#THIS IS A GATED COMMUNITY. AND YOU HAVE CAMERAS ON YOUR DAMN HOUSE

[dragoncarrion]

my stupid ass neighbors had THREE dogs all of them neglected and now after they took two of those dogs to some other place they got budgies 😐

[boozeforblues]

We're The New Evangelicals, Dancing Drunk On The Blood Of Christ While The Serpent Sings Through The Radio

They say death comes in threes, well so does rejection Lover, friend, well wisher; focusing on the tone while ignoring the inflection I'm on my last leg, forgive the histrionics Pretending this disease is acute but knowing it's chronic A lie by omission, commission these paintings all the same Eagerly lining up at the gate to accept the blame Laid at my feet by my actions and gravity Marveling at the levels of my own depravity Sacrificial offerings of my own flesh Filtering impurities like my name is mesh Harkening back to simpler times, confusion was a luxury Forgetting who I am by hiding under layers of various fuckery But always sure I've never been worth the effort Classic case of the sheep leading the shepherd

If the shoe fits, stuff your sole into it Lace up the nocturnal urge to abandon your whole intuit Torture my lungs with frigid air and harsh smoke Uncivilized and backwoods, call us marsh folk Adapting to all this neglect and pretending I'm thriving Letting a drunk Jesus take the wheel when I'm driving Recklessness becomes my calling card, throwing caution to the wind And myself to my vices, exhaustion has me pinned To the floor, giving my guts back to the earth Hiding my assets to conceal my worth It's never made a difference anyway It's always been my word against what the many say

Finding myself scared to be alone (Corrigan) Wishing you were the house to call a home Cluttered and filthy, like the inside of my mind Smoked myself stupid and drank myself blind They say the way that I cope is the bigger issue I've found it's just easier than saying I miss you A great orator but a shitty communicator, I remain a walking dichotomy Prattling on about the way things oughta be One size fits me, get on board before I'm bored to death My brain's been starved for oxygen since you took my breath And gave it to a stranger for the sake of the camera Summoning the energy I have left just to damn ya Behaving as if God is a genie to do my bidding I guess this is the part where I pretend I was kidding

Pious and devout for all the wrong reasons Sitting in judgement is all the rage this season…

[luxekook]

prologue.

⇥ pairing: taehyung x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 1.8k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, deception, taehyung with blue hair (aka LETHAL)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

PROLOGUE

Spring of Sophomore Year - 11:52pm

"If it gets any hotter in here, we'd need jackets to enter the fucking gates of Hades."

My stellar observation goes by unappreciated, but I'm not shocked. The music thumps heavily through the house at a deafening decibel and the only methods of communication are screaming or sign language - I had done neither.

Earlier, when my roommate Luna told me about this particular party, I had hesitations for several reasons:

This party is being held at the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) house - a house known for its wild parties, excessive drinking, and dangerously attractive brothers.

I am not a huge fan of the aforementioned features or the trouble that always seems to accompany them.

It's Harry Potter Weekend and I am going to miss the fucking Goblet of Fire for this.

Long story short, Luna convinced me to go with her with promises of pizza and our own Harry Potter marathon tomorrow. Her promises in mind, I square my shoulders and motion for Luna to follow me to the slightly quieter kitchen on the other side of the living room.

As we cross the crowded room, Luna tugs on my wrist and tilts her head subtly towards the corner where four very large, very attractive guys are playing a rowdy game of beer pong, while three (equally attractive) others lounge against the wall watching. Taking a closer look, I notice that the two at the far end of the table seem to be winning. The one with light pink hair takes his shot and curses loudly when he misses. Annoyed, the other shoves him out of the way, lines up to shoot, and pauses. Our eyes meet.

A shiver runs down my spine as his dark gaze rests on me. His jaw is clenched and chiseled, his lips are set firmly but wickedly full. His black t-shirt stretches over wide, solid shoulders and I can almost make out the muscles that ripple beneath. His right arm is still poised to take his shot, and I can't help but notice how his bicep strains the fabric of his sleeve and how his large, tanned hand completely dwarfs the pong ball.

I barely remember to breathe as I realize his gaze is making his own assessment of me. I can feel his dark eyes rake over me, and it makes my skin buzz. His eyes trail over my black crop top down to my ripped black jeans, and blatantly checks out my legs.

Suddenly, his pink-haired partner elbows him, shattering our little moment. Shakily taking a breath, I turn to Luna who has an eyebrow raised at me. She grabs my hand and practically drags me into the kitchen. I sip my drink and fight the urge to look back.

The minute we enter the mostly empty kitchen, Luna whips around to face me, "Were you just openly eye-fucking Kim Taehyung, (y/n)?" I choke on my beer.

"Who?" I croak, still coughing to clear my windpipe of what I'm certain is shitty Natty Light. Rolling her eyes, Luna shakes her head at me like a disappointed parent, "Kim Taehyung. You know, the pledge master for BTS? Was just with his frat brother Park Jimin?"

She pauses dramatically, seeming to be waiting for some kind of response. I stare at her blankly.

Scoffing, Luna continues, "They were the ones playing pong just now, dumbass. The blue-haired one is Taehyung. You know, the one you were mentally undressing-"

"Okay," I cut her off, "I'm sorry to say that I haven't paid much attention to the members of our 'legendary' fraternities."

Pretending like I never interrupted, she resumes, "-with your eyes. Everyone knows who they are. You just live under a rock that you call the library..."

I close my eyes and pray for deliverance as Luna trails off.

"Can I get you another drink?" A deep voice definitely not belonging to Luna breaks the short silence. Opening my eyes, my vision focuses on the voice's source – a cute BTS pledge. His eyes are focused entirely on Luna, who suddenly seems unnaturally shy. She sends me a searching look, and I nod in response. Smiling, she turns back to the boy, "Yeah, I'm Luna by the way, and this is (y/n)."

“Jaehyun," he answers, giving me a head tilt while placing a palm on Luna's back. He slowly guides her from the kitchen towards where the keg was in the living room. Sending a glance over her shoulder, Luna meets my eyes and I wave my phone at her as a silent reminder to update me. She winks and disappears into the living room.

Sighing, I lift myself onto the kitchen counter to give my feet some reprieve from these heeled boots and reapply my blood red lipstick using my phone camera. Satisfied, I check the time.

12:01am. Not nearly late enough for Luna to want to leave - especially now...

Suddenly, a now-familiar buzz sizzles across my skin. Drawing my gaze up from my phone, two unopened cans of beer held by long, strong fingers meet my vision. I drag my eyes up past thick wrists and corded arms. Up goes my gaze past flexed biceps, across a broad chest, and finally my eyes meet his.

He looms over me, all broad and imposing.

"Hey," his husky voice - just slightly deeper, raspier than Jaehyun's - murmurs, "I'm Taehyung. I brought this for you."

Taehyung's intimidating; his stare is direct and unwavering. Heat rolls off him in waves, and if this party was hotter than hell, that must make him the devil.

Our fingers brush as I accept his slightly outstretched offering, and I swear I would feel the reoccurring zings for the next week. "Hey, thank you. I'm, uh..." I trail off, Taehyung's dark eyes staring at me from this close make me seem to lose all power of speech. God, do eyes that color really exist? Apparently, they do – deep brown mixed with flecks of amber, hypnotizing.

I clear my throat and try to force my last two brain cells to work together, "I'm (y/n)."

He's smirking slightly now, the gesture pulling forth the cutest flush of pink in his cheeks, "Nice to meet you, (y/n)." And I swear he says my name like he's caressing it, tasting it for the first time.

Damn, he's unholy. Where is my snarky, inner bad bitch when I need her?

"Did you win your game? Seems like you might have been a little... distracted," I smirk, there she is. I crack open my beer and revel in the emitting hiss.

A flicker of heat bursts through those brown eyes as he leans closer still, enveloping me with his intoxicating cologne. He smells like autumn woods with a hint of fresh lemon; he smells like trouble.

Taehyung sets his beer down and places his arms on either side of me - caging me in. "Things were going just fine 'til this girl came strutting through the room in some tight fucking jeans," his tongue flicks over his lower lip, "So, yeah, you could say I got a little distracted."

"I do not strut," I object, narrowing my eyes at him - daring him to contradict me.

He's undeterred, "Yeah, you do, jagi." His eyes are full of mirth and he's clearly enjoying getting a reaction from me, "It's hot."

I bristle, unsure if I should accept that 'compliment' at face value, "Does this work on most girls? You know, the whole cornering her while you give her lame compliments thing?"

He looks surprised for a second, but then his head tilts back and he lets out one of the most endearing laughs I've ever heard - all unrestrained and unabashed pleasure.

Still chuckling, he tilts his head, eyes darting all over my face - lingering on my lips, "Where did you come from, (y/n)?"

Within seconds we're making out like unsupervised high school students, right in the middle of the damn kitchen. I let out an embarrassing moan when he bites my bottom lip then sucks on it. Expertly coaxing my lips apart, his tongue meets mine in a feverish tangle while his hands grip my waist - pulling me into him.

The way that Kim Taehyung kisses is unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's hot and demandingly deliberate with a possessiveness that sends a ripple of electricity through me. I'm playing with fire, making out with him, but at this moment I can't find it in me to give a single fuck.

Blazing lips suck and bite at the side of my neck and –

"(y/n)?"

The franticly questioning voice draws nearer as I open my eyes and tear myself away from Taehyung's wicked mouth. Luna's there, peering around Taehyung's shoulder, and I can immediately tell that something is seriously wrong.

Shoving Taehyung away from me, I jump down from the counter and stumble - completely forgetting I was in three-inch heeled boots. Taehyung’s hands shoot out around my waist to stabilize me, "Whoa, easy there, (y/n)."

"Get your lecherous paws off her, Kim," my eyes dart to Luna, shocked at her tone but proud of her vocabulary, "(y/n), we have to go."

"What's going on?" I'm at a loss, and I hate it, "Are you okay? Where's Jaehyun? Do I need to chop his dick off?"

Taehyung lets out a choking sound beside me, but I pay him no mind - chicks before dicks, hoes before bros, besties before testes, etc. etc.

"What I'm planning is much worse," Luna mutters with a strange glint in here eye as she pulls me away from Taehyung and levels him with an icy stare, "Listen, Kim, I know all about your little task for the pledges. Seriously, forcing them to get with as many girls as possible before they get their letters? Are you that much of a chauvinistic asshole?"

I whip around to face Taehyung, who seems to have become intensely interested in his beer, "Is this true?" He says nothing. I stalk up to him, shoving a finger in his chest, "Is. It. True."

His beautiful, guilty eyes flicker up to meet mine, and my heart sinks.

"Fuck. You." My words come out as a whisper but are still vicious enough to make Taehyung stagger back.

With that, Luna and I stalk out of the party - heads held high and arms linked.

Returning to our dorm, we make a pact to avoid all frat boys and christen it with pizza. She never tells me how she found out about the stupid pledge task; I'm smart enough to know that she must have had her reasons.

But I wasn't smart enough to stop thinking about Kim Taehyung.

I played with fire.

I should have known I'd get burned.

[aperfecttimeforscreaming]

10 reasons why a poorly adjusted adult Dib is a Valid headcanon

1. Dib is/was a neglected child

Dib doesn’t have a parent that he can lean on and go talk to for advice, his father is frequently out of the picture and doesn’t give a shit about the thing that Dib cares about. Dib is actively encouraged by his neglectful father to give up on it, actually. I believe this would make Dibs stubborn streak really bitter and spiteful. Most people reading this are LGBTQ+, I assume I don’t need to explain how a fucked up an isolated upbringing, or being unable to be yourself around a parent, hurts you in the long run. 

2. Dib is bullied for the things he is passionate about, and being bullied heavily colours your perception of other people 

The world of Invader Zim is not kind, Dib is frequently harassed by his classmates/superiors/family for his outbursts/lectures/overall investigator shtick. 

Now you might say “but, Screaming, wouldn’t Dib learn to tone it down as he got older?” and YEAH. Probably! But does that mean that he would just forgive all the people that made his life horrible before that point? Or who socially ostracized him for the things he’d done in the past? No. No one is under any  obligation to forgive anyone who hurt them, and I think Dib wouldn’t even try to forgive someone he saw as intellectually inferior 

3. Dib is a selfish rich kid

Dib is selfish. He wants to be the protector of earth- but he doesn’t do it for earths sake. He’s clearly doing it as a cry for attention/ a reason to eventually be vindicated for being spit on by his own kind.  I don’t think he would have genuine empathy for other people. If he did have it, it’d have to be something he had to work really hard at. However, I don’t see Dib putting much effort into understanding other humans. 

Dib is rich (probably). This one being more of a headcanon- in the series Dib wants for no material object, he wastes technology on his explorations like it’s something he can just pick up from the dollar store, his father is a world renowned scientist with access to crazy technology and the ears of world leaders. I think he’d feel entitled to one or two things 

4. Gaz is not her brothers keeper. 

She’s not responsible for his mental health, she’s not responsible for keeping him in line and “normal”. Most of the time she doesn’t want a damn thing to do with him. If we’re going by the standards of the IZ tv show, the only times that Gaz interfered with Dibs paranormal investigations were when Professor M. Was also involved. Either she wanted to see her dad and Dibs antics were getting in the way (forcing her to intervene), or she was directly ordered by their dad to keep Dib out of trouble.  Sure, you could argue that she would beat the shit out of Dib for doing something she didn’t like- but that wouldn’t “fix” the mind of a very stubborn person. It might even make them dig their heels in even deeper out of spite and bitterness as a “fuck you I’m right you’re wrong” 

Furthermore, as Gaz gets older she’s going to have her own life to worry about and might stop tolerating the way Prof. M uses her as a middle man to deal with his “poor insane son”. She’s under no obligation to fix any of the phases Dibs life might go through. If Dib was unpleasant enough, and Gaz had the resources to leave, I think she might just bail on him. 

5. Dib is arrogant 

He's gonna do what he thinks is the best course of action unless you physically stop him from doing so. He comes from a place of thinking that he is right, the opinion of anyone else is secondary. Dib will do “what needs to be done” for “the greater good”. Whatever he thinks that “good” is. He wants to play the white knight at any cost. He cannot be in the wrong, or that bravado towards being righteous in the end crumbles. I think Dib would subscribe to a “the ends justify the means” mentality

6. Dib would harm another person to get what he wanted

In a room with a moose, Dib debates letting himself die just to take his entire class down with him. In the unaired episode “return of Keef”, he co-operates with Zim in an attempt to make Keef explode, because he thinks Keef is irritating. Dib used Gaz to test out an ancient spell book, cursed Gaz to only taste pork, and then only helped fix the problem when threatened with physical violence. This could be the kind of thinking that gets worse over time as more people mock his attempts to save and protect them. Why care about people that don’t even give a shit if they live or die?  Dib is a smart fringe personality in his world, and the otherness that he feels for that could lead to a sociopathic way of thinking if things went bad enough 

7. Dib does not care about other peoples personal space

Dib hides cameras in Zims house. Dib ran right past the front gate at NASA Place, Dib chased a baby big foot up a radio tower. Dib bullied Zim physically on the playground using his known weaknesses against him. Dib would do anything to get the evidence he needed to prove what he wanted to prove, and that would get him in trouble. Repeatedly

8. Antisocial tendencies (like spending countless hours fused to a chair, or most of your young adult life spent hunched over a desk at a computer screen) make it difficult to smoothly socially integrate, and the world of Invader Zim is fuckin' mean

You know the world he comes from is mean. However, assuming Dib did find community somewhere, who’s to say they would agree with him? Or like him? Maybe one of them would cause problems for him that were bad enough he’d have to leave. I’ve always found that the IZ portrayal of earth to be like this funny cynical parody of a dystopian police state america. If we’re going by “what can go wrong will go wrong”, Dibs social integration wouldn’t get easier without a bunch of effort on Dibs part. Maybe Dib would have to pretend to be somebody unlike himself just to get by in his day to day adult life. If we see Dibs country of residence as a police state, the world Dib grows up in would encroach heavily on his personal privacy, and that might make him even stranger via paranoia 

9. Sadistic tendencies towards anything paranormal (obsessed with the act of dominating and exposing the unknown)

Dib is a fucking jerk to Zim (rightfully so), but Dib is a dick to pretty much every supernatural thing he comes across. Either out of an excess of enthusiasm, or using a supernatural being to further his own plans, or from an invasion of privacy, or being an irritant to the entity he’s dealing with. He LIKES to be mean to them.  He  wishes to have mastery over knowing how they work. (maybe it’s more fair to say Dib is a voyeur?)  

This is more headcanon than anything, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say he might also want to control the paranormal for his own purposes. If Dib could say- catch a ghost in a jar so he could show it to everyone, he’d do it. If he could trick a werewolf into transforming on stage in front of a large audience? He’d do that.

10. Dib is created to be Zims equal

Dib is as “evil” as Zim is and vice versa. Neither of them is good, or pure, or morally justified. It’s a nice little grey dynamic. Both characters think they’re entirely in the right when they act. That they often aren’t in the right is fun because then you get to write/draw/ think about how they’d react to the consequences. Dib could still totally be a hero in his own mind, despite setting an apartment block on fire to flush out a coven of litches.

The reverse of this is also true, Zim can do nice things, and occasionally be good as Dib can be good. I figure the Zim/Dib dynamic changes for everyones interpretations at least somewhat. Having Zims terrible actions rub off on Dib as their battles escalate is a really fun way to go about exploring their relationship 

11. I like the it

There is no right or wrong way to enjoy a cartoon character! Live to make yourself happy in fandom! If you ever thought you needed permission to create rancid content, I’m sorry you felt pressured not to do it. 

You want to make a serial killer Dib?? You want to make a basement dwelling depressed zit covered Dib?? You want to make a Dib who struggles with his trauma through substance abuse?? Go HAM!! 

[beggingwolf]

Okay okay yeah yeah Sid railing the rookie but like... geno is sooo jealous... so like, does he re enact the whole thing on a day off? The man is injured. He has time to plan. So sid, when he is home one day, hears the door bell and there’s geno pretending he can’t speak English, acting all rookie like and Sid gets to welcome him... 😏

[part one]

Sid’s halfway through his protein shake when the doorbell rings. 

He stills at his kitchen counter, where he’s been standing for the past God-knows-how-long and staring out the window into the backyard. His mom always liked to call him meditative when he ate, but truthfully Sid just lets his eyes unfocus and his brain drift. He’s lost track of time; he’s probably missed the ending of the TV show Geno was trying to get him invested in.

Sid peers past the breakfast nook, trying to see if he can glimpse Geno’s tuft of hair peeking out over the back of the couch where he’d been sprawled in the family room. Sid’s not expecting anyone. If Geno had invited someone over, he’d have told Sid.

Sid narrows his eyes when there’s no hair to be found. Protein shake in hand, he dips into the hallway off of the mudroom where his security panel is. He hadn’t heard the buzzer for his driveway gate ring, so unless someone climbed his fence…

He pulls up the camera for the front door, and there on the screen is Geno, shifting from foot to foot.

Sid lets out a sound—partly a disbelieving laugh, partly a sigh, and he ducks back through the kitchen.

“Geno,” he says as he tugs open the door. “Why are you out here? You leave your keys inside?”

Geno doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gives Sid a small smile, a secret one Sid’s seen hundreds of times before. 

Sid frowns.

Sid takes Geno in. He’s changed his clothes. Gone are his soft gray joggers that he freeballs in around the house and his favorite Penguins hoodie from three years ago that’s getting threadbare at the cuffs from the way Geno tugs on the sleeves. Geno stands on Sid’s front steps in a graphic tee that has something incomprehensible scrawled across it in a graffiti font. The fabric is tight, stretching over Geno’s torso, and Sid’s eyes drift down to Geno’s jeans, which are just torn to absolute shit in a way that’s definitely intentional.  

Sid looks up at Geno and tilts his head, meeting Geno’s big brown eyes with his own. 

“What are you doing?” Sid asks him, because Geno has always been strange, but he’s strange in the way Sid’s strange, and Sid hasn’t seen Geno in his European clubrat clothing since Geno was—

“Captain?” Geno asks quietly, but he says it like it’s Russian, like it’s kapitan, and Sid’s eyes widen.

“G?” Sid asks, looking him up and down, and Sid shakes his head a bit, a smile creeping onto his face like it always does when Geno’s involved. “What’s going on?”

Geno shifts again, and he looks at Sid like he’s trying to communicate something important, like he’s trying to read Sid a damn book through his gaze. He finally drops his eyes down to the brickwork into a look that’s almost demure. 

“I score first goal,” he says quietly.

Sid’s confused smile lingers on his lips even as he looks Geno over again, like his grungy jeans are going to explain why Geno’s talking about scoring goals when he’s injured, when he’s going to be out for days if not weeks more, and—

Geno looks up at Sid through his eyelashes. 

When Geno tries to seduce Sid, he’s aggressive about it. He knows Sid likes butting heads with him, knows that competition gets Sid off like nothing else, knows his own fire can match Sid’s that way. By the time they’d figured each other out, they’d loved each other for years and known each other for even longer. Geno knows every trigger and button Sid has. There hadn’t been much coyness when they’d finally fallen into bed together.

“Kapitan’s turn,” Geno says. 

Geno angles his body so that he looks slimmer than he is. He’s taller than Sid but with his body held in on itself, his head bowed, he seems small. Lanky. 

His hair is a mess, matted down around his forehead in that horrible style it’d been when he was a rookie and all new to the Penguins, to America. 

“Geno?” Sid murmurs. “Are you…?”

“Only if you want,” Geno says, and there Sid’s Geno is, his voice stronger, the accent less pronounced but still there, and he meets Sid’s eyes. 

Geno’s lips quirk up knowingly.

Sid’s so, so hard. 

“I want it,” he says, his voice a bit rough before he clears his throat. “I want you.”

He reaches for Geno, wrapping his hand around Geno’s elegant wrist, and he pulls Geno inside.

[calypsoff2]

One. Part 2

Taking in a deep breath, you know how hard it is to not want to pick Imani up and take her up the stairs. Her adamant self-wanting to go up the steps herself, she is doing this one by one too. This is very boring but also tires her out, she is always the one awake, but we have an early flight out. What I mean by that is that we are flying out at four in the morning so these girls will need to be awake, it’s really going to be me holding them and dragging them onto the flight, but it’s getting then to sleep is the issue. It’s barely nine so I hope the other two are attempting to go to sleep “why have you just restarted that!? Imani, you were on the right path” I know this girls isn’t restarting the stair count “doesn’t matter now, we are here” unlocking the stair gate at the top “one, two. I do it dad” can she hell do it, she thinks she can. Pushing the gate open, grabbing her arm and lifting her over the gate, she ran off and of course is going into her sister’s room. Closing the gate behind me, Rylee and Tianna both share a room, we let the girls decide and they wanted that but they argue constantly so I think we will be splitting them up soon, it’s Imani that has her own room but she doesn’t need her room when she sleeps in my bed every time “are you girls ready for bed” looking down at my phone, I have many messages right now that I need to read “dad, we decided” looking up from my phone “Imani, get out of Rylee’ bed now. Yes baby?” Rylee has a plan “we really think you’re terrible at hair, we also think we should do movie night in your bedroom tonight oh and also we should get the phone back” she tries it “no because you both can’t be nice but how about we try and call mommy?” Their faces lit up; I say they I mean the elder two. Imani is just herself “come on, we will do it together, and nobody mentions London, that is the rule ok?” Making my way to Tianna’ be “move up” these little ass beds “dad you’re big” I chuckled getting comfy, Rylee jumped right on me “ah! Damn girl, what is this?” She jumped from one bed onto me “I am getting comfy” Imani eventually made her to me “look at your top mama, you are a mess” she got half her body out of her top, she is crazy. Grabbing Imani and lifting her onto the bed “right, after this. Please girls, go to sleep. I need to pack, and I don’t need the drama” these girls are climbing on me, literally climbing all on me to get the best view. Moving my head to the side to see my own phone, they really miss their mother.

I cringed at the FaceTime not being answered, I did it twice too and the anticipation of her picking up with the girls I felt that and now I feel bad that she didn’t pick up “mom is busy I think” Rylee said “it’s my birthday still” Tianna was quick to add, she really isn’t letting it pass with Robyn not communicating with her “let’s try Mel, auntie is always on her phone isn’t she” trying to play it off, nobody said anything but I tapped on Mel’ name and hoped for the best “I already spoke to auntie though?” Tianna whined out “it’s not about you” Rylee retorted “be quiet the both of you” I felt a sigh of relief when she answered, waiting for it to connect properly “god damn, I look awful” I laughed at the pixelated image “you good, you good” I said laughing “awww is my little angels ready for bed?” Mel said seeing our faces “I am thank you” I answered laughing “negro!” She spat at me, looking from the background Mel is there for what show will happen “ain’t it like the middle of the night there?” I questioned “yep, things happened that had to be dealt with. I miss you girls so much, I really do” that is not the point I need Robyn to speak to the birthday girl “where is Robyn?” I questioned; Mel paused looking away from the camera “Jah! Where is Robbie?” Mel shouted, Tianna little face is really upsetting me right now “Ti, I told you that you need to be a big girl” Rylee said but Tianna is crying now, she is in tears over this “mom loves you Ti” Rylee consoled her this time without being a pain, watching her hold Tianna’ face in her hands, she means business my eldest “she loves us all! Just she has been really busy, we know mom is going to be back soon!” Looking back at Mel; I don’t even care like that now Robyn has no choice but to do this “girls, daddy needs to pee. Tianna baby, mommy is coming to the phone don’t worry” getting up from the bed “Imani, no” she is going to follow me, of course she is.

Imani followed me to the bathroom “Imani, what are you doing?” She is getting unchanged right now “Mel, like what the hell you doing? Don’t you know where she is?” Looking at the phone, she looks lost. Changing the FaceTime to a call instead, placing it against my ear “not that, she is talking to a big boss of LMVH. He’s here so like it’s hard to get her attention, I’ve asked Jah to say but he won’t because of him being the big boss pretty much “Mel, Tianna is crying because she hasn’t said happy birthday to her. I expected her to at least be around for when they go to sleep, why hasn’t she said it to her? I don’t get it, it’s one fucking minute, Imani! What are you doing?” My daughter has really just got butt naked, I died a little inside because the way she is staring at me and peeing on the floor “wow, you’re a nightmare” now she’s made more mess for me “you know what Mel, tell her forget it” I can’t even chase her about this, the cries of Imani now, this is crazy “it’s busy there, I’m sorry” disconnecting the call “why are you crying?” She pointed at the Bath sobbing her little heart out “I want that” she cried pointing “so you peed on the bathroom floor so you can have a bath knowing I am busy already? Thanks” I huffed out, walking to the door and unlocking it. Dragging it open “Rylee!?” I shouted, looking back at Imani “don’t you dare move!” I shouted at her, she fell to the floor and cried more “yeah dad?” She is sheepish; she is up to no good “I would appreciate it if you can get Imani night clothes out for me on her bed and pass me a towel too” Rylee is trying to peak in “is mom not answering? Can we please have our phone?” Shaking my head “just do me that and then go to bed after that” Rylee nodded her head and walked off, Imani is a pain.

