home being with Jeongguk, Kenai, Flounder and Tetra. The crazy cat couple. Nothing gets better than that.

Jeongguk on the other hand has returned to tattooing. Something he is so talented at that its mind blowing. You are so grateful for how strong of a bond you two have formed since the first day you met. As far as Hoseok, him and Min-a have broken up by the whispers on the street, but you have found a way to forgive him. Especially when he reached out to apologize for how he wronged you and how none of it was your fault. How he should have known Min-a never truly wanted him, and that you are the sole reason his novel became a hit. The day he met you at the park. How you inspired it. You aren’t sure if he knows about Namjoon still, but you are glad he didn’t mention it if he does. You figure he’d tear the book to shreds at that point, but you thanked him for his apology and that you are happy with someone else. Very happy.

Jimin is a friend of you and Jeongguk to this day, but he does not speak about his sister in either presence considering her name is still an open wound. You and Jeongguk are still working on the forgiveness for her, too.

“It’s so amazing.” You awe about your tattoo once more. Jeongguk reaches to hold your other hand. “You’re so talented.”

He shrugs. “It’s a passion… Thank you for trusting me.”

Your lips pull into a gentle smile. “Always and forever.”

Leaning forward, you kiss him again and again and again and again. You love that you can trust that there will not be a goodbye from this glorious human being before you. He will always be your hello the second you wake up, the second you come home and every moment in between. “I love you,” he whispers breathless between kisses and if there weren’t cameras installed for security, you two would be making love right here in this seat.

“I love you too, Cigs.” You whisper against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

[appleblueberry-pie]

Need Help Somewhere in the Head.

Miles wishes he could change his bad habits.

There's too much going on in his head all night and all day for him to function properly. He goes over this with himself all the time, but knows there's nothing he can do about it. It's his job to keep his work done. To keep people out the streets and to fix his city straight again. And again and again.

Too often has he found himself with bloody knuckles, shoving his hot and sweaty hands back into his jacket with searing pain to take his unreleased anger out on a random nigga he just didn't like from school. Too often has he found himself disturbing everyone surrounding him just from sitting there, brooding silently, his energy tainting the room.

Too often has he found himself taking mission after mission, coming back home at 4 in the morning and wounded. Just to try and forget everything. Forget his missing assignments, forget his judgmental teachers who jump to conclusions, forget his grief and everything else.

Too often has he found himself perched on your fire escape.

.....his mind is silent when you're right there.

It doesn't matter if it's late and no one's outside. It doesn't matter if he can't hear you. Can't smell your sweet perfume. Just as long as you're safe in bed, asleep. Every single night. He couldn't stop when he first started.

Out of all of the things that destroy him, steal his mind and his time, you're the one replenishing what's been torn away from him.

You've never spoken to each other before, never locked eyes, never took the same class, yet he knows all about you. He takes great care of all of the people that fuck around with you. He found where you lived only a few hours after he first saw you. From then, he knew he would become more of a problem in the worst way possible. And he doesn't know what to do.

He hopes that he doesn't treat you like everyone else. Hopes he doesn't push you away, gives you the silent treatment to make you leave him alone. He hopes that with you, he won't abuse his power over you like he does to every boy you talk to. He hopes he won't lie and threaten you like he does to his enemies at night when his mind is the most foggy. He hopes to stop depending on you to give him this high.

Just thinking about how shitty he is. How shitty he could be to you makes his hands tremble. His heart beats too fast for his liking, he can't control it and he feels like a mouse in a big ass room, alone and vulnerable. And when he looks through your dark window, seeing your back facing him, your chest rising and falling slightly with your breaths, it resets him entirely like a fresh drink of water, he doesn't fucking get it.

Why are you so perfect? Why can't he love you like a regular boy? Should he let himself have this singular pleasure in his life? Just this once?

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters [teaser!]

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

teaser word count: 1.7k

teaser warnings: swearing

release date: saturday, august 3, 10 PM EST

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

note: this fic is my BABYYY so I really hope it’s well received and you all have a good time with it. it’s probably no surprise that still monster is one of my absolute favorite enha songs, and this story is essentially (my interpretation of) it in written form. this is going to be a multi-part story, and as of right now, the first part is almost ready to share. for now, enjoy this snippet!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Crossing a dark line through the word you just penned, you sigh. 

This is the fastest you’ve put a story together in ages. It’s cohesive, and the writing is solid. Your use of metaphor is strong and concise, and the prose feels true to your identity as a writer. 

But something in you withers a bit with every new word you commit to paper. It’s not that you hate your topic. If anything, it’s just that you have no stake in it at all. It doesn't feel innovative or exciting or representative of your creativity. 

No matter how easily the words flow out of you, something about it just feels… flat. One dimensional. 

You need something new. A different angle or an alternative perspective or… Or a fresh set of eyes. 

Struck with a sudden idea, you pull out your phone, plan taking form in your mind. The literature club at your university hosts bimonthly peer review sessions, and you haven’t taken advantage of them nearly as much as you should. They’re a chance for any writer, literature major or otherwise, to come together and workshop any piece of writing of their choice. 

Tapping your finger impatiently on the table, you wait for the page to load. The fall semester did end almost a week ago, so it may be a long shot. You’re not sure if the club typically holds sessions over winter break. But as you pull up the club’s calendar of events, a small smile tugs at your lips. 

Luck seems to be on your side this time. It’s written there in plain, bold font that there will be a session this upcoming Friday evening. That means that if you attend the session and get some solid ideas for revision, you’ll have exactly five days to refine your draft before you present it to Professor Kim. 

The idea of having not only a topic, as the schedule outlined, but an actual complete,  well-written draft to show him next Wednesday, turns your small smile into one that overtakes your features. 

Energized with a new vigor, you reach for your pen again. It doesn’t have to be perfect, you remind yourself, even as a turn of phrase makes you cringe. Even as a piece of punctuation feels out of place. It just needs to be written. You just need to have as much content as you can to share on Friday. 

Besides, you’re sure that a second opinion will help you fine tune this story into something you’re proud to share, something you’re excited to attach your name to.

The afternoon is quick to blur into early evening, and you’re still bent over your favorite corner table. Coffee long drained, you’re full of a new confidence. The thought of proving yourself suddenly doesn’t seem like such an unachievable, out of reach task. 

And when you do finally gather up all of your belongings and make your way back to your apartment for the night, you’re sure that this is the exact boost you needed. 

That same stroke of self-assuredness carries you all the way through a finished first draft. It’s rough and messy and littered with loose ends, but it’s tucked away in the bottom of your tote bag with a smile as you haul it to classroom number 105 in the university liberal arts building Friday evening. 

You pause at the door to the classroom, only for a moment. The inhale you breathe in is deep, full. Nodding to yourself once, you push open the door. 

You haven’t been to one of these workshop sessions since the second semester of your first year, back when you had just switched to a literature major. You remember being wide-eyed and incredibly protective over your work. It was hard to part with it, to let anyone else read over the sentences you were so unsure of. The writing you had little confidence in. 

But your partner had been kind. Another girl in her first year, she had nothing but gentle feedback to give and reassurance that your writing was worth reading. Honestly, it was such an overwhelmingly positive experience that you would have come back for more sessions if you weren’t constantly struggling to find minutes to spare in the day. 

You’re hoping that tonight will be just as rewarding as you enter the classroom, tote bag in tow. But as you survey the space around you, your face falls flat, easy going smile dropping from your lips. 

You weren’t expecting a big crowd, considering that it is winter break and most students are deliberately avoiding campus right now, but you were hoping there’d be more than one other person in attendance. 

Well, you think, deciding to look on the bright side of things. At least you’re not the only person. 

The other attendee is sitting in the far corner of the room, occupying a desk near the front of the classroom. At the sound of your entrance, they turn to face you. 

With that, your small disappointment is quick to snowball into an intense wave of exasperation. Because why is the universe so hellbent on playing games with you?

Your mouth drops open without your permission. “Heeseung?” 

Your sudden outburst fills the room and lingers long into the awkward silence that follows. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but really, what are the god forsaken odds?

If he’s bothered by your reaction to seeing him, Heeseung doesn’t show it. Instead he looks strangely… relieved. It makes absolutely no sense for him to feel any sort of relief at the sight of you, but it’s hard to put a more apt descriptor to the way tension drains from his shoulders, crease between his brows softening as he looks at you, scans you from head to toe. 

A moment of stilted silence passes between the two of you. Another. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.

You exhale, a cross between a scoff and a laugh so humorless it could freeze a flame. Weighing your options, the most tempting by far is to just turn on your heel and exit the way you came. 

Heesung seems to read your intention before you can commit to it. 

Breaking the heaviness in the atmosphere, he acts as if you’ve greeted him like an old friend, not as the source of all your recent headaches. 

“Hi,” he nods, so tentatively you almost want to let your jaw drop open in shock. Almost. 

Because what the fuck does he mean by ‘Hi?’ This has to be some kind of mind game, some way to get in your head and ruin this for you. 

“Right.” Your lips pull into a tight line. You don’t bother to return his greeting. “I’m just gonna go, then.” Hiking up your bag on your shoulder, you turn to do just that. Your first draft will just have to be unpolished. Oh, well. You’re sure Professor Kim will have better feedback for you than Lee Heeseung ever would anyway. 

Once again, Heeseung’s voice cuts across the classroom. “Wait.” There’s a command in his voice. Gentle, but firm. Insistent. So pervasive that you find yourself following without really meaning to. 

Mind made up and dead set on leaving, now you’re just annoyed. What a waste of a Friday evening.

“What?” You turn back to him. You’re not sure if there’s more venom in your voice or your eyes. 

And Heeseung, who commands a classroom with quiet grace, with his steady, unwavering presence, suddenly looks so damn unsure. As if tormenting you is uncharted territory. As if he’s never once left you in the cold with flaming cheeks and a thoroughly shattered ego. 

“I…” he trails off, not quite meeting your furious gaze. “Didn’t you come here to get feedback?”

“Right.” You scoff again. “Because I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tear my writing to shreds. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in being the butt end of your joke tonight.”

“What?” If you didn’t know any better, the ignorance he feigns would be rather convincing. “That’s not why I’m here.” He shakes his head. “I brought something I want reviewed too.” 

Your brow arches. He can’t be serious. “Even if I did stay,” you counter, “you’re actually the last person I would want to read my work. Feel free to be offended by that, by the way.”

For a solid minute, Heeseung just looks at you. He wears that same damn deer-in-the-headlights expression he had after you brushed him off when he intercepted you in class the other day. He pauses, weighing words on his tongue. “Look, ____.” The sound of your name on his lips strikes a strange chord in you. Until now, you were certain he didn’t even know it. “Did I do something to offend—”

And no. Absolutely not. No way are you rehashing that day in the quad with him now. 

“You know what,” you interrupt. You need to go. Now. You need an out. “I’m actually, like, super tired. I think I’m just gonna head back, and—”

But then it’s his turn to cut off your train of thought. “It’s your piece for Professor Kim, isn’t it?” Heeseung takes your silence as confirmation. “Publishing is a big deal. A second set of eyes will only make your work stronger. And if you hate my feedback, it’s not like you have to use any of it.”

You hate it. You despise the way his reasoning matches your internal monologue nearly word for word. The way your thoughts align exactly. 

You pause, a decision weighing heavy on your mind. He is an excellent writer… There would probably be substance to his feedback. Real, actual, good substance that you could use to make your writing bloom into something truly amazing. He could be the exact spark you need to make your story come to life. 

You purse your lips. “What’s in it for you?”

Heesung smiles, a nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips. He knows he’s won. “Like I said, I brought something I’ve been working on.” There’s an intention you can’t quite read behind his gaze when he adds, “I want to know what you think of it.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

With a grumble, you take reluctant steps towards where he sits on the opposite side of the classroom. And if you slide down into the seat next to him with a little more force than necessary, well, it’s just because you’ve had a long week. No other reason. None at all. 

“Fine,” you relent, reaching to pull your notebook out of your bag. “You get twenty minutes.”

“That’s not nearly long eno—”

“Thirty,” you concede. “And don’t push it.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

TO BE CONTINUED...

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note: thanks for checking out this little snippet! I can't wait to share the full first part soon. this one is going to be so much fun I'm buzzing already. I don't have a tag list, but I will most likely update this post and reblog it once I have a confirmed release date. like I said in the note at the beginning, I'm anticipating it will be ready to go by this sunday (august 4 EST) at the latest. woo!

[royalsunshinehotel]

NSFW Alphabet (The Kid, 18+)

One more day until we bring him HOME!!!!!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like the kid is properly touch-starved. He's caught in a cycle of violence with himself in the underground fighting ring, so he takes the opportunity to be soft with you while keeping as much physical contact as possible.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I feel like he's a fan of his arms. We see in the trailer how hard he works with those water buckets, he likes his arms. They're long, he's made them strong, they're great.

As for you, he's very into your hair. You're so soft and warm, and he will put his face in it whenever possible. How do you always smell good? He doesn't need to find out, he'll just enjoy it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This is hard to explain, but here we go. I think that Kid has never finished inside or on a partner. He doesn't really fuck a lot, but now that he's met you, he absolutely loves finishing on your stomach

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to fuck you while wearing the fucking Monkey mask. Maybe there's a kidnapping/beauty and the beast kink involved too.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he's a bit inexperienced. This throws you off because he's gorgeous, but you just need to up the communication. Initially, I feel like you need to break it down for him and say exactly what you want, eventually, he gets the hang of it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I feel like it depends on his mood. If he's heated and angry, he needs you on all fours, ass up. If he's feeling more somber, he needs you slowly, spoon-fucking.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think he gets a bit goofier when the two of you get out of the city. Until then, it's strict, serious, for stress release only. He doesn't care about you, at all (lie).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I feel like things are minimally contained. He's been so focused on getting by, he doesn't take care of himself until things almost get out of hand.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It takes him a minute to really find his groove with intimacy/romance, but he does get there. Until then, prepare to be manhandled.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I fear it's minimal, but you do talk with him about it. When the two of you become 'official' (official what, you don't know), you tell him you want to watch, and he finds he likes jacking off way more when he's got an audience.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I feel like for kinks he can be into the following (1) getting slapped and having his hair pulled in the bedroom, (2) tying you up and having his way with you, and (3) anything in regards to blood. If you have a period, watch yourself, he can be a shark when he wants.

Also, overstimulation, see later.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I truly think he'll have you wherever he wants. If you're down, he's down, he doesn't care where. It could be in the bathroom at his work, in the shower in his shitty apartment, he could break into a hotel room at his other job and fuck you in a proper bed, or the two of you can go on the roof of a high rise. He's partial to the outside at night.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think it's somewhat random. He's been trying to survive for so long it's not really something that comes to the front of his mind, that he is "turned on", he just knows he suddenly wants you in his lap. Maybe he wants your hands in his mouth. It doesn't matter why.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

I feel like he'd want to do what he could to keep you secret. Anyone else looking at you when you're compromised, with him, is going to be in a lot of pain very quickly. He's private above all.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Initially, I think he's a little confused about getting head. Like it's weird, and he likes it fine, but then he gets your legs around his head and he gets it. Giving for sure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I feel like the Kid is initially fast and mean. He's rough, but the two of you initially are just hooking up. that's how he thinks it's supposed to go! He doesn't even know all of his options yet, and that makes you a little bit insane. It just means you have to show him...

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If it's likely that no one will see you in a state of undress, he'll take you wherever/whenever he can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I'd have to say no. I don't have any evidence to back it up, but if you want to make a change, even if it's minimal, you have to ask nicely.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think it's criminal how long he can go. We know he's been training, we know he can fight, this can lead one to believe that, as an athlete, his stamina is way higher than it would be for a normal person.

This is how he figures out he really likes overstimulating you. It scratches an itch in his brain he didn't even know about. You're so sweet and vulnerable, crying that you've had enough, and trying to tell him he's mean.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I think it's a bit out of his depth. He gets the concept, he's been in situations where he's seen how they're used, but I think in his head, they're kind of an obstacle to you. He wants to be as close as possible, but that doesn't mean toys are banned forever...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, it's totally foreign to him. He's here, you're here, why bother with posturing?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The Kid has gone through most of his life alone. It's just facts. He's not had many people to talk to, and has a reputation for being a bit of a 'spook'. This is different with you, obviously. You'll get a lot of gasps, some panting, and your favorite, growling.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character

Chew toy. I think you and the kid bite each other a lot. There's not much else to say about it other than sometimes when the two of you are lying together, either you or he will just have some flesh between your teeth. Usually from the shoulder, but sometimes from the side of your neck. t's comforting, and neither of you feel the need to explain, it just is what it is.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I plead the Fifth Amendment because I might black out if I try to answer this question. I'm seeing the movie tonight, and I'm really not mentally prepared.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I've mentioned in this alphabet that he's been in 'survival' mode for so long, that certain areas of his life have been lacking. This being said, I think his sex drive gets higher and higher the longer the two of you are seeing each other. It's something the two of you work on together :)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

The Kid strikes me as an insomniac. I feel like it takes him 30 minutes to an hour to wind down after fucking you. But when he finally does get to sleep, he'll be out cold, which is all you want really.

[lqveharrington]

Hidden Hatred | V.

summary: You’re a new Overlord and meet Vox for the first time. Who knew what that first interaction would do for the both of you down the line.

pairing: Vox x witch Overlord!reader

includes: name calling, mentions of murder, technically enemies to lovers, Vox being whipped by you, jealously, suggestiveness, teasing, fluff, angst if you squint, (let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: 1st request for Vox done! Also, tell me why I love giving them powers like wanda? it’s so cool tho

When you became an Overlord, you quickly recognized all the other Overlords at meetings, matching their personality to name. For example, Alastor’s voice effects gave the illusion of a radio, hence Radio Demon. Or Carmilla and her pointe shoes made of angelic steel. However, there were some Overlords who never attended the meetings, sending in one of the associates in place. The Vees being the only Overlords to do so, typically sending the youngest to attend the meetings. In doing this, you never met the others, refusing to associate online presence with their real self.

So when Vox came in place for Velvette for one of the Overlord meetings, you were slightly confused.

“Vox, how lovely for you to join us this afternoon.” Carmilla gestured toward the Television Demon across the table, her stare sharp when he tapped away on his phone.

“Uh-huh, can we make this quick? I have a company to run.” He threw her a bored look and scanned the rest of the room, noticing a new face. “Who the hell is this bitch?”

Your face jumps in surprise at his words before giving him a small smile. “It’s—“

“You know what? I don’t give a shit.” Vox glanced back at his phone. “Please, continue Carmilla.”

You huff, conjuring up red wisps from your fingertips to mess with while the meeting continues. You thought dealing with Velvette when you first met was a pain, but Vox was ten times worse than she was, and you just met! He seemed interesting, and you never expected a demon Overlord to have a television for a head, but his disinterest in you put you in a sour mood. You genuinely wanted to understand how he was an Overlord, but it seemed impossible with his nature.

“Now dear, let’s not think of murderous thoughts.” Alastor hummed in your direction when he saw you send a death glare toward the Television Demon as you left the meeting room, to which you only received an eye roll back. “Only I can have an enemy like him.”

“Al, during our short break he told me to fuck off and shoved his finger in my face!” You seeth as your eyes glow red with more wisps emitting from your fingers. “I’m going to murder him.”

Alastor caught your arm, “You will not do such things to an Overlord. If he appears at the next meeting and continues to act rude toward one of our gracious ladies, please tell me.”

“Of course, Al.” You snap your fingers, creating a portal to your Overlord territory. “I’ll see you in a month.”

Although you weren’t going to see all the Overlords in one place for a month, that didn’t mean a certain Television Demon consumed your thoughts because of your behavior toward one another during one meeting. It seemed as if every piece of technology reminded you of him, causing some unwanted thoughts to form during wanting times.

Much like you, Vox’s thoughts were filled to the brim of you. How has he never met you? How has Velvette never mentioned a new Overlord in Pentagram City? Oh, he wanted to know more about you. It was only a matter of time before he realized he was entirely whipped by your presence.

“What’s up your ass?” Velvette stepped inside the elevator with Vox as he messed with his suit for the nth time. She already had a suspicion something was up when he decided to tag along for the meeting, but he was acting nervous for a group of people he disrespected. How the fuck does that even work? “Vox.”

“What?” He whipped his head over to his shorter associate as the elevator door dinged.

She gave him an unimpressed look, “What’s going on in your system? You look like you’re going to reboot any second now.”

“Do I?” He reached up to touch his screen, pulling out his phone for vitals.

Velvette furrowed her brows at his reaction when they walked into the meeting room, a couple of other Overlords mingling amongst themselves. “Okay, what’s the fucking problem? Is there someone you—“

“Vox and Velvette.” Carmilla took her slow strides into the room, quickly diminishing the added noise. “To what do we owe the pleasure of two out of the three Vees?”

“This fuck wanted to join me for no reason.” Velvette jabbed her thumb in Vox’s direction, earning a snort from you. All heads turned as you covered your mouth, letting a quick apology fall from your lips.

Carmilla raised a brow, “Thank you… We’ll start off with the…”

Her voice soon became white noise to Vox as he took his seat, glancing up at you every few seconds. God, he hated the way you would quietly speak with Alastor or how you made eye contact with him just to break it with a glare. He hated the way you always dressed to your heart's content and how you failed to respond to Carmilla when asked a question. He hated how he failed to actually hate you.

“Vox, you’re wrecking Carmilla’s table,” Velvette murmured in his direction as Vox’s claws dug deeper into the table’s top.

He looked down at the table, pulling his claws out. He was too focused on your quiet laughter with Alastor to notice the damage. As your quiet laughter subsided, you made eye contact with Vox again before glancing down at the claw marks, and raising a brow at the television.

‘It’s boring.’ Vox mouthed toward you.

You pursed your lips at him, not understanding the game he was playing. ‘Of course it is, it always is.’

Vox rolled his eyes in a joking manner, shooting his attention back to the Overlord in front of the table. You, on the other hand, shot a quizzical look toward him. Sure, your dead heart sped up a bit, and you felt your face warm, but it was only an exchange of two sentences. You felt the red wisps emit from your fingertips again from confusion, pulling at the soft fog created by the magic.

“My dear, what’s gotten you all out of sorts?” Alastor caught up with you when the meeting adjourned with a sharpened grin, noticing your encounter with the Television Demon.

“What do you mean?” You glance back at Vox who offered you a small smirk. Waving him off, you let a small smile slip through.

“That, my dear!” He squinted his eyes toward the television. “Don’t fraternize yourself with him, he’s involved in too much trouble.”

You tilt your head back to Alastor, “We’re in Hell, I can’t think of any reason why anyone would not be in trouble.”

“What I mean to say is don’t get too comfortable with that… thing. It’s not ideal.” His ears fell flat as you paid zero attention to him.

“I won’t. Plus, I’m sure he got bored and bothered the first person he saw. After all, he did tell me to fuck off during the last meeting.” You tuck your arms behind your back. “Don’t worry so much about me, Al. I can handle myself just fine.”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about the man you’re associating yourself with.” He patted your head. “Until next time, my dear.”

You watch as he slips away with his shadows, rolling your eyes at his antics. It was highly unlikely that you would start a friendship with Vox, considering the people he lives with. Alastor had nothing to worry about, it was just a moment of boredom consuming the both of you.

At least, that’s what you told yourselves. Satan knows that the first interaction was uncalled for, but it wasn’t Vox’s fault. No, he blamed himself for the image he had to uphold and being struck by a new Overlord’s looks. But as time passed, along with meetings, the urge to see each other became stronger, resulting in meetings outside of the Carmine building.

Literally.

“Doll, you take way too long to get here.” Vox pulled you toward him by your hand, linking them together.

“Aw, I’m sorry. Were you too scared to be here all on your own? Too afraid there are no bodyguards to protect you?” You tease with a wide grin. You watch as he rolls his eyes at you, tugging you closer. You laugh while patting his chest, “I had to deal with an incompetent sinner. I know you wanted to spend more time together before the meeting.”

“You have to make it up to me now.” He smiled down at you, eyes filled with admiration.

You hum, your own eyes gleaming in such a lovesick look. “Like what, Mister Vox? How should I make it up to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He tilted your head further up, the electricity over his hat reflecting his fast heartbeat. “What do you think?”

“I think…” You flit your gaze to his lips before moving them back up to meet his eyes. “I shouldn’t be in debt to you.”

“Is that so, doll?” He squints as he tightens his hold on you. “I think I’m deserving of something at least.”

“Mm, no.” You squeeze his hand. He gives you a playful look before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You grin before reciprocating, using your free hand to hold his shoulder. The both of you separate, eyes fluttering open with soft smiles. “Must you defy me, handsome?”

“Only when I want to.” He whispered against your lips as he pressed more kisses on your lips. You giggle as you let your red wisps emit from your fingers, watching as your wisps pull him away from you. “Doll…”

“Mm?” You stay still as he continues to get pulled away by your powers.

“What are you doing?”

You flick your wrist, the wisps disappearing. “Nothing, you’re the one moving away from me.” Vox grabs at your waist, pulling you flush against him. You squeal as he peppers kisses across your face, “Vox, we could be seen.”

“Who’s going to come down this alleyway?” He left one last kiss on your lips, smiling as a fool would.

“The other Overlords who are going to attend the meeting.” You push his screen away as you catch the time on your watch. “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know?”

“Yeah, but they should know you’re taken.” He squeezed your waist.

“You want them to think we hate fuck each other?” You grab his wrists as they sway you around. “You know they still think we hate each other right?”

“Who said we don’t?” He bared his teeth to you, earning an eye roll. “You can’t tell me you don’t like it—“

“Shut up.” You sucker punch his shoulder. “The Tech Overlord dating the Witch Overlord? Never.”

“Never.” He linked your hands again, leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. “I despise you.”

“Horrible thought.” You pull him along out of the alley, separating as soon as you see Alastor appear out of the shadows. You watched the Radio Demon send you a sharpened grin, which you returned with a small smile.