All that commotion and Imani making it about herself my two eldest daughters have fallen asleep, in the same bed. I don’t know what they were gossiping about, but they are asleep and that is the main point, I need to pack their things, but I will have a nap before I do “ssshh” I said to Imani, she isn’t asleep. She is really annoying, and I think that’s because she’s like me “let’s go to bed” I still can’t believe she stripped naked, peed on the floor because she wanted a bath, she is something else that girl. My phone started vibrating in my hand, it’s Mel. She has been calling a few times so let me answer this “yo” answering the call “damn nigga, take your time answering” I laughed leaning down to grab Imani’ arm, she is going to run off like she does “I know, busy guy. It’s hard taking care of three kids, you know” I dragged out “I totally understand that Chris, as I was saying that she was with the big boss, and we didn’t want to say anything but now she’s walked off again. But she mentioned it, and when she talks about it she cries, I’m not even putting it on so I think she’s just closed off from it but I guess it’s not possible? My little ninja is asleep?” Sighing out “she is, there is one that is awake though. You know what I will do anything for my daughters, I would stop an event for them” the line went silent, closing the bedroom door “that’s between you both, but she is suffering Chris” Imani ran off as she does, she will be back “I’ll be in London for her event, I know how important this is and the girls will be there. Surprise for her, don’t say it to her though” Mel gasped “no way; she is going to cry. It’s been the hardest time anyways, keep in contact with me. Is TJ coming?” Shaking my head “just me and the girls” Mel cooed out, I am just not happy about this at all “call me though, like I know this has been hard. I just wish it was different for you both, but she is going to be happy to see you all” I feel like not going now “to be honest just don’t let Robyn call me, I don’t want to speak to her. She hasn’t bothered to even care to call Tianna, it’s not cool. Imani! Get out now, I mean it. I am sick” she is being so naughty right now “the favourite, I adore her so much” she should have went with Robyn “then take her, damn” since she loves her that much “is it Chris?” oh Robyn is there, I am not in the mood for her.

There was a silence, while there was I placed Imani on the bed, she can just start getting comfy “I am sorry” that is the first thing Robyn said “I don’t need the apology, it’s the girl that was crying on me all day on her birthday. You are wack for that, I don’t care if you are upset about it she is a fucking child. You’re a grown fucking adult Robyn, are you serious?” I did say I would be good, but I can’t help it “I know, I did call you, but you didn’t pick up. Then I got side tracked with this, I will make it up to her. Don’t be like that with me Chris, when I said I would be away for a while we both agreed, I even said bring the girls here and we can just get a private tutor and you said no, you will keep them there. I am suffering too, I miss them. I am working my ass off while you send me cute pictures and spending time with the kids, I miss that, I do and you’re there judging me” I didn’t even say anything, but she is crying “can you just relax, you need to sleep. Just let me know, keep in touch with me, we are going back to the house, I will tuck her in bed, take care” Mel said, she knows I am judging her. This is why she stormed off the phone crying, I dislike arguing when she is so far apart from me, but it just annoyed me, I won’t call her back or anything, but I will just text her to say it’s ok, soon we will be united and whatever “Imani, why are you like this? I feel like you should have been my son, lay down in bed now” reaching over and snatching the remote from her, she keeps playing about with the TV “peppa pig” she pointed at the TV “my ass, in bed now” her fat ass all out of breath from being a menace.

I literally bought the girls in their nightclothes; I don’t know how I did this, but I did it. They all half asleep just going through the airport but the lady in business class has been so kind and got the girls extra pillows “early start for them” the flight attendant said, I grinned “for me too, I was the one dragging them out, it was a mission to do this. I thought let’s just keep the clothes on and get them on here, we can change after” she cooed out “they are so sweet, exhausted too. They are going to wake up on the plane and going to a different country. Well you are lucky, you have business class all to yourself so if you need anything then let me know” it’s kind of dope that we the only ones in business class, shit is dead as fuck. I was going to get the jet but if I did then Robyn would know, just because Tina would tell her, and I can’t be bothered to tell Tina too, so I just got on a plane but going there in comfort of course. I guess I can relax, the girls are asleep. I can sleep for a little and then start getting them ready once they wake up, I packed a whole carry on case just for this moment. I packed badly but we can always buy clothes while we in London anyways.

My daughters are so beautiful, like it makes me smile how beautiful they all are “dad you really matched us like this?” Rylee said pulling a face “honestly I didn’t do it on purpose, I needed to leave so I saw these Burberry dresses and I was like we got to go, grabbed them and got the shoes. But look how beautiful you look and you want to say thank you to the lady, she did your hair” Rylee looked behind her “it’s not like my mom” Rylee says this all the time “I agree too” the flight attendant said “but thank you, it’s better then my dad” the flight attendant laughed “not a problem pretty” Tianna is watching something on her tablet with Imani at the side of her, she is quiet so I will take that “dad” Rylee sat on my lap “this sounds like you’re going to ask me something, did I ever tell you that your mannerisms is like your mom?” she nodded her head “everyday but mom is amazing, but dad. Ti really wanted a party right, I think we should do a big party. She didn’t want one without mom” raising and eyebrow “you tease her all day every day and now you nice” she laughed “because I can” shaking my head “be nice, but we shall see what we can do. Also you’re going to hate me, I left your phone that you both share at the house, I only got the tablet” now she is not happy “how am I supposed to message my friends now dad!” she got off my lap, well that got her off my lap then.

Rylee and Tianna pushing Imani in the stroller while I deal with the luggage “you two, can you now run with her like that please” I had to put Imani in a stroller, she would run off without a care “I will!” Tianna shouted, walking through the airport with these three is no fun, we had two toilet breaks before we got passed security. The major thing here is that we made it, we are in London “worst part here is I need to pee, but I don’t trust anyone or anything to be just leaving them, so I am going to be a big boy and hold it in “how much more walking dad?” Tianna asked “just a little more, we are nearly there. See the driver is there” I can see my name written “Chris Brown?” he said, nodding my head “welcome to London sir, let me take your luggage” all I can think is thank god but I don’t even know where we are going, I will call Mel and meet up with her “follow me sir the car is just there” looking to the side of me, some random people started waving at the girls “these are Rihanna daughters” waving the girls over “here, come. Let’s go, thanks brother” the driver took the bags for me “let me push the stroller, you walk in front now” this is hectic as hell, I ain’t ever doing this again in my life.

[yasbxxgie]

The Artist’s Way: Writer-director Radha Blank ruminates on creative frustration and rejuvenation in her debut feature, The Forty-Year-Old Version

Fair warning: This interview with Radha Blank isn’t business — it’s personal. Right now, like at this very moment, Radha is being introduced to the world as the writer, director, and star of the remarkable new Netflix film The Forty-Year-Old Version. But I remember Radha in the 1990s, smashing open mics at Brooklyn Moon in N.Y.C., rocking a fitted N.Y. Yankees cap and big hoop earrings. I remember her jumping into cyphers and catching wreck (read: she can dance her ass off) at Club Kilimanjaro. I remember sitting in the audience of her play Seed in 2011 and thinking, Damn, homegirl can write. I remember witnessing the rise of her emcee alter ego and one-woman show RadhaMUSprime at Joe’s Pub in 2014 and thinking, Damn, Radha can rhyme. AND she funny AF. Because Radha was (and is) a part of a close-knit artists’ community, I also recall her hustle, the keeping-the-lights-on-while-trying-to-make-your-dreams-come-true shuffle we know so well. Radha worked as a teacher, she wrote for children’s television and for shows such as Empire and She’s Gotta Have It.

So when The Forty-Year-Old Version won the U.S. Dramatic Directing Award at Sundance earlier this year, the community rejoiced! This wasn’t just a win for Radha, it was a win for the people. Here was a film rooted in Radha’s own story, about a woman at 40; a Black artist trying to get her stories told — as a playwright and as a rapper; a daughter grieving the death of her mother. Radha told her story her way, down to shooting the streets of New York on 35mm film in black and white. The result is a whole, liberating mood. There’s even a nod to Prince’s Purple Rain.

Karen Good Marable: First of all, Radha, congratulations! The Forty-Year-Old Version is amazing. Your success feels so much like a win for Brooklyn. A win for us all. Thank you for writing it. Radha Blank: I really did make it for us — us being Black women, Black women of a certain age, Black women artists of a certain age. I didn’t think I’d be starting a whole new career in my 40s, but I think it speaks to what’s possible if you let go of other people’s ideas of where you should be in your life. If I listened to other people and gave credence to their ideas, I would not be here.

Amen. When you were younger, did you have the boxes to check, i.e., “I need to get this done by 30, I need to get this done by 40”? Were you that girl? RB:

I think I was that girl. And I always say this about aging: It’s never really about the person; it’s about other people’s perceptions that you then take on. I thought by 40, I would be married with a couple of kids, all of my work being published, theaters asking, “Can we do a revival of this play now?” I really thought once I decided to be a playwright, which was probably my mid-20s, I thought, Oh, by 40, I’m going to be set up. I will have a house. And I do have a house, but that came from Cookie and Lucious Lyon. They got me a house.

Come through, Empire. RB:

I feel like we’ve all been conditioned to think that 40 is: You’re an adult, you’re accomplished, you’re established. What me and my character share is there’s still all of these “who am I” moments, questions around identity. Especially when my mother died, I really had to figure out who I was, because so much of my life as a woman, as a person, as a Black American, as an artist, was tied to this woman. When she died, I really had no sense of myself. So I feel like my personal experience propelled me toward telling the story. We just don’t see women of that age saying, What do I do next? Am I happy? Is this enough?

Your mother — curator, visual artist, cinephile, and arts teacher Carol Blank — figures prominently in the film. She is a goddess and a guide, but she also represents a complicated lesson in what it means to be an artist. RB: Oh, listen, I feel like everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned from my mother — from my frustration as an artist to being a teaching artist for so long. That’s where I learned how to be a director, honestly. I didn’t go to film school. I did stand-up comedy and all this performance stuff, and my first example was my mother. She knew how to turn a phrase or a joke to get the kids interested, and if they weren’t, she wasn’t going to push it. I learned from her first, and I tried to match her energy.

I don’t know what my mother went through when she turned 40, as an artist. I know she was a mom of two by that time, but I gathered — especially because she was a teaching artist for so many years — that she was hustling, jumping between these different roles, trying to make sense of something for herself. In that way, I feel like the movie and my journey as an artist brought me closer to her. I was like, Oh, this is what you had to go through. And then you had two kids on top of that?

In the film, your character is also a teacher. As much as she tries to model support and positivity, sometimes the frustration seeps through. One line stayed with me: “Don’t think that because you created something, people will appreciate it.” RB:

Yeah, I have been bitter. I was able to transform that into a film; it gave me a story to tell. But I did feel that theater as an institution didn’t pay off, there wasn’t much of a dividend. I had done a play in 2011 called Seed, and everyone was like, “Girl, this is your breakout! This is your moment! This play is going on Broadway!” None of that shit happened. Theater was not responding in the same way. I was quietly devastated by it, and I think the movie is my exploration of the why. How come things didn’t happen for me? Here’s someone who has been trying for 20-something years and my biggest accomplishment was 10 years ago when I was 30. That’s why I invented the 30 Under 30 award for my character: The idea that accomplishments are amplified by one’s proximity to youth. There’s no 50 Under 50 award. Or 60 Under 60. Being young and doing something as an artist seems more of a cause for celebration. You know what I mean?

There’s also this theme of displacement that runs through the film. In addition to your protagonist feeling out of place in the classroom and in the theater community, she’s also setting a play, Harlem Ave, that deals with gentrification. RB:

So, my parents were gentrifiers in their own way in the late 60s and 70s, when they moved to the south side of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. They didn’t displace people, because what they and their artist and jazz musician comrades would do is take over dilapidated spaces that were considered unlivable — broken-down lofts and factories and storefronts — and create community. There was an investment in engaging the community that came before you, whereas now I think gentrification really is just about an opportunity for the person moving in — “Oh, look at this dope, cheap brownstone that I can get” — with no regard for what came before.

Right. RB: The same thing happens with these artistic institutions: They find a dilapidated space, they revive it and put a million dollars into it. Then when it comes to programming, the people on the stage don’t look like the people outside of the gate. They’re thinking of their silver-haired patrons, because those people can afford a $100 ticket, and that is who I feel most of the theaters cater to. So when diversity shows up on the stage, it’s a version of diversity that protects the audience from feeling bad about racism or sexism. They can still remain in a comfortable place, so they can come back next week or next month and see something for the $300 membership.

But then you brilliantly juxtapose said institutions with the battle rap in the Bronx. RB: I wanted to show these different hubs of art in New York. This film is about capturing an authentic New York experience, and so we shot that battle rap scene at a warehouse space at the tip-top of the Bronx. Art and culture are happening in these spaces that we’re not always focusing the camera on and that don’t have the multimillion-dollar renovation fund of a downtown theater. But this is theater. This is art.

Is that battle based on an actual show? RB:

Yes. Well, we recreated that. Babs Bunny, who people may recognize from Making the Band, created this brand called Queen of the Ring. If you go on YouTube, you’ll see their battle raps. I would watch them because I just needed to see women slaying shit and not being proper or polite. I just wanted to put it into a cinematic world.

Your pen is equally hard-hitting, Radha. Rhymes like “Poverty Porn” and “This Some Bullshit” do so much in revealing character, advancing the narrative. RB:

Thank you. I mean, I feel like if we’re stopping to listen to a song, it should still be about advancing the narrative. We’re still moving forward, riding on this person’s frustration, but into the next scene, next act, or what have you. I think it comes from being a playwright, making sure that everything is earned and not just thrown in there for novelty or because it’s colorful and interesting. I feel like RadhaMUSprime is probably an explosion of her consciousness, the things that she’d been suppressing.But yeah, I’m an emcee. I rhyme. The beautiful thing about the film is I didn’t have to become a professional rapper. I don’t feel like the movie is 8 Mile. I say the movie is 2 Mile,

because she’s not trying to go that far. She’s not trying to be a hip-hop star. For her, hip-hop is a meditation and it shows up in many ways, from the trap beat floating outside her window, to her freestyling in the mirror, or with the dudes in the basement cypher at Arlene’s Grocery.

In some ways, the moral and artistic struggles of The Forty-Year-Old Version remind me of Hollywood Shuffle, Robert Townsend’s 1987 classic. RB:

I appreciate that you bring up Hollywood Shuffle, because I know that because I’m Black and I’m shooting in black and white, people always make the comparison to She’s Gotta Have It. But I feel like my film calls back to Hollywood Shuffle, about a Black artist confronting the white gatekeepers on who gets to tell a Black story and how.

Exactly. And like Townsend, you wrote, directed, and starred in your own first feature film. How was that experience, and do you think you would do it again? RB:

I wouldn’t say I regret being in my film, but I think that there’s probably more of a fascination with my film because I’m in it. And I have too much respect for actors to call myself one. I don’t come from training. I don’t sit in these auditions day after day. I don’t have to endure seven callbacks for a role. I just think that when an audience is familiar with a face, it might make it easier for them to go down the line with this person. So while I don’t plan on being in another one of my films, I do plan on mining my family legacy for storytelling, and on telling stories where music is a driving force.I really want to be an auteur. I’m hoping that my stories get quieter. Very quiet, but very potent. A slow burn, but such a beautiful payoff. I want to make work like that.

Amen.

Photographs:

Radha Blank on set, t & m

Radha Blank with her fellow cast members

[slash-em-up]

Rocky Road pt. 1: ChromeSkull x Reader

Ok so.... this is me sort of dipping my toe into the L2R writing waters, since Jesse is baby.... well here we go. Not too much ChromeSkull in here; but I promise there will be a fuckton more in pt. 2.

——————————————————

The gate to the Hollywood Hills mansion your employer owned was straight-up stuck.

You weren’t sure if it was the Santa Ana winds or the boiling California sun that had messed with the circuitry, but you clearly weren’t getting in the house that way.

The problem was, that the large house and palatial lawn (which probably cost more than the house itself, judging by the neighboring mansions much much much smaller lots) was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

You circled around the tall fence line looking for any kind of break or low point you might be able to hop. No such luck.

Running a hand through your hair, you were starting to get a bit frantic before your phone began to buzz in your pocket.

A text alert from your boss flashed on your screen.

You checked the time – he was early.

J: Good morning

Hey Mr. Cromeans. Happy Tuesday!

J: Having problems?

Your eyebrows rose.

lol yeah, how did you know?

J: Look into the tree on your right

The blinking light of a camera showed from the nearby towering oak tree. You waved sheepishly.

The gate won’t open

J: I’ll put someone on it. Start walking back. It’ll be open when you get there

Grinning, you began trudging back through the dusty brush towards the driveway.

Thanks :) , how was she last night?

J: You’re welcome. She had a bit of a fever – I gave her some Tylenol and put her to bed early. Let me know if she’s still warm and I’ll send a car to take you to her doctor

I’ll let you know as soon as I’m in

J: Thanks

True to his word, the gate was open as you rounded the final fence corner, and you jogged your way up to the house.

You weren’t late, per-say; but the thought of the possibly feverish little girl inside hastened your step.

There was no key to the Cromeans residence; instead you placed your thumb lightly on a scanner and waited for the indicator light to turn green.

The house was a shining example of modern architecture – all symmetrical lines and sweeping glass walls – the color scheme was a basic white and grey, with metallic accents placed strategically around the dwelling. In all honesty, you were pretty sure it was straight out of some Architectural Digest magazine – very fashionable and trendy.

Exactly the kind of space you’d expect some tech-savvy rich-boy bachelor to inhabit.

However, you knew this wasn’t exactly an accurate description of your employer – as the mess of stuffed animals and coloring books kicked to the side of the entryway further clarified.

When you’d received the offer for this job, you’d been approached by a woman called Spann (who was far more intimidating in person than her slight 4’11” frame might suggest). She’d given you some vague details and the offer of an exorbitant paycheck before slapping you with an NDA.

You’d been given some still annoyingly vague details that you’d be working for a man named Jesse Cromeans. He was a businessman and widower who needed someone to take care of his four year old daughter when he was away on business trips and at the office.

Even though the pay would cover all your expenses and then some, you’d rolled your eyes at the thought of being the pseudo-parent for yet another detached family.

This supposition quickly changed as you began to receive the morning check-in texts and listen to your charge go on at-length about how much fun she and her daddy had hosting tea-time with her Barbies the night before.

Many mornings you were left to clean up the aftermath of their play – hearing joyful recollections of safari’s through the kitchen, pillow forts for movie nights, and how tall little Adeline Cromeans felt when her daddy gave her a piggy back ride.

But what spoke to you the most was how sad Addy was when Mr. Cromeans was gone on a trip. It was very rarely clear to either of you how long he’d be gone; but Addy was never quite her normal boisterous self when he was away.

You could tell the feeling was mutual, as your morning check-in texts were always far more pointed and investigative than normal.

There was a faint whiff of expensive cologne lingering in the air, telling you that you’d missed your employers exit by a few minutes, at most.

That was another oddity about this job. You’d never actually met Addy’s father. Heard about him, sure, more reverentially from Spann; and enthusiastic recollections from Addy; but you’d never seen or talked to him. No pictures – all the photos around the dwelling were either of Addy or of a beautiful blonde woman you supposed had to be the late Mrs. Cromeans.

Any one-on-one communications you had with the man were via-text.

The most you had gleaned was that he had expensive taste (hello Byredo hand soap), a penchant for ice-cream (that pint of Rocky Road did NOT eat itself), a dry sense of humor (several of his texts in response to your inquiries had made you burst out in shocked laughter), and was a very large man (Addy had been running around the house in an XLXT mens shirt one day and you nearly had a conniption). Other than that he was an enigma who loved his daughter and worked too much (in your opinion).

You quietly opened the door to Addy’s room.

The little girl was still curled up fast asleep under her comforter, pretty as a picture.

Blonde wavey hair looking like a birds nest as it poofed up on her pillow.

You sighed lightly at the tiny thumb stuck in her mouth – a habit both you and her father had been trying to break her of – and gave her shoulder a soft shake.

“Hey Munchkin. Time to wake up.”

The small whine of displeasure that met your statement made you smile.

“Aaadddddyyy…”

Brown eyes slowly slid open to meet your own.

“Mmmmm don’t wanna…”

“Come on sweetie, I need to take your temperature so your daddy can stop worrying and get back to his work!”

This had more of an effect than your previous attempts, and with a deep frown and a few wiggles Addy had seated herself up in bed.

You had grabbed the thermometer from the dressed by the door on your entry, and once it beeped you waited patiently for it to register from it’s place sitting in Addy’s ear.

“98.7 – you’re all better cutie.”

Addy smiled up at you adoringly.

“That’s ‘cause daddy gave me the magic medicine last night. He said it’d make me ok – even though it didn’t taste good.”

“Well your daddy is a very smart man! He did a good job.”

Bouncing happily, Addy pulled back her covers and hopped to the edge of the bed.

“Can I have crunch today for breakfast?”

Your smile widened as you pulled out your phone – snapping a quick selfie of yourself and the smiling Addy before sending it off to Mr. Cromeans with a quick ‘All better :) good thinking with the ‘magic medicine’ text.

“I suppose since you were such a good girl for your daddy last night you can have some Captain Crunch…”

——————————————————————

It was late, and you were exhausted.

Which made the fact that you’d left your damn car keys inside the Cromeans house that much more annoying.

You huffed and puffed your way back up the driveway – thankful that the California nights were so mild and you weren’t freezing to death in the September dark.

The door sensor blinked green and you tried to be as quiet as possible as you slipped back through the entryway – using the flashlight on your phone to search for your key.

The house was dark and silent – you’d received a text that Mr. Cromeans was working late, and may not be back until after midnight, and would you mind terribly waiting around until Addy went to sleep before leaving?

That hadn’t been a problem, expect that now it was quarter-past 10 and all you wanted was to go home and throw yourself into your own bed.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how tonight was going to play out for you.

Your whole body froze as a gigantic shape, backlit by the moonlight, detached itself from the living room wall.

You assumed it was a man, and it may have been the animal terror speaking, but you’d never seen someone so large in your whole life.

The shape moved, vaulting over the leather couch with ease and started charging at you.

Letting out a scream of panic, you turned and made a run for the door – only making it a few steps before you felt a huge weight crash into you, sending you tumbling to the hard marble floor.

You cried out again as your head bounced against the hard surface; vision blinking in and out as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

Vaguely, as if underwater, you heard Addy scream from the second floor, having been awoken by the ruckus downstairs.

The throbbing pain in your head increased as you felt yourself fade in and out of consciousness.

Forcing your body over, you stared up at the black shape looming over you.

“Ple-please… don’t hurt… Add-y…run…”

The man’s head tilted and before you could say anything else… everything went black.

[thatssirrosi]

Strategy Meeting w/@InkedSoul_

Javi: <It was obvious Tyson was less than pleased with the way I was handling the little situation regarding the body on his land. I rush for no one and refuse to jump because someone demands it. I earned my position and I will damn sure make it known that I require respect. However, that didn’t mean I was not taking the matter seriously. Henrique had set out within hours to see what was going on and we had been in constant communication. When the text came through with the head, I immediately forwarded them to both Henrique and Breno to start the search. The death was brutal, unlike anything we’d seen in the territories in a long time and it troubled me. Especially being on Tyson’s property and doubly so after Tyson found and eliminated the threat on my own property. Someone was getting stupid. I put out feelers to see if anyone was taking claim but after two days it was still radio silence. There were rumors, of course there were. I did not operate on rumors though. For now, we were beefing up security in Tyson’s territory as well as those I had nearby. I was just about to call Tyson to see if he had discovered anything when Breno came in. “Boss, we got a potential on the vic. According to the vine, his buddy limped into Nogales a few hours ago. Claiming some she devil attacked them while they were scouting. Said she was coming for his boss. He’s freaking out that she’ll come for him still since he left his buddy not he land after she warned him to remove it.” I let the words rattle around in my brain while I grabbed a bottle of water before I turned back to Breno> So the dead body wasn’t a warning to Tyson other than letting him know he was being watched then you think?

<Breno nodded, “That’s what it sounds like. Which means the Nogales clan is looking into that territory as well as the gang outta SoCal. What’s the plan?” I let out a sigh and shook my head.> The plan is we head to Tyson’s and we figure this shit out. Get the heli ready and I’ll message him to let him know we are on our way.

<Breno took off and I pulled out my phone, sending a quick message to Henrique and Julian and then one to Tyson ~Got some information, on my way to you now. Watch your back~ I hit send and tucked my phone in my pocket before jogging out to the landing pad where Breno was waiting. We’d be there in a little over an hour and then we needed to figure out a plan of attack.>

Ty- -admittedly I was worried. Not just for the wolves here but for their families. None of us needed any of this happening right now and with the land security just being finished I wasn’t secure enough here. I wondered if we needed more wolves and if I needed to call some of my father’s old friends here to maybe help out with everything that was going on. None of it made sense. I knew that Javier and his family had people out watching them trying to take over what they were doing but this was shit right here at my property. I mentioned to the other wolves that they might think of sending their wives and girlfriends away until things calmed down here but no one seemed interested in any of it. All they kept saying was that if there was trouble here the woman would want to be here to take care of the land too. Thankfully the women here were all wolves. It wasn’t the same in current time on this property. There were more wolves than anything else but there were humans and vampires on the property too. I was glad that we had not made the transition on the property yet at this time. I was talking with one of the wolves about the small part of the property that was still waiting for the fencing to be finished off and about the metal gate that would be installed at the front of the property with cameras when my phone went off. Looking down at my phone seeing the text from Javier. I sighed and put my phone down- He’ll be here soon to talk. Get the other wolves to my house. We’re going to need to take care of all this mess with Javier.