Although you kept your relationship a secret from the likes of sinners and Overlords, both the Technology Overlord and Witch Overlord knew what they were to each other, even if that meant it was kept hidden.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[katyswrites]

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 2 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, HEAVY alcohol use, recreational weed use, getting drunk/blacking out, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 3.7k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 2

You don’t truly decide to go to Steve’s stupid party until the last possible moment. You already know that spending more time with him than necessary is a recipe for disaster. But, you reason, you probably should show your face. It actually does seem like nearly everyone from the campus’ music scene would be there - it would look bad if you didn’t show up. The radio station’s funding is always on the chopping block - half of your job is networking and being friendly with practically everyone on campus to keep it alive. 

Still, as you start getting ready, you consider backing out about 50 times. Is Steve actually expecting you to show up? Is it a pity invite? Or, a challenge?

Knowing him, it’s probably the latter.

Throughout the course of getting ready - which mostly involved throwing on some makeup while intermittently feeling like you had nothing to wear every time you looked in your closet full of clothes - you chugged a bottle of wine to help yourself relax. It had been on the door of the fridge, so God knows how long it had been there, but it’s good enough. Then you’re out the door and catching a bus downtown, shivering a bit in the crisp October evening air. You pull your jacket tighter around you as you hop on board, forever thankful that university students get to ride the city’s buses for free. 

It’s packed full of other college kids, mostly freshmen undoubtedly on their way to frat parties downtown. You had outgrown that phase after sophomore year, opting for friends’ house parties and going out to bars as you got older. You can’t help but look at them fondly - somehow, despite being peers in all the ways that matter, you feel so far removed from them; the girls in their mini dresses and crop tops, boys carrying six-packs and sporting unbuttoned flannel shirts, loudly packed onto the bus like sardines on their way downtown to make bad decisions.

Hamilton Street is in the heart of the downtown area, where a lot of students live. You hop off the bus with nearly everyone else, droves of kids filling the streets, chugging beers and smoking cigarettes as they make their way to various frat houses. You follow the groups, the other students slowly peeling away until it’s much quieter - it seems like Steve’s place is one of the last ones on the block.

You had purposely left late enough so that you could guarantee you wouldn’t be in the first wave of people to arrive - it was closer to 11 than 10 at this point. The autumn evening air was chilly enough that you’re walking briskly, jacket pulled tightly around your shoulders. You nearly turn around approximately six times between the bus stop and his house - yet, against all odds, you find yourself standing on his front porch.

Like most student rentals, the house is old and a bit rickety - you can hear the din of chatter and music inside. A good sign, you suppose - part of you had been worried he’d purposely given you the wrong address. You wouldn’t put it past him, not when it comes to you.

You take a deep breath, and open the door. The smell of beer, weed, and sweat hits you like a wave. The small living room is hazy with smoke, the house immediately a bit too warm from body heat. A few heads look up as you enter, followed by an uproar of greetings.

Look who decided to show up!

Hey babe!

Everyone hide, mom’s here!

You roll your eyes, laughing.

“I do have fun sometimes, guys.”

“Oh, I know,” a familiar voice says, Eddie lifting himself off of the couch to give you a big hug.

“I was there at that party freshman year when you nearly fell off of Mikayla Hodder’s roof-”

“Shut up,” you say, face flushed with embarrassment at the (fuzzy) memory.

“Can I get you a drink?” the shaggy-haired boy asks.

You nod, following him back through the house towards the kitchen. You shoulder your way through bodies, saying the occasional hello when someone you recognize catches your eye.

Eddie is rooting through the fridge, pulling out a beer and extending it to you. You accept it gratefully, pushing the fridge closed with your hip as he leans against the counter.

“So…I wasn’t expecting you to be here tonight,” Eddie remarks, popping his bottle cap off with an opener screwed into the wall. 

“And why’s that?” you ask casually.

“Well… I mean, please tell me you know whose house this is -”

“Of course I do,” you say quickly, taking a swig of beer. “Harrington invited me.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“Really?”

You nod. “Is that so unbelievable?”

He just shrugs, staring down at his bottle.

“Dunno. I know he’s not exactly your favorite person -”

“Maybe so, but a lot of my friends are here, so… who's to stop me?”

Eddie grins, clinking his drink with yours.

“There you go - I was hoping you’d come out, to be honest. Sometimes I’m worried you don’t let yourself have fun anymore.”

You scoff.

“I - I have fun.”

“You used to. This year, though, you’d been so…”

“So what?” you ask defensively.

Eddie’s face starts to turn a bit red.

“Well - you know - I know you’re stressed and all, managing the station, but… you can be a little…uptight.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not uptight -”

“Look, trust me - I’m saying that with love, as your friend -”

“Yeah, whatever - I can be fun.”

“I know - I’ve been there with you through it all. Just… I’m glad you came. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”

You don’t really respond, crossing your arms as you glance around the kitchen a bit.

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“No one,” you respond absentmindedly.

Eddie smirks.

“Yeah - okay.”

Steve is nowhere to be found. Perhaps that’s a blessing - it’s busy enough here that you ma be able to avoid having a conversation all night.

It’s around then that Eddie’s bandmate Gareth is stumbling into the kitchen, stopping himself for a moment before breaking into a grin when he sets eyes on you and Eddie.

“Thank God - me and Jeff need someone for pong!”

That’s how you find yourself partnered with Eddie, letting yourself forget about Steve as you play beer pong. You’re a competitive person, and arguably more so when you’re drunk - that’s how you and Eddie kick ass two rounds in a row, leading a fed up Gareth to declare the game totally bogus before storming out to the back porch to smoke with Jeff.

You high-five Eddie on your way back to the kitchen to grab another drink. You’re properly tipsy now, probably on your fourth drink in less than 2 hours. Your tolerance did used to be better than this - maybe Eddie was right, about you not being as fun as you used to.

The kitchen is empty, which you’re thankful for - it’s tiny to begin with, so more than a handful of people makes it feel cramped. You’re a bit hot, working up enough of a sweat during the game that you had shed your jacket already. The refrigerator light is nearly blinding in the dimness of the room, but the cold gives enough of a relief that you bend over and lean into the fridge. You hang there for a moment, sighing. In the distance, you hear the sound of a glass breaking, followed by a series of aw, mans - you decide it’s not your problem to worry about, and stay there another moment. You then root through the fridge for a moment until you find a bottle of something you like. 

You slam the door shut and turn to head back towards the rest of the party, only to nearly jump out of your skin when you realize you’re not alone.

Steve Harrington leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and wearing a smirk.

“Jesus - you scared me. Why the fuck are you just standing there like that?”

He shrugs.

“Just enjoying the view, sweetheart.”

You scoff, popping the cap off of your bottle and heading right towards him, hoping he’d move out of the way to let you through. That, of course, is wishful thinking.

“Can I get through?” you ask, bristling as he blocks the doorway.

“You decided to come,” Steve says, looking down at you with a grin.

“Well, you did invite me.”

“I know - I’m glad you actually showed up, though.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” you mutter sarcastically, shouldering past him and back towards the living room.

Eddie’s lounging on the couch, eyelids heavy as he passes a joint between himself and Argyle.

“Got enough to share?” you ask, plopping down next to him. He nods, passing it over to you. You take a long hit, letting the smoke settle into your lungs as you sink further into the couch.

“You good?” Eddie asks.

“Mm, yeah. Just want to chill here for a little bit.”

He nods, paying you no mind as he takes a deep inhale. Your eyes follow Steve as he crosses the room and heads out to the front porch with a girl you don’t recognize. You feel your brow furrow, your eyes trained on the front door. It’s not too long after that that you manage to help Eddie finish the joint. You chug your beer, starting to feel lightheaded, the world around you moving a bit more slowly.

You fall into a comfortable crossfaded lull there for a while, with Robin Buckley eventually placing a beer can in the middle of the table and calling for a game of Kings as she shuffles a deck of cards.

You open another beer as she does, sitting forward a bit to half-heartedly play the game. You find yourself getting stuck taking a drink quite a few times, your reflexes slow and your wits not quite about you. A few more people filter in, sitting criss-crossed around the coffee table and pulling cards from the deck and doing what it dictates. 

“Six is chicks!” Eddie cries out, flashing his six-of-spades card to the group. You roll your eyes as you take yet another drink, reaching to grab your own card as Eddie sticks his under the can’s pull tab.

You glance at it, and giggle.

“Jack - what’s Jack again?”

“Never Have I Ever,” Robin says, holding up three fingers. Everyone follows suit, and you think for a minute to start it off.

“Okay, um… never have I ever done a drug harder than weed.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Eddie asks.

“What do you think it means?”

“Alcohol is technically more powerful of a drug than pot,” Steve pipes up across the table - when did he get here?

“Shut up Harrington, you know what I mean -”

“Yeah, like acid and coke and shit,” Argyle adds.

“Well fuck,” Eddie concedes, putting a finger down. 

You laugh, expecting nothing less of him. It goes around the circle for a bit - things ranging from never have I ever broken a bone to never have I ever had a threesome, followed by a series of laughs or groans as people put down fingers and down drinks. You only have one finger left by the time it gets to Steve.

He thinks for a moment, humming to himself as he does - you can’t help but think that there isn’t much he hasn’t done. After a few more seconds pass, he smirks, and locks eyes with Robin.

“Never have I ever hooked up with someone in the vinyl closet at the station.”

“Not fair,” Robin exclaims, smacking Steve on the arm. He laughs as his friend lays into him. She’s blushing, and officially out of the game. She glares daggers at him as she takes a drink.

You can’t help but notice that Steve gets quite a few people with that - Eddie being one of them, caught in a cascade of groans and fingers getting put down. You feel your mouth fall open in disbelief.

“Whoa, wait - is everyone fucking around in the vinyl library?”

Robin stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then laughs.

“Wait, seriously? You didn’t know that?”

You feel your face flush with embarrassment, all eyes on you.

“Well - um, no, this is the first I’m hearing of it.”

Eddie just grins, and gives you a playful pat on the back.

“You seriously don’t know your own radio station at all, huh?”

“I - I guess I’m not that surprised that someone has, but - all of you?”

“Not all,” Steve chimes in.

“Yeah, wait - how have you not?” Robin asks.

Steve just shrugs. “I don’t know… I have things like, I don’t know - a bed, in my own home, for starters.”

Robin rolls her eyes. You meet Steve’s eyes for a moment, and quickly look away.

You stick the Jack card in the pile under the beer can’s pull-tab - only to hear a pop followed by a hiss.

“Uh oh, Madame President broke the seal!” Eddie declares, pushing it towards you. “Looks like somebody’s got to shotgun it.”

You take it begrudgingly and stare at it for a moment.

“I need to borrow someone’s keys,” you finally say, earning some whoops and hollers from the group. The last thing you vividly remember is popping a hole in the can, and downing the whole beer in a manner of 30 seconds.

******

You blink awake groggily - enough sunlight permeates through the curtains that you know it must be morning. You groan, your mouth dry and tasting distinctly of alcohol. A turn over towards your bedside table makes your stomach feel all wobbly - fuck.

You reach for your alarm clock, squinting at it - nevermind. It’s not morning - more like the afternoon. Well into the afternoon.

A pit of dread settles into your gut - when did you get home? How long were you asleep? You never sleep this late, not even on weekends - a late lie-in for you is 11 AM. You’re definitely in your own bed, which is a positive - still in last night’s clothes, though. How? 

You don’t remember much after the game of Kings - though, you were definitely doing shots at some point… with who? You remember being in someone’s car - maybe. Or was it the bus again? If you actually managed getting the bus home while blackout drunk, you’re actually quite proud of yourself. But that somehow doesn’t seem too likely.

You pulled yourself to sit up, only to immediately regret it. Your stomach is now churning like a stormy sea, and your head is starting to throb. You’re an idiot. 

You hadn’t gotten drunk like that since your freshman year - it was a rookie mistake. You just hoped you didn’t make a complete idiot out of yourself in front of everyone.

After finally pulling yourself out of bed, you stumble over to your bedroom window and open the curtains. The bright afternoon sunlight hitting your face made you realize what a horrid mistake that was - you’re practically blinded by the light, and your head is properly pounding now. And now…

You barely make it to the bathroom in time, keeling over the toilet to puke up all of last night’s mistakes. The second your knees hit the cold tile floor, you begin coughing everything up, regretting anything and everything you’ve ever done to lead you to this moment. You don’t even hear Nancy approach behind you, not even aware of her presence until you’ve flushed and fall back against the wall, feeling disgusting.

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling, but it feels like a stupid question,” she says, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. 

You glance up at your roommate, feeling so small.

“Ha ha,” you say sarcastically. She offers a hand to help you up, which you accept gratefully. She waits until you’re hunched over the sink, brushing your teeth and gargling water to clean the taste of sick out of your mouth, to speak again.

“So - it was a fun night?” she asks cautiously.

You laugh dryly. “Um, yeah, I guess the night was fun. Right now… not so much.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Nancy coos teasingly. “You’ll be alright - just chill out today, yeah?”

“Mm - yeah, that’s the plan. I think I’m going to take a shower… and lie down for a little.”

Nancy nods. “Yeah, good idea - maybe I can go down to Blockbuster, rent a couple of movies, get some snacks?”

You offer up a small smile. “That’s nice, but you really don’t have to -”

“No seriously, it’s fine, I think they have some new stuff I want to check out anyways. I don’t have plans anyway - let’s just do a girls’ day, maybe get takeout later -”

“Sounds great, Nance. Thanks. Maybe hold off on takeout, for a bit… let me see how all of this feels,” you say, gesturing to your stomach. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll head out - take a nice, long shower, it always helps.”

“Sure thing - and hey, I don’t know who called you, but thanks for coming to get me last night.”

Nancy furrows her brow quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“I - didn’t you bring me home last night?”

Nancy shakes her head.

“No - no, I was asleep. I think I heard the door open at some point, but I assumed that was just you coming home - you don’t remember?”

You shake your head, properly confused now.

“No - I don’t. I - think maybe I took the bus back then?”

“I thought they stop running those after like 2AM? I didn’t hear you get home until around 3, I think.”

She’s right - then how did you get back?

You bite your lip, thinking for a bit. 

“Maybe it was Eddie. I’ll call him and ask.”

Nancy nods. “Alright, yeah. Either way, you got back safe. Sorry about the hangover, though.”

You wave her off. “It’s my own fault - I went too hard last night. I’m just going to try to sleep it off, I guess.”

After Nancy leaves, you take a nice, long shower - you feel utterly disgusting, still in last night’s sweaty clothes and smudged makeup. You let last night’s bad decisions cascade down your skin and into the drain, sighing as the shower semi-revives you. 

By the time you’re out and drying off, your stomach has settled a bit more. The headache has only gotten a bit worse, though. You open the medicine cabinet, only to find the bottle of Ibuprofen missing. Did Nancy use it and forget to put it back? You don’t want to go rifling through her room, so you trudge back to your bedroom, praying she can find it when she gets back.

Pulling on a baggy t-shirt and pajama shorts, you reach for the phone on your bedside table - you punch in Eddie’s number, sitting on the edge of your bed as you twirl the cord with your finger. He picks up almost straight away.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie - it’s me.”

“Whoa! She lives!” he cries out, laughing. You wince.

“Can you not yell, please?”

“Uh oh - are you feeling a little… delicate?”

“Fuck you,” you murmur, falling back onto your mattress. 

“I’m only teasing -”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen - did I make an idiot out of myself?”

“How much do you remember?”

“Uh - I remember playing Kings… and not a ton after that. I remember little things here and there, but… were we dancing?”

“You were dancing. On the kitchen table, if I remember.”

You groan, letting your head fall into your free hand.

“Oh God -”

“It’s all good, listen - people thought it was fun, I swear.”

“Yeah, if you say so… did I throw up?”

Silence on the other end.

“Oh fuck -”

“Only actually in the toilet, though - well, someone’s Solo cup at one point. Then it was all the bathroom after that, I swear. I really don’t think a lot of people saw that part though, the night was kind of winding down.”

“You swear?”

“Positive. Even I was leaving at that point. Don’t know if you got worse after that, though.”

You sit up suddenly, despite your body’s protests.

“You - what?”

“Listen, I didn’t want to leave you, but Argyle’s buddy Jonathan offered to drive us, and he didn’t want someone who might get sick in his car -”

“But wait, hold on - how did I get home? I thought you got me back -”

“Oh - you really don’t remember, huh?”

“Well - no.”

“Don’t get mad, but -”

“But what?”

“It was Steve. He drove you home.”

You pause, opening your mouth a few times to say something, but not finding the words.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Harrington only had like, two beers all night, so he said he could take you back.”

“I - oh.”

What you wanted to say was, why the fuck would he do that?

“So… yeah. Sorry about that. But, I’m glad you made it back okay.”

“Yeah - mm hm…” you murmur absentmindedly. You hear a shrill beeping sound through the phone, making you wince.

“Sorry - fuck, Gareth set off the fucking fire alarm again. Sorry, I -”

“No, it’s okay. Go deal with that. I just… wanted to make sure you knew I’m alive.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says, and you can practically what your friend’s grin through the phone. “Gotta go - drink water, eat some fries, bye -”

Click.

You sit there in silence for a few moments, brow furrowed - Steve? Did you really make a drunk fool of yourself in front of him? You groan - he’ll definitely find a way to use this as leverage. How did he even get you inside? Did you throw up in his car - Christ, you hope not.

Worst of all… now you owe Steve Harrington, of all people.

It’s as you’re making peace with this horrible realization that you finally spot the Ibuprofen - there it is, in plain sight, on your bedside table. The bottle is conveniently right there, somehow, with a glass of water. You hadn’t noticed it in your hungover stupor earlier - when you reach for it, you realize it’s sitting on top of a note with untidy scrawl that reads:

Take some of this - you’re going to need it, sweetheart. 

-Harrington

You stare at it dumbfoundedly, then scoff.

Motherfucker.

author's note: I'm back! I took a bit of a hiatus, but I'm back in the swing of writing. I wont lie though... this is barely proofread. So, please be kind. This is a slow burn, so don't expect real smut for a few more chapters. But, let me know your thoughts, and I hope you enjoyed!

[night-raven-tattler]

JCJXJXJXJDNDNNXJXJXJXNZNXNXNXMXKMCJCJCJS

SORRY, I'M FANGIRLING (Is that even a word?)

Tattly, I swear, I was thinking about sending this request DURING New Year's Eve, BUT MY ENTIRE CITY SPENT THE FIRST DAY COMPLETELY WITHOUT POWER 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

But if I can ask you now, tell me: in what pose do you think the twst boys sleep?

Who has the Dracula pose, who looks like they were run over and, most importantly, WHO HAS THE "POWER BOTTOM, ASS UP" POSE??

I've been completely high on coffee for 4 days, sorry about that~

-🌙

(You'll see a lot of me here, I loved the place)

Hello and happy new year, 🌙! Mx Tattly is pleased with your return. They have conducted a very elaborate investigation, with the help of some of the fellow NRT members. Hope you enjoy the findings!

Turbulent sleep or unperturbed slumber?

Characters: main NRC students cast, NRC staff, Che'nya, Neige (separate)

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The yearners/cuddlers: Deuce, Ruggie, Azul, Kalim, Trein, Neige

These are a bunch of people who yearn for warmth and affection. Either they're used to being cuddled to sleep, or they have a natural urge to grab onto something or someone and hold onto it/them until the sun comes up. Their grip is sturdy, their sleep is sound and their pillow is very likely drooled on. They're the most likely to snore, from small kitten snores to bass bosted remixes.

『••✎••』

The pristine logs: Riddle, Jack, Silver, Crewel

This is the sleep position of a person who totally has their life together (/s) and absolutely nothing is wrong with them (/s). They are totally okay with their life (/s). Even from the moment the go to bed they know how they want to wake up in the morning. The pose is unshakeable and they are statues, impossible to wake up from the outside, even with the aid of the loudest Sebek available.

『••✎••』

The space hoggers: Grim, Ace, Jade, Floyd, Crowley

Their mission is to occupy as much of the bed as possible. Either from spreading their limbs for comfort or from moving in their sleep as if they're dreaming of participating in a yoga class, they will never wake up the same way they went to bed. Their dedication to claim as much of the bed as possible no matter who else shares it could be rivaled only by the Roman Empire.

『••✎••』

The squishy limb havers: Jamil, Cater, Idia, Che'nya

These people don't fall asleep, they collapse of exhaustion on their bed after being awake for too long, only to wake up a few hours later and wonder why their new bed was the floor. Unfortunately for them, it would be hard for them to fall back asleep, as they somehow managed to get some rest in the position they powered down in. If by some miracle half of their body is still on the bed in the morning, they consider it as a win.

『••✎••』

The coffin dwellers: Trey, Vil, Rook, Ortho, Malleus, Sebek, Sam

This is another position of a perfectly normal person with absolutely no issues whatsoever (/s). This pose is not only absolutely mundane and normal (/s), but it's also efficient: it's the position that allows them to sleep the best and to wake up the fastest in the morning. They sleep (or charge) in a position worth grading, and the school should implement a scoring system that would benefit their overall grade only based on the perfect stillness and grace and total normalcy (/s) of their sleep.

『••✎••』

The freefallers: Epel, Leona, Lilia, Vargas

These people have nothing to fear, as sleeping with you butt upwards and on your stomach is a pose used to assert dominance and superiority. It shows fearlessness, because an unprotected back is a show of vulnerability. Despite the risk they subject themselves to in order to make a statement, they refuse to change their sleeping position. They prefer their freedom and the superiority complex... and the neck / back pain in the morning.

『••✎••』

[maxwell-grant]

HEROFY: scarecrow

The Scarecrow is a local cryptid of Gotham known for his scary costume, for an ability to induce chemical terror, for being a thorn on the side of Batman and the local supervillain scene, and for being very popular with the younger demographics. Kids love Scarecrow because he's a Halloween-themed swashbuckling boogeyman who scares up bad guys and bullies, and teenagers love Scarecrow because he's an independent lone force and because Scarecrow Drugs are all the rage in Gotham club scenes, easy to smuggle within Halloween confectionery and offering the trip of a lifetime with little bodily harm (potential heart attacks and brain damage notwithstanding). Naturally, this was a disaster for any form of narcotics enforcement in Gotham, and one that was only exacerbated when these drugs started being turned into self-defense tools, and even worse, their formulas started being made into public knowledge.

Afraid of walking alone at night? Instead of pepper spray, try Scarecrow spray, and you can inflict on your attacker far more horrible cruelties than the one they were trying to inflict on you. Is your school bully stealing your lunch everytime? Lace it with Scarecrow juice, boy will he think twice about messing with you. Caught some guy at a bar trying to roofie your friend? Just slip Scarecrow pills into his drink instead and he'll be shrieking his eyeballs out for three nights straight. Yes, lots of people may use Scarecrow drugs to do bad things, but it doesn't even reflect that poorly on him, because The Scarecrow is a hero to the poverty-stricken and vulnerable of Gotham, and every now and then, he makes a point of letting those people, those people who think they can steal fear from him, know where he stands with them. A little public scare every now and then, which is usually when Batman has to get involved.

Why, some will even tell you that if you leave a fistful of straw by your window sill at night, The Scarecrow will take a personal interest in your case. The halls of Gotham schools and universities are filled with rumors about The Scarecrow, who lurks the halls, looking to catch anyone trying to be scarier than him. Nobody has actually caught him, nobody has actually unmasked him, and a lot of people in the city hope that nobody does. Oh sure, it's nice when Batman goes and beats up some drug lord or villain you have heard about in the papers, but he's not exactly gonna come to your help unless you put a big freaking light on the rooftop, is he? But The Scarecrow, why, he's got your back no matter who or what you are. They are more than willing to spread the word again and again on how to make fear toxins and chemicals out of even simple cleaning supplies, and there's always a wild and dangerous new strain hitting the streets.

Which is a real pain in the ass for Professor Jonathan Crane, who has no idea how in the hell did his fear formula experiments get out of hand like this. Jonathan Crane was trying to synthetize a chemical that could induce hallucinatory terror on those infected, and his ambitions didn't really get much farther than trying to start an extortion racket so he could buy more books and make a living after losing his teaching job. He frankly only made the dumb costume so he wouldn't get caught, and sure, maybe he was sublimating a little childhood trauma into it, but it's not like he wanted it to start walking around and being some kind of vigilante, and thus, he is trying desperately to catch The Scarecrow and contain him before this entire legal nightmare is traced back to him, and worse, before Batman finds out he was behind it.

He has no idea how or why it is happening, whether the chemicals did something to his brain and he's undergoing a Jekyll-Hyde thing unknowingly, or whether some burglar raided his lab, or whether one of his test subjects somehow escaped and learned to synthetize their own formulas (they were all accounted for, impossible). He is learning more and more what it means to be truly, profoundly scared, in ways that would frankly excite him if he wasn't very seriously in danger if anyone, criminals or cops or Batman and etc, finds out he's causing this. He has no explanation why this symbolic embodiment of trauma grew legs and started fighting crime, other than, I guess that's what things do in Gotham City.

[nuka-cherries]

MY FIRST POOLVERINE/DEADCLAWS FANFIC AND IT IS MY 69TH PUBLISHED FANFIC ON AO3 OVERALL!!! NICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you @gossippool for enabling me and cheering me on! I appreciate it so much!

Spotify soundtrack for the fic here!

Pinterest board here!

Chapter under the cut because AO3 is down lol some diffs here and there, but it is what it is.

gay as FUCK

Eventually, they managed to get a larger apartment in the same neighborhood with more space for Althea to move about, with her keeping the largest bedroom and a proper medical bed set up in her room. She said she was fine and did not need to get an adjustable bed, and her chronic pain was nothing a little cocaine can’t fix, but Wade fretted. 

He couldn’t lie. He fretted over his friends. He loved his friends. He always begged and prayed every time that Althea wheezed, that it was not cancer to the voices in his head, even though it wasn’t logical. Althea had no history of cancer in her family. He would know; he filled out all her medical forms in the waiting rooms, went to all her appointments and was her power of attorney. Friends who did cocaine together went to medical appointments together. 

Well, cocaine was out of the question now. Looks like the House of Mouse always wins. 