Javi- <While in the air, I sent messages to several of my Captains telling them tributes were still due despite the meetings being canceled. They were giving instructions as to where and when to deliver them which was also a test of their loyalty right now. So far Tyson’s was the only territory that was having issues and I was growing less and less certain of who could be trusted. I did have extra eyes on my territories, including those closest to the borders and so far it had all been quiet. I wasn’t confident it would stay that way though, that was a magnet for trouble. Breno came over the intercom to tell me we were approaching Tyler and to prepare for landing. I glanced out the window and saw the pickup truck with Henrique behind the wheel waiting at the gate. We left the makeshift airport, Tyler wasn’t exactly bustling enough to have one but one of the landowners on the edge of town had no problems letting us use his property for a fair rate, and heading towards Tyson’s in silence. I wasn’t going to repeat myself and I knew Breno could fill Henrique in on the intricacies later. We pulled through the gates to the land and the truck pulled around to Tyson’s home where I was told he would be waiting. I walked up to the front door, Breno and Henrique behind me, and knocked>

Ty- -I could smell Javier when he pulled up to the property but, I didn’t have the energy anymore to meet him outside like I would normally. When I heard the footsteps up the doorway and the knock I called out loudly from my kitchen- Come in -I took a long drink from the beer I had been drinking as I looked out over the back of the property from my island. The past few weeks had been exhausting with the wolves and bodies chopped up. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a mistake. I had always wondered what would have happened had I done this when I was living in my time and now I knew. Everything in me told me that it was going to be better than this but was this what I was avoiding when I turned Javier down the first time. Should I have just left well enough alone? Something had sent me back to this time for a redo and I knew that but I couldn’t help but wonder what other bullshit I was going to end up dragging all the wolves through. I decided I needed to try to find a witch or someone that could help me figure out what it was that I’m back in this time for.- 

Javi- <After I heard Tyson’s voice, I let myself in, Breno and Henrique on my heels as I walked towards the kitchen which seemed to be the standard meeting place around here. The tension and stress from the last few days and weeks showed clearly on Tyson’s face. I didn’t relish telling him what was going on, but it was necessary. What was happening was probably inevitable given the location and the desirability of the land, but I wondered if my presence sped up the issue or if the timing was going to happen regardless. The benefit was I was involved so these two factions wouldn’t be able to steamroll over the wolves. I sighed as I stepped up to the island> Tyson, one of these days we will meet under better circumstances. Before I tell you what we found, has there been any more trouble?

Ty- -laying my beer down I took a deep breath. I realized just how tired I must have looked and sounded. There was too much laying on my mind right now- Not that I’m aware of. But, a dismembered body is actually enough for my taste. What’s going on? -I looked at Javier while he spoke to me. I guess it was the first time I really looked at him. He looked just as tired as I did. What was happening around here? Was this all because of him? Because of the drugs? Because of us? I never needed my father in my life but right now I needed him to tell me if this was shit they were dealing with too or if this was my issue to deal with.-

Javi - <I let out a slow breath at the news there hadn’t been any other troubles. That was something at least. Even if he did have a point about the body, though that was, well that was still troubling even if it was done in some obscene form of protection or warning. I still wasn’t sure how to take that one. I settled a hand on the island and faced Tyson> I am glad to hear that nothing else has happened. Based on the information we’re hearing, this seems to be a misguided attempt to make a land grab here. 

<I motioned to my men> The dismemberment wasn’t a message to you it seems, at least not in a direct way though it did warn us to potential problems that could come. This territory, it is highly coveted. That’s the problem it seems we are running into. The question that we need to ask is what do we need to do to defend it?

Ty- -scrubbing my hand down my face as Javier spoke. My property… they wanted my land? Fuck. What else was going to happen?- I have a bunker built on the back of the property for the women and the children. The wolves are doing double runs right now. They sleep then they run. They’re all taking shifts and I am too. We’re still running your drugs like normal to hopefully keep the money coming in like it should. But those of us that own other businesses in town are having to take a couple days and make sure we’re seen around town so that no one gets suspicious. Especially the cops in town. No one needs them sniffing around here any more than they already do. The fence is close to being done. The men out there say they’re pushing to be done by the end of the week. I’m not really sure at this point what else we should be doing. I have your men watching as well. I don’t know how this one man wasn’t found and I don’t know where he belongs but we burned his body and disposed of the remains after. What do you think? -I was honestly at a loss for what else we could do. The wolves are around here as much as they possibly can be. Even their females are taking watch shifts.-

Javi-<I nodded slowly as I listened to Tyson speak. The bases were covered but I wasn’t sure it was enough. This needed to be nipped in the bud and quickly.> From what we’ve gathered, that man belongs to a cartel out of Nogales.We can only assume whoever killed him and sent the message back to the cartel had been tracking him and it was pure chance they found him on your property. It does not appear they were able to gather much information, especially as his partner is barely able to form complete sentences other than the warning he was sent back with. I think…

<I paused and took a slow breath because what I felt we needed to do was not what I wanted to do, but I could think of no other options. I let out the breath and steeled my features to show my confidence> I think we need to be proactive rather than reactive now. We need to head them off, lead them away from your land and then attack or get the two fighting cartel to attack each other first and then we, meaning my men and whoever else wants to participate, will take the rest out. 

<I gave a slight nod. I knew that if we can get them away from here and focus their attention elsewhere that would be in the best interest of the wolves. It went beyond drugs when there were this many innocent lives at stake>

Ty- -I sat for a long time silent, thinking. I heard Javier say we needed to basically go to war with this other Cartel but for some reason it wasn’t forming anything in my mind other than us doing whatever it was that Javier felt like we needed to do. I mean he had been in this business so much longer than I had at this point and no matter how much older or wiser I actually was than Javier, I never had any experience with this. None of my father's wolves stayed or warned me of anything. I hadn’t even had any idea to ask them before they left. I thought long and hard about what he was saying needed to be done and I nodded looking to the property where the wolves were starting to gather- I guess that’s what needs to be done. We’ll have to take the fight to them. I’m not worried about the wolves as we’ll hang back. I’m sure we’ll be a surprise to the Cartel. I’m sure they’re not expecting dogs at their front door. But, once we do this. Do you think we’ll be safe? We’ll need to make sure the wolves know that ending this now will make the future safer for their families. -I sighed and watched the wolves for a minute. Once we finished this with that Cartel I was going to have to find someone to help me figure out how I can bridge this time and the future where I should actually be so that maybe I can get back to my time.-

[theparanormalperiodical]

19 Spooky Things That Happened In 2019 - And The Links To Watch Them Happen!

365 days.

That’s as long as it takes to change the world.

This year, we saw Greta Thunberg take on world leaders, we bore witness to the Time’s Up movement flex its muscles, and we hit share on the first picture of a black hole. Oh, and your favourite blog was started!

And so, as 2019 draws to a close, chances are your Twitter feeds, your TV shows and your conversations will be crammed full of everyone’s own personal take on the year. On top of that, the final few days of the year will also be chock full of existential crises based on every resolution you failed to meet in the last 12 months.

(Until next year, driving licence...)

But regardless of the politics, and aside from those promises you swore to keep all-year-round, there are some events that simply go ignored. Like the spooky ones.

The ones about haunted baby monitors.

The ones about prophecies claiming this pope will cause the end of the world.

And the ones about the Loch Ness Monster’s Chinese cousin.

I wanted to change that. So, today’s article is going to take you through the 19 spookiest thangs that gon’ don’ went down in 2019.

For the last time this year: let’s get spooky!

#1 - A Nanny Cam Picks Up Paranormal Activity In Michigan (March)

It might sound like it’s fresh from the screenplay of some forgotten Paranormal Activity movie, but this tale has the evidence most ghost stories are scraping the bottom of the barrel for:

It may have seemed like a typical night for this Michigan-based family, but the usual practice checking on their child via the baby monitor took a turn for the terrifying.

The footage clearly shows a strange, transparent figure move in front of the crib, and the child watch it. But then, the baby cries, something that has been deduced to a sharp scratch found on its arm shortly after the incident.

An affliction from someone beyond the grave, perhaps?

Apparently so: the parents traced the history of their home back to a former tenant who committed suicide in the apartment.

Here’s the footage:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7cNDGk_loQ

#2 - Lorraine Warren - The Inspiration Behind The Conjuring Universe - Dies (April)

This year we lost a paranormal icon.

Lorraine Warren was one half of the ghost-hunting dream-team that investigated some of America’s - and even some of the UK’s - most haunted places and people.

The inspiration behind the ever-sprawling Conjuring universe, Lorraine was possibly the most famous and established medium in the world, using her gift to communicate with spirits entangled in cases such as the Amityville haunting, the Perron family farmhouse, and the Devil Made Me Do It court case.

Whether it's the silver screen bringing their stories to the fore, or their haunted museum, there’s no doubt that she was pretty damn awesome.

#3 - A New Haunting Is Sighted (And Filmed) At Myrtle’s Plantation (April)

Myrtle’s Plantation may already be haunted by the dark history of slavery in the USA, but it is also famed for its less metaphorical paranormal activity: haunted mirrors, the screams of dying Civil War soldiers, and a young girl sporting a green turban are just a few of the things to see and hear at this Louisiana tourist spot.

Yet despite being opened in 1796, only this year was a new haunting witnessed.

And filmed.

https://video.dailymail.co.uk/preview/mol/2019/04/25/6516021902273592342/636x382_MP4_6516021902273592342.mp4 

The story goes that a young couple were enjoying a romantic visit to the BnB - well, I say romantic, it’s a former plantation - and saw 3 pairs of small, ghostly feet scurry across the floor. When they reported this claim to the staff, it connected yet another dot regarding the paranormal portrait of the area.

It turns out that the ghosts of children are often reported by visitors and staff alike, whether it’s floral fragrances passing through the air, or being poked and touched by invisible hands. This aligns closely with claims that numerous children have died on the plantation as a result of Yellow Fever.

#4 - Zak Bagans’ Haunted Museum Is Temporarily Closed Due To Extreme Paranormal Activity (June)

When you gather enough haunted items together in one building, you expect some spooky-ass shit to go down, right? Well, that’s exactly what happened in June.

Zak Bagans - the mastermind behind hit TV show, Ghost Adventures - has his very own museum dedicated to the supernatural in Las Vegas, and had to shut down an exhibit citing danger to the staff.

Housed in this exhibit was ‘the Devil’s Wheelchair’, supposedly the chair David Glatzel sat in when exorcised as a part of the Devil Made Me Do It court case.

Concerns were first raised when a plug near the chair was yanked out of the wall by an invisible force, and a nearby door swung open in a similar fashion. Following this simple activity was an intensified level of activity which began to threaten the tour guides explaining the exhibit to visitors.

No less than 5 tour guides broke down crying for seemingly no reason whilst near the exhibit, and one even collapsed.

#5 - A Ghost Is Seen In The Love Island Villa (July)

This summertime TV hit might make the headlines for all the wrong reasons, but this story seemed to slip under the radar.

Joanna Chimonides, a rather controversial contestant from this year, claimed a blonde ghost visiting the sleeping contestants and bending over their beds was a common feature of their evenings.

It is what it is. (It’s a reference to the show, ok, I’m down with the kidz.)

#6 - Yet Another Sighting Of The Loch Ness Monster Is Reported (July)

The summer wasn’t just full of young men and women swanning ‘round Majorca “looking for love” - it was also chock full of sightings of Nessie.

Thanks to the warm, calm weather gracing Scotland in July, there was a spike in claims of seeing the beast as anything breaking the surface of the Loch was far easier to see. In fact, by the end of the month we’d had the 12th sighting of the year!

#7 - A Bar’s CCTV Catches A Ghost Doing, Uh, Ghost Things (July)

This year, the Idaho based brewery, Milner’s Gate, shot to viral fame having caught paranormal activity on its CCTV. The staff witnessed strange goings on in the dead of the night via their security footage, and uploaded it to YouTube to show what really happens after dark.

You can clearly see several barstools being pulled out from underneath a bar by an invisible force.

But someone could’ve been hiding underneath the bar, surely? Unfortunately, there was no space for them to hide.

Debate might still rage in the comments section of this YouTube video, but it is an interesting watch - whether you believe, or not.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKXT7Vz9T6k 

#8 - Hobo Hill House Gets Put On Airbnb (August)

Boutique hotels, country cottages, and cosy nooks in picturesque places tend to dominate the listings on AirBnB (AND drive up the prices). But taking in a coastal view isn’t the only option anymore: Hobo Hill House, a 109 year old house tucked away in Jefferson, bears the label ‘haunted’ instead.

Bought in 2017 by its current owners, this house supposedly features a variety of ghosts, and the resulting paranormal activity has amounted to the possession of the 8 year old daughter and their beloved family dog acting cray-cray. Within 7 months they’d got the hell outta there.

Most visitors cannot last the night.

#9 - Another Nanny Cam Sees Another Ghost (August)

It’s been a busy year for ghosts haunting and harassing small infants: in LA, a Nanny Cam app picked up movement of something unseen to the human eye. This brand used coloured splotches to indicate movement, and going by the human-shaped splotches by the crib, this suggested something - or someone - was shifting around the room.

However, the company behind the baby monitor cited poor setup and situation of the camera as the cause of this not-so-supernatural activity.

On top of that, anxious parenting of newborn babies is evidently a common cause of such claims. The debunking of this haunting continues…

#10 - Owlman Is Spotted Once Again - And Caught On Camera (August)

The Owlman of Mawnan Smith might sound like a crappy read you’d pull off a charity shop shelf, but it's actually a legend dating back to the 1920s. The original tale follows 2 teenage girls who saw a half-man, half-owl creature sitting on top of a church tower. The same year, another pair of teens saw the exact same thing.

But it was in the heat of this summer that Owlman struck once again. In August, a paranormal investigator captured footage - and a single photo - of what he claims is the Owlman. Yet beyond the classic blurry picture of something allegedly paranormal is the added experience of snapping the shot:

His team felt this surge of energy, and immediately sensed that this, uh, thing, was demonic. The camera then broke, and scratches soon appeared all over their bodies.

#11 - The Best Footage Of Bigfoot To Date Is Captured (August)

Yes, yes, I know.

Every other day someone is claiming to have witnessed and filmed the greatest evidence of the greatest monster and mystery this planet faces and omg guys drop everything and sub to my youtube channel look its not me in a gorilla suit i swear…

But this year, groundbreaking footage did indeed capture some crazy shizz.

Well, on reflection, ‘groundbreaking’ seems far-fetched for something that smells like yet another hoax. So, what do you think?

https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/9750471/best-bigfoot-sighting-video-woods/

#12 - Pool Parc Asylum Is Closed Off To The Public (September)

North Wales is home to many things: gorgeous views, even more gorgeous accents, and a haunted mental asylum.

(These are a few of my favourite thingggggss.) 

Naturally, its a magnet to UK-based paranormal investigators who are in search for the next viral video. However, in the Autumn, the owner of the 200 year old manor discouraged visitors from touring the historic building, citing danger from the building’s structural integrity, and the increasingly violent paranormal activity that goes on inside.

Investigators typically witness strong activity, claiming stones behind thrown and bruises to the face are common occurrences for those looking to catch a glimpse of the supernatural.

#13 - The Chinese Loch Ness Monster Is Spotted For The First Time (September)

Is there room for 2 lake-based monsters on this list? Well, there’s gonna have to be.

This year a long, black creature was filmed swimming in the Yangtze, producing a viral video that all investigators of the mysterious seek. 

Was it simply a piece of material floating in the water? Was it merely an over-sized sea snake that was subjected to pollution?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4xRokjH2tkn 

Yet despite the debunking, this is not the first time a creature of similar stature has been seen in China. In 1987, a similar monster was seen in the Kanas lake, and 30 years later, a creature even raised its head out of the water, sparking yet another viral video.

#14 - The Haunting Of The Harper Family (October)

October - obviously the spookiest month of the year - had a spooky start with the Harpers, a family who finally uncovered the truth behind the paranormal activity they experienced in their house.

Their North Wales home has witnessed it all - and I mean it all. Banging noises echoing through the walls, the smell of rotten flesh wafting through the rooms, and items going missing are just a few of the most common occurrences the family have been subjected to.

But on top of that, the mother of the family even watched a small army in clothing and armour from a few odd centuries ago march past the house. This was the hint they needed to trace back their house to Flint Castle, a nearby historic tourist destination.

It is believed that their house is situated on the location of battles gone-by.

This was confirmed in October as footage picked up a large glowing orb floating through their living room. And if you look closely, you can even see a face in the orb.

https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-news/family-home-stinks-rotten-flesh-20763536

#15 - Major British Political Moments Happen On The Spookiest Days Of The Year (October, December)

Friday the 13th? Check.

The 31st October? Hell yeah.

It doesn’t get much spookier than that. Throw in some politics, stir 3 times clockwise, and say the magic words:

“Get Brexit done!”

Oh, just fuck off.

#16 - Paranormal Activity 7 Is Announced (November)

If you thought we’d seen enough of Katie and Kristi’s fucked-up childhood, then you were wrong! This year, yet another film was announced for release in 2021 cause why not drag out possibly the weakest series of film the horror genre has ever had to choke down.

As you can see I’m not pissed off, or confused by this decision at all.

Nope.

#17 - Elon Musk’s Spacex Satellite Livestream Captures Footage Of A UFO (December)

Livestreams of outer space are littered with claims of activity that go beyond the realms of our understanding. And it’s for this reason that aliens and UFOs make the headlines everyday based off this footage alone.

But it was this footage captured up in mid-December that was picked up by media across the world.

The livestream showed a white or silver disc-like object stream past a Falcon 9 rocket in a curved trajectory.

“Ah, yes, an upside down bowl flying through the sky - this isn’t news!”

Well, it kinda is, actually. It’s the curved bit that really got people talking; only an intelligently controlled being could make such a movement, sparking the speculations the supernatural revels in.

https://www.express.co.uk/a7b91874-827b-495d-b3cd-db25fe7f2976

#18 - Another UFO Is Spotted Above Las Vegas (December)

Only a few days before Christmas, a white orb was seen passing over Las Vegas, travelling at approximately 1000 miles per hour, and emitting blue and white lights. Not a sound was produced as it flew overhead.

This suspiciously silent craft is yet another sighting witnessed in Nevada, a hotspot for sightings of the supernatural and alien-kind. It is believed to be as a result of the proximity to Area 51.

https://www.express.co.uk/news/weird/1221270/UFO-news-aliens-Christmas-sighting-update-latest-las-vegas-Nevada

“Okay, so it’s yet another UFO sighting… But what’s so special about this one in particular?”

This footage was captured just after the release of official footage taken by the American Navy which shows a glowing UFO. The film shows the pilots stating that there were multiple UFOs there, rousing suspicion among those obsessed with conspiracy theories.

#19 - A Prophecy Claims The World Will End With This Pope (December)

We finish our round-up of the spookiest goings-on of this year with a prophecy dating back nearly 1000 years. Okay, yes, the Mayans seemingly predicted the world would end, like, every year, but this one bears some rather uncomfortable coincidences that can only confirm its potential reality.

And it all starts with this bloke called Archbishop Saint Malachy.

900 years ago, he travelled to Rome from Ireland to give an account of his affairs when he had a vision. He saw the 112 names of the future popes.

His prediction for the 111th - the former pope - was known as “Gloria Olivae”. The 111th pope is Pope Benedict XVI, and this fulfils the prophecy as the Order of Saint Benedict is the “glory of the olives”.

So, there’s a chance his predictions could be correct, right?

"In the final persecution of the Holy Roman Church there will reign Peter the Roman, who will feed his flock amid many tribulations, after which the seven-hilled city will be destroyed and the dreadful Judge will judge the people. The End.”

Our current pope’s father is called ‘Peter’, and despite moving to Argentina, he was born in Italy. 

This is a problem because it is firmly believed that this pope will resign in 2020. So, as our final pope, this means the world might end in 2020.

Great.

So - What’s Your Verdict?

Which event do you think deserves the top spot of totally-terrifying-thing-o’-2019?

And do you really think the world’s gonna end in 2020?

Fancy hearing about more spooky shizz in the new year? Then you best be hitting follow.

[flyingpochama948]

I saw a video on YT of a teenager returning a wallet to a woman who dropped it by ringing her doorbell and showing on the security camera what he had found.  She didn’t open the door for him and commenters are just blasting her for it.

“You’re a suburban white woman in a rich neighborhood what are you so afraid of lmao”  “OMG americans are so weird”  “Women are so paranoid smh”

Like okay, when you hear on the news everyday that people go to open their door only to have a gun shoved in your face, people posing as city workers and whatnot to get into your house, OF COURSE you’re going to be paranoid.  The neighborhood doesn’t matter a whole lot unless maybe you’re in a gated community which most of us are not in.  I live in a suburban neighborhood and the house behind me had their 20 year old son robbed at gunpoint in broad daylight.  Many others have been broken into.  That includes my garage.

Yes, it’s going to be even scarier if you’re a woman with so many of breaking and entering resulting in rape.  So please STFU.  It’s great that in your country that you can open your doors for strangers without worry, I truly am happy for you (though I’m sure this isn’t the case for everyone) but in american where they give anyone a damn gun, yeah.  We’re gonna be freaked out.

[presumenothing]

or: the one without ray.

(AO3)

i.

“Goood mohrning, Norman–!” Emma calls out as she comes racing into the dining hall, carrying Phil on her back while Thoma and Lannion hang off her like hyperactive limpets.

“Morning, Emma,” Norman replies, smiling helplessly at her daily antics, although that’s pretty much all the attention he can spare. Managing breakfast preparations for this many children (all thirty-six of them, now, after Conny was adopted yesterday) isn’t really something easily done alone.

Emma must realise this too, because she sets Phil down with a harried apology and runs over. “Ah, sorry, sorry! I keep forgetting we’re the oldest now, and there’s only the two of us, too…”

That much hasn’t changed, really: it’s always just been the two of them, for as long as he can remember.

Norman shakes his head, still smiling. “Don’t worry about it, Gilda helped.”

“I had to, didn’t I!” Gilda sniffs as she passes by them with the milk jug, but soon enough she’s smiling again as Emma takes the jug from her with laughing apologies.

Because this is Gracefield House – it’s the only home Emma and he have ever known, and it’s family.

Norman can’t wish for anything more.

–

β.

“Good morning,” comes the voice through the wall microphone, to no response: the sole occupant of the room remains unmoving on his bed, and it’s impossible to tell if his eyes are even open, behind his fringe and the arm slung over his face.

(A burst of silent chatter behind the window. Still uncooperative? – isn’t that as ever – why do the higher-ups even insist on – you’ve seen the test results and besides he’s apparently the child of – )

“I can practically hear you guys arguing back there. Stop dallying and give me whatever mind-numbing exercises you’ve got planned already, I’m sure you haven’t got all day.”

Pause.

“Very well. I’ll send the test instructions in along with your breakfast, 13D2A.”

His face is still almost completely hidden, but beneath that arm there’s the mocking curve of a smile. “I see you finally took my suggestion, Doctor.”

“Unnecessary as it is,” comes the faintly reproachful response. “I do respect you far more than enough to address you by name, you know.”

“Now who’s being unnecessary, hm.” A quick swing, legs now dangling off the side of the bed, and he looks directly up into the camera. “Really, there’s no need to pretend at treating me like a human when you don’t see me as one, is there?”

–

iii.

“Today, huh.” Emma tangles her fingers with his. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Yeah.” Norman shakes his head. “Neither can I, it still doesn’t feel real at all.”

They’re sitting together in the shade of the solitary tree in front of the house, the rough bark solid against their backs. It’s a rarely-occupied spot, with everyone preferring the full sunshine of the garden or the nooks and crannies of the forest, but no one comes to bother them either. Phil and Sherry wave madly as they race past, to Gilda’s loud dismay, and Norman manages a smile as he waves back.

Being adopted, leaving the house, saying goodbye to Emma and the others – it’s nothing new, he’d known this day would come eventually since the first time they had been old enough to bid farewell to a departing sibling, and yet…

Norman’s gaze travels from the house to the grounds, every inch of it familiar to him: the forest they both know like the back of their hands, save for the gate and fence they’ve always stayed away from.

The infirmary window that he’d spent so many days looking out of, first wistfully at everyone playing outdoors then laughingly at Emma’s messages communicated by charades and oversized letters on drawing paper after Mama had evicted her from visiting for the fourth time in a row.

And there, just out of sight – the open field behind the dining hall where Emma had tried (if not quite succeeded) at pulling off a birthday surprise for him months ago.

Emma squeezes his hand, and he wonders if she’s thinking of the same things. “I’m happy for you, Norman. Really, I am.”

“Thank you,” he answers sincerely, and Emma smiles sunnily at him before letting go.

“What’ll your new family be like, you think?” she muses, her usual cheer restored. “I bet they’ve got to be super intellectual, to adopt someone like you! Like, a whole house of geniuses, maybe.”

Norman laughs despite himself. “I wonder, huh.”

It doesn’t feel real, he thinks again.

(He’ll recall this thought, not too much later, and think in all painful irony if only – )

–

δ.

Honestly, if he’d known that getting shipped out would only result in him being transferred here to this hellhole, without an outdoors to speak of, or even access to a library despite its obviously restricted choice in books – maybe he’d have worked harder to improve his scores back at the house, instead of letting himself be shipped out at ten.

…oh, who’s he kidding. Absolutely not.

He’d never had any way of definitively confirming the reality he remembered, but nevertheless he’d been careful never to get too attached to any of the other children, which hadn’t been a difficult task in the end. Some of them had been more likeable (or at least less irritating) than the others, yes, but that’d been about it.

No one he’d felt drawn to, no one he would’ve been compelled to save from an uncertain doom, and he’d been –

He’s glad for that. He is.

–

v.

Something’s off about this.

Norman doesn’t know what, not just yet, but he’s beginning to see the vague outlines of it already.

Outwardly there is nothing particularly wrong. Mama is still her usual kind self, and just because he’s being asked to help with some kind of research instead of just going to a regular home doesn’t necessarily make this entire adoption a sham. His genius is one of a kind, Norman knows that even without the proof of his test scores – it’s hardly out of the question that someone from the outside would take notice.

But this man, this Peter Ratri, is harmless only in the same way that Norman himself is: until they decide to stop being so.

His palm is not cold with sweat when he reaches out for the handshake, but Norman almost feels like it should be.

“Sorry, just… one last thing, if you don’t mind?” Norman asks as he lets go, and of course he gets a nod in return – they are supposed to be a happily adopted guardian and child, after all, even if Norman’s already waiting for the other shoe to drop as he turns around.

“Thank you for taking care of me all this time,” he says with a sincerity that’s not entirely feigned, to the woman who’s raised him all these years, to whatever end this is. “Mama. Will you help me take care of Emma, please?”

“Of course, Norman. You didn’t need to ask,” she answers without even a flicker in her expression, and that –

That’s what confirms it for him, of all things.

–

ζ.

“I do wish you’d applied yourself more, you foolish child,” tuts a voice just as everything goes dark, except not in the voice he knows it was but another one that only ever echoes in his memory and –

He lurches upright, awake, gasping.

01:18, the LED display blinks in a muted taunt, and R– he presses his forehead hard enough to hurt against the unyielding plastic.

Wishes that the damned thing would tick for once, just loud enough to drown out the humming echo of that tune still ringing in his ears.

–

vii.

He has to save Emma.

He needs to get out of here, needs to get back to the house and warn Emma, to help her escape, to break right in and bring her out – anything. Everything.

It’s the one thing that’s been sharply bright on his mind ever since they arrived at the gate and he saw the truth in the unmoving glare of Mama’s eyes, a burning coal he’d clenched his fists around as he’d been led to this room with its impenetrable locks, a scream he hears instead of the words:

“Hello, Norman. Welcome to Lambda.”

–

θ.

“Hello, 13D2A,” comes an unfamiliar voice over the speaker, some uncertain waver in the words, and he raises an eyebrow.