Go fuck yourself, Disney Plus. 

We’ll get your ass someday.

Dogpool was still so weirdly cute and slept in the living room with Logan. He loved that dog, no matter how many times he grumbled about how weird looking she was and how her barks were grating. Wade said the smartass comment of “Like adamantium nails on chalkboard?” and Logan rolled his eyes.

Logan picked up a job at a construction site outside of the city, saying that the gig was something he was familiar with. No one bothered him. It kept him busy. Had him in flannel 25/8, something that Wade was eternally grateful for. Now that autumn had arrived, it meant it was cozy sad girl season. Wade’s favorite!

Logan still stayed in the living room on the pull out couch-bed, commented that he liked to have the television on at night and it would bug Wade. Wade declined that allegation, that he loved the televisions and appreciated the white noise it made, with the comfort of paid programming lulling him to sleep. All but saying please sleep with me, I don’t mind sharing, hahaha, what if there was only one bed 🥺 and it was cold and our clothes were on the floor — 

But of course, Wade did not unpack allllllllllllll of thaaaaaat. Or surprisingly, say all of that. He was getting better about boundaries, and what he had come to learn is that Logan had barriers. Barriers and barriers and plenty to spare. He tried to be cold. He tried to be distant. But he heard the ways that he laughed with Althea, the times he played with Dogpool and how on family nights, he would remain at the table and help clean up afterward.

Logan had barriers. Logan had tragedy. But unlike Wade, he did not joke about it. 

“You’ll hate me one day,” Logan said to Wade once they were done moving in and the new paint had finally dried in the kitchen. 

“Babycakes, nothing in this world can make me hate you.”

“You say that now.”

“Wrong, I say that always,” Wade said. He leaned on the kitchen island and gently tapped Logan’s nose. “You’re stuck with me, baby girl. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Logan wrinkled his nose in reaction.

Wade merely laughed and hopped off the counter. 

“C’mon, babygirl, I want these paint fumes to last.”

He slid his hand down to Logan’s wrist and led him to the hallway, where the next bucket of white paint sat along with the brushes and roller.

Wade tried to not think about why Logan’s hand slightly shook the moment he let go.

\\\\\\\\\\\\

Wade knew what this must look like; why is he not being an obnoxious chronic yapper as usual?

First, he was too elated and manic to get chopped up again and he had a lot of tasks to do with going back to work, try to not get killed, try to make sure his friends were okay, and above all, try to adjust to a new future with a new gorgeous broody bisexual roommate and their little dog. He did not exactly have time to be as much of a yapper as usual. 

\\\

 Okay ladies, ready? :me😘

🧚🏼‍♀️Yukio: Hi Wade, me and Ellie are ready!

🌸 Laura: Ready!

🌸 Laura: WE'RE OUTSIDE!

\\\\\\\

“Don’t wait up for me, peanut, I’m going to be home late.”

“You’re going out?”

“Yeah, the Chappell Roan concert.”

“That’s tonight?”

“Yes! It’s gonna be a nice Saturday girl’s night out and it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Wade said.

“A girl’s night out?” 

“Yes, honey, a girl’s night out. Me, Yukio, Ells and Laura. Can’t help that I’m one of the girls. And what’s that tone for? I was invited,” Wade remarked. “You only listen to divorced dad music and I’m the one with better taste. What’s your Spotify wrap look like? Nevermind that. Chin up, buttercup, it gets better.”

“Well, that’s my cue.” Suddenly, Wade kissed the top of Logan’s head before he could chicken out and kill himself. “See ya!”

And he skedaddled out of the room before anyone could say anything else.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The metal detector was going to be a problem.

Laura somehow thought ahead and got the medical authorization waiver she somehow got her claws on professionally and legtimizately signed off. Something, something, something about how she had a metal joint replacement because of playing sportsball. The security guard understood and let her pass and the detector went off. But no one blinked as it did. She had the formed signed and folded into her wallet wristlet.

They made it to their seats without much struggle, with the loud pre-concert music blasting. 

“Soda run,” Laura said. “C’mon.”

“Um, no! I’m not gonna buy no ten dollar soda,” Wade scoffed. “Especially one that doesn’t give free refills.”

“Don’t worry about the price.”

“What, did you extort Paradox for money?”

With a loud laugh, Laura pulled out a TVA credit card from her wristlet wallet. “Obviously!”

“Girl, you should have said so earlier! Diet Coke, no ice.”

“I’m not carrying all that. Come with me.”

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

“Wade? Are you good?” Ellie asked him.

“Absolutely.”

Wade was not going to have a panic attack, no matter what. Not when he was out with his literal girlfriends at a Chappell Roan concert. A Chappell Roan concert! He had never thought that he would manage to get tickets for her, let alone that she would ever visit his city. No reason to think about how he was a worthless human mutated being and that every dirty look was deserved. 

So he sang. He danced. And he ignored the tears down his face as he became a scarred faceless face in the crowd.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

He got home late, throat sore from singing and body weary from dancing. He had fun. He didn't get drunk, but the girls kind of did. He was designated driver and they sang in the car on the way home to their respective households. Ellie moved out of the X-Mansion and lived with Yukio in a studio apartment. Laura lived with Elektra and Blade, with Gambit out and about. Wade wasn't sure what that quite meant. 

For now, they stopped to get tacos. Yukio was a little too drunk to be eloquent about her order, so Laura took control and patiently read off the menu in Spanish to the greatly amused cashier at the taco joint. Learning that Laura was Mexican, born in the motherland and all, was one of the night’s greatest surprises for Wade. 

He got into the apartment at an unreasonable hour. Dogpool was asleep in Althea’s room after all, since she did not come to the door barking her ass off like there’s no tomorrow. 

The living room lamp was on when Wade came in and the television was on as well to the Roku screensaver. 

“I told you not to wait up for me,” Wade said to Logan. 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Wade went to the kitchen to wash his hands and returned to the living room to sit next to Logan on the pull-out couch. He settled into his side, and tried not to think about how Logan…let him. 

“I brought tacos for you and Al,” Wade supplied.

“I’ll eat them in the morning.” He handed Wade the small Roku controller. “Put something on.”

“Pornhub it is.”

“No.”

“I’m kidding,” Wade said. M, not E, sickos. “Let’s just watch SVU.”

“Did you have fun?”

Wade hesitated. He did have fun. But he had a panic attack that he was going to not talk about.

“I did! I’m just…tired.”

“So go to bed.”

“No, I’m fine here.”

Wade loaded up Peacock and found his profile with the little bird icon. He went to the episode he last left on and hit play. 

He pulled the fleece blanket over them both. 

“I’m perfectly fine here.”

“Hm.”

But Logan did not shove him away. 

[galactic-magick]

would you possibly be down for some assistant reader pining for Viktor content to write? 👀

COMING RIGHT UP BESTIE

-

-

-

When you applied for this job, you definitely didn’t think you’d get it. You’re from the Undercity, and people like you don’t tend to get opportunities in high places like this. You’ve worked your ass off to better your life and leave all the traumas from your past behind, trying to make yourself palpable to arrogant topsiders. You thought surely the top two scientists in the city—funded by the council themselves no less—would want nothing to do with you. But you applied to be their assistant anyway, despite having such little experience with tech and science and surely being under-qualified.

You also certainly didn’t think you’d end up falling in love with one of your bosses.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Viktor shared so much in common with you, being from the Undercity as well and dedicating his time to bettering the life of himself and others. There’s so much pain behind his eyes, yet so much hope for the future in every sparkle. You’ve gotten lost in his features too many times to count, the brokenness and idealism each fighting for dominance in every expression he makes.

You also learn very quickly that your feelings are unlikely to be reciprocated, considering how dedicated Viktor is to his work and how oblivious he is to most anything else.

It’s not that Viktor doesn’t seem to care about you—quite the contrary. He asks you how you are every single day and seems to genuinely want to know the answer. He’s patient with you when teaching you how to do things, and doesn’t treat you like you’re stupid just because you’re not as skilled with tech. He doesn’t send you on silly errands or give you busy work—when he needs your help you know it’s important and worth your time. If he ever needs your help when he’s working late, he insists on walking you home to make sure you’re safe despite all your objections. He has such a kind heart, and he makes it incredibly challenging to not fall for him more and more every day.

Regardless, you remain professional. You attempt to avoid admiring him long enough for it to be noticed. You hold back every compliment and flirtation you want to say to him. You try your hardest to not allow yourself the luxury of fantasizing about him. You try for months—to no avail.

No matter how hard you try, it becomes increasingly difficult to live with both your feelings and the reality that they’ll never be heard.

That is, until the day Viktor doesn’t come into work.

It’s very unlike him to ever miss a day in the lab. There’s plenty of days he’s late or comes in and out, but never a day he stays home completely.

Jayce reassures you that Viktor is fine, and that he was the one who told Viktor to take a day off. As both of you know, Viktor has quite the tendency to work himself into the ground, ignoring his health and fixating on things for long stretches of time despite his chronic pain and severe sleep debt. He wouldn’t have listened to anyone else, but he trusts Jayce’s judgment as a close friend, or at least he did after Jayce practically banned him from coming in today.

It feels a bit odd to only be working with Jayce today. Not that you don’t get along with Jayce as well—quite the contrary—but you usually spend more time with Viktor for obvious reasons. Still, Jayce is much more talkative and outgoing, so there’s certainly not much silence despite one less person being here.

As you talk, you start absentmindedly organizing Viktor’s desk so it’s nice and neat when he comes back. You put all his tools back in their drawers, separate all the little machine parts into their respective categories, and clean and dust everything within your reach. You’re sure not to lose or accidentally throw out anything, and you try to put things away in as user-friendly of a system you can muster.

“He really appreciates you, you know,” Jayce says, noticing the care you’re putting into this. His comment startles you slightly, not realizing he was paying any real attention to what you were working on.

“I just try to be helpful,” you shrug, wiping your hands off. “That’s my job, right?”

Jayce chuckles, “You always go above and beyond what your job actually is, and you know it.”

“I guess so,” your face feels a bit hot. “I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever. I’ve had to be to get where I am.”

“Well,” Jayce sighs, turning back to his desk. “He really likes you—I mean, he really likes that about you!” he grumbles a curse under his breath as his voice trails off.

“What did you say?”

“Shit, I promised him I wouldn’t say anything,” he grumbles. You’ve never pegged Jayce as someone who’s good at keeping secrets, so you’re not surprised he’s let something slip he wasn’t supposed to. But this? He knows something about Viktor’s feelings about you?

“Too late now,” you smirk at him, attempting to hide how simultaneously excited and terrified you are to hear what he says next.

“He’s crazy about you, okay? It’s actually getting pretty annoying. I keep telling him to just ask you out but he won’t. Thinks he’ll get rejected or something,” Jayce rolls his eyes.

Your jaw falls open slightly. There’s no way he’s actually felt the same way about you this whole time.

“Can I...can I leave early today?”

Jayce grins knowingly and nods, and within a minute you’ve packed your things and head for the door.

Though you’ve never been inside, you know where Viktor’s house is. It’s not too far from yours, in a neighborhood of smaller and run down homes that are usually sold to people from the Undercity. It’s rare someone with your background scores a place genuinely nice.

You knock on his door, and after a few moments he opens it. You smile at the adorable sight, his hair disheveled and his clothes loose and comfortable. His eyes widen upon seeing you, clearly going through at least ten different thought processes on why you would be here.

“I wanted to check on you,” you say quickly, trying not to laugh at his shock.

“Yes, of course,” he replies, his accent thick and voice husky from exhaustion. “I guess I needed a day off more than I thought, I’ve been sleeping almost all day. But don’t worry, I’m alright.” He smiles softly at you. “I would invite you in, but I’m afraid my home is no less messy than the lab. Worse, in fact.”

“I don’t mind. I just wanted to talk to you,”

He doesn’t take more convincing, moving away from the door so you can enter. You both sit on his small couch.

“Did something happen at the lab? Is something wrong?”

“No, it has nothing to do with work,” you assure him. “I just...missed you.”

Splotches of pink come to the surface of his pale cheeks, “After only a day?”

“Yes,” you laugh. “Jayce did too, I think. Though he’d never admit it.”

“Ah,” he joins your laughter. “Of course.”

You take a deep breath, “I also wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything,” his gaze focuses in on you.

“Would you maybe want to do something sometime? Like outside of the lab and stuff?” you say quickly. “Like...go out? I mean, we don’t have to literally go out, I know you’re not really a big out person, but-”

“You want to go out with me?” the color leaves his face and his eyes widen again.

“More than anything, Viktor.” You smile.

-

-

-

(I will likely write a part 2 to this sometime if y'all enjoy! Currently not taking requests but I'm open to suggestions like this, just no promises they'll get written)

[bokettochild]

if i may ask, for febuwump if u don’t mind, day 15 twilight asking “who did this to you” to a whumped legend? and then protective big brother mode activate

Oh boy, I had SO many ideas for this one! Apologies for it being (checks wrist only to realize I'm not wearing a watch) late? By....time? Anyways, here's some brotherly bonding! (And copious amounts of Twilight having friends because I can!)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 5,792

Summary: Being a big brotehr is stressful, and sometimes, Twilight just needs a break to go and be a person. When one of his brothers needs him most though, he's willing to drop everything. Although, in the end, it's not all bad.

(Warnings: References to alcohol and social drinking)

-

As a rule, Twilight loves his little brothers. 

No matter who it is or what they’ve done, or even how much they might drive him up the wall on any given day, he loves them all the same and will always be there for them. Still, he’s only a man. Sometimes, as much as he loves those who he’s found as family, he also wants to get away for a bit and be not just a big brother, but more. 

At Telma’s, he’s the hero, but he’s also the country boy who doesn’t know the city well yet. He’s the daredevil, because they've never met Wild or Warriors and they don’t know how much worse it really could be. To his friends, he’s the wild one, and for once, he’s not responsible for watching out for any of them. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he’d guess they all feel the need to keep an eye on him. Ashei definitely does, all things considered, and Auru likely does as well. Considering he’s the youngest of the group though, son to one and young enough to be the child or grandchild of two others, it makes sense. 

So, naturally, after a long day on the road with the other heroes, one where Wild has been not quite a pain in his ass but definitely a challenge, no one can blame him from wanting to get away from the champion a bit. 

“It’s not that I don’t love the kid,” he tells the others, “But Ordonia’s Horns, does he try my patience some days.” 

“What did he do?” Ashei’s dark stare flicks over him, lips twitching in what, for her, is a greatly amused smile. “Climb up a freezing mountain without proper gear and nearly get killed?” 

His tankard hits the table harder than is really necessary, and he’s definitely not pouting as he stares back at her. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” 

She just blinks at him, face unchanging. 

Twilight sighs, running his free hand over his face and shaking his head at the same time. “No. He’s a smart kid, amazing at survival an’ he’d never make that kind of mistake. Well, not now.” Brows raise, but he quickly explains. “I’m sure near the start of his adventure he had to learn somehow, but as young as he is, he’s pretty exceptional in all things survival.” 

The familiar clucking of Shad’s tongue announces the arrival of the scholar, who drops without a care into the free seat beside him, smile loose and, to anyone else, haughty. Twilight knows that smile though, knows it means mischief, and he’s not wrong. “And yet we got stuck with you, when we could have had someone so capable!” 

Maybe, in the earlier days, he would have smacked the other for those words. In the early days he certainly would have wanted to, and he would have meant it too. Now, the urge to jostle him like he does with Warriors when the other teases him is still very much there, but he resists it. Shad may be close in height to the captain, but he’s not accustomed to taking blows, and a smack from the ranch hand may or may not actually leave him still sitting in his chair.  

Instead, he settles for knocking his boot against the man’s ankles, staring at him pointedly. “Yeah, I’d love to see him launch yer skinny ass up to the sky islands. Don’t know if you’d survive the trip though.” 

“But he’s a hero, saved a princess didn’t he? You expect me to believe he doesn’t know how to handle other living people?” 

He snorts. His understanding of the younger hero is filtered through uncanny dreams that, apparently, show him things that actually happen between them in the future, in the cub’s era, but even if he doesn’t hold them as memories of his own (not quite yet) he does know how Wild treats his princess. “I once saw him push his princess down a mountain, so...” 

“What?” Auru stares at him, and Twilight is abruptly reminded that their present company is not just people his own age who the shock factor works on, but also elders who might actually experience heart failure at some of the stories he could tell about his cub. “She was standin’ on a shield an’ they were doin’ this thing called shield surfin’. Worst she got was a face fulla snow when she skidded into a bank.” Somehow that doesn’t assure the elder very much. “She was laughin’ when we got her out, and she pushed herself down the next time.” He adds, watching Auru relax at least slightly at the words. 

“Well then, it’s clear they were doing it in good fun,” Shad answers. “He doesn’t sound so bad.” 

“Are you a princess?” He teases back. “Gee, Shad, I must have missed the tiara! Where you been keepin’ it?” 

Unlike himself, Shad takes no issue with smacking him for his jesting. Unfortunately for the scholar though, he can take a hit, and at worst it just feels like a slight stinging from the impact. Shad, on the other hand, cradles his hand like it’s been broken. 

Ashei shakes her head at the man, sipping from her tankard with a sigh. “You really should know better by now.” 

“I forget!” 

“You forget he’s a wall of muscle when you’re looking right at him?” Telma teases, waltzing over with a drink for Shad and offering a warm smile to all of them. 

Twilight takes the opportunity to flip the glasses of his friend’s nose. “You need a better pair of these if you’re that blind.” 

Shad squawks, fumbling for the fallen spectacles. It takes a moment, and his flailing almost ends up with them falling in his drink, but Ashei catches them neatly and offers them back. It's only when they're on the scholar’s face again that he turns to Twilight, huffing. “Why must you do that?” 

“Because I can.” 

And this is just what he means. He’s not the elder sibling here, he’s not in charge, he’s not the reliable one. To these people, he’s the young pup who beat Ganon, the country bumpkin up from Ordon who sees the city as a wonder and a giant. He’s just Link. 

Not that he resents his brothers for needing him. No, he’s glad to have a place and to know what’s expected of him, to be able to do something for them. Still, sometimes he doesn’t want to be the level-headed, well-behaved example for the younger ones to emulate. Sometimes, he wants to be as crazy as his protege. The problem is, he can’t do that with them watching, he can’t when doing so jeopardizes the trust Time has in him to help keep the younger ones in line and out of danger from their own crazy exploits. 

Here, he can be a bit crazy. Here, he can let loose. Here, no one can see him being a wild young man in his twenties. So, he enjoys it. He laughs and he teases and he and Shad go back and forth for the next hour or so with jabs and jests that have the others all rolling their eyes or sighing at them, stares heavy but not nearly as cold as they might appear to a onlooker. 

It’s a good night all told. By the time they’re all getting up to leave, Auru’s already gone home, and Telma’s getting a start on cleaning up the bar for closing. Shad’s had a bit too much, although not enough to leave him a babbling mess, just a tired one, and Twilight and Ashei are left to shoulder the scholar and haul him back to his own home. 

“I could haul him myself.”  

“I don’t doubt it,” Ashei hums from where she has Shad’s other arm around her shoulders, “but we’d never hear the end of it if he found out you princess carried him down the street like a maiden.” 

He sniffs. “If his pride’s that sens’tive, that’s his fault.” 

Her lips twitch into a little half smile. For Ashei, that’s the equivalent of a cackle. “It’s bad enough being seen with a country boy who could crush him, being treated like a woman as well hardly helps his masculinity.” 

“Again,” he chuckles, maybe slightly tipsy himself, “ain’t my fault he’s fragile.” 

Dark eyes slide to stare at him, but his friend says nothing ore on the matter. There's not much more time to say anything either, since Shad lives relatively close to the bar anyways, so getting him home is hardly a lengthily journey. Getting into his place to drop him off is a bit of a mess, as Twilight does have to support the scholar long enough for Ashei to pat him down for his keys, but once she’s got them and unlocked the door, he does take the chance to sweep the smaller man up in his rms and carry him through the door, even as the swordswoman watches while shaking her head.  

Once Shad’s laid in his bed, shoes off and tie loosened only because Ashei is a dear and not because of any kindness on Twilight’s part, they step back out into teh street together, pulling the once more locked door closed after them. 

“He’s going to be pissed.” 

He chuckles. “He can live with it.” 

A gauntleted arm nudges against his, protected against impact unlike the scholar’s hand, and much stronger too. “You say that because you’ll be gone by morning and don’t have to deal with it.” 

“You could be too,” he reminds her, “he’d never dare follow you up into the mountains.” 

This time, the rough nudge actually makes him stumble. Maybe he is tipsy. He’s about to protest at teh rough treatment, or tease, he’s not sure exactly what it is that’s on his lips because it slips away in an instant when a soft noise, a familiar sound that is his utter weakness, sounds on the flagstones of the alley not far from him.  

Ashei must see his ears prick up, face turning towards the sound, and she already knows, because one perfect brow raises with all the grace and authority of the captain. “Cat?” 

His moving feet are his only answer. 

She sighs. “Do you have to pet every one of those things that you see?” 

“Yes.” 

Despite her protests, she trails after him, watching as he peers around the alley, crouching low to find the fluffy creature. “I don’t understand why you like them so much. Aren’t you a wolf? Shouldn’t you prefer a dog’s company?” 

“I can enjoy both!” 

Ashei sniffs. “Dogs are better.”  

He turns to her, affronted and maybe, slightly offended. “They are not!” 

“You turn into a dog,” the words are flat, “shouldn’t you take that as a compliment?” 

“I’m not a dog,” he sniffs, “I turn into a wolf, and I’m still me under the fur, so it’s different anyways. Most dogs don’t act like that.” 

“You chase your tail.” 

“I had to learn to blend in so people wouldn’t suspect anything!” 

He doesn’t deign to meet the look that’s fixed on him, but he knows precisely what it is: brows raised, chin lowered, eyes flat and simply waiting for him to cave and admit she’s right. Uli pulls the same face on Rusl when he says something dumb, and he’s seen Telma do it too. He’d say it’s a woman thing, but he’s pretty sure he’s seen Warriors do it too, and Four as well, so saying that would be a very good way to get his ass kicked. Shad might be unable to do much damage, but Warriors can and has thrown his ass across the camp, and could probably do it again. 

Instead of saying anything, he keeps his eyes open, ears flickering about to catch any further hint of where the critter in the alley is hiding he thinks it’s a cat, but it was a muffled and very brief sound to begin with, so all he knows for sure is that it’s something small with paws. Crouching low and clucking his tongue softly usually draws them out, but this time there are no such results. He’s almost about to give up and accept that the sweet little thing had maybe slipped away already when Ashei’s hand catches his shoulder suddenly, grip firm. 

“What-” 

“Look,” her other hand points down at the flagstones underfoot, “blood.” 

Playfulness and excitement bleed away to a firmness he usually only takes on in battle, and he turns his attention to the spattering on the stone rather than the slight shuffling he’d thought before, although he doesn’t dismiss the noise either. “Fresh too.” 

Dark eyes meet his own, a silent question. 

Usually, he’s against using his crystal in public spaces, but it’s late eough at night, and in a seedy enough part of town that he doubts anyone’s lingering around the area to see, and if they are, they’re no good anyways. He shifts, fur and claws taking over in a now familiar twisting and aching. It doesn;t hurt anymore, no more than like stretching an unused muscle, and it only takes a moment to settle into the wolf’s body that’s as much his by this point as the hylian one he prefers. 

“I’ll follow you.” Ashei tells him, hand drifting to her hip and the sword hanging there.  

She’s ready for trouble, and he is too as he sets his nose to the ground and tries to follow the trail that is invisible to human eyes, but clear as day to him as it winds and twists around the small space they linger in. Whatever left the trail isn’t human, he knows that quickly. The scent trail springs off of walls and rubble in the streets in ways only the most skilled of fighters could achieve, and even then, likely not when injured. It’s fresh still though, like he said, so it’s not as though it fades out quickly, and it’s only a few minutes before he finds it’s end amidst some fallen crates around the corner. 

Something from within the pile of discarded containers shuffles, the same slipping of paws against stone, and rapid little breathes that sound in time with a pitter pattering heart. 

He shifts back. Wolf form is easier to use to track things, especially when his head is slightly fuzzy from alcohol, but for small animals, it’s not always the most welcome sight. A hylian with kind hands and gentle eyes is easier to accept in his experience. 

“Here?” Ashei asks, brows raised. 

He nods. “Not human.” 

She relaxes. He doesn’t. Animal death isn’t anything she worries about; she’s a warrior, a fighter, if the animals die, then they do. People are her priority. He, on the other hand, would prefer to avoid any unnecessary death if he can help it. Maybe it’s because he knows what it’s like to be on both sides of the matter, but unless strictly necessary, he doesn’t care to be a witness to or cause of death.  

Her hand slips from her sword and she stays back as he crouches low again, carefully shifting the crates and clucking softy. “Hey there, little ‘un. You okay?” 

The air seems to go still for a moment, and somehow, he knows his voice has made the creature freeze, but a moment later, as he shifts the boxes, wary lest they suddenly shift and crush the little injured thing, it seems to settle again, and the softest little questioning ‘mrrrp?’ sounds from within. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice lowering, a soft rumble that rolls gently off his tongue and through his throat. Usually, it works on most animals, unless they have bad experiences with men specifically. Here, it seems to have the preferred result, and the softest brush of paws on stone touches his ears as he moves another crate. 

As the wood lifts away, he nearly drops it again at the sight that lies before him. 

“What’s wrong?” Ashei’s hand is moving to her sword again, likely as a result of the tension that’s jumped back into his shoulders, the way his ears have flicked back to press against his skull in horror. 

He doesn't answer her. Instead he’s all but throwing the crate away and reaching into the space between splintered wood. The motions are maybe too sudden, he reminds himself belatedly, for handling an injured creature, and the flinch away from his touch drives the point home. His heart wrenches somewhat at the way long ears press back and little paws stutter against stone, violet eyes squeezing shut in a wince. 