It’s happened before, the senior researchers vanishing off elsewhere and leaving the rookies with the daily drudgery, and from long observation he’s concluded fairly decisively that it always coincides with the arrival of a new lab rat.

Yes, correlation is not causation, yada yada, whatever. He wouldn’t have cared, anyway, except that it’s certainly never happened to this extent.

Junior researchers are one thing, but this voice barely sounds that much older than he himself does, which means that it’s something – someone – extraordinary enough to have drawn the attention of everyone with any importance. Not that he’s curious, of course.

Because he isn’t.

…dammit.

–

ix.

In another place, in another time, Norman would’ve been willing to play the slow route. Other people use the same testing equipment too, that much is obvious, and there’s not many places to secret away messages where the cameras can’t see but still more than enough. Slow, yes, but so much more safe.

He doesn’t have time for safe.

They’re already lucky that he was shipped out in November, far before his birthday, but still he’s got only months left until Emma’s, and Norman doesn’t have time.

He’s already noticed the carefulness with which they handle him, beyond even what might be warranted by his still-perfect scores, and maybe that preferential treatment will hold here, too.

“The boy who was brought by in the hallway earlier, when I was doing the last few tests…” he begins, toying idly with the Rubik’s Cube in his hand, and it’s hardly specific but there’s no need to clarify.

Norman can count on one hand the number of other humans he’s seen here, let alone a child instead of another scientist, and that profile is already burned into memory: black hair reaching down to the collar of a shirt not too different from his own, hand tucked into his pocket in a slouch, the almost-familiar look in his eye.

It’d been only a glimpse, only from the side, and Norman has never been one to trust his instincts over logic – he’s always left that to Emma.

But for some reason, he has a feeling, indescribable as it is certain.

Emma would’ve said to trust it.

Norman sets down the finished cube with a faint click. “What’s his name? He’s another of your study subjects, isn’t he, Doctor?”

There’s a long pause before the answer comes, almost a sigh. “Yes, he is. Has been for quite a while now, really.”

“Can I meet him? Just to talk. You see, I was always around other children back at the house, and in a new environment without that… it’s a bit hard to keep performing at my best. I’m sure you understand.” Norman looks directly up at the camera for the first time since his arrival, and smiles. “So, what’s his name?”

–

κ.

“You want me to– what? Babysit another of your test subjects for you?” He dumps the last set of completed questions in the tray, and doesn’t bother to watch it retract again. “Sounds like that should be your job, Doctor.”

“Perhaps,” says the same old voice, not that he’d call its return reassuring in any context. “But Norman’s not that much younger than you, actually. I believe you must have seen him the other day, in the central test chamber…?”

The image comes to mind in a second: pale white hair, light cream shirt under a vest, a black line of numbers stark on his neck.

Along with the recollection of stark disbelief at this being the new test subject they’d all been so excited about.

“He looks like a strong wind could blow him over if it tried.” Wouldn’t have to try very hard, even. “Is this an attempt to socialise me or something? Because I can assure you, that’s not gonna do anything, you can save the effort.”

There’s a faint but genuinely amused laugh from over the speakers. “Not at all. The two of you are close enough in age and ability that it’s only sensible to encourage interaction, if you’re both amenable to the idea. At the very least, it’ll alleviate some of that boredom you keep complaining of.”

He snorts. “While also being an extra opportunity for you lot to collect data, conveniently enough.”

There’s no answer, but the soft hiss of static is almost a shrug.

And, well. He is bored out of his mind, after all.

He looks back up at the camera, hanging in expectant silence, and crosses his arms. “Alright, but only on one condition.”

–––––––––––

Λ.

Norman’s in the midst of setting down the last piece on the chessboard when someone strides in like they’ve been owed a massive favour – which is a pretty impressive feat, being escorted by a pair of researchers and all.

“Nice scarf,” Norman comments with a mild glance.

And it is: a vivid shade of sky blue, comfortable against all the sterile white, even if its wearer grimaces like he’s still getting used to the weight of it. Nevertheless the reply is drought-dry, and that’s almost expected too, somehow. “It’s called fashion, you should try it sometime.”

If he’s conscious of the surveillance at all he doesn’t show it, only tilts his head to the left when Norman holds out his closed fists.

Norman turns his right hand over, uncurls his fingers to show the black king.

“Tch.” He reaches over to take the piece, and Norman turns his palm, makes it a handshake instead.

“Nice to meet you, Ray. I’m Norman.”

“Whatever, white king. Shut up and play already,” he grouses, pulling his hand back, but this –

     ( – this, at least, feels real.)

[luxekook]

kings of campus compilation

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 31.k+

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic energy, poly relationship, switch!reader, dom!joon, switch!jin, switch!hobi, sub!yoongi, sub!jk, sub!tae, sub!jimin, PUNS, pick up lines, arguments, nerd tingz, smut [thigh kink, noona kink, marking, oral (m + f receiving), dom/sub themes, spanking, breast worship, etc. etc.]

⇥ banner: heathy uwu @shadowsremedy​

[this will be a reposting/working document for those of you that cannot access my KOC chapter links right now uwu] [hope this works] [you can also read on ao3]

PROLOGUE

Spring of Sophomore Year - 11:52pm

“If it gets any hotter in here, we’d need jackets to enter the fucking gates of Hades.”

My stellar observation goes by unappreciated, but I’m not shocked. The music thumps heavily through the house at a deafening decibel and the only methods of communication are screaming or sign language - I had done neither.

Earlier, when my roommate Luna told me about this particular party, I had hesitations for several reasons:

This party is being held at the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) house - a house known for its wild parties, excessive drinking, and dangerously attractive brothers.

I am not a huge fan of the aforementioned features or the trouble that always seems to accompany them.

It’s Harry Potter Weekend and I am going to miss the fucking Goblet of Fire for this.

Long story short, Luna convinced me to go with her with promises of pizza and our own Harry Potter marathon tomorrow. Her promises in mind, I square my shoulders and motion for Luna to follow me to the slightly quieter kitchen on the other side of the living room.

As we cross the crowded room, Luna tugs on my wrist and tilts her head subtly towards the corner where four very large, very attractive guys are playing a rowdy game of beer pong, while three (equally attractive) others lounge against the wall watching. Taking a closer look, I notice that the two at the far end of the table seem to be winning. The one with light pink hair takes his shot and curses loudly when he misses. Annoyed, the other shoves him out of the way, lines up to shoot, and pauses. Our eyes meet.

A shiver runs down my spine as his dark gaze rests on me. His jaw is clenched and chiseled, his lips are set firmly but wickedly full. His black t-shirt stretches over wide, solid shoulders and I can almost make out the muscles that ripple beneath. His right arm is still poised to take his shot, and I can’t help but notice how his bicep strains the fabric of his sleeve and how his large, tanned hand completely dwarfs the pong ball.

I barely remember to breathe as I realize his gaze is making his own assessment of me. I can feel his dark eyes rake over me, and it makes my skin buzz. His eyes trail over my black crop top down to my ripped black jeans, and blatantly checks out my legs.

Suddenly, his pink-haired partner elbows him, shattering our little moment. Shakily taking a breath, I turn to Luna who has an eyebrow raised at me. She grabs my hand and practically drags me into the kitchen. I sip my drink and fight the urge to look back.

The minute we enter the mostly empty kitchen, Luna whips around to face me, “Were you just openly eye-fucking Kim Taehyung, (y/n)?” I choke on my beer.

“Who?” I croak, still coughing to clear my windpipe of what I’m certain is shitty Natty Light. Rolling her eyes, Luna shakes her head at me like a disappointed parent, “Kim Taehyung. You know, the pledge master for BTS? Was just with his frat brother Park Jimin?”

She pauses dramatically, seeming to be waiting for some kind of response. I stare at her blankly.

Scoffing, Luna continues, “They were the ones playing pong just now, dumbass. The blue-haired one is Taehyung. You know, the one you were mentally undressing-”

“Okay,” I cut her off, “I’m sorry to say that I haven’t paid much attention to the members of our ‘legendary’ fraternities.”

Pretending like I never interrupted, she resumes, “-with your eyes. Everyone knows who they are. You just live under a rock that you call the library…”

I close my eyes and pray for deliverance as Luna trails off.

“Can I get you another drink?” A deep voice definitely not belonging to Luna breaks the short silence. Opening my eyes, my vision focuses on the voice’s source – a cute BTS pledge. His eyes are focused entirely on Luna, who suddenly seems unnaturally shy. She sends me a searching look, and I nod in response. Smiling, she turns back to the boy, “Yeah, I’m Luna by the way, and this is (y/n).”

“Jaehyun,“ he answers, giving me a head tilt while placing a palm on Luna’s back. He slowly guides her from the kitchen towards where the keg was in the living room. Sending a glance over her shoulder, Luna meets my eyes and I wave my phone at her as a silent reminder to update me. She winks and disappears into the living room.

Sighing, I lift myself onto the kitchen counter to give my feet some reprieve from these heeled boots and reapply my blood red lipstick using my phone camera. Satisfied, I check the time.

12:01am. Not nearly late enough for Luna to want to leave - especially now…

Suddenly, a now-familiar buzz sizzles across my skin. Drawing my gaze up from my phone, two unopened cans of beer held by long, strong fingers meet my vision. I drag my eyes up past thick wrists and corded arms. Up goes my gaze past flexed biceps, across a broad chest, and finally my eyes meet his.

He looms over me, all broad and imposing.

"Hey,” his husky voice - just slightly deeper, raspier than Jaehyun’s - murmurs, “I’m Taehyung. I brought this for you.”

Taehyung’s intimidating; his stare is direct and unwavering. Heat rolls off him in waves, and if this party was hotter than hell, that must make him the devil.

Our fingers brush as I accept his slightly outstretched offering, and I swear I would feel the reoccurring zings for the next week. “Hey, thank you. I’m, uh…” I trail off, Taehyung’s dark eyes staring at me from this close make me seem to lose all power of speech. God, do eyes that color really exist? Apparently, they do – deep brown mixed with flecks of amber, hypnotizing.

I clear my throat and try to force my last two brain cells to work together, “I’m (y/n).”

He’s smirking slightly now, the gesture pulling forth the cutest flush of pink in his cheeks, “Nice to meet you, (y/n).” And I swear he says my name like he’s caressing it, tasting it for the first time.

Damn, he’s unholy. Where is my snarky, inner bad bitch when I need her?

“Did you win your game? Seems like you might have been a little… distracted,” I smirk, there she is. I crack open my beer and revel in the emitting hiss.

A flicker of heat bursts through those brown eyes as he leans closer still, enveloping me with his intoxicating cologne. He smells like autumn woods with a hint of fresh lemon; he smells like trouble.

Taehyung sets his beer down and places his arms on either side of me - caging me in. “Things were going just fine 'til this girl came strutting through the room in some tight fucking jeans,” his tongue flicks over his lower lip, “So, yeah, you could say I got a little distracted.”

“I do not strut,” I object, narrowing my eyes at him - daring him to contradict me.

He’s undeterred, “Yeah, you do, jagi.” His eyes are full of mirth and he’s clearly enjoying getting a reaction from me, “It’s hot.”

I bristle, unsure if I should accept that 'compliment’ at face value, “Does this work on most girls? You know, the whole cornering her while you give her lame compliments thing?”

He looks surprised for a second, but then his head tilts back and he lets out one of the most endearing laughs I’ve ever heard - all unrestrained and unabashed pleasure.

Still chuckling, he tilts his head, eyes darting all over my face - lingering on my lips, “Where did you come from, (y/n)?”

Within seconds we’re making out like unsupervised high school students, right in the middle of the damn kitchen. I let out an embarrassing moan when he bites my bottom lip then sucks on it. Expertly coaxing my lips apart, his tongue meets mine in a feverish tangle while his hands grip my waist - pulling me into him.

The way that Kim Taehyung kisses is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s hot and demandingly deliberate with a possessiveness that sends a ripple of electricity through me. I’m playing with fire, making out with him, but at this moment I can’t find it in me to give a single fuck.

Blazing lips suck and bite at the side of my neck and –

“(y/n)?”

The franticly questioning voice draws nearer as I open my eyes and tear myself away from Taehyung’s wicked mouth. Luna’s there, peering around Taehyung’s shoulder, and I can immediately tell that something is seriously wrong.

Shoving Taehyung away from me, I jump down from the counter and stumble - completely forgetting I was in three-inch heeled boots. Taehyung’s hands shoot out around my waist to stabilize me, “Whoa, easy there, (y/n).”

“Get your lecherous paws off her, Kim,” my eyes dart to Luna, shocked at her tone but proud of her vocabulary, “(y/n), we have to go.”

“What’s going on?” I’m at a loss, and I hate it, “Are you okay? Where’s Jaehyun? Do I need to chop his dick off?”

Taehyung lets out a choking sound beside me, but I pay him no mind - chicks before dicks, hoes before bros, besties before testes, etc. etc.

“What I’m planning is much worse,” Luna mutters with a strange glint in here eye as she pulls me away from Taehyung and levels him with an icy stare, “Listen, Kim, I know all about your little task for the pledges. Seriously, forcing them to get with as many girls as possible before they get their letters? Are you that much of a chauvinistic asshole?”

I whip around to face Taehyung, who seems to have become intensely interested in his beer, “Is this true?” He says nothing. I stalk up to him, shoving a finger in his chest, “Is. It. True.”

His beautiful, guilty eyes flicker up to meet mine, and my heart sinks.

“Fuck. You.” My words come out as a whisper but are still vicious enough to make Taehyung stagger back.

With that, Luna and I stalk out of the party - heads held high and arms linked.

Returning to our dorm, we make a pact to avoid all frat boys and christen it with pizza. She never tells me how she found out about the stupid pledge task; I’m smart enough to know that she must have had her reasons.

But I wasn’t smart enough to stop thinking about Kim Taehyung.

I played with fire.

I should have known I’d get burned.

Chapter One

Fall of Junior Year – 8:57am

I curse every single decision that has brought me to this very moment as I power-walk across campus, sweating under the already blistering sun. Campus in August could easily be compared to a swamp given the amount of unearthly humidity, and I’m pretty sure I currently qualified as the local swamp thing.

The only positive feature in my morning has been the table of free coffee and doughnuts staffed by Student Government. The first day of the fall semester always seems to be accompanied by frantically wide-eyed freshmen and celebratory freebies. However, air conditioning is the only thing I would be celebrating today as I finally reach Tyson Hall – the destination of my 9:00am class.

As I rush to my classroom with one minute to spare, I slump into a seat in the far corner – my preferred location for people-watching out of the large windows and for getting away with doing homework for other classes.

Familiar faces surround me, an unsurprising observation given that this is our mandatory research seminar as psychology majors. I notice my friend Jenni sitting in the opposite corner, eyes glued to her phone screen.

Opening my laptop, I shoot her a text to come sit with me. Her head whips up, black braids moving every which way as she immediately piles up her things and hustles over, “(y/n), I forgot you were in this seminar! I just switched over from quantitative research because I couldn’t take any more statistics – or Dr. Harding.”

Dr. Harding is the dean of the psychology department and has been teaching here for ages. Feared by most psychology students for his tough grading and intimidating persona, he’s actually a huge softie – something I discovered by going to his office hours and seeing all 85 pictures of his grandchildren hanging throughout the room.

“He’s not that bad, Jen.”

She scoffs, “You would say that because you got an A in statistics like some sort of wizard. Besides, Dr. Newman is so much nicer.”

Jenni has an excellent point. Dr. Newman is the main reason I chose this seminar. As one of the most respected researchers at our university, she’s known for her qualitative studies on gender across cultures. I consider Dr. Newman to be a real badass woman and I lowkey stan her.

I turn to reply, but Dr. Newman begins taking attendance and class begins.

Fifty minutes later, Jenni practically drags me out of the classroom, “I cannot believe she kept us the whole 50 minutes. Is she aware that it’s syllabus week? It’s practically law to just read over the syllabus and then dismiss class. This is outrageous– (y/n), are you even listening?”

“Hmm?” I totally had tuned her out, focusing on the number of students flooding the quad. I had missed this – the rush of students heading to class, the yells of people greeting each other from entirely too far away, the buzz of excitement over potential parties…

“Unbelievable. How did I forget you have this whole weird-ass feminist crush on her?” Jenni forges forth, “It doesn’t matter. What are you doing tonight? You’re going out with us, right? Luna and I want to go to Hannigan’s.”

Since the three of us had all turned 21 over the summer, we finally could legally go to the bars in town. Hannigan’s currently holds the top spot on the list of bars that most of the upperclassman frequent. It’s a popular Irish pub downtown known for its cheap beer and mixed drinks.

It’s also BTS’s unofficial hangout – a fact that makes me slightly uneasy. After learning who the higher-ups are in BTS, I have taken to avoiding them like the plague. It was a relatively easy thing to do since the spring semester tended to be less focused on rushing and recruiting for fraternities and sororities.

But now it’s rush season, and I’m pretty much fucked. There will be no avoiding seeing BTS’s president Kim Namjoon out recruiting with his vice president Min Yoongi and his social chair Jung Hoseok. There will also be no avoiding pledge master Taehyung leading around new BTS pledges like a mother duckling. And don’t even get me started on how Kim Seokjin, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook will be popping up everywhere to advertise the latest BTS bash.

Sighing, I figure that the chances of actually bumping into them at the bar will be slim, given that it will most likely be super crowded and I can easily blend in.

I turn to Jenni as we keep walking towards our next classes, “Yeah, I’ll go to Hannigan’s. Are you going to come over to get ready at our place?”

Luna and I had moved into a cute little off-campus apartment over the summer. As it turned out, it’s cheaper to live off-campus than on-campus if you look hard enough. We also had it pretty good location-wise being just a few short blocks from both campus and downtown.

“Yes!” Jenni replies, slowing to a stop out front of the science building, “I’ll be over around 8 with tequila. I’ll text you later. I’ve got to go to neuro-psych lab now,” she rolls her eyes, “Hopefully we won’t be kept the whole time.”

Waving, we part ways, and I shake my head.

Tequila never leads to anything good.

Hannigan’s – 10:54pm

Fate seems to be on my side for once in my life. As soon as Luna, Jenni and I walk into Hannigan’s, my eyes are drawn to the back table where the BTS usually sits. It’s empty.

It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one else can sit there, and even though the bar is packed with all other tables accounted for, that one remains vacant – and for good reason.

Greek life essentially has a cult following around here. The Greeks provide status for those who are into that whole exclusivity thing. They also provide the best parties because of the size of their houses and because the university will never complain about one of their best sources of revenue.

I didn’t to rush a sorority way back in freshman year because I couldn’t feasibly afford it. The dues were way out of my price range, considering I was already paying for my education on my own. Luna, on the other hand, is in Epsilon Xi Delta (EXID) and consistently makes me and Jenni tag along to different Greek parties with her.

“Come on, bitches! Let’s get some drinks,” Jenni drags me and Luna through the packed room towards the bar that is already encircled by a crowd of thirsty students.

Tonight’s plan is simple – stick together, have fun, scope out cute seniors. Having already taken some shots before we left (saving that coin), we’re definitely feeling ourselves, flaunting our outfits like we didn’t spend a good hour picking them out earlier.

I had settled on a black t-shirt dress with a checkered flannel tied around the waist and some black Doc Martens. Luna and Jenni had tried to convince me to wear heels with them, but I knew syllabus week was a marathon – not a sprint. My feet would thank me later, and theirs would be crying.

As the bartender slides us our beers, the opening beats of Cocky AF by our badass queen Megan Thee Stallion blast through the speakers dispersed throughout the bar. Turning immediately to each other, we clink our beers together, take a sip, and head to the makeshift dance floor.

We squeeze and push our way through the masses until we reach a spot towards the back where the crowd has thinned out a little more. Within seconds, we’re in motion, hips swaying in time to Megan saying ‘bitch, I look good and you know that’.

Shaking out my hair, I get in the zone and lose count of how many songs we dance to. Eventually, our beers empty and Luna turns to me, “Another?“ She accompanies her shouted question with an unnecessary charade of shot-gunning a beer in case I couldn’t hear her. I roll my eyes, laughing while I nod in response.

“Save our spot!” Jenni yells and disappears into the crowd of dancers with Luna towards the bar.

I continue dancing on my own. Swaying my hips, I decide to put my hair up to try to cool off a little in the sweltering bar. The music shifts into a new song, this one slower, more seductive, a favorite of mine – Lost in the Fire featuring The Weeknd.

As Abel’s angelic voice flows over me, a pair of hands slide over my hips from behind me. I start to pull away, but then I notice – the hands are tattooed. And for some reason, that hot little fact makes me relax into the large body behind me.

Those tattooed hands tug me back even more, bringing me flush against him as he falls into time with my movements. God, this guy can dance – a rarity these days.

His body is all hard muscle and heated skin. His mouth is hot against my neck, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting. My skin buzzes. Fuck, I haven’t felt this way since–

Turning my head slightly, I can make out the vague outline him and it confirms my sinking suspicion… He’s a BTS boy.

"Hey, noona,” he murmurs in my ear, his lips brushing over it as he speaks.

Fuck my life, I think as I shiver involuntarily in response. Spinning to face one of Satan’s henchmen, I toss my ponytail over my shoulder and jut a hip out in both defiance and defense. But really nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Jeon fucking Jungkook, the golden boy of BTS.

He somehow looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the last I saw him playing pong against Taehyung at that party – information that I cannot even comprehend. His left arm is completely tattooed, along with a few smaller ones dotting his hands. I glare at them, blaming those hands for throwing me off.

“Like them?” Jungkook waves his fingers in front of my narrowed eyes, “I got them this summer.” Smirking lazily, Jungkook makes his own perusal of me – taking extra time along the way.

His jaw flexes as his eyes turn molten, “You’re killing me, noona. Tae didn’t mention…” He trails off, swallowing hard.

I follow his gaze. Oh fuck. I had forgotten I decided to forego a regular bra tonight because I wanted to show off my piercings. Just having a thin bralette under my dress, my pierced nipples are definitely noticeable under Jungkook’s heavy stare.

Refusing to give into him, I square my shoulders, “Yeah, I got them this summer, too. But, I don’t see how that’s either your or Taehyung’s business.”

At my words, Jungkook rips his eyes away from my tits to finally meet my own eyes again, “Oh, but it really is our business. Tae said we’d like you and I agree.”

His voice is low and rough, and I swear I can feel it washing over my body, making all of my synapses fire in response.

“We?” I choked out. In full panic mode, I spin and try to leave, but I barely make it a foot away before getting stopped by a now-familiar tattooed hand wrapped around my wrist.

Luckily, a crashing sound echoes from the back table where the other BTS boys must be, and Jungkook lets out a string of curses, “Fucking hell, listen I have to go make sure no one’s hurt, or Joon will kill me. Stay here, okay? I’m not done with you, (y/n).”

His hand rushes up to the nape of my neck, pulling me into him. Our lips fuse together in a brutally hot kiss, his tongue slipping against my bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

And then he’s gone – disappearing rapidly through the fray to manage whatever trouble his frat has gotten into.

I stand there, shaking fingers on my lips wondering what the actual fuck just happened.

“Hey, sorry we took so long! This bitch cut in front of us and I swear she ordered for the entire fucking population of North America—”

Luna smacks Jenni’s arm, cutting her off, “You okay, (y/n)?” Luna peers closer at me, “Holy shit, is that a hickey?  We were only gone for 10 minutes!”

My hand flies to my neck as both Jenni and Luna grab me, dragging me to the slightly quieter back alley of the bar. As they conduct the second Spanish Inquisition, I spill the details on what happened.

After a moment of silence following my explanation, they both start talking at once:

→ Jenni: “Hell yes, girl, go off! Jeon Jungkook is fine as fuck…” → Luna: “(y/f/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n), have you lost your damn mind…”

→ Jenni: “…I’d hit that in a heartbeat. I’m so proud!” → Luna: “…Do you not remember last semester? Are you high? Oh my GOD, did he drug you?!”

“Stop!” I slap a hand over each of their mouths, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you guys are impossible. I am not ‘hitting’ anything, and, no, he did not fucking drug me.”

Sighing, I continue, “It was a lapse in judgement, okay? I remember last semester more than anyone, but he’s just so powerful and I don’t seem to have any common sense around BTS.”

I take my hands away from their mouths and immediately Jenni asks, “Wait, what happened last semester?”

Luna slings an arm around my shoulder, “Come on, let’s go get pizza and a six-pack from Ralph’s. We can go out another night this week.”

“Take-out from Ralph’s?” Jenni’s eyes widen comically, “This must be major tea. Let’s go.”

Instinctively, we clink our beers together for the second time that night and chug the remainder of our bottles in true broke bitch fashion (never leave paid-for beer behind).

With that, we trek back through the door and out of the bar. We finish our night filling in Jenni with our less than savory experience with the infamous BTS fraternity last semester.

But, as I lay in bed for the night, I can’t help but wonder if Jungkook had looked for me that night after I left… Or if he told Taehyung…

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I’m gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot…

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat.

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year…”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

Chapter Three

“It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

We’re going to date the shit out of you.

We’re. Going. To. Date. The. Shit. Out. Of. You.

Those words play on a constant loop in my head for the rest of the week. After Namjoon had dropped that bombshell on me, I’d kind of freaked the fuck out, faked an immediate illness, and ran at full speed.

When I had told Luna about it later that night, she had been just as shook as me. Surprisingly enough, she had also given her full support of whatever I decided to do but “would have her banana slicer on standby and would order six more if need be”.

It appears that she had drunk-ordered a banana slicer off Amazon when the last boy she talked to pissed her off. I had apparently drunk-approved the decision. Rad.

Jenni’s reaction had been even better. We’d been in the library on Monday and her screech of “he said what!?” had led to multiple events:

An abundance of shushes from every student within a 50-yard radius

Her continued rant: “Your own personal harem! Can you say goals? Maybe I should infiltrate EXO and collect my own…”

Us getting kicked out by our ancient librarian

For the rest of the week, I had Luna and Jenni both giving me shit about the BTS boys. It had helped that I hadn’t run into them at all on campus between classes. But I had known it wouldn’t be long before my luck would run out…

Quinn Library – 2:31pm

Typically, I don’t spend my Friday afternoons deep within the stacks of the library’s quiet floor. Yet, here I sit typing frantically due to my incapability to stop procrastinating. My fingers fly over the keys of my aging MacBook in hopes that whatever spur of productivity I had going on is captured in its fullest.

General education classes could burn in the pits of hell as far as I’m concerned. If I wanted to be a psychiatrist, why did I have to take – and pay for – an art elective that I would likely never utilize in the workforce? Plus, the only class within the category that fit my schedule ended up being “Writing About Dance”.

Yeah, I’m still a tad bitter, but in all honesty the class isn’t that bad so far. It mainly consists of watching different dance performances and learning how to write about them in different styles.

Today’s assignment is to write critical commentary on videos of the university’s dance team that the professor provided for us. Sighing, I finish my review of the second to last dance video provided by the professor, take a quick second to stretch, and then open the link to the last video on the assignment page.

“Park Jimin – Final Performance Solo, Spring 2019”

Slack-jawed, I fall into wonder as Jimin moves through his routine flawlessly. He dances like it’s easier than walking to him. His movements are somehow precise and fluid all at once. I barely realize a few tears have run down my cheeks until the video cuts off, signaling the end of Jimin’s performance.

Jesus, (y/n), get it together. I laugh lightly as I dig in my backpack for a tissue. How could I possibly capture the ethereal beauty that Jimin exuded into words? Am I even worthy of commenting on such exquisiteness?

Definitely fucking not. And before I can second guess myself, I type: “Park Jimin is art in its purest form. Watching him dance is like watching the sun rise over the ocean – raw beauty accompanied by the hopes brought with a new day. His performance left me wanting for nothing except an encore.”

Boom. Submit Assignment.

As my email pings with the confirmation that my assignment is turned in, my eyes widen in realization. Park Jimin of BTS is a dance god, and he – allegedly – wants to date me? That is just ridiculously unfathomable.

Namjoon must be off his rocker.

Closing my laptop, my phone suddenly vibrates with an incoming notification from snapchat…

President_RM has added you!

Before I can even comprehend the absurdity of Namjoon adding me, my phone bursts into a series of buzzes. Cursing, I switch my phone to silent and check my screen.

minsuga93 has added you!

jhopeworld_ has added you!

handsomeJIN has added you!

JKookie97 has added you!

vantae_BTS has added you!

95jiminie has added you!

Are they serious? How did they even get my SnapChat username?

vantae_BTS has added you to a chat!

Curiosity wins out over aggravation as I swipe to open the chat.

Heart pounding, I fight the urge to chuck my phone into the depths of the bookcases winding around the room. What did those idiots want with me?

(y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 9:45pm

“What do those idiots want with me?” the decibel my voice has risen to is shocking even to my ears.

Luna cringes, accordingly, “I can’t tell if that’s a rhetorical question…”

I steamroll onwards, “And don’t even get me started on how they could have even gotten my snapchat. It’s a complete invasion of privacy!”

“You could just ask them,” Jenni’s voice cuts through my rambling tirade.

I pause, “No, I couldn’t—”

…Or could I?

Turning on my heel, I rush into my room and head straight for my closet. Grabbing the nearest sweatshirt and pair of leggings, I tug them on and then grab my keys from my nightstand.

Whirling back into the living room, I storm past a dumbfounded Luna and Jenni, “Be right back.”

Opening the apartment door, Luna shouts, “Wait! Where are you going? You’re not even wearing shoes!”

Whoops. I glance at my feet and note that she is, in fact, correct.

Jenni bounds over to me holding my Doc Martens, “Here, babe. You’re going to the BTS house, aren’t you?”

I nod grimly and salute my two best friends as if I’m going into battle. “I won’t be long. I just have a small errand to run.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Luna declares, pulling on her sneakers.

Jenni snorts and shoves her feet into her beat-up Converse, “No way am I missing out on this action.”

As we head out the door, I link arms with Luna and Jenni, “Have I mentioned I love you both recently?”

“Right back at you, bitch,” Luna laughs.

Greek Row – 10:17pm

Ten minutes later, we reach Greek Row. Fraternity and sorority houses dot the street on both sides. Personally, I think of this street as home to the chaotic rich, and I tend to avoid it at all costs – except tonight.

The line to get into BTS is so long it wraps around the block. Students dressed in the latest fashions converse as they wait, huddling together in their groups. I glance down at my outfit of a worn university hoodie and leggings.

“Well, shit. We’re underdressed, huh,” Jenni deadpans, causing all three of us to burst into laughter, “Do you think they put you on the list, (y/n)?”

Pondering that thought, I shrug, “Maybe,” and begin marching past the line of waiting students towards the front door of BTS, “But I sure as fuck am not waiting in that line.”

“Hey, there’s a line here!”

“Yo, bitches! What are you doing?”

“What the fuck?”

Paying the hecklers no mind, I saunter right up to the BTS pledges guarding the door, “Hi, I need to talk to Kim Namjoon.”

The pledge on the right rakes his gaze over me incredulously and then makes the same assessment of Luna and Jenni, “You know this is a party, right?”

I don’t deem that comment worthy of a response and instead cross my arms over my chest. He shrinks under the collective glare of me, Luna and Jenni.

The pledge on the left awkwardly clears his throat, “Names, please?”

My answer barely escapes my lips before the pledges visibly straighten, looking at me with new eyes, “You’re (y/n)? Why didn’t you just say so?”

And before I can answer, the front door swings open for us.

People are everywhere. A haze of smoke looms in the air, and rap music blares from the speakers. The bass is turned up so loud that the beat seems to take over the rhythm of my pulse. That cannot be healthy.

Turning to my friends, I do my best to communicate, shouting, “I’m going to find them! Are you going to be here?”

Luna and Jenni exchange a look and nod. Jenni shouts back, “We’re going to get some drinks. Might as well capitalize on free booze! Text us when you’re ready to go.”

And with that, we part ways.

Maneuvering around the sea of gyrating bodies in the main living room area, I scan around for any signs of my seven menaces.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that my future wife?” The deep voice booms from behind me.

I sigh, recognizing the voice, and turn around.

Kim Taehyung is striding towards me with his arms outstretched, smiling like the damned fool he is and looking like he just stepped off the runway for Gucci. “Come to daddy.”

An idea forms. I smile sweetly and walk to meet Taehyung halfway. His boxy grin widens and just as he thinks I’m going to let him wrap his arms around me, I grab him by the ear.

“Ouch!” He cries, “Devil-woman!”

Ignoring him, I drag him behind me towards the stairs.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked—OW!”

My hold on his ear tightens as we arrive on the second-floor landing, “Where are your brothers?”

“I don’t know, n-noona!” Somehow the honorific coming from Tae sounds divine, but I file that thought away for another time.

Removing my hold, I corner him against the wall of the hallway, “Okay, Kim, here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to point me in the direction of your room, go find your six idiot brothers, and then report back here so I can finally understand what the fuck is going on. Got it?”

My chest heaves as my directions conclude and I realize how close together we are. Taehyung stares at me with an indecipherable expression before breaking into a slow smile, “Noona is bossy.”

“Noona is going to shove her foot up your ass if you don’t get moving,” I growl.

“Kinky,” he laughs, backing away from me and my brewing anger, “Last door on the left is my room. I’ll be back with the six idiots.”

As he thumps back down the steps, I close my eyes and count to ten, trying to steel my nerves and rein in my anger. When I open them, my eyes are met with the amused gaze of Min Yoongi.

Slapping a hand to my heart, I wait for my pulse to settle from being scared out of my wits, “Motherfuck—how did you even move that silently?”

“It’s a skill,” Yoongi drawls, nodding towards to end of the hall, “So, group meeting in Tae’s room?”

Shooting him the best side-eye I can muster, I stalk past him, steadfastly ignoring the chuckles and light footfalls that follow behind me.

Throwing open the door which Taehyung indicated was to his room, I pause, taking in the horde of photos and art taped to the four walls. The light blue wallpaper barely peeks through the absolute massive amount of artwork.

“It’s overwhelming at first, isn’t it?” An angelic voice shyly breaks through my reverie, “Tae likes to collect pictures and things he finds beautiful.”

“Ah, so that’s why we’re friends.” The joke is followed by a laugh that can only be compared to the sound of a windshield wiper squeakily moving back and forth.

I shift my eyes from Taehyung’s walls and onto the two newcomers – Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin.

Meeting Seokjin’s gaze first, I cannot help but agree that he is a very, very beautiful man. With pushed back dark hair, mischievous brown eyes and impossibly broad shoulders, Seokjin can easily be mistaken for an idol. And, oh fuck, I’m still staring.

Shooting my eyes back up to his, I crinkle my nose at his shit-eating grin. Before he can even comment, I turn and lock eyes with Jimin.

“Your dancing is gorgeous,” I blurt out and immediately want to crawl under a rock and live out the rest of my life as Patrick Star.

Yoongi and Seokjin are cackling as Jimin’s face lights up at my embarrassing compliment, “You really think so?”

“There’s no shutting him up now,” Yoongi is in tears, “Watch out, (y/n). Jimin loves his fans.”

“Shut up, Yoongi-hyung!”

Jimin looks ready to swing, but luckily Taehyung chooses the right moment to return, “What have we missed? Why is Jiminie about to fight Yoongi? I’ll put $10 on hyung.”

Gasping in betrayal, Jimin sits on the edge of Tae’s bed and pouts.

The rest of the boys file in behind Taehyung as he flops down onto his bed and reclines like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, (y/n). Good to see you again. I’m glad you’re here,” Namjoon greets me with a slight bow, a crooked smile and wicked eyes.

He’s followed closely by Jung Hoseok, the only BTS boy I hadn’t met thus far, “(y/n)! It’s so nice to meet you in person! Wow, you look so pretty tonight!”

“Noona always looks pretty,” Jungkook cuts in, throwing an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, “She’s bae.”

A collective groan arises from the rest of the boys. “Sit your ass down, JK,” Yoongi grumbles, “(y/n)’s going to break up with us before we even start dating.”

“Dating—!” I break off that train of thought. Other matters need to be attended to first, “No, I didn’t come here tonight to say ‘hi’ or to be your ‘bae’. I came here to get answers.”

I take my time making eye contact with each boy.

Taehyung is still spread out on his bed and Jimin has now joined him. Seokjin, Hoseok and Jungkook are sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Namjoon and Yoongi slouch against the opposite wall of the bedroom facing me.

“Alright,” Namjoon lifts his chin, meeting my stare head on, “What do you want to know?”

Chapter Four

Taehyung’s Room, BTS House – 10:49pm

“Alright. What do you want to know?”

Namjoon’s question fills the room. The boys all stare at me with anticipation, leaning forward with furrowed brows.

I ponder my course of action for all of two seconds before launching into my well-practiced rant, “I want to know what sort of sick prank you think you’re playing, because I am not falling for it. I mean – all of you wanting to date one person? Date me? Seems fake, but okay.”

Some of the boys move to interrupt me, but I thrust up a palm, “No, please let me finish. I know I don’t really have the right to make judgements about you guys, but I have seen some misogynistic behavior from your frat. So, I feel like it’s not that far-fetched for me to think that you’re probably playing me.”

“Messy gymnast behavior? What’s that?” Jungkook whispers to Hoseok who just shrugs, looking equally as baffled.

“Misogynistic, Kook, not messy gymnast,” Namjoon pinches his nose in frustration, “It means prejudiced against women.”

Seokjin and Jimin descend into fits of laughter. Hoseok still looks mildly perplexed, and Yoongi takes a large sip of soju from a bottle he procured from god knows where within the last few minutes.

Covering his face, Jungkook dives behind Jin in hopes of further hiding his embarrassment.

“I think I know what she’s talking about.”

The room quiets at Taehyung’s interjection. He reluctantly sits up from his relaxed position on his bed and explains, “When we met at our party last semester, she found out about our old pledge tradition.”

“Oh, damn,” Jimin sighs, “So that’s why you motioned to remove it from the chapter’s history at the last meeting.”

“Yeah,” Tae looks me in the eyes, “We voted removed it, (y/n) … A little too late though, it seems.”

Jungkook peeks his head out from behind Jin’s shoulder, “We’re sorry, noona.”

Trying not to internally melt in response at the youngest’s display of classic puppy-dog eyes, I slump against the wall and slide into a sitting position on the floor. “Look, I’m not going to say that ‘it’s okay’ because it’s not. But I do appreciate that you removed it.”

The boys hang their heads, looking properly chastised.

“That’s fair,” Namjoon finally says quietly, “We know as a frat we fucked up. We’re not perfect. We make a lot of mistakes. But we’re trying to get back to being respectable and move on from here.”

“We’re trying to get back your respect,” Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, looking at me with wide eyes and more attentiveness than I’ve ever seen from him.

“But that’s the other thing,” I look away, pulling at a random thread fraying off of the sleeve of my sweatshirt, “Why does it matter so much that I respect you? Why are you all so invested in me all of a sudden? In all honesty, I haven’t said more than two words in conversation to half of you.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really matter,” Namjoon shrugs, shifting to lean casually against the wall.

My eyes narrow, “How can it not matter?”

“Because we date as a group, (y/n)-noona,” Jimin smiles down at me from his perch on Taehyung’s bed, all squishy cheeks and crinkled eyes, “Tae thought we’d all like you, and then Jungkookie and Joon-hyung agreed and—”

Hoseok excitedly chimes in, arms swinging wildly, “And finding someone who we all like hasn’t happened in so long, and I’m so happy!”

“Yah, Hobi!” Jin reaches over Jungkook to shove the bouncing boy, “We’re supposed to be playing it cool. We have to woo her.” He winks and blows me a kiss.

Instinctively, I swat it away and then giggle at Seokjin’s indignant gasp.

“I take it back! She’s mean!” Launching into a passionate rant complete with head shaking and wild eyes, Jin continues, “Consider that kiss null and void. I have never been so insulted in my entire life, you know!”

Tears stream down my cheeks as I collapse from laughing alongside the rest of the boys. Namjoon’s dimples are out in full force as he drawls, “Hyung, that’s what you said yesterday when I beat you in Overwatch.”

Seokjin splutters over the now-renewed laughter of his younger brothers, “I thought I told you to never speak of that again!”

Trailing off in mumbles of how he needs new friends and how disrespected he is as an elder, Jin resorts to pouting in the corner.

“You’ll have to excuse Seokjin-hyung, (y/n),” Taehyung smirks at me with raised eyebrows, “He’s skated by solely on his looks up until now.”

Seokjin’s pouting intensifies.

“He is handsome,” I instinctively respond, fully focused on the beauty of Jin’s pouty lips. And when those lips break into a huge grin, I cringe at my lapse in judgement for the thousandth time that night.

“My faith in humanity has been restored!” Jin ambles back to his original spot next to Jungkook and thrusts a paper heart that he apparently had been carrying on his person for quite some time in my direction.

“Hyung,” Hoseok eyes Seokjin with a concerned frown, “Where did you even get that from?”

“That’s one secret I’ll never tell.” Jin barely finishes that sentence before a flurry of pillows, water bottles, and other miscellaneous items are thrown at him from all angles.

“I thought we agreed no more quoting Gossip Girl, Jin-hyung!” Jimin cries as he continues to hit Jin with a pillow from Tae’s bed.

Miraculously still even able to speak under the assault from the other boys, Jin replies with complete sincerity, “XOXO.”

Chaos reigns.

Watching all seven of them in - presumably - their most natural state, I sigh in amusement, “Y’all are too much.”

Somehow the boys hear me, because they all turn to face me once more with various expressions of playfulness and mirth. Jin still lies under the pile of them laughing slightly as they slowly shift off of him.

“Nah, I think we might be just enough for you, noona,” Jungkook pipes up as he plops down on the edge of Taehyung’s bed.

“Yeah? And how do you know that?” A sudden thought occurs to me, “Wait, why do you all even date one person anyway? Don’t you realize like half the campus is in love with each of you?”

“You’re included in that half, right?” Taehyung grins and then shrinks under my withering glare, “I mean, it’s a long story?”

“Oh, hold on,” I check my wrist, which noticeably has no watch, “Mhm, that’s right. It’s story time.”

Jimin snorts and then burrows under the covers in mortification.

“Cute,” Hoseok sighs, staring at me, “I want to keep you.”

And there’s something about having Jung Hoseok’s full attention and adoration that brings me to peak devastation. I pull my hood up over my head and burrow into my sweatshirt.

“Aw!” Various yells rebound around the room. I flip them all off.

“Hobi,” Yoongi teases, “I think she likes you.”

I peek out of the safety of my sweatshirt to eviscerate him with my eyes, but Yoongi just raises one brow coolly and calls me out, “Well, am I wrong, jagi?”

All eyes are on me, and the room is suddenly so quiet that all I can hear is the muffled party downstairs and the beating of my heart.

“… I want my lawyer,” I finally declare, re-emerging from the depths of my sweatshirt and crossing my arms.

“Oh, come on, noona!” Jimin shuffles across the room and kneels in front of me, causing me to descend into a panic, “You like Hoseok-hyung, right? Well, what about me? Do you like me?”

Jimin peers down at me, pink hair tussled and eyes shining. How could I ever say no to that beautiful face? That angelic human?

Must.

Deflect.

“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine. Why do you all date the same person when each of you could have anyone you want?”

Jimin deflates and sits back on his heels, frowning at my non-answer.

“But we do already date everyone we want,” Hoseok cuts in, giggling, “Well, almost.”

They’re already dating people? My mind wracks through all my knowledge of the seven boys sitting before me, but no evidence of them dating anyone pops up. “Wait, I’m confused. Who are you all dating then?”

I can’t help but feel like I’m on the outside of an inside joke as the boys all exchange looks that are all too smug for my liking.

“Seems like we did a good job, boys,” Namjoon chuckles, “People on this campus are pretty oblivious.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, “They just choose not to see it. They want us all to be fully available.”

The lightbulb finally flickers on in my mind.

“Oh my sweet baby Jesus,” I whisper, “You’re all dating each other, aren’t you?”

Various nods answer that question. Jin, of course, being Jin, wipes an imaginary tear from his eye as he dramatically laments, “And she’s smart, too? How did we get so lucky, boys?”

“Yoongi,” I say calmly, “Please pass me that soju before I commit murder in this very room.”

Without a word, Yoongi hands me the bottle before settling down in the space next to me against the wall.

Suddenly hyperaware of my positioning, I realize I’m sitting in between Jimin and Yoongi. Jungkook, Taehyung and Hobi now sit together on Tae’s bed, while Jin remains on the floor surrounded by various pillows and debris.

Namjoon is still leaning against the opposite wall, looking way too intimidating and perfect that I’m forced to look away.

That is, until he starts to speak. “(y/n), the seven of us have always been close. We grew up together; and, somehow, we just work as a unit. We work together. It may seem odd or untraditional. Maybe it is. But, it’s who we are. And it’s how we love.”

Namjoon continues, “We don’t want to lose what we have together, this dynamic we’ve spent so long building. But, we’ve been feeling like something has been missing from our relationship lately. We’ve been looking for someone to help complete us.”

“And you think that person is me?” I suck in a jagged breath, “You really want to share me? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“There are crazier things,” Yoongi shrugs, taking back the bottle of soju from my grasp, “Like how Namjoon has an IQ of 148 but can’t seem to live one day without breaking something.”

Namjoon, looking affronted, opens and closes his mouth, but ultimately settles on just smiling bashfully. My heart almost explodes at such a display of cuteness.

“It’s really not that crazy, (y/n),” Taehyung interrupts my internal fawning, “You seem like a girl who’s intimidated by no one and nothing. We really, really like that. And we figured since you kissed me and Jungkook that you might be interested.”

Embarrassment washes over me. I steal back the soju from Yoongi, who just smirks knowingly.

“Besides, polyamory is actually more common than you think,” Hobi smiles in that pretty heart-shaped way of his.

He has a valid point. Who am I to be the judge of what love looks like? Who am I to criticize these boys who clearly love each other and just want one more person to love? Who am I to deny myself the opportunity to be loved by seven people?

“Can I think about it?” I ask, still fighting the inevitable for whatever reason, “I’m not saying ‘no’. I just need a bit of time to think it over.”

“Take all the time you need, baby,” Namjoon murmurs, looking like I just handed him the keys to the entire world.

“No,” Jimin groans, burrowing his head in the crook of my shoulder, “Please, please, please don’t take all the time you need, (y/n)-noona! I can’t wait that long!”

I reach up to stroke my fingers through his pink hair in an attempt to soothe the poor angel.

“Do we have permission to continue to woo you during this ‘thinking’ period?” Jin inquires, casting a look of jealousy at Jimin who is now nestled even further into me.

“Continue?” I ask, “When did you start?”

“Yah!” Seokjin exclaims, “Why does she keep roasting me?”

“I think it’s hot,” Jungkook grins at me with stars in his eyes.

“That’s because you’re a masochist, Kook,” Taehyung cackles from his perch on the bed.

“Ah, hyung!” Jungkook jumps on Taehyung in an effort to silence him, “She doesn’t need to know that yet!”

“I mean, it is pretty obvious,” I pause dramatically, dropping the pitch of my voice, “Baby boy.”

Jungkook yelps and takes off out of the room.

“Shit, was that too much?” I ask, staring at the door thrown open in Jungkook’s wake.

“No,” Tae replies, still laughing, “I think he just needs a second to calm down. I’ll go see where he went.”

Taehyung gets up from the bed and shuffles out the door in search of Jungkook. The open door allows for more sounds from the party to seep into the room.

Namjoon sighs, “I should probably check on what’s happening down there, shouldn’t I?”

“Good luck, man,” Yoongi tears the soju back out of my hand and lifts it up in cheers to Namjoon. Chuckling, Namjoon ambles over to where Yoongi, Jimin and I are crowded together and grabs the soju.

After taking a long sip, he crouches down in front of me and grasps the hand that remains unoccupied by Jimin. Bringing it to his lips, Namjoon places the lightest kiss on my knuckles. “I’m so happy you showed up tonight, baby. I can only hope that my future holds more of you in any way you choose to give me.”

Pressing his lips to my palm this time, Namjoon smiles in that completely devastating way of his and then saunters out of the room. Still gaping, I realize I never even got to say a word to him in response.

“You are so whipped for him already, jagi,” Yoongi says lowly, lips brushing my ear.

I blink. My senses are on overload. Jimin is still curled into my side, with my hand stroking his hair and his lips accidentally grazing the skin of my collarbone every so often. Now, Yoongi is closer than ever. I can feel his breath against my neck and his stare focused on my lips. Meanwhile, Hobi and Jin are slowly but surely shuffling closer to where the three of us are bunched together.

“So what if I am?” I finally answer, “Aren’t you all whipped for him, too?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jimin mumbles into my shoulder.

My mind explodes.

“She’s not ready for that yet, Jiminie,” Jin giggles, “I’m pretty sure she’s still half convinced I worship Satan in the basement.”

“Well, I wasn’t before, but now I am,” I jokingly eye Seokjin up and down with an amused smile.

He grins back at me. I melt. And he knows it.

“Can I kiss you?” Jin asks, the slightest smirk curving his lips, a look of hunger burning in his gaze, like he could just eat me up, “Please?”

I swallow and his eyes latch onto the movement of my throat.

Before I can reconsider, I remove myself from my sitting position against the wall, much to Jimin and Yoongi’s dismay, and straddle Jin’s lap, immediately capturing his lips with my own.

The effect is instantaneous. Various groans echo around me as Jin smiles against my mouth. His hands find their way under my sweatshirt and squeeze my hips, dragging my body even closer against his.

The way Jin kisses is life-ruining in its unhurried, yet passionate deliberateness. He kisses me like he’s claiming me, and the possessiveness of his actions send a ripple of excitement through my body. Releasing my mouth, he works his way down the length of my exposed neck, and I gasp in response.

Suddenly, I feel another pair of hands twine around my body from behind as Hobi pleads into my ear, “Can I kiss you, too, (y/n)?”

I nod wordlessly, wondering what I did in my past life to deserve such affection in this one.

“No fair,” I vaguely hear Jimin pouting, “I want to kiss noona.”

“We’ll have our turn, Jiminie,” Yoongi’s voice causes a shudder of anticipation to race down my spine.

“Oh, she likes that idea,” Jin laughs, obviously having felt the tremor that shot though me in response to Yoongi’s suggestion, “Come get a taste.”

“Only if that’s what she really wants,” Yoongi says, meeting my eyes, “Don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with, kitten.”

“Kitten?” I growl, eyes narrowed sharply in his direction.

“Yep,” Yoongi’s answering smirk is slow and antagonizing, “All cute and cuddly with a hint of claws.”

“I’ll show you claws,” I say darkly, getting up, “Stand up.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “Why?”

“I won’t ask again,” I move closer to him and Jimin.

Yoongi pulls himself to his feet, acting like it was the most physical activity he’d ever done.

When he’s finally done with the dramatics, I move closer until he’s backed right up against the wall, “Min Yoongi, I’m going to shut you up now.”

His breath stutters as I slowly move my mouth closer to his. “Please do—” I cut him off.

Kissing Yoongi is just as intoxicating as kissing Jin, but in a different way. Yoongi tastes like soju and spearmint. His body melts under my touch, completely fine with letting me lead. An idea springs to mind and I slide my hand into his hair and tug lightly. He jolts with a moan.

Bingo. I smirk before kissing him deeper. My other hand winds around him to scratch my nails down his back. This time, I’m awarded with a small whine.

The fact that I’m wrecking this boy is simultaneously wrecking me. That impact doubles when I feel a small hand begin to wind its way up my calf towards my thigh. Tearing my mouth away from Yoongi, I open my eyes to see Jimin smiling up at me, “Can you kiss me like that, too, (y/n)-noona?”

“Why couldn’t you wait your turn, Jiminie,” Yoongi sulks adorably, sensing that my resolve against any request from Jimin was nonexistent.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to be showing me the perks of dating multiple people?” I joke, “Jin and Hobi just shared. Can’t you two?”

Jimin springs up off the floor faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, “Yes! We can share!”

“Good,” I reply, turning in Yoongi’s arms so that my back is pressed against him. He hisses in a breath. “Come here, Jiminie,” I open my arms to the eager boy who all but leaps into them.

“You’re so beautiful, noona,” Jimin sighs, pupils dilated, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

“So are you, baby,” I sigh, bringing a hand up to brush his cheek fondly, “So are you.”

I kiss Jimin gently, treasuring the feel of his plump lips against my own. I trace the tip of my tongue over his bottom lip and his mouth opens in a silent gasp. I use the chance to slip my tongue inside to twine with his.

Through my thoroughly fucked-out haze, I feel Yoongi’s hands settle onto my hips, grinding me slowly against his crotch. I moan into Jimin as Yoongi’s mouth sucks on the side of my neck, surely for the sole reason of marking me.

“Well, shit, JK,” Taehyung’s voice shatters the bubble of pleasure I had been residing within in the middle of four beautiful men. My eyes flutter open to take in the sight of Taehyung holding a box of pizza and a case of beer, with Jungkook right behind him. “Looks like the party started without us.”

Chapter Five

Taehyung’s Room, BTS House - 11:57pm

“Well, shit, JK. Looks like the party started without us.”

An hour ago, I would have shoved Jimin off of me and shimmied out of Yoongi’s hold. But, now? I definitely am in too deep to back down from Taehyung.

“Hmm,” I make a show of pushing my hips slightly against Yoongi’s as I turn to face Taehyung and Jungkook more fully, “Yes, it did. And you know why? Because you weren’t invited.”

Yoongi chuckles into my neck as my words detonate and land on Taehyung, who gapes in disbelief. “Don’t piss her off, Tae,“ I feel Yoongi’s grin against my neck before he places a quick kiss behind my ear.