Two thoughts flicker in his head. How is Legend a rabbit, and what is he doing looking bleeding out in an alleyway as a rabbit? 

“Shhhh,” he tries to soothe, “it’s jist me, jist me, okay?” His eyes flicker over bloody pink fur to dark eyes that stare up at him, shining with a fear he’s never seen from the other before as a fluffy little chest rises and falls with breathes that would be dangerously fast for a hylian, but even for a small rodent are concerning. 

There’s a lot of blood, and he means a lot. 

“Who did this to you?” He can’t help the soft sigh in teh words, the almost coo. Small animals are most definitely his weakness, and small injured animals, even if they’re actually grouchy teenage boys, are definitely worse. His brother just looks so breakable and delicate, and the crimson matting fur together and staining the stone is just making his heart clench up even more as he reaches out. 

From behind, Ashei’s feet pad softly over, wary, but knowing her, she’d know he wouldn’t address anything threatening in that sort of voice. Still, she does recoil slightly, shock briefly flashing across her face as he manages to get a hold on his brother’s changed form, carefully lifting Legend up into his arms. “Is that a pink rabbit?” Her voice catches slightly, which is frankly impressive; she’s usually never so expressive. 

He nods, and while last time Legend had protested loudly at being picked up and handled like an actual rabbit, this time the animal form of his brotehr nestles down into his arms with a soft shudder, head resting on the crook of his arm even as wary eyes lift to stare at the swordswoman who’s likewise fixed on him.  

“What in Hylia’s-” 

“He’s hurt bad.” 

“It’s a rabbit in Castletown, are you shocked?” Reason seems to be slipping over to cover shock as she turns her eyes, flat once more, up to stare at him instead of the critter in his arms. “There’s dozens of dogs in this neighborhood, and while most have probably ever seen a rabbit before, they’re still hunters by nature.” 

The words twist in his gut. Not because he hadn’t realized; he’s changes into a wolf, he knows what sorts of urges come with the canine form, and while he might laugh it off, there’s still a part of him that, when in that form, lunges at the chance to chase small things, to get his teeth into them and shake them. He’s more man than beast of course, so he doesn’t really give into it unless he’s starving for food and a hunt is truly needed, but even then, there’s still part of him that recoils at his own actions. He’s been the one hunted before though, chased and tracked and lunged for by those who’d rather use his pelt to warm their families then let him so much as walk past them in the street. 

Still, as a wolf, he’s got teeth and claws to fight back, if he wanted to. The creature in his arms, his brother, doesn’t have that option. Legend's teeth and claws can barely draw blood, and by the time he’d gotten close enough to even try, a dog’s teeth would already be snapping around him before he could do anything. 

His arms tighten around the shivering form in his arms. In the back of his head, he can almost hear Uli, back when he was a kid still new to Ordon, still new to trees and animals and anything that wasn’t sand and swords. He shouldn't scare little things, ever, she’d told him. She’d been holding a rabbit in her arms, one she’d somehow managed to catch while they were out having a picnic in the fields with him. He’d been in wonder of the glossy fur and tiny paws, but moving too fast, too harsh, and it was hiding it’s head in her arms to avoid him. ‘They’re not made to handle scary things,” she’d murmured to himself and an equally awed Colin, who was only three at the time. ‘their little hearts might explode if you scare them too much.’ 

It’s slightly an irrational fear, considering Legend isn’t actually a rabbit, just transformed into one, but the words still ring in his head as he cradles the broken little body in his hold. 

Ashei’s stare is blank as it turns back to his little charge, lips twitching downwards briefly. “You’d be better off putting it out of its misery, Link. It can’t survive here, and you can’t take it with you.” 

The very idea makes his stomach, heart skipping up into his throat as he recoils from his friend, body shifting by instinct alone to shield his little brother from her cold stare and colder words. “No!” 

“Link...” 

“He’s not just a rabbit!” 

“How much were you drinking?” 

The implication hurts a bit. He can hold his alcohol better than that, and he hadn’t had very much at all. He knows better! He knows Sky would have words for him if he came back drunk, especially after the trouble they’ve been having with keeping certain heroes sober. “No, I’m serious! He's....” the words slip outr of his head for a moment as he turns his gaze down to dark eyes that are squeezed closed in pain. “He’s...” 

“I’m not a rabbit.” 

He’s never seen Ashei’s eyes widen that much in his life, nor her move so quickly, sword half drawn and feet scrabbling back in shock at the fact that rabbit in his arms just spoke. 

“He’s like me,” he tries, soothing one hand down blood matted fur, and realizing at the same time that he should probably do something about the damage done to the vet.  

“A shifter?” 

“A hero,” he corrects, attention now on finding the source of the blood. “And yes, he transforms when exposed to dark magic.” 

“Can he turn back on his own?” She moves closer, apparently assured by his words, even though her eyes are still fixed on the pink rabbit that can talk, likely wondering how much more insane her night is going to get. 

Twilight shakes his head. “Not without a source of light magic.” 

“But you-” 

“I have control over the crystal, and practice. He’s...different.” 

There, he’s found it, the source of the blood. His heart twists up more, somehow, when he identifies the familiar marks left by sharp teeth. It could be his own work if it was a size or two bigger, and that particular thought has his stomach lurching yet again. There’s more bites than one too, and one paw seems to have been crushed, hanging oddly and when he jostles it there’s a bitten off cry of pain from his brother’s altered form. 

“He doesn’t look good.” Ashei states grimly, ow crouched at his side and staring intently at the injuries and violet eyes that squeeze closed as rapid little breathes shake the tiny body in his hold. 

She’s right. “Is there some sorta animal doc ‘round here?” 

Raised brows. “We aren’t a country town, Link.” 

“But even city folk have horses and shit, right?” 

Ashei frowns, gaze slipping free of his own. “Horses, yes, but smaller creatures-” 

“What about Agitha?” 

A flat look. “She’s a child, and her interest is insects.” 

“Small beings that she believes are magic,” he corrects, already shifting to his feet, cradling the fluffy form in his arms with all the care he’d use with Uli’s littlest. Legend doesn’t protest the movements either, although that might just be because he’s in too much pain to do so. “A talking pink rabbit is going to make her night.” 

Following his lead, the swordswoman stands, dusting herself off with a little sigh. “It’s worth a shot, I suppose.” 

The path to the self-proclaimed princess’s house is a short one, which is the main cause of his choice to see her, that and, like he said, her love of small magical beings. A rabbit and a butterfly are very, very different, but he’s counting on the quirky nature of the girl to overrule that logic like it does with most things. Sure, putting his hopes on a twelve-year-old with questionable logic isn’t maybe the best choice he’s made in his life, but considering he took the advice of a warrior killed in battle on how to beat Gannon, no one can exactly argue that his logic is sound either. 

If anything, Agitha is awake, and when Ashei knocks at the door, it swings open quickly, revealing swinging pigtails and a bright smile that’s just slightly off-putting. “Ah, brave knight! You’ve returned!” 

The look Ashei levels him with could probably kill a lesser man. 

The bug princess swings the door open wide, smile even wider as she cocks her head on one side. “Welcome! The Princess of Bigs is happy to let you enter her kingdom!” 

“Thank you,” he bows his head slightly. The best course of action here is to play along. He’s not sure why Agitha is like this, but going along with her game doesn't hurt anyone, even if it used to drive Midna crazy. Still, she’s a kid, and he’s used to kids, good with them too. “I come seeking the princess’s help.” 

“A knight needing help from a princess? How queer!” She giggles into her hand, but then stops. It’s like her whole person stalls for a moment, eyes falling on the bundle of pink in his arms. “Oh my, what’s this you’ve brought here?” 

He exchanges a look with Ashei, and in return, she just stares. 

“This is an enchanted warrior,” he tells the girl, “he’s been cursed into this form, and injured badly. We thought, since you are princess of the creatures of the small kingdoms, that maybe you might be able to aid him, even if he isn’t one of your subjects.” 

He can feel the groan building up from his companion, but she doesn’t release it, thankfully. Agitha probably wouldn’t notice if she had though, gliding forwards slowly with features pinched up into an honestly adorable pout. “Oh, the poor, poor little warrior!” She coos. “Yes, I am not princess of the mammal world, but I do not have a heart of stone. Here,” her arms are thrust out, open and waiting, “allow the Princess to help him!” 

He’s more hesitant than he’d like when handing over the vet’s beaten form, but Agitha handles him with surprising care, shushing and cooing as she strokes back long ears, whisking around to head off deeper into the room. Twilight trails after, leaving Ashei at the door, as the woman does not appear to be at all interested in plunging further into the insect castle. He’s cautious with where he puts his feet and keeps his distance, also wary of his surroundings. Meanwhile, Agitha lays the vet’s rabbit form on a tabletop and, with quick kiss to the brow that would be very ill advised considering the blood there, she darts off to grab something from one of the many nooks and crannies about the room. 

It’s honestly impressive, considering her age and the general doubts he has for her sanity, how efficient the insect princess handles the injuries presented to her. She shows little worry for the blood that gets on her dress and many accessories, humming softly to herself as she set bones with ease that’s almost scary and binds up wounds with care that he’d almost mistake for the skill of an actual healer. Once she’s done though, she’s scooping up Legend’s little body and settling him back in Twilight’s arms, a smile on her face as she winks up at him, one finger pressed to her cheek with a coy little smile 

 “Lucky for you, Mister Captain Hero taught me a thing or two on treating wounds! He’s all fixed now! Make sure to let him rest and give him lots too eat, okay? And lots of pets!” She claps her now blood stained hands, smile still shining. “He’s such a darling thing! He deserves all the pets in the world! Oh, I wish you could pet bugs, but there’s so little of them to pet, and butterflies die if you pet them...” 

His smile is stilted, but he manages to bob his head in thanks all the same. “Thank you, princess.” 

“Of course, brave knight,” he’s answered with a charming smile and a little curtsy, one that leaves bloody fingerprints on pink skirts. “If ever you find another such wounded warrior of the magical world, do bring them here. Princess Agitha will take care of them!” 

Ashei hurries them out the door before ‘Princess Agitha’ can say much more than that. Honestly, he’s thankful. She’s not a bd kid, but she’s kind of off-putting if he’s being honest. Legend’s face buried in his arms indicates that he too finds the girl somewhat off-putting, even if he hadn’t spoken at all since they alley. 

“That child is insane.” Ashei pronounces once they’re safely away again. 

It’s strained, but he finds himself laughing slightly, hand dragging over long ears as he walks and resisting, strongly, the urge to rub his face into long fur. “Yeah, prob’bly.” 

A side glance is fixed on him, feet not stopping on the well known path back past the bar. “Will you be going back to your inn now?” 

He nods, glancing down to find Legend is staring up at him as well, gaze hazy from either pain or exhaustion, he’s not sure. “Yeah. It’s pretty late, an’ i still need to get him changed back before the others realize he’s missin’.” And then, as an after thought, he adds, “I know the way back.” 

“You had a bit to drink.” 

“Ashei,” he laughs, strained, “no one’s gonna try anything on swordsman wearing wolf’s pelt, not if they have an ounce of sense! ‘Sides, it’s not far off.” 

Her stare is heavy. 

“I’m fine. If anythin’ as the man here, I ought to be offerin’ to walk you home!” 

Weight is nothing in comparison to the sharpness in those eyes. “Watch it, Ordon.” 

“Yes, miss.” 

She shakes her head, dark hair somehow not so much as swishing with the motion. “Have a good night.” And then she’s heading off, not even bothering to wait around for his echo of her farewell and instead disappearing around a corner up ahead, pace faster than his own as he tries to keep steady and not jostle the brother in his hold. With her gone though, it’s just Legend and himself, violet eyes truned up to stare blearily up at him. 

“We are gonn talk about this later,” he warns, even as he sets off towards the inn again. 

Legend shifts, ears flicking slightly in answer, but he doesn’t talk. If anything, the rabbit in his arms curls in tighter, defensive.  

“I’m not mad,” he’s quick to assure, foddling long ears gently, “but you scared me there, vet.” 

Still no answer. He resigns himself to silence as his feet carry the two of them down the mostly quiet streets of Castletown and back to the inn, one hand still running through silky fur, careful not to catch on where it’s still matted with blood.  

“Here’s hoping Sky doesn’t have our heads for wakin’ him.” He sighs as they come to the door, and he has to stop his petting of pink fur to push it open. “Hopefully the rest are also asleep, cuz I ain’t got an answer for any of this.” 

The rabbit in his arms snorts, but th head that’s been lolling into the crook of his arm raises to butt against him gently. It startles him. 

So many years ago, Uli said that was how rabbits indicate affection, or ask for more pets. Good grief, how out of it is Legend: Mister-Don't-Touch-Me-I-Will-Bite-You? There’s no way to know though, but he doesn't look a gift bunny in the mouth, and he’s only too happy to continue his petting as he takes the stairs up to their room, nodding briefly to the wide eyed inn-keeper as he goes. 