“Yeah, Tae,” I taunt, “Don’t piss me off.”

“We leave for ten minutes. Ten! And she’s already got you like this?” Taehyung stomps over to his bed and sits in a huff, "Can I at least get a kiss, too?”

"Oh, I don’t think so,” I purr, “You see, only good boys get kisses.” Turning to Jungkook, I smile wickedly when I’m met with the cutest wide-eyed stare complete with bottom lip sucked behind his two front teeth.

“Jungkookie,” I shake Jimin and Yoongi off me and slowly turn to face the youngest, “Have you been a good boy?”

He nods frantically and gulps when my hand slips up his black t-shirt. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

“D-do I get a kiss, noona?” He asks in the tiniest voice imaginable.

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Kim Taehyung rages from his four-poster bed, “Jungkook was just thirsting over you in the hallway!”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jungkook growls, muscles bunching under my touch. I bite back a grin over how the boy’s duality really jumps out when he’s provoked.

“Hmm, is that so, Kookie?” My hand glides into his hair at the nape of his neck to pull his gaze back to mine, “Tell me what you said, and I might still let you have a kiss.”

“What?” Taehyung cries.

“At this rate, she’s not going to touch Taehyungie for 84 years.” I hear Hoseok say, snickering. Seokjin’s squeaky laughter and Jimin’s high-pitched giggles ensue. I’m also almost certain I hear Yoongi let out a low chuckle.

“Tell me,” I order Jungkook, who immediately caves like a house of cards during an earthquake.

“I j-just said that you were cute-”

"Bullshit!”

Jungkook shoots a livid glare over my shoulder at the blue-haired boy, “And, I said that I wanted to p-play with your nipple piercings… That I bet they make you look even prettier, noona. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, baby,” I say, stroking his reddened cheeks, “You know what? I think I just might let you.”

“Really?” Jungkook looks like his birthday had arrived early.

“Really!?” Taehyung sounds like his birthday had been cancelled indefinitely.

“Really,” I confirm, whipping off my hoodie. The various curses and groans reach my ears as I toss the hoodie right at Taehyung’s slack-jawed face.

“Fuck, baby,” Seokjin hisses a breath through his teeth, "You weren’t wearing a bra this whole time?”

“Huh?” I glance down only to be greeted by my bare skin, “Oh, shit.”

“You came here. To this house. Without a bra?” A commanding voice sounds from the doorway, “Oh, babygirl, that’s a dangerous move.”

I face Namjoon, with my hands on my hips, nipples shamelessly pointed straight at him, “Dangerous? For me or for you?”

He cracks a slow smile, “Both.” God, he looks to die for tonight - black cargo-pants, tight black t-shirt, black boots. My eyes latch onto the silver chain clasped around his neck and wonder if he’d let me pull him closer with it.

An impatient hand tugs on mine. “N-noona, will you still let me touch you?” Jungkook diverts my attention from the depths of Namjoon’s dark eyes.

“Of course, Kookie,” I link my fingers through his and turn to address the problematic king on the bed, “Taehyung, move over.”

A flicker of hope sparks in Tae’s eyes as he immediately shifts to make room. I make my way over to the bed, dragging Jungkook with me.

“Jungkook, sit with your back against the headboard,” I turn to Taehyung, “You, no touching.”

“But-!”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you stay,” I shoot him a glance, inwardly cursing at how tempting he looks sprawled out and gazing hungrily at me. Why did he have to be so insufferable?

Shifting to look at the boy practically bouncing on the bed with anticipation, I smile, “Can I sit on your lap, Jungkook?”

"Fuck yes,” he breathes out, tongue darting to wet his lower lip.

A completely diabolical and sadistic idea pops into my brain. I slowly walk to the foot of the bed. The room quiets as I lean forward and climb on the bed. On all fours, I slowly crawl towards Jungkook, holding eye-contact.

He swallows hard, eyes darting every so often to my chest. Finally, I settle onto his lap and smile victoriously at the thick bulge I feel there.

“So unfair,“ Jungkook sighs, tilting his head back with his eyes squeezed shut, "You make me so hard, (y/n)-noona.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” the corners of my mouth quirk into a small smile, “Now, do you want to play with me? Or should I ask someone else?”

Jungkook’s mouth latches onto my left nipple and sucks. His hand moves up my back and then eases around my body to cup my other breast in his hold. I jolt as he pinches my nipple without warning, a surge of pleasure swells from deep within me.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” I hum and grind my hips down onto his, craving more friction. His tongue swirls around my piercing, and my breath catches.

“Fuck,” I hear one of the boys choke out.

My eyes shoot open in search of the source and widen once I find it. Namjoon’s head is thrown back as Jimin kisses and sucks on his neck. Namjoon’s eyes remain heatedly on me as he murmurs, “Such a good boy.” Jimin and I both shiver as Namjoon’s words drip like honey off his tongue.

“Now, Jiminie,” Namjoon latches a hand through Jimin’s pink hair and tugs him away from his neck. The younger boy pouts. Namjoon ignores him, continuing, “Why don’t we show (y/n) how Kook likes to be kissed?”

At the mention of his name, Jungkook ceases his worshipping and whines, “Hyung, that’s not fair!”

“Not fair?” Taehyung’s indignant cry is immediate, “You just had (y/n)’s nipple in your mouth,  and you think this is unfair?” I look over at the irate boy, who looks thoroughly wrecked despite not having even been touched. His light blue hair is a mess, red bandana long since removed. One ring-adorned hand is pressed solidly over the bulge in his jeans. The other is thrashing wildly in the air as he articulates his point.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growls, “Enough.”

Taehyung wisely shuts up.

A timid knock breaks the tense silence. “Hey, Pres?” A hesitant voice calls through the solid wood, “We have a situation downstairs.”

“God-fucking-damnit,” Namjoon curses and turns to me, “(y/n), baby, I have to go deal with this.”

I shrug and reach for my discarded sweatshirt next to Taehyung, “I should get going anyway. My friends are probably waiting for me.”

“But Noona!” Jungkook’s grip tightens on my hips as I tug on my top, “When will we get to see you again?”

“Jungkook, honey, this campus is only so big. Besides, you all have my SnapChat.” I cock my head, “How did you get that by the way?”

“Well, would you look at the time!” Jin lurches to his feet, “I need to go get ready for bed.”

“Kim Seokjin, I swear to god,“ I shimmy off of a pouting Jungkook, "If you step one toe out that door, I will burn your plushie collection.”

“Yah,” he exclaims, “How do you know that I even have plushies?”

I shoot him a deadpan expression and point to one of the many pictures of Seokjin on Tae’s walls. This particular Polaroid displays a sleeping Jin amongst a plethora of plushies that all seem to be the same alpaca of some sort.

“Taehyungie, you little shit!” Jin sprints to the photo and tears it from the wall. Shoving the picture in the culprit’s face, Jin rants, "When did you take this? Why did you take this?”

“Last week,” Tae answers and shrugs, looking thoroughly unapologetic, “I thought you looked cute.”

Jin huffs, “Well, that’s a given.” He turns to me, “Please leave my babies out of this.”

“Don’t worry, big boy,” I grin up at his handsome face, “I’ll just think of something else… something much, much worse.”

He purses his full lips in a mock-pout. I melt. “Aw, you’re so cute.” I reach up and squish his cheeks together.

“Don’t fall for it, (y/n)!” Hoseok yells, spurring yet another argument amongst the boys.

“Honestly,” I shake my head in bewilderment, “How do y’all even successfully date?”

“I ask myself that every damn day,” Min Yoongi smiles up at me from the floor.

Before I can respond, another knock sounds at the door. “Come on, baby,” Namjoon reaches a hand out towards me, “I’ll walk you down.”

I accept his hand and stare as it completely envelops my own. Namjoon sees my attention and gives my hand a quick squeeze.

“Alright,” I call over my shoulder to the rest of the group, “I’ll see y’all around, I guess?”

I’m faced with six grown-ass babies with varying degrees of puppy-dog eyes.

“Remember to think about what we said, noona!” Jimin begs, “Consider going out with us, okay?”

“I’m not likely going to forget that seven dudes asked me to date them,” I smile wickedly, “That only happens to me occasionally.”

With that, I walk out the door with Namjoon and revel in the chaos I left behind me.

“Occasionally?” Hoseok cries.

“I’m going to do some recon. These rivals must be eliminated.” Yoongi seethes.

“Noona wouldn’t pick another group over us, right?” Jungkook pauses, “Oh my god, she would.”

Namjoon slams the door behind us and laughs, “You’re such an instigator.”

“You right,” I nod.

Namjoon and I trail down the hallway after the jittery pledge who had interrupted us. Descending the staircase, I survey the crowd below and fail to notice anything that would qualify as a ‘situation’.

Namjoon seems to agree. “Eric, if you dragged me down here for no reason, getting an infraction will be the least of your worries…”

Eric the pledge gulps, “Pres, I swear, they’re outside.” His gaze shifts to me for a split second before returning to Namjoon, “They said they aren’t leaving until they speak to one of you. Alone.”

I huff, “I can take a hint, Eric. This is obviously ‘frat business’ or whatever.” Namjoon hides a smile behind his hand at my use of air quotes, and I do not appreciate him finding my annoyance humorous. I shoot him a murderous stare before locating Luna and Jenni from across the room.

“Bye, Joon,” I salute him and turn to head towards my friends. I barely make it one step before his hand catches my wrist.

His mouth brushes my ear as he says softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.” He gives my hand a squeeze and then disappears into the crowd with Eric.

Goddamnit. I had forgotten about volunteering. These boys are slowly but surely infiltrating my life, and I’m not at all sure on how I feel about it. My feet drag across the room until I reach my friends.

“Ready to go?” Luna questions, linking her arm through mine.

“Ready to be interrogated?” Jenni smiles evilly, assessing the mess that I am.

“Yes and no,” I groan, pulling them both outside. Starting our trek home, I field questions from both my friends. Somewhere far behind us, a girl shrieks something about being lettered, and I thank the stars that someone else has drama besides me…

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 8:45am

The infuriating sound of my phone vibrating with a number of incoming texts jolts me awake. Who the fuck dares to wake me up before my alarm? I grab my phone from its resting position on my nearby nightstand and almost fall out of my bed in the process.

“I’ll kill him,” I mutter darkly as I read the name displayed across my screen. It radiates an offensive mix of terrible grammar and narcissism.  

Worldwide Handsome 3 New Messages

“This better be fucking good.” My fingers angrily swipe at the notification, opening the messages. I knew exactly who these messages were from. When did that bastard even get to my phone and add his contact information? How did he bypass my password? What kind of sorcery?

Worldwide Handsome 8:45am: “You up, beautiful?” 8:45am: “We’re picking you up in 20!!” 8:46am: “Wear something cute!!!! ;)”

(Y/N) 8:46am: “…Did you say WE???” 8:46am: Also, when and how the fuckity fuck did you get into my phone?” 8:47am: “ACTUALLY, NO – HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET MY ADDRESS?”

Worldwide Handsome 8:47am: “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

(Y/N) 8:48am: “You are NOT a magician, you dweeb.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:48am: “Abracadabra, bish.”

(Y/N) 8:49am: “I can’t stand you.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:50am: “15 minutes!!!”

(Y/N) 8:50am: “15 minutes until I strangle you with my bare hands!!!”

Worldwide Handsome 8:53am: “Strangle? Sounds kinky… I’m into it.” 8:55am: “I’m bringing you coffee. What kind do you want?”

(Y/N) 8:55am: “Did I say strangle? I meant *hug you tightly and shower you with praise*!!!” 8:56am: “The largest size possible, please! Black.” 8:56am: “I’ll pay you back.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:56am: “That’s more like it!!” 8:56am: “And don’t even think about it… Papa Seokjin provides all.” 8:57am: “See you in 10.”

Egad! I spring out of bed and get dressed at the speed of light, grabbing the nearest t-shirt and pair of jeans. Shoving my feet into my trusty work-boots, I stumble into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

‘Man, I look rough today’ is the first thought that pops into my brain as I look in the mirror; but I quickly correct that bad thought with: ‘Bitch, you look fine. Stop hating.’

Ever since I learned about cognitive restructuring in my Behavioral Psychology class, I have been attempting to practice it in my own life. The process of challenging my negative thoughts has been so fucking hard, but it’s definitely helped my self-esteem and stress.

Throwing my hair into a messy bun, I hear my phone buzz. Shit, that must be Seokjin. Who even knew why that fucker had decided to come along to volunteering with Namjoon and me. I wasn’t going to turn down an extra set of hands though… For volunteering purposes, of course.

Six subsequent buzzes demand my attention.

Worldwide Handsome 9:08am: “We’re here.” 9:09am: “Get your sweet ass out here.” 9:09am: “You better not have fallen back asleep…” 9:09am: “Don’t make me come in there!” 9:10am: “If you aren’t down here in 30 seconds, I’m drinking your coffee.” 9:10am: “(Y/N).” 9:10am: “THAT’S IT. SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR COFFEE.”

That last text has my ass in high gear as I book it down the steps and out the front door. Barely remembering to lock it behind me, I come to an abrupt halt as I come face to face with an all-too-put-together-for-9am Seokjin.

He leans against Namjoon’s infuriatingly gorgeous black Tesla looking like he’s about to shoot a cover for Men’s Health – Construction Edition. My eyes narrow in on the large coffee cup in his hand and narrow further when he slowly brings it up to his full lips.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I warn.

He sips it.

“You’ve just declared war,” I announce and stride over to him. Attempting to pull the coffee out of his palm and failing, I decide to take drastic measures.

Slowly rising to my toes, I act as if I’m going to kiss his cheek; but at the last second, I turn and bite his earlobe.

“What the fuck!” Seokjin yells way too loudly for the peaceful early morning. Victoriously, I grab my coffee, back away from him, and take a giant sip.

Yes, that sweet, sweet caffeine…

Seokjin rubs his ear and laughs slightly, “Babe, you’re really fucking scary before coffee.”

I nod in affirmation.

“Come on,” he gestures to his car and opens the passenger door for me, “Namjoon will have my ass on a platter if I take too much of your attention, and I know you’ll be heartbroken by the loss of such perfection.”

“You’re insufferable,” I reply, fighting a smile and losing.

“I know,” he grins and leans over the open car-door between us to kiss me. “Morning,” he murmurs in greeting against my lips.

I smile and kiss him again in reply. And then I remember my coffee.

Seokjin pouts at the loss of my lips as I take a cherished sip of the best part of my morning.

As I slide into the front seat, I hear him muttering about how he never should have bought that coffee. Grinning to myself, I buckle my seatbelt and look around the Tesla. Namjoon smiles at me from the driver’s seat, and I automatically swoon under the power of his dimples.

“Buckled?” he asks, as he adjusts the mirrors and flicks on the Bluetooth radio. The distinct sound of Kendrick Lamar fills the air. I nod and watch as he puts the car in drive, his muscles flexing.

His right hand extends across the console to rest on my left thigh and gives it a quick squeeze. I’m thoroughly distracted as I fixate on the hand that has now taken up residence on my leg.

“Hi, noona!” A chorus of two cries from the backseat. My body jolts.

“Ah! Stop, I could’ve dropped my coffee!” I steady my drink before turning to investigate the backseat that I had mistakenly (READ: tragically) thought would be empty. Taehyung and Jimin grin back at me from the seats beside Jin.

“Well, why didn’t you just bring everyone,” I drawl, raising an eyebrow at Namjoon, who just sighs in defeat.

“I mean… I kind of did,” he aims a glare through the rearview mirror, “I’m taking these losers, and Jungkook, Hobi and Yoongi are meeting us there. They refused to miss spending ‘quality time’ with you.”

“I’m going to kill someone,” I mutter under my breath, “Probably Taehyung.”

“At least wait until we exit the vehicle, please,” Namjoon chuckles, “I just got new seats.”

Habitat Worksite – 9:25am

When we finally arrive at the worksite, we step out of the car and head over to where Eddie is currently handing out tasks to different volunteers. I smile at a few familiar faces I see as we draw closer.

“(Y/n)-doll!” Eddie booms and walks over to greet us, “Came here with this one, did ya? And who are these boys?” He gestures towards my harem.

“Yes, sir,” Namjoon grins, quite unbothered by Eddie’s papa bear act, “A couple that carpools together stays together. Go green!”

I shake my head at his idiocy as Eddie splutters to come up with a response. “Don’t listen to him, Eddie. He’s full of shit. We are all just friends. Now, what can we help with today?”

“Yes,” Eddie clears his throat, shooting Namjoon dark look, “(y/n), I need you out front to help me orient a group of volunteers scheduled for one of those work retreat days…”

Fuck. The last group that I helped orient was a nightmare. They were supposedly here for a day of service and team-building, but all they did was fuck around and fuck up the siding. The men in the group refused to listen to my instructions on how to properly do things.

According to their mouthy ringleader, the fact that I had a pair of tits and a vagina made me incapable of knowing the tiniest bit of information about construction, whereas their dicks apparently came with an encyclopedia of knowledge on the subject.

I had almost decked him in the face, but I settled for placing a nice call to his place of employment later that day with an unsavory report on his behavior.

Eddie notices my glowering face and quickly looks away, “Namjoon, I need you to help out Matt and Paul inside to mix and pour some cement. The rest of you can follow me.”

The boys all give varying answers of agreement.

“Grab some gloves and glasses, you two. (Y/n), meet me back out front. Namjoon, Matt and Paul are already inside. They’ll show you the ropes.”

With that, Eddie beelines away from us before I can protest my assigned role. Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung trail sadly behind him, shooting jealous glances over their shoulders at Namjoon.

Namjoon ignores them and eyes my homicidal expression. He cautiously asks, “What’s wrong?”

“The goddamn patriarchy is what’s wrong, Kim,” I grit out through my clenched teeth and stalk towards the supply trailer.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he trails after me, “My mom says that toxic masculinity always ruins the party.”

“God, I love her,” My mood elevates instantly, “Please marry me so I can be her daughter-in-law.”

He laughs, looking through the bin of gloves for a pair large enough for him while handing me a smaller pair. “Where’s my ring?”

“You already have like seven rings. Pull an Ariana and give some away,” I hand him a pair of protective glasses, keeping one for myself. “Anyway, please don’t forget that you’re my ride and leave without me.”

“Forget? Babe, you’ve taken up permanent residence in my mind since Tae pointed you out last semester.”

“Oh, stop,” I dismiss him, waving the pair of gloves in his direction.

He suddenly steps into me. The my small of my back hits the edge of the makeshift work desk latched to the trailer wall. “You know, I’ve noticed you really don’t take some of our compliments seriously…” He looms over me, lips pressed to my throat, “I guess I’m gonna have to change that.”

Namjoon scoops me off the floor by my waist and balances my ass on the edge of the desk. My arms circle his shoulders on instinct and his grip tightens on my hips. When he glances down at me, he lets out a rough breath which sounds like I’m torturing him.

He kisses me, his tongue playing with mine, twining around it, enticing mine to follow. Gravity tries to drag me down off the desk and our mouths separate. Namjoon hoists me up higher with a firm hand on the back of my thigh.

His mouth slams back over mine, and I swear the way he kisses can be felt all the way down to my bones. His wide palm curves around my waist, pulling me further into him. “Damn,“ he pants, resting his forehead on mine.

BANG. A knock sounds from outside the trailer, “You better not be up to no good in there, you two!” Eddie’s rumbling voice jolts us apart and my head snaps against the wall of the trailer.

A series of obscenities pours from my mouth as I grasp the back of my head. “You good?” Namjoon asks as he lifts me off the desk and back onto the floor.

“I’ll live… barely,” I lament.

He just shakes his head in amusement, “So dramatic, babe. Come on, let’s go do some service.”

Chapter Six

Habitat Worksite – 11:25am

The rest of the morning goes by pretty smoothly much to my surprise. The group that I help Eddie orient is from a pub in the neighboring town. They’re so much nicer than the last scarring group I had to deal with, and they’re actually listening to my directions.

I’m pretty sure I have tears in my eyes as I supervise them cutting plywood like professionals – but that could just be the sawdust.

When I become confident that no one is going to injure themselves with the power saw, I recruit some other volunteers to help me transfer the cut wood inside.

As we walk into the house, I almost drop the plywood onto my foot. Jungkook is shirtless, mixing cement together. When had he even arrived? I stare unabashedly at him – The height. The build. The broad shoulders. The veined forearms. The ridged stomach. The tattoos…

Tay, the middle-aged mother of two helping me, follows my line of vision, “Oh my… please tell me you’re hitting that, darling.”

“Tay!” I hiss, my eyes darting around to see if anyone heard her. Sure enough, Jungkook is looking at us and smirking like he was just crowned king of the fucking universe. “I am not hitting anything, thank you very much.”

She makes a derisive noise, “I might be old, but I’m not blind. He’s looking at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”

Jungkook hands off his mixing duties to Matt and saunters over to us, “Hey, noona. You look nice today. Do you need any help?”

“Not hitting that, my ass,” Tay mutters and shoots me a triumphant look as she walks back outside.

I roll my eyes at her antics and turn to Jungkook, “Hi, Kookie. What happened to your shirt?”

Jungkook blushes, “I may have taken it off, and then it may have fallen into the cement.”

My eyes wander around the room until they fall on a sad lump of fabric and semi-dried cement in the corner. My lips twitch.

“Noona-a,” Jungkook whines, “Don’t laugh!”

My body doubles over, shaking with laughter. Tears stream down my face as I try in vain to catch my breath.

“Is she okay?” I vaguely hear Hobi ask before I feel his hand run soothing circles on my back, “(y/n), are you crying?”

I straighten, wiping my tears, “H-he… cemen-nt… sh-shirt…” My cackles resume.

“She’s lost it, hasn’t she?” Yoongi enters the house with eyebrows raised, “It was only a matter of time. Jungkook has that effect on people.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook punches Yoongi in the arm.

“Am I wrong, Hobi?” Yoongi turns to the other boy, who’s hand is still firmly on my back.

Hoseok shoots Yoongi a dirty look, “Don’t drag me into this. The last time I tried to argue with the two of you I almost got a concussion.”

Jungkook smirks, looking way too pleased to receive such an accusation, “I seem to recall you liking it, Hobi-hyung. What was it you were screaming?”

Yoongi snickers as he leans into Jungkook, effectively teaming up on poor Hobi, “I believe the phrase was ‘harder, oh my god, harder!’” He and Jungkook collapse onto each other in fits of laughter as Hoseok turns an amusing shade of magenta.

I turn to face Hobi. “Is that how you like it?” I murmur, tilting my head to stare up at him, “You like it hard? Rough?”

Hobi swallows as his pupils dilate. His hand on my lower back suddenly clenches, crumpling my shirt within his fist. “Yes,” his voice comes out deeper than I had ever heard it.

Vaguely, I notice the other two boys have stopped laughing. Good. No one would tease my sweet Hobi in front of me and get away with it.

My decision solidifies. “Well,” I say, “Then that’s how I’ll give it to you.”

“No one will be giving anything to anyone until we finish this project,” Namjoon’s voice booms, breaking up your little moment with Hoseok.

The four of you swing to face him, blinking owlishly.

Namjoon’s eyes are shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Jeon Jungkook, for the love of god, where is your shirt?”

An hour later, I found myself stuck in the backseat of Jungkook’s black Range Rover. After Hobi, Yoongi, and Jungkook had loudly voiced their opinion in front of the entire worksite that it was their turn to drive me, I had quickly jumped into the car to avoid further humiliation.

Now, I sat wedged in between Hobi and Yoongi who both refused to sit in the front next to Jungkook and also forbade me from doing so. I only agreed because I was not one to miss an opportunity to be pressed up between two hot guys. Sue me.

Glancing down at my thighs, I marvel at the way both of the boys have placed possessive hands on them. “This is so lame,” Jungkook complains for the hundredth time as he glances at the three of us in the rearview mirror. “I want to touch noona, too!”

We ignore him.

Yoongi’s slim fingers dig in slightly into the softness of my inner thigh, “(y/n),” his hushed words ghost over my neck, “Come home with us?”

“Please,” Hobi echoes from my other side. His hand is more brazen in its placement. His pinky just a fraction away from the apex of my thighs.

Perhaps I could close my legs like the proper lady my grandma wanted me to be… but fuck that. I would woman-spread however I damn well please. “Hmm,” I pretend to think about it, “No.”

“But why?” Hobi pouts, making puppy-dog eyes in my direction, “You said you were going to give it to me.”

I shrug, noncommittally, “I never said when.”

Jungkook sighs from the driver’s seat, “Ah, I love it when noona is evil.”

“We fucking know, Jungkook,” Yoongi groans, “You only bring it up a thousand times a day.”

“Hey!” Jungkook whirls around in his seat, “Stop exposing me, hyung!”

“Eyes on the damn road, JK!” Hobi grips the 'oh shit’ bar as the car begins to veer into the bike lane. Jungkook whips back around and quickly rights the car. Meanwhile, Yoongi smirks like the little shit starter he is.

“Looks like I’m not the only evil one here,” I roll my eyes, “You’re a menace, Min Yoongi.”

“Yes, I am,” the boy puffs up his chest and grins that gummy smile that he knows makes me melt, “But I’m your menace.”

“Ah, gross!”

“Ew!”

Jungkook and Hobi yell as I try not to smile at Yoongi’s rare display of cuteness and fail miserably.

“Stop trying to butter me up so that I’ll come home with you, Yoongs,” I smile and thread my fingers through his.

“Why?” He leans into me, “Is it working?”

“Not at all,” I breathe, eyes darting to his lips as his tongue slips out to wet them.

“Liar,” Yoongi moves in closer. My eyelids lower in anticipation.

Jungkook slams on the breaks and jolts the three of us forward, “We’re here!” Grumbling, I pull my seatbelt away from its death grip on my body.

“Well played, Jungkook, well played,” Yoongi comments from beside me.

“Tell that to my fucking neck,” Hobi moans as he massages the front of his neck where his seatbelt must have dug in.

“Aw,” I take pity on the poor boy and offer half-jokingly, “Want me to kiss it better?”

“YES!” Hobi’s hand flies off his neck at the speed of light and thrusts his neck out in my direction.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he is adorable.

I place the lightest of kisses against the growing pink mark on his skin and revel in the shudder his body emits.

“Bye, Hobi,” I place one last kiss on him and slide out of the car, using the door that Yoongi vacated from.

“Bye, angel!” Hobi cries out after me, waving furiously. So damn adorable.

Once I exit the car fully, I am faced with a pouting Jungkook and an annoyed-looking Yoongi.

“What now?” I eye them warily.

Yoongi gives Jungkook a dark look, and the younger boy backs off slightly. Turning back to me, Yoongi steps forward. “Bye, (y/n),” he says lowly, brushing a fallen strand of hair behind my ear. A light dusting of pink floods his cheeks at his own soft actions. I bite the inside of my cheek to contain my innate reaction to shower him with affection.

That time would come later, I’m sure.

“Bye, Yoongi,” I press my mouth his cheek, “Keep your menacing ways to a minimum while I’m not around, would you?”

“No promises,” Yoongi drawls, before hopping back into the car.

And just like that I’m left with one tall bashful boy.

“Oh, Jungkook…” I walk towards where he is propped up against the front of his car. His lean body slouches against the hood as his left leg props itself up on front tire. He still has yet to put another shirt on.

“I’m sorry, noona,” he speaks to the pavement in the tiniest voice, “I got jealous that I wasn’t getting to be that close to you.”

I lift his chin up with my finger, “Baby, you were the only one who had my nipples in your mouth last night, and you’re jealous of them?”

He swallows hard before grinning, “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I give into the urge to trace the muscles of his stomach. They bunch up under my touch and I smile at his responsiveness. “You know,” I continue, “You’re going to have to get over this jealousy thing if I do decide to date you all.”

“I know, noona,” the pout returns, and this time it’s paired with a devastating pair of imploring doe eyes. “I just like you. A lot.”

"Well,” I smile, “It’s a good thing that I also happen to like you. A lot.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s neck snaps up at an alarming rate, “You do?”

“Yes, you giant idiot,” I grip the back of his neck, “Now, kiss me goodbye.”

He kisses me. His teeth pull at my bottom lip in a faint bite, and goosebumps spread across my body. I bite him harder in retaliation, but it only seems to urge him closer against me, body hard, warming me everywhere we connect. His fingertips drag down my skin until they reach my waist. His hands slide up under my shirt, and he rests his palms against my skin, fingers splayed down over my hips.

His hold is undeniably possessive. And that would not do.

I lean up and kiss him harder, digging my nails into his back as I tug him against me, feeling every inch of his body respond to my touch. A groan rumbles deep from within his chest.

“Do you think they’re going to come up for air soon?” An amused voice cuts through our make-out session.

Jungkook rips his mouth from mine, “Fuck off, Hobi.”

I open my eyes and blink a couple times before focusing on the smirking faces of Hobi and Yoongi. Their heads are sticking out of the open back window of the Range Rover as they cackle in amusement.

“Hobi,” I say sweetly, “Do you need another mark on your neck today?” My hand flexes tauntingly in his direction.

Hoseok’s eyes widen, “N-no! Bye again, (y/n)!” He retreats back into the car as Yoongi continues to chuckle before rolling up the window once more.

“You can mark my neck, (y/n)-noona.”  Jungkook’s voice jolts me from my second thoughts on not going home with them.

This boy really is shameless, I think to myself as I shake my head.

“Maybe next time, Kook,” I grin at him, “It’ll give you something to look forward to.”

“For as long as there are next times with you, noona, I will look forward to them.”

My heart swells. “You’re such a sweetheart, baby boy.” The nickname has its desired effect as Jungkook’s cheeks blush and his smile widens.

“I’m baby,” he nods.

“Yes, you dork, you are,” I place a swift peck to his cheek and head into my apartment before I get any more tempted to jump back in his car and initiate a foursome.

God, what were these boys doing to me?

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 4:15pm

A few hours later, I am deep in an argument with Luna over who the best Queer Eye guy is when my phone buzzes.

[Unsaved Number] 2 New Messages

Luna notices my confusion. “Who is it?” she asks, leaning over to look at my screen.

“No fucking clue,” I reply, swiping open the messages.

[Unsaved Number] 4:15pm: “Hey, babe! It’s me! Namjoon!” 4:15pm: “Want to meet at Hannigan’s tonight? Just the two of us!?”

“What the everliving fuck?” My eyebrows rise at the completely obvious way that someone was poorly attempting to impersonate Namjoon.

“That’s how Namjoon texts?” Luna sits back, “What a letdown.”

“I don’t think this is even Namjoon,” I mutter and save the contact before swiping over to SnapChat. “Let’s see if I have this person’s Snap.”

“Oh, your mind!” Luna exclaims, running to go grab a bag of pretzels from our tiny kitchen adjacent to our also tiny living room, “That is some top sleuthing right there.”

“Why thank you, my good sir,” I nod at her playfully before focusing back on my screen. Opening the 'Add Friends’ tab, my eyes immediately hone in on the imposter.

“Oh, that little shit,” I cry, chucking my phone onto the other end of the couch.

“What? Who is it?” Pretzel crumbs spew out of Luna’s mouth as she ambles over to where I had just thrown my phone. She picks it up, turns it over, and lets out a long whistle. “Oh, fuck. What are you going to do?”

Luna hands my phone back to me, and I reopen the messages to respond.

Me 4:21pm: “Hi, Namjoon. I’ll meet you there.” 4:21pm: “9pm.”

It’S mE! nAmJoOn! 4:22pm: “Yay! It’s a date!” 4:22pm: “See you at 9!!!”

“Well,” I lock my phone and set it down on the coffee table, “It looks I’ll finally get the chance to teach Kim Taehyung a lesson.”

Luna springs up from the couch, “I’m calling Jenni. Let’s do this.”

Hannigan’s - 9:09pm

I’m nervous with anticipation.

Why?

Oh, that’s right – motherfucking Kim Taehyung thought he could pull one over me by impersonating Namjoon, and, so far, he’s nowhere to be found.

I grasp my beer tightly as I slouch lower on my barstool. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, I had set up camp in the corner of the bar. Luna and Jenni had immediately ditched me upon arrival, claiming that they were meeting friends.

I would have believed them if I hadn’t noticed that they just relocated to a table within vision of me and were scouring the room for any signs of Taehyung. I pull out my phone and once again debate texting him.

Fuck it. I’m just about to construct a text when my phone pings with messages from the group chat:

Bee Gang 9:10pm, Luna: “HE’S HERE” 9:10pm, Jenni: “HE LOOKS SOOOO GOOD KSKSKS” 9:11pm, Luna: “HOLY SHIT I THINK HE JUST SAW YOU” 9:11pm, Jenni: “TAEHYUNG IS LOOKING AT YOU LIKE YOU’RE THE HOTTEST THING HE’S EVER SEEN. HE’S GONNA FUCK YOUR SHIT UP I’D BET GOOD MONEY!!!” 9:11pm, Luna: “NAH DUDE *SHE* IS GONNA FUCK UP *HIS* SHIT” 9:12pm, Jenni: “OMG U RIGHT” 9:12pm, (y/n): “1) YOU BOTH SUCK AT HIDING, 2) NO ONE IS FUCKING ANYONE UP, 3) MAYBE THE SECOND THING IS A LIE”

I lock my phone and place it face down on the bar.

Looking up to see where Taehyung is, I immediately lock eyes on him. He’s slowly making his way towards me with people constantly pausing him to chat. Taehyung’s all smiles, but I can tell he is a bit annoyed. That strikes me as odd – I thought he loved the attention?

The boy emerges free from the crowd, and I finally get to take him in.

Damn, he does look so good. His tight white t-shirt emphasizes his toned stomach while his overlying black leather jacket makes his shoulders look a mile wide. My gaze drops lower and take in his black pants with a black belt cinching the waist. I have to fight the urge to grab it and use it to pull him into me.

He’s almost to me when he turns his gaze to the bartender and flicks up two fingers. And just like that two beers and an annoying but hot-as-sin man appear in front of me.

“You don’t look surprised to see me,” he says as his greeting, sliding me one of the new beers. He shoots a look at the group of boys occupying the stools next to me and they immediately make themselves scarce.

I arch an eyebrow, “You do realize I had all of your SnapChats to double check the number with, right?”

“God-fucking-damn,” Taehyung plops down in the barstool next to mine, “No wonder it was so easy to convince Joon to let me do this.” He shakes his head and glances up at me beneath his blue fringe, “You still came? Even though you knew it was me?”

I roll my eyes at his cute actions, “Yes, I figured you had something important to say if you went through all that to get me here.”

He blinks, clearly still caught off guard that I wasn’t surprised to see him. “I do,” His voice cracks and he flushes deliciously, “I mean, yes, I have something to say.”

“Okay,” I nod and sip from my beer, “So, tell me.”

His fingers fiddle with the label on his beer bottle as he begins, “I know I’m not your favorite person… I’m loud. I’m bratty. I know that. But I just have to know if you felt anything that night last semester; because, I did, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I know that you probably haven’t. It’s been killing me to see you with everyone else that I love, and I just need to know if there’s a chance you might want to be with me like that, too, and-”

I clamp a hand over his mouth. His eyes snap to mine.

“Baby,” I sigh, “Is this what’s been making you act out?”

Taehyung’s head bobs as he nods swiftly.

“Now, that just won’t do,” I murmur, my mind whirring as I think of all the times I had thought he wanted to annoy me when all he really wanted was my attention.

“Listen,” I continue, pulling my hand from his mouth, “I don’t know where you got those ideas stuck in your head from, but they’re wrong. I do think about that night last semester. All the fucking time, Tae. And, yes, you’re loud, and you have a tendency to be a brat… But, it only makes me more interested.”

Taehyung’s eyes burn into mine as I lean closer, “It only makes me want to teach you some discipline.”

I watch as Taehyung’s knuckles go white as he clenches his beer. Concerned that the glass might shatter in his grip and hurt him, I slowly place my hand over his, “Relax, baby.”

“You can’t just say things like that, noona!” Taehyung moans, shifting in his seat.

“And why not?” I tease as he takes a long sip of his beer with his head tilted back and his throat muscles moving in a way that made me want to do bad things.

I blink, “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just start over, okay?”

Taehyung bites his lip, “Okay, sure.” He gestures to the bartender for another round, “Let’s play a game.”

My response is automatic. “Alright, Jigsaw. What kind of game?”

“Just a nice harmless game of ‘Never Have I Ever’, (y/n). Nothing untoward, I promise.”

My eyes narrow at his way-too-innocent smile and his archaic use of ‘untoward’. “Fine,” I arch an eyebrow, “But I have a few stipulations.”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t, noona,” he scoots his stool closer to me, “Lay ‘em on me.”

Oh, I will, my inner hoe responds.

Out loud, I reply, “The game can be stopped at any time, and you have to explain your answers if the other person asks.”

“Done,” he grins, “Never have I ever gotten my nipples pierced.”

“That’s targeting!” I exclaim indignantly, “You’ve seen them, you prick.”

“I haven’t tasted them. At least, not yet,” his eyes squint at my boobs which are currently well-covered by a jean jacket. “Jungkook has… That fucker,” he mumbles under his breath.

These boys and their jealousy… I shake my head. How had they managed to stay in a relationship with all of this possessiveness they clearly had going on? It’s truly a mystery.

“My turn,” I grin, “Never have I ever dyed my hair blue.”

“This is really more of a teal-ish green, noona!” Taehyung tries to argue, and I scoff.

“Fine,” he relents and mumbles under his breath, “Should have brought my paint swatches.” After taking a sip of his drink, he switches gears, “Never have I ever wanted to date a frat boy?”

I sip my drink. He immediately demands clarification. I grin, “Those EXO boys are fine.”

His jaw clenches. Ooh, he does not like that answer.

“EXO?” he snarls, “Over my dead body.”

My eyebrow quirks up, “Well, that’s a bit dramatic. They seem like nice boys.”

“Nice boys?” Taehyung cocks his head, “Noona, those aren’t your type.”

He’s right. I push him further, “And what is my type then, Tae?”

“Boys that challenge you.”

He’s right again, but I’d rather not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. His ego is already inflated enough. I smile inwardly and say, “You think you have me all figured out, Kim.”

Taehyung surprises me as he breaks into a loud laugh, “No, not even close. But I’m a persistent boy so maybe I’ll get there one day.”

Just then I realize how close to one another we’ve gotten. Our sides are touching, and his hand has apparently been gripping my thigh for who knows how long. I stare at it, examining the adorning rings on his pointer and index fingers.

Are those fucking Gucci?

He must notice my gaze on his hand because he squeezes my thigh, and I smily at him. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Taehyung looks at me like I’m something precious, something divine. I want to shatter that image. I want to ruin it. I want to ruin him.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, noona?”

“Kiss me.” And he does.

Taehyung kisses me over and over. I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed it. His mouth is tender on mine, and with every exhale, he lets out the slightest moan, which almost seems like a plea for more.

He’s gentler than I remember. His mouth is warm and soft; his caresses are leisurely and unhurried.

I pull back slightly to look him in his eyes. They are dazed, unfocused.

My lips brush his ear as I whisper, “Be a good boy and meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”

With that, I saunter away towards the back bathroom which usually tends to be cleaner due to its slightly hidden nature.

Knocking on the door, I strain my ears for any sign of a reply. Nothing. I enter the dim room and immediately catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My hair is everywhere, and I immediately grab the hair-tie around my wrist.

I pause, a sinful idea coming to mind.

A knock sounds. “Noona?” A deep voice calls, and I open the door, grab Tae by the collar, and tug him inside.

“Noona, you’re feisty tonight I-” I cut him off with my mouth.

I don’t hesitate as my mouth consumes his and my body presses him against the wall. My tongue finds his as my hips grind into him. He whimpers, and it’s such a beautiful sound.

After feeling him throb through his clothes, the thought I had earlier returns.

Stepping back, I grab my hair-tie and tug my hair up into a ponytail. Taehyung whines as I slowly sink to my knees before him, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Is this okay?” I question, gazing up at the beautiful boy above me, “Do you want my mouth, baby?”

“Shit, yeah,” Taehyung wraps my ponytail in his hand and lightly pulls me closer.

Does he think he’s suddenly in charge?

I flick open his belt before tugging his pants down. His cock strains against his silky black boxers and I give into the temptation to suck on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck, please, noona,” the stuttered curse comes from above, and I smile.

I pull his boxers down, grasping his cock and stroking lightly.

And, without warning, I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck. “Goddamn,” Tae hisses, fingers sliding into my hair. He pulls my hair-tie out and replaces its hold with his fist.

I take him as far as I can, blowing him and stroking the parts of his cock I can’t get to with my mouth.

“Shit, fuck, please,” he begs, looking down at me with wild eyes and a fucked out expression, “Don’t stop, (y/n).”

Stop? Never. The power trip is too delicious.

My mouth bobs on his cock as he bucks, trying to fuck my mouth. My hands grab his ass to control his movements as I slide my mouth off of him.

“Do you want to come in my mouth, baby?” I tilt my head to the side as one of my hands resumes its ministrations.

“Y-yes,” The boy gasps above me, his breath coming in pants, “Please, I’m so close, noona.”

“Hmm, are you going to be my good boy, Taehyung-ie?” My hand halts, and he whines, his hips straining to keep moving in my hand. I squeeze him, “Well?”

“Yes!” He moans, repeating, “I’m your good boy. I’m noona’s good boy.”

“That’s what I thought.” My mouth closes around his cock again and sucks him hard.

“Fuck.” I watch enraptured as Taehyung’s head falls back against the wall, and then he’s coming.

His body convulses above me as I swallow ever last bit of him. After he finishes, I pull my mouth away to kiss the underside of his cock, his balls, the insides of his thighs. Above me, he’s muttering my name like a prayer.

“You can let go of my hair now, Tae,” I laugh, my voice slightly hoarse. Reaching up, I lightly tug his hold from me and slide my discarded hair-tie off of his wrist. Standing, I pull my hair up into a messy bun and turn to face him.

He’s tugging his pants up and staring at me with a darkening expression, his nostrils flared. “Let me taste you, noona. Ride my face.” The tenor of his voice washes over me, tempting me with its rough words.

“You haven’t earned that yet.” I start towards the door, but Taehyung darts in front of it, effectively cutting me off.

“I just want to please you, babe. Come on,” his begging only solidifies my resolve.

“You already have pleased me, Tae,” I swipe a thumb across his cheek as he pouts.

“But I could please you even more with my mouth!”

This boy. I grab his neck lightly, “Listen, baby, I’m going to say this once. When I ride your face, you’ll be tied up across my bed at my mercy. Got it?”

His body becomes pliant under my words and my light grip. I gently shift him out of the way of the exit. “Now, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon, my good boy.”

The parting smile I send him is absolutely lethal, and it only grows bigger when I hear him blurt out a grumbled “holy fuck” as I strut away from him.

Chapter Seven

Quinn Library – 3:54pm

The end of September passes in a blur of studying, partying, volunteering, and spending time with friends. The month’s conclusion also includes the increasing presence of seven boys in my everyday routine.

Since giving Taehyung the suck of his life in the bathroom of Hannigan’s, I have been basically fighting off the seven of them for a moment to breathe. But, sometimes breathing is overrated when being smothered by affection.

Going from being single to essentially dating seven people is quite the adjustment. I found myself growing attached to them – something that both excited and scared the shit out of me. We haven’t discussed labels or anything, but I figure it’s only a matter of time. The boys have apparently been planning an elaborate first date for this upcoming weekend, and I feel like they’ll probably ask to make it official then.

My stomach erupts in butterflies at the thought, and I take a calming breath. No need to overthink such things.

While it might be unconventional by some societal standards, polyamory is simply a way to love. Why should love come with confines? With binary expectations? The saying ‘love is love’ gets thrown around a lot, but I believe it bears repeating.

Jenni and Luna have been nothing but supportive to me over the past two weeks. They even came with me to volunteer this past weekend because they - and I quote - wanted to ‘check out our vibe’. But, I wholeheartedly expect that the real reason had actually been for them to feel out the boys’ intentions.

Why did I suspect this? Well, because Jungkook had come up to me within the first fifteen minutes at the worksite quivering in fear over how ‘scary my friends were’ and how ‘Jenni had cornered him to interrogate him while Luna hovered behind her, menacingly holding a nail-gun’.

I had never felt more loved and supported by my friends.

My phone dings, and I quickly hasten to put it on silent, shooting an embarrassed and apologetic look around the library. It seems like most people have headphones in, and I let out a sigh of relief. No one wants to be that one loud person in the library.

Checking my notifications, I smile when I see it’s a SnapChat from Hobi in the group chat the boys created a few weeks ago. My thumb swipes it open, and I barely contain myself from announcing to the whole library how vibrantly handsome one of my potential boyfriends is.

I quickly send a SnapChat back of me and my stack of books in the library with the caption ‘send help in the form of coffee’.

Immediately, Taehyung sends a flurry of heart eyes emojis in the chat, Jungkook sends a ‘noona is so cute’, and Yoongi sends back a picture of a black screen with the caption ‘come nap with me’.

God, I would love to nap with Yoongi right now… Alone time with the older boy is so elusively precious. One day last week at their house, I had mentioned wanting to learn piano. Yoongi had just grabbed my hand and tugged me to his room. We had spent a couple hours together in the small corner of his room playing on his keyboard.

Well, he had been playing; I had been fumbling around like a buffoon - half uncoordinated in general and half flustered by how good Yoongi looked playing. His hands had been so nimble as they flew over the keys, crafting melodies I could only assume he had composed. His focus had been so fucking hot as he nodded slightly along to the tempo in his head, his eyes shooting over to look at me every once in a while.

My hand kink? Activated.

My willpower to not kiss the shit out of Yoongi? Nonexistent.

When Yoongi had paused in between songs, I may or may not have grabbed him by his shirt collar and kissed him. His blushing attempt to dodge me had been so cute; and when I had stopped trying to kiss him, he had pouted and then kissed me instead.

What a cutie…

A giggle draws my attention from my reminiscing. At first, I pay it no mind, taking it as a directive to dive back into my studies. But then, the whispering starts.

“I heard she’s fucking her way through the whole house.”

“Isn’t there a term for that?”

“Yeah, a frat rat.”

I slam my 500-page textbook closed and stand, leveling the duo of gossiping girls with a glare that could make grown men cry. It had before when I had to properly eviscerate my uncle in defense of feminism at our last family gathering. What a time that had been.

“Is there a problem?” I force the question through gritted teeth, stalking over towards their nearby table. I relish in the way they gape at me, eyes wide and pupils quivering, “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my complaint jar is at capacity. Please don’t try again later.”

The girl on the right gulps, “No-nope, there’s no problem! We were just leaving. Right, Janika?”

“No,” The girl who had called me a ‘frat rat’ just moments before crosses her arms and stands, “I do, like, have a problem.”

“Janika,” The other girl tugs on the sleeve of the one standing, “Don’t.”

“Yeah, Janika,” I smile, “Don’t.”

I can see the moment she snaps.

“You’re, like, such a fucking bitch! I don’t know what they all see in you. Oh wait, yes I do. You’re fucking easy.”

I consider myself to be a patient person, but having to endure this type of rant against my character - and against women’s sexual freedom in general - has pushed me well past my limits.

“Now, listen here, Janika,” I take another step forward, “You can keep talking your shit. I really don’t give a flying fuck what you think about me. But I really advise you to google ‘how to stop slut-shaming for dummies’ because it seems like you need a crash course.”

Janika’s face darkens, “Whatever. They’ll get tired of you anyway.”

“Yeah,” I let out an amused laugh, “I’m sure they’ll get real tired of me choking on their dicks every night.”

Letting out a gasp, Janika whirls back around to face her silent friend, “Let’s go. I don’t want to, like, be around her any longer.”

“Buh-bye now,”I wiggle my fingers in their direction as they shuffle out of the library.

Smiling in satisfaction, I head back towards my table. Without hesitation, I gather my books and belongings and head upstairs to the quiet floor. Any more distractions or confrontations would probably make my blood pressure pop off the charts.

The quiet floor, as one of my safe havens, is home to several small private study rooms. Peering into each, I start to lose hope that any would be available. Finally, the very last room proves me wrong, and I swing open the door and almost in tears over the sweet, sweet solitude.

This particular study room is tucked away in the very far corner of the library’s second floor. Not many people are aware of its location, and it seems that paid off for me today. Plopping my things down across the table in the center of the tiny room, I follow suit and drop down into one of the two chairs adjoining the table.

What a clusterfuck of an afternoon… This sadly isn’t the first time I’ve heard some comments being made about my association with the BTS boys, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Yet, part of me knew all along that this would be the trade-off.

After all, what are a few irrelevant opinions to seven gorgeous and loyal partners? Inconsequential - in my opinion. That is the reason why I haven’t breathed a word of the backlash to anyone.

Sighing, I flip open my textbook to where I had been before being rudely interrupted.

The amygdala plays a key role in emotion and behavior…

“Noona?”

I jump a half-mile out of my chair, slapping a hand over my pounding heart. Jimin had somehow managed to enter the room without my knowledge. Had he fucking teleported?

Holding a giant iced coffee in one hand and a cinnamon bun in the other, Jimin beams at me and ignores the fact he just scared the living shit out of me. “Hi, noona! I saw your SnapChat while I was in class, and I came here as soon as I could.”

I stare dumbfounded at the angel before me. Jimin is slightly out of breath with reddened cheeks and a sweaty brow. His black track-pants are slung low on his hips, his long-sleeve white t-shirt clings to his torso, his black duffle bag thrown carelessly over one shoulder. He must have run over straight from dance class.

Standing abruptly, I stalk over to where Jimin is still posted up by the doorway to the study room. Toe to toe with him, I blurt out while still half in a daze, “You really brought me coffee and food?”

He eyes me warily like I might suddenly jump on him at any moment. Shifting his weight back and forth, Jimin hesitantly replies, “Um, yes?“

I take the coffee and cinnamon bun from his hands, place them on the table, and then tackle him with the biggest hug. "You absolute sweetheart!” I murmur into the crook of his neck, “This made my day. Thank you, Jimin-ie.”

His hands tentatively wrap around me, pulling me closer. “You’re welcome, noona. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Well, I really appreciate it, baby,” My lips brush over the crevice of his collarbone and relish in his shudder. Bringing my head up to face his, I smile widely at him, “Can I kiss you, Jimin-ie?”

“Yes,” He sighs out, eyes already closing in anticipation. I press my lips to his, still smiling softly against his mouth. His lips are plush under mine, velvety soft. My tongue swipes across his bottom lip and— Is that coffee I taste?

I pull back, “Jimin, did you sip my coffee on your way here?”

The boy looks rightfully alarmed, “I– y-yes. But only a little, noona!”

Cute.

“Hmm,” I trail my fingers down his chest, “I guess I’ll make an exception for you this time since you were the one to bring it for me.”

Jimin relaxes slightly, but his expression is strangely disappointed. I stare at him quizzically, and he blushes.

“What is it?” I lean against the table, facing him.

He clears his throat, staring intensely at the ground, “You can still punish me if you want, (y/n)-noona.”

My eyebrows shoot upwards at his offer, and then I let out a slight chuckle, “Oh, Jimin… That would be a favor to you, wouldn’t it? My baby boy wants to be punished, hm? Did dance practice make you all hot and bothered? Jungkook tells me that has been happening to you lately.”

Jimin’s face explodes in color as he mutters, “That little bitch will pay for this.”

Suddenly, the door swings open with a resounding thud, nearly clipping Jimin in the shoulder.

“Your savior has arrived!” Kim Seokjin announces loudly in spite of the studiously silent atmosphere of the quiet floor. His hands hold two steaming hot travel mugs, which I can only guess are filled with the elixir of the gods (aka coffee).

Seokjin’s eyes glance around the room as he takes in the fact that I’m not alone as he obviously had expected. “Wait, Jimin-ie? What are you doing here?” Jin’s eyes flick down to the coffee and cinnamon roll that lay on the table. “Goddamn it!”

“You were too slow, hyung,” Jimin smirks happily as he takes a seat in the chair I had previously vacated. He slouches smugly as he stares up at the fuming older boy.

“Too slow?!” Jin roars.

“Jin,” I chastise, circumventing around him to shut the door.

“Sorry, babe,” Seokjin says while still glaring daggers at the all-too-pleased Jimin. Suddenly, his expression changes into a sneaky look that makes me both want to run and jump his bones. “Well,” He waves the two coffee mugs around in the air, “I made these myself - with love. I didn’t buy that generic shit; I brewed it, baby.”

It’s Jimin’s turn again to look disgruntled, and I can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Any and all coffee is appreciated and loved by me – the more the merrier. So, thank you both,” You say, taking one of the travel mugs from Seokjin. Kissing his cheek, you turn back to sit opposite Jimin at the table.

“She kissed me on the lips!” Jimin bursts.

“Park Jimin!” I cry as Jin splutters some sort of incoherent rant about fairness and equality.

Jimin holds eye contact with me, still leaning back in his chair like he’s the king of the fucking universe. But, he’s not; I am.

My chair hits the wall behind me with a bang as I stand, planting my hands on the table to loom over Jimin. “Do you think it’s fun to push your hyung, Jimin? Does it amuse you to be a little shit?”

I can see the moment that Jimin decides to be a brat. His eyes heat up in a challenge, and he firmly answers, “Yes, noona.”

“Get up.” The change in my tone is apparent. Jimin gulps. Getting to his feet, he stares back at me expectantly.

“Jin,” I address the older boy while still maintaining eye contact with Jimin, “What kind of punishment do you think I should give our Jimin here?”

Seokjin rounds my other side, grinning, “Well, (y/n) darling, I believe he should get spanked.”