Tomorrow, he will have to ask Legend what happened. Tomorrow, he will have to adopt being a good, responsile big brotehr who gets to the bottom of things, but for tonight, he’s simply content to try and turn his brother back to a hylian, get a potion down his throat, and head to bed, leaving the adult stuff to future Twilight. That’s easy enough too. Sky has questions, but is too tired to slur through them, and while feeding the vet a potion is hard with the other slumping against him so heavily, but they manage. They manage and then he’s slumping himself back into the bed left open for him. He sort of expects Legend to slip away after, but belatedly, he realizes that’s just impossible. Maybe it was the petting, since he’s been there and he gets how much it turns his muscles into jelly, but pink hair hits his chest the moment his back has settled into the mattress, and the hand that catches in the front of his tunic further cements that Legend isn’t going anywhere. 

Ah well, if Legend’s going to take up space in his bed, he reserves the right to keep running his hands through fluffy pink. If Legend doesn’t tell him to stop, he won’t. The vet doesn’t eitehr, just hums softly, curling in on himself and nestling into his side with a soft sigh that would almost, almost fool him into thinking his brother was still in his beast form. 

Tomorrow will be interesting. Explaining the blood on their clothes, where they’d been, and all else won’t be fun. But for tonight they can have a little more peace. The scare is over, and Twilight’s free for just a little bit more. And hey, the brief panic was worth it, especially considering he’s getting cuddles out of the deal! 

[supercorpkid]

Ace Reporter

Supergirl, Kara Danvers x Reader!, Lena Luthor x Reader!

Word Count: 2030

More to come!

“Miss Luthor, Miss Y/L/N is here from the Daily Planet for the interview.” You hear Lena Luthor’s assistant on the phone, and look back at your hands clenching into your purse. 

You never got nervous interviewing before. But now, you came to National City to talk to Lena Luthor and try to get something out of her brother’s latest jailbreak. You are aware that the chances of Lena actually telling you anything about Lex are pretty slim. But there’s nothing you can do about it. If they sent you all the way from Metropolis to get a quote from her, you might as well work for it.

It’s not that you’re scared of her. No, that would be absurd. Yes, her brother is a borderline maniac and even though he is just a man he is a worthy opponent for Superman himself, so his mind is both amazing and bizarre. And yes, you’ve heard all Luthors have the same brain. But you’re not scared. No. You just think you should be careful with your approach.

“You can go in, Miss Y/L/N.” Her assistant signals for you to follow her, and takes you to Lena’s office. “Please.” She gestures for you to walk inside.

“Thank you.” You nod at her while she closes the door. You look to the other side of the big, fancy office to find the person you’re looking for. “Miss Luthor.”

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N.” Lena points to the chair before her desk. And you promptly make your way there. “Haven’t heard from the Daily Planet in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” You smile, swallowing your insecurities while you’re in front of her. The fact that she was beautiful you already knew, but holy damn, you were not prepared for this gorgeous woman in front of you. You must look like a total loser while you stare at her at a loss for words. “I bet you only hear from CatCo now.”

She smiles, agreeing. CatCo is a pain in the ass of the Daily Planet. Actually, that’s not true. CatCo is a pain in your ass. Or rather one reporter named Kara Danvers. You push your reservations against CatCo and Kara aside, coming back to what it matters.

“I’m glad you said yes to sitting down with the Daily Planet today, Miss Luthor. We’ve lost touch now that you moved to National City. But you’re always out doing interesting things.” You try to butter her up a little to see if she’ll be more inclined to give you the information. “And rebranding Luthor Corp! That’s worth publishing about.”

“Oh.” Lena furrows her brows. She looks directly at your eyes, narrowing hers, clearly confused with your approach. “If you are actually here to talk about L Corp, I’d love to chat. But,” She raises her eyebrow at you and you know exactly what is coming next. “If you're here to ask about Lex, then I’m sorry but we have nothing to talk about.”

You give her a patient smile. “I’m here to hear about you, Miss Luthor.” Liar. Liar. Pants on fire. “Of course Lex’s name might come up since you took over his company, but I don’t think there’s anything more interesting than you.”

It’s a lie, but it also isn’t. You, as a person, are super interested in Lena. The Daily Planet, however…

The interview went well. As well as it could go with Lena purposely dodging all the questions about Lex, and you trying to be sneaky enough and get a quote on something about him. In the end you got a shabby quote about how she has no idea what he’s been up to, because she has much to do to recover the company since he left it in a horrible state. 

There were far more important things to talk about, and her mind is just as amazing as his for what you could see, but you did what you could in your limited time with her.

“Well, it was great to talk to you, Miss Luthor.” You stand up, showing her your hand. Lena looks at it with a smirk before taking into hers, and shaking it strongly.

“Hope I was worth the commute.” She tries to be funny, but it comes out a little flirty. With the eyebrow raised, the raspy tone both followed by a little smirk, you have a really hard time making your brain function properly. But that’s insane, Lena Luthor wouldn’t flirt with a simple reporter such as you.

“National City has its charms.” You smile, clearly talking about something other than National City. Because, honestly, this city has got nothing on Metropolis. Maybe the Super. You love Superman, obviously, but Supergirl is just as powerful and also a snack. "I guess I can see why it was appealing to some people."

“I hope you’re sticking around longer, there is much to see here.” She adds, and you furrow your brows confused to what she might be talking about. There’s literally nothing to see in National City. 

“Really? And here I was thinking nothing could beat this view." Your mind finally catches up to your brain when you realize you've been staring at her directly while saying that. "I mean, we're so high up." You point to the windows behind her.

Lena Luthor is a professional so she obviously wouldn't laugh right at your face, but she totally could after this. Ugh.

Instead, she smiles with a little nod. She rounds the table taking you to her office door, clearly telling you it’s time for you to leave without being indelicate.

“I hope to see you around, Miss Y/L/N.”

“She has given us nothing.” You hear on the phone, and breathe deep, knowing this would be the reaction from your editor.

“She doesn’t trust me. You know how hard it is to approach Luthors, especially in a situation like this. Just let me go back to Metropolis and help Clark with the investigation about Lex.”

“Clark doesn’t need any help, and we need at least a serious quote from someone in the family. Lena is our safest bet.” You can hear him shuffling with some papers. “Clark told me his cousin works for CatCo and she’ll be happy to help. She and Lena have a good relationship you can exploit. Look for her, her name is Kara Danvers.”

“What?”

“Kara Danvers.” He repeats as if you hadn’t heard him. “You can come back when you give me an actual quote I can use.” He hangs up right after.

UGH! You throw your phone in the hotel bed, pissed. Not only you have to stay in National City for God only knows how long, now you also have to work with Kara fucking Danvers? This is your worst nightmare. 

You open your laptop, looking her up on Google. It isn’t the first time you’ve done this and it probably won’t be the last. You can’t believe you have yet to read her piece that won the award. The award that was supposed to be yours. It was so close, you were sure you were going to win, then Kara swooped in at the last second and took it from you. She must be a real dick. You can’t believe she is Clark’s cousin. He’s so nice and she is… ugh. Just the worst.

You don’t want to know if her article was actually better than yours. So you close your laptop, and throw yourself back in bed, looking at the hotel walls and imagining different ways you can be passive-aggressive with Kara Danvers.

Yet, you swallow your pride and make your way to CatCo first thing in the morning. You might not want to work with Kara, but you do want to go back home, and if this is the only way, then so be it.

“Hi, I’m Y/N from the Daily Planet. I was told to look for Kara Danvers. We are going to be working together.” You give the brunette in front of you your best fake smile. Even though she looks adorable and worth much more than that.

“Oh, that’s so cool. I’m Nia Nal. Come on, I’ll take you to her desk.” You follow her, heart beating fast in anticipation, you’re about to meet the woman that took your best chance to have a better career. 

“Kara, this is Y/N from the Daily Planet.” You stop behind Nia, looking at Kara and her button up shirt and stupid cardigan. She adjusts her glasses while looking at you. You can’t believe you lost your prize to this fucking nerd.

“Hi,” She stands up, showing you her hand. “I’m Kara. It’s nice to meet you. My cousin Clark texted me you’re coming. Hopefully I’ll be able to help you.”

Yeah, right. You hold her hand, forcing a smile. “I’m sure you will.”

Nia excuses herself, and Kara shows you to a desk in front of her where you can set up your things. “So, what brings the Daily Planet to National City?”

“Lex Luthor.” Kara’s eyebrows are pinched together when she hears his name. “His latest jailbreak.”

“Oh.” She adjusts her glasses on her face one more time, then smooths her hand over her stupid cardigan. 

“You look surprised, Danvers.” You smirk, glad to know something the prize-awardee doesn’t seem to know.

“No, no.” But she clearly is still processing the information. “I’m just confused as to why you’re here. Wasn’t he in a Metropolis jail? Seems you’d get more information there.”

“Clark is looking into it.” You breathe out. “We had to look for other sources.” 

She immediately puts two and two together. “Lena.” It’s merely a whisper, but you can hear her just fine.

“She agreed to an interview, but obviously wouldn’t talk about Lex.” You raise an eyebrow at her. “With me, at least.”

"She's nothing like her brother. I thought the Daily Planet would’ve figured that out by now.” Kara crosses her arms, defensively. Looking like she won’t want to help you. Which you can’t really blame her, but still can hate her for it.

“Of course I know that.” You don’t know it for sure, but your intuition tells you so. You were only with Lena for 20 minutes, but you already know she is different from all the other Luthors. “But we have nothing on him. Even Superman is worried. I know Lena is trying to reverse her brother’s evil schemes, and moving to National City was an excellent idea, because people in Metropolis hate the Luthor name even more than they do here. But still, Danvers, if she has anything on her brother, it would help a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Kara looks back on her phone, and you dare a glance at it. She is texting Clark. 

Kara: What's up with Y/N?

Clark: Best reporter I know. Great at finding people's secrets.

You smile at the compliment. Even Clark knows you're a better reporter than prize-awardee over here. You stop looking at her phone and focus back on her face. She gives an annoyed sigh, clearly not wanting to help, but finding it impossible to say no. 

Come on, Kara Danvers. She owes you one.

“Look, I get it. You don’t want to help. Trust me, if I could, I wouldn’t be here either. But I need a quote from Lena to leave, and God, I really want to leave.” You show her your hand. “You help me, and I get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“I can try, but I don’t think Lena knows anything.” 

“Well, that's an easy fix, isn't it? We're reporters, we just need to find something for her to learn. What do you say, Danvers?” You show her your hand one more time. “Your name can be the first one in the byline.”

Kara rolls her eyes, but shakes your hand in agreement. This fucking nerd. You can’t believe you came all the way from Metropolis to interview a Luthor and were paired up with the only reporter you cannot stand. Honestly, when did your career get so side-tracked?

[slocumjoe]

Concept for if Bethesda loved the other Companions same as old tricky dick

Gage; a dlc that doesn't kinda suck actually, but also properly explores what being a raider entails, and what kind of people end up as one. I don't think you could actually redeem him, but I'd like that idea to be directly confronted, as least. I've talked about this before but it's wasted potential that you can't make the Nuka Gang confront the fact that Oh Shit The Farmers Are Now Dangerous

Deacon: I don't think he needs his own side quest or even DLC, but I'd like him to have side quests attached to him, a la Nick's detective cases sidequests. He's a spy. Pls let us do spy shit

Piper: Same as Deacon, but I think she actively needs a sidequest. Her character gimmick, her plot purpose, and her actual affinity talks are so unrelated it's painful. Let her journalism actually be content, not just a bit of trivia about her. A set of side quests + a personal quest that addresses Diamond City's Problems with a capital P. Lots of societal issues in that little space and we do nothing with any of it.

Preston: just fix the Minutemen and give this man a goddamn break. The Minutemen just need a rehaul, so as to not have him be the quest giver. And give him other stuff to do! I wanna actually fight the Gunners! Bring up and address the failures of the old Minutemen!!! Please!!!

X6-88: give the bitch something oh my God. Much like Gage, I don't think you can convince him to let go of the Institute, but give us a CHANCE. Emil just seems so scared to ask hard questions and use interesting concepts.

Danse; finish his arc you thots (also I think Fallout 4 really lacks some humanizing/soft moments in the world and I think Danse would be a good. Subject? For them. Like a shelter dog getting to play with ducklings. Idk but I have a vision)

MacCready: they forgot that his whole point was having a whole ass baby. Give him his child wtf.

Strong; delete

Codsworth; stronger plot presence. This robot raised that old bitch let him throw hands. Also, if you wanted to put quests in Sanctuary that spawn up as the town develops, Codsworth would be a great quest giver and tagalong as you try and keep the piece and set up some kind of society.

Curie; I've said it before. I'm saying again. Curies whole deal should have been a major plot point. She's a robot that becomes human and develops human feelings with human biology. This is not important to any faction leader. What on earth.

Cait; yall fuckin know how I feel about Cait but honestly, her personal quest sucks so much I'd rather they didn't. Just give her more and better affinity talks. She needs more time to open up and develop, and 4 conversations is not enough.

Hancock; I have quite a few nitpicks about Hancock but the fact that Micky D getting ganked and being revealed to be a synth DOESNT MATTER is insane. Macdonough's last interaction with Hancock was crucial to his character arc and not letting that circle around is so, so miserable. Also, I want politically-charged quests. Campaigning! Discussions on economy! He's a mayor of this weird little anarchy town, let us play in that space.