“Interesting choice,” I murmur, turning to face Jin, “That’s what you’re going to get then.”

“What?” Jin squawks, arms waving rapidly around in the air, “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Nothing is what you should have done, Jin,” I push him against the wall, “You know better than to let Jimin rile you up like this.”

Those plump lips of his pout dramatically as he whines, “But, (y/n)…”

“But nothing,” I say and then whirl around to face the other boy. He’s still standing where I left him with his eyes glued to the pair of us. “Jimin,” I hold his gaze, “You’re going to watch. You’re not going to touch yourself, your hyung isn’t going to touch you, and I’m not going to touch you.”

His eyes widen comically, “No! That’s not fair!”

“Do you want to be gagged, too, baby boy?” I ask, cocking my head slightly. Seeing his emphatic head shakes, I grin. “That’s what I thought. Now, stay.”

Turning back to Jin, I smirk slightly as I ask, “Punishment now or later?”

Seokjin’s eyes scrunch cutely in confusion, “What?”

“You see,” I move closer to him, my body brushes his, “I think you earned a punishment, but I think you also earned helping me punish Jimin.”

A wide grin crosses Jin’s face as he glances back at the corner Jimin is stewing in. “I would be honored to help you punish him, babe.”

“That’s what I figured,” I smile briefly at him before slowly sliding my hands up his chest to rest on the nape of his neck. Holding them there, I press the lightest of kisses to the corner of his lips.

Jin’s breath hitches in his throat.

I run my tongue against the seam of his mouth, taking my time and savoring the sweet taste of him. His lips part to let me in, my tongue sliding across his. I grind against him as we kiss, moving my hips in such a way that makes him groan and lean back harder against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Ripping my mouth from Jin’s, I turn to face the newcomer.

Namjoon stands in the doorway holding yet another cup of coffee, his face thunderous. "What do the three of you think you’re doing? This is the goddamn library, you heathens!”

Seokjin jumps out of his skin in fright, pushing me away faster than I can anticipate. Stumbling back, I crash into Jimin – who apparently had ventured out of his assigned corner. Brat.

“The shades were open!” Namjoon continues to rant as he flicks the aforementioned item down to cover the door’s window, “Did you want people to see you?”

He reads the expression on my face correctly, “Oh, but you did, didn’t you, (y/n)?” Namjoon approaches where I’m still captured in Jimin’s embrace. Glaring down at me, he taunts, “So quick to stake your claim; but, make no mistake, they were mine first.”

Shaking out of Jimin’s hold, I straighten, raising my chin to meet Namjoon’s gaze full-on, “That’s interesting. I didn’t realize you were so lenient with your partners.”

Jimin makes a choking noise behind me. Jin stands behind Namjoon, waving a hand in front of his throat to clearly tell me to stop talking. I keep going, “Perhaps I need to teach you how to discipline.”

Namjoon flips me around, shoves Jimin out of the way, and bends me facedown across the table.

“Jin,” He says, his voice growly, “Stand in the hall and let me know if you can hear us.”

The sound of the door opening and closing alerts me that Jin followed Namjoon’s instructions without a word.

“Jimin,” He continues, “Hold (y/n)’s hands out in front of her.” Jimin ascquieces, staring apologetically down at me as he tugs my hands towards him.

“This is cute,” I say, “I always love holding Jimin-ie’s hands.”

Thwack. The stinging imprint of Namjoon’s palm on my ass burns deliciously. I arch my back, looking over my shoulder at him with a half-smile. “Do it harder, daddy.”

A breath sucks in between his lips as I utter the word I know will get him feeling as hot as me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby girl,” Namjoon grits out, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh, daddy,” I say, “Don’t you remember? I’m the fucking Queen.”

“Was that a chess pun? Nice.” A muffled voice followed by a squeaky laugh sounds through the door.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon seethes, flying over to open the door and drag the older boy back inside, “I thought I told you to let me know if you could hear us.”

I tug out of Jimin’s gentle hold, straighten back up, and then situate myself into a sitting position on the table.

I watch amusedly as Jin shimmies his way out of Joon’s grasp, “Yah! It’s not my fault I get intense FOMO. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. Besides, I only heard you because I had my ear pressed to the door.”

Jimin stifles a giggle. I let out a full-on laugh. Namjoon mumbles what sounds like a plea to some higher power under his breath.

“See what I have to deal with?” Namjoon turns to me, shaking his head. “Are you sure you want to sign up for this?”

“That depends,” I swing my legs back and forth as I stay perched on the table, “Are you going to keep spanking me?”

The boy who had just unhesitatingly bent me over to punish me now blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, probably? You have quite a mouth on you, baby.”

Hopping off the table, I laugh, “Good answer. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Woo!” Jin cheers, “Nice job on the House Points, Joon-ie!”

“I am in love with idiots,” Jimin sighs.

Grabbing my phone from my backpack, I let out a slight yell as I read the time. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I scramble to shove all of my textbooks back into my bag.

“What is it, noona?” Jimin worries, appearing next to me. “Are you late for class?”

“No,” I cry, “It’s so much worse. I’m late for my weekly Animal Crossing discord chat! Heath is gonna kill me…”

“Heath?” Jin scowls, “Who is this Heath you speak of?”

“Chill, fam,” I shrug my backpack onto my shoulders and stare contemplatively down at the three different coffees. “You can’t get jealous every time I mention a new person. What’s next? You’re gonna come for Tom Nook?”

Namjoon - who must play Animal Crossing - stifles a laugh as Jin pouts. “She has a point, Jin.”

“And so does a pencil. Big whoop,” Jin scowls with his arms folded.

“Aw, Seokjin-ie,” I coo, reaching over to pinch his cheek, “Don’t be mad. You’ll get to spend all day with me on Saturday after volunteering! What are we doing, anyways?” I level Joon with my best side-eye as I ask that question, knowing he is more likely than not the mastermind behind our planned date.

“It’s going to be great, noona!” Jimin pipes up, hugging me from the side, “You’re going to love it…You’re going to love us.” He murmurs the last part, probably not meaning for me to hear; but, I do.

God, I do.

“We’ll pick you up before volunteering,” Joon says, “Just bring yourself and a change of clothes.”

“What?” I decide - fuck it - and attempt to grab all three coffees, “No overnight bag?”

Jin, who had just taken a sip of his own coffee, spews it everywhere. “Pack one,” He gasps out in between coughs.

Laughing, I walk to the door, which Jimin kindly opens for me. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Ah, I’m so late. Jimin and Jin, I’ll punish you at a later time. Joon, you can try to punish me at a later time.” Living for their astonished expressions, I wave as best I can with three coffees in hand, “Bye, babes! Text me-e-e.”

As I make my way out of the library, it hits me that I only have one more day to prepare for this date. Fucking hell…

Chapter Eight

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 8:38am

I wake to the sound of thunder and groan as my eyes strain to focus on the rain pouring down outside my window. Hastily, I grab for my phone and scroll through my notifications. Yup, my friend Brianna - the president of the Alphites - had emailed to say that Habitat is cancelled for the morning.

What did this mean for my date? Swiping over to the group chat, I quickly type a message to the boys.

Queen (y/n), Worldwide Handsome, and 6 Peasants

8:40am, (y/n): “Yo, dweebs. No volunteering today because of the rain. Looks like our date is cancelled, too…”

I laugh evilly as my phone consequentially blows up with a series of question marks and exclamations. Just as I’m about to put a stop to the madness I’d caused, my phone screen darkens with the telltale chimes of an incoming FaceTime.

Not even bothering to shift out of bed, I swipe to answer. “Hi, Hobi,” I grin at my sunshine who looks a little pouty this morning. The metaphorical rain cloud over his head lessens marginally at my smile.

The puffy, bare-faced boy sighs and runs a hand through his wild hair. Obviously, Hoseok had just woken up, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him.

“(Y/n)? Did you hear me?” Hobi chuckles, bringing my attention back to my phone. “You weren’t serious, right? Our date is still on? We have the whole thing planned! The rain doesn’t even affect it! And—”

“Is that (y/n)?” A cry of uproar sounds from the background on Hobi’s end of the line. A thundering of footsteps commences; and, suddenly, I am faced with seven slivers of faces all crowded together.

“(Y/n)!” Jungkook rips the phone from Hoseok’s grasp and takes off out of the room. The background blurs as he runs. Faintly, I can make out blurry figures giving chase behind him. “(Y/n)! Please still come over. We have everything set up! Saturdays are always full of noona, and I don’t want to break the tradition.”

Letting out a laugh at the fluffy haired boy, I smirk, “First of all, let me just say that I’m glad you don’t subscribe to the whole ‘SaTuRdAyS aRe FoR tHe BoYs’ toxicity. And second of all, you do realize you just gave away the date plans, right?”

“Jungkook!” The shout from what could only be an enraged Seokjin echoes across the connection.

I watch in amusement as the background once again blurs. As the feed refocuses, Jimin’s beaming face greets me, and I roll my eyes at the realization that Jungkook must have tossed him the phone. Probably playing a game of ‘Monkey in the Middle’ with their eldest brother, I assume.

Deciding enough is enough, I retake control of the situation with the tried and true method of the shock factor™. “Hey, I’m naked.”

Silence falls.

Then comes the seven pairs of eyes crowding the screen that I had hoped for.

Disappointed huffs resound from the collective as I cackle, trying my best to ignore their indignant cries.

“Noona’s not even naked!”

“Why, there’s not even a boob to be seen!”

“She’s got us lookin’ like boo-boo the fool, boys…SMH!”

“Jin, did you just say ‘SMH’?” The boy opens his mouth to respond, but I decide there’s no time to discuss acronyms right now. Shaking my own head swiftly, I clear my throat, “No, never mind. Now that I have your attention, I need someone to tell me what the plan is. Am I getting out of bed today? Are we still doing the thing?”

“You can get out of your bed and into mine,” Taehyung’s words barely escape his mouth before he is pushed out of frame by at least four of the others.

“Tae, are you trying to get your name added to my punishment list?” I smirk as two boys in particular gulp, “Jimin and Jin already have the distinct honor. Isn’t that right, boys?”

“You can add my name, noona!” Jungkook gasps out, lunging once again for control of the phone. He is shoved out of the way by Namjoon.

“Oh, my little Kookie,” I laugh, “That would practically be a reward for you.”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your own punishment, (y/n),” Namjoon stares me down from the other end of the phone.

“I mean, you can try it,” I shrug, “But I’ll probably either like it or turn it around on you at some point. Just saying…”

“Sounds good to me,” Joon grins, his dimples popping out, “Now get your sweet ass over here so I can spank it.”

“Right now?” I double check the time, “It’s still not even nine fucking AM. What is this going to be? Some sort of all day extravaganza? Y’all better be feeding me.”

“Yah, do you know who I am?” Jin butts in from his small corner of the screen, ”You are in the presence of Worldwide Handsome Chef Extraordinaire Kim Seokjin! Of course you’re going to be well fed - both with my visuals and with food!”

“I have no words,” I say.

Jin forges on, “Speechless, eh? I’m used to it.”

“Could the two of you stop your gross flirting for one second so that we can actually convince (y/n) to come over?”

Yoongi’s scowl appears on screen as he takes control of the phone. Jin can be heard squawking indignantly in the background.

“Gross?” I raise an eyebrow, “That’s not what you were saying when you were teaching me piano.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Taehyung yelps.

“I think so,” Jimin answers darkly.

“Wait, what’s a ‘you feminism’ again?” Jungkook mumbles from somewhere in the room.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon moans, sounding completely done, “(y/n), I am begging you to hang up and call my phone so that I can actually let you in on the plan.”

“Bet,” I say, “I’ll call you in an hour. I’m going back to sleep.”

I hang up, abruptly cutting off their whiny protests. Boys can always wait. Extra sleep, however, must seized at every opportunity.

Sinking back into the bliss of my comfy bed, I smile as I flip my phone over and promptly fall back asleep.

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 11:57am

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n)!”

“(Y/n), for the love of Jared Padalecki, get your ass up!”

Groaning, I wave Luna off with a limp arm, still half asleep. “Go away,” my garbled words prove to be futile as she pulls the covers right off of me.

“Your entourage is here,” Luna hisses, grabbing my ankle and attempting to tug me off the bed.

“My what?” I kick at her hold, “Stop going all horror movie on me!”

“You haven’t seen horror! Horror is waking up to the furious sound of fists pounding at the front door and thinking your dark past of downloading music off of sketchy websites has finally caught up with you! Horror is pulling open the door in just your Harry Potter onesie only to be faced with seven hot and all-too-put-together dudes!”

My brain slowly wraps its away around the meaning of her words. “Oh, fuck.” I launch out of bed, flailing around for my phone.

111 Messages

34 Missed Calls

14 Voicemails

“Good god,” I toss my phone back on my bed and stalk past Luna into the living room where my ‘entourage’ is gathered.

“Okay, what the fuck,” I cross my arms over my chest as I stare down at the seven boys spread out across our second-hand sectional.

“Noona, you’re here!” Jungkook springs up from his seat and tackles me in a hug.

“Where else would I be? I fucking live here,” I mumble into his chest, annoyance slipping away with each breath.

“I told you she just overslept,” Yoongi mutters from the couch, sounding very much like he was dragged here against his will.

“Finally,” I say, pulling away from Jungkook to beam down at Yoongi, “An intellectual. Now, what about the rest of you overreactive imbeciles? Did you just come over so that you could snoop around where I live?”

As I say this, my eyes narrow on Namjoon. The boy is inspecting the teacup I had forgotten to put away last night like it’s a new archaeological find. My words fluster him, and he fumbles with the cup before it falls from his grasp to shatter on the floor.

“I am so sorry!” Namjoon yelps. The rest of the boys look on with disappointment but not surprise.

“That was my great grandmother’s teacup,” I whisper, falling to my knees dramatically.

“Namjoon, your destructive nature has gone too far!” Seokjin yells, scrambling over to me. My face is buried in my hands as my shoulders shake. I can’t hold it any longer.

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, it’s fine, Joon. I’m kidding. It was just a cup from Target’s clearance section.”

“So evil!” Namjoon whines, “I was so worried!” Shuffling over to the hallway closet, I pull out our dustpan and broom. Walking back, I hand it off to Namjoon before he can attempt to pick up a fragment of the shattered cup.

“Don’t even think about using your bare hands, Joon,” I narrow my eyes at him, “A trip to Urgent Care does not count as a date.”

“Noona,” Taehyung pipes up, “You should join the Acting Club! Did I mention I’m the president?”

“Oh, here we go,” Yoongi scowls, flicking his eyes over to where Seokjin is rapidly turning a concerning shade of red.

Mount Seokjin erupts, “You’re only president on a bullshit technicality! Fifth years can’t be on Exec boards, you swine!”

“Yo, Seokjin, I’m really bummed about that policy, and Imma let you finish. But, let me just say that if y’all don’t leave so I can get ready, I will avoid you for the rest of time.”

Seconds tick by. I frown, “I don’t see movement. Why don’t I see movement?”

“Well,” Jimin hedges, shrinking under my gaze, “We figured you could just come back with us? It would save you a trip?”

The disobedience in this crew would drive me off a cliff. “I guess I was not clear the first time. I am going to drive myself because: 1) I can leave on my own terms and 2) I can leave an overnight bag in the car just in case. Although, that possibility is slipping away by the millisecond.”

“Alright! Time to go!” Jungkook barks, herding the boys towards the door.

As they practically run out the door, Namjoon turns back to me with an arched brow, “No going back to sleep.”

I salute him, “Scout’s honor. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, I’m finally left in peace and quiet.

“Want to explain what that was all about?!” Luna stalks out of her room, “I need the tea!”

A full hour and a half later, I find myself in an eerily empty frat house.

“Y’all really kicked everyone out, huh?” I comment as I peer around each corner of the house. There is not a soul - besides these seven fools - to be seen.

“I mean, there are only three other people that actually live here permanently,” Namjoon counters, ever the diplomatic president, “The rest of the rooms are mainly for guests or if a member needs temporary housing.”

Humming noncommittally, I come to an abrupt halt when the dining room comes into view. All the furniture has been pushed to one side to make room for eight easels and an excessive amount of paint.

“It looks like a Michael’s threw up in here,” I marvel.

“Who is Michael?” Jimin pops up next to me with narrowed eyes. The rest of the boys file in behind him.

“My sugar daddy,” I deadpan, “He’s an artist.”

Namjoon cracks up, while Jimin pouts adorably. “I guess you know what we’re going to do now, baby,” Namjoon says, still chuckling lightly.

“We’re doing DIY Painting with a Twist!” Taehyung yells, “The twist is that there’s no wine. Namjoon said it could get ‘too out of hand’ - whatever that means.”

“What is everyone going to paint?” Hobi asks the room after a brief pause, “I’m going to make something for (y/n)! It’s a surprise.”

“That’s so sweet, Hobi,” I smile at the boy, “Thank you!”

Not a group to be outdone, the boys quickly affirm that they too had been planning to make something for me all along.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh, “Careful, I’m going to get used to y’all spoiling me.”

“Good,” Namjoon nods, “You’re learning.”

“Yes, daddy,” I tease, “Are you going to keep spoiling your good girl?”

“You’re not a good girl,” Yoongi laughs, “You’re a fucking force of nature.”

“Thank you,” I wipe a nonexistent tear from under my eye, “This is why you are currently my favorite.”

“What!”

“Wait, you have a running favorite?”

“How can I get to be your favorite?”

Five minutes later, the room is empty aside from Jungkook and I. The rest of the boys dispersed the moment they decided to make painting a competition for my favor.

“Aren’t you going to hide away, too?” I address the younger boy next to me.

“Why would I go anywhere else when you’re right here?” Jungkook shuffles closer to me, “Besides, I wanted to use a different canvas.”

“Ah, I see,” I nod sagely before pulling my long-sleeved shirt up and over my head.

“Noona!” Jungkook chokes as he takes in my slightly sheer tank top and the black bra that peeks out from underneath, “I meant your wrist!”

“Calm down, Kook,” I laugh, “I can put it back on if you want. I just don’t want to get paint on it.”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously.

He then grabs my arm gently, flipping it over so that the inside of my wrist faces up. His thumb brushes over my erratic pulse and pauses. “Are you nervous, noona?” His wide eyes stare up at me, “You don’t have to let me paint on you.”

“It’s okay, Kookie,” I say, brushing his fallen hair out of his eyes,  “Paint me like one of your French girls.”

The boy’s cheeks bloom a bright red as he flashes me a small smile, “That’s one of my favorite movies.”

My heart swells as the cuteness that is Jeon Jungkook, and I can’t resist teasing him further. “Jungkook,” I whisper, leaning forward, “I would gladly share my door with you to keep you warm.”

“Noona,” He whines, trying to pretend like he wants to get away from me. I would rate his efforts a 1/10 considering his hand is still firmly wrapped around my wrist.

“The iceberg would melt because of how hot you are…” I keep going, arching closer to murmur in his ear, “Just like the Titanic, I would go down on you for hours.”

“Noona!” Jungkook yelps, “Stop playing with me!”

“Fine,” I pout, “But the offer stands.”

“You’re going to kill me…” He mumbles. Dipping his paintbrush into his nearby palette, Jungkook begins to etch the outline of what looks like some sort of flower onto my wrist. The strokes of the brush across my skin make me shiver - something that does not go unnoticed by Jungkook.

His eyes dart to mine, and I feel like crumbling under the weight of the adoration I find within them.

“Kookie,” I glance down, breaking the intensity before it consumed me whole, “What kind of flower is this?”

He mumbles something inaudible.

“What?” My ears strain to pick up the boy who for some reason decided to answer in the language of tiny.

“A tiger flower,” Jungkook turns away to grab a new brush, his hair failing to hide his flushed cheeks. I watch enraptured as he mixes the orange and white shades to get the end result he wants.

Returning to my wrist, he leans down and lightly blows across the drying paint.

“This is unfair,” I mumble as the boy continues to unknowingly seduce me. Or did he know? My eyes narrow as his gaze flicks to mine. Arching a brow, I decide to press him, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the matching tattoo on your forearm, right?”

“N-no,” Jungkook panics, eyes darting this way and that, “That would be Ludacris.”

Did he just— Not the time.

“Mhm,” I hum, ever the skeptic.

Jungkook swallows before once again resorting to tiny speak, “Okay, yes, it does. I’m asking you to love me, noona. Please.”

My breath escapes me in a whoosh as I stare dumbfounded at the pleading boy who once again starts to paint my wrist. Why is such a beautiful human lacking in adoration? Why does he need my affection when he has six other lovers?

“Why?” The question slips past my lips before I can catch it.

“Because,” He continues to paint, “I can see myself loving you for a very long time, and I just want to be loved back for just as long.”

The silence that falls after Jungkook’s admission feels safe and comfortable. His words swirl around my mind. And as he finishes the flower now adorning my wrist, I give him an answer I’m not even sure he had been waiting for. “Jungkook,” I wait until he meets my eyes, “I don’t think I’m in love with you yet. I’m not even sure I know what love is or what it feels like. But I can see myself falling for you. And I do know that there is a place in my heart labeled ‘Jeon Jungkook’, just like there are six other places for the rest of you… Y’all really do take up a lot of space.”

I let out a little laugh as Jungkook’s lips twitch in amusement. I continue, “It scares me sometimes. How I might fall for all of you and get heartbroken seven times over. But, I might also fall for all of you and get seven times the amount of love in return. And so I’m willing to fight for that chance. Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, and then he whispers, “I really like you, (y/n)-noona.”

I lean closer to him. Our noses brush as I whisper back, “I really like you, too, Jungkookie.”

The smile I get in response is blinding, and I can’t resist pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m done!” Taehyung hurtles through the doorway, lugging a giant canvas that definitely had not been in the room earlier, “I call this masterpiece: ‘My Boo’.”

Gaping, I take in the massive canvas full of swirling colors and abstract shapes. It’s honestly overwhelming and a bit dramatic, but that is Taehyung. And I love it.

“It’s so pretty!” I coo, shuffling over to side-hug Tae.

He shyly hangs his head on my shoulder, “You really think so?”

“Yes, baby,” I nod, “Of course I do.”

One by one the other boys return to present me with their art. Seokjin presents a sea of rainbow colored hearts (“Get it? I see hearts when you’re around!”). Hobi shows off his technicolored sunset (“It’s how I feel when I look at you, (y/n)! Hopeful, but at peace.”). Jimin bashfully hands over a painting of two silhouettes dancing (“It’s us.” *blushes profusely*). Yoongi gives me a black canvas with a portion of lighter blue mixed in (“You make my world brighter.”). Finally, Namjoon shuffles over with a succulent plant in a painted flower pot (“I accidentally elbowed a hole through my canvas… This is my favorite plant, for you.”).

The boys also marvel over the flower that Jungkook painted on my wrist while the younger boy beams with pride. One of them mentions ordering pizza for dinner, and the room clears within seconds as the majority flees in search of a menu.

Namjoon is the last to remain, admiring the art etched on my skin. “You know what it means, right?” He murmurs, thumb tentatively brushing across the dried paint.

“He told me,” I nod, focused on the gentle caress of his fingers.

Namjoon lifts my hand to his mouth and places a light kiss. The motion takes me back to the memory of a few weeks ago where he first had performed the action. “I hope you know the sentiment extends to all of us as well.”

“Oh, does it?” I smile, “You might have to mark me to make it believable.”

“Consider it done,” Namjoon says before pulling me closer to him and placing his lips on my neck. What an opportunist, I muse as he bites down gently. His tongue flicks before his lips once again press down on my neck. Namjoon litters my neck with small kisses. I gasp as he suddenly returns to the initial spot and bites down slightly harder, sucking and licking at my neck afterwards.

“Joon,” I breathe out as he pulls back, looking all smug and proud of himself, “I will get you back for this.”

“I look forward to it, baby.” With that, Namjoon laces his fingers through my own and tugs me out of the room towards the ruckus being caused in the kitchen.

One hour later, the eight of us are piled on the massive living room sofa.

“I think I’m pregnant,” Seokjin moans, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “The father is Papa John.”

“I told you not to race to beat Kook to the last slice,” Hobi shakes his head, “No one ever listens in this house.”

“You get me, bro, you get me,” Namjoon extends his fist to Hoseok who fist bumps him.

I survey the room from where I’m perched on Taehyung and Jimin, one leg hitched over one of theirs. “I thought we were going to watch a movie?” I furrow my brows, “Or was that just a ploy to get me to stay longer?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet, “I’ll go get Titanic!”

“No!”

“Please, god, no!”

“Noooo!”

The crestfallen expression that crosses Jungkook’s face tugs at my heartstrings. “Aw, Kook, I really inspired you with my words earlier, huh?” His pouting intensifies as he stalks back over to his end of the couch.

“Never let me watch what I want,” He mumbles. Sensing that this is an often fought battle, I shimmy off of Tae and Jimin and head over towards the youngest.

“How about this,” I reason, “Let the group decide what movie to watch, and I’ll sit with you during it.”

“Promise?” Large brown eyes peer up at me. At my nod, his expression brightens, and he pats his legs excitedly.

Settling down on his thighs, I realize I have made a grave miscalculation.

My thigh-riding kink + Jungkook’s muscular thighs = chaos

As the rest of the boys argue between watching Die Hard or The Hangover, I shift my hips slowly to try to get more comfortable. Jungkook’s swift inhale tells me that my move wasn’t as low-key as I had hoped.

“Noona, stop moving,” He mumbles into my hair, his arms firmly circling my waist.

“Sorry, baby,” I mutter back to him, trying hard to reign in my thirst.

The boys finally decide to watch Die Hard. Minutes tick by as the movie I’ve seen multiple times before plays on the screen. I’m only half paying attention, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook isn’t paying attention at all.

His fingers have shifted under my tank top and are drawing patterns onto the skin of my stomach. “So soft,” He marvels, his words ghosting across the skin of my neck.

The effect the boy has on me is deadly, and I retaliate with one of the only ways I can. I grind my hips slowly down onto his. The heat of his body warms my own, the hardness of his cock becoming more and more apparent underneath me.

“Noona,” Jungkook moans, “You’re so unfair.”

I whisper back, “You started it.”

He scoffs, moving my hair to one side of my neck, and pauses. “Oh, what’s this?”

“Don’t even think—”

His lips descend onto my neck, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Insolent child,” I breathe out, trying to keep my shit together despite finding it so fucking hot that Jungkook’s mouth is where Joon’s had been just over an hour ago.

Keeping my eyes firmly on the screen where John McClane is steadily taking down a whole crime organization singlehandedly, I try in vain not to imagine getting double teamed by Jungkook and Namjoon. By the time the credits roll, my panties are a mess. I can feel Jungkook practically throbbing underneath me from being so hard, and I’m pretty sure my nipples could cut through glass.

“What’d you think, (y/n)?” Hobi beams over at me from the other end of the couch.

I plaster a smile on my face like I hadn’t just been imagining the whole room naked and engaged in NSFW activities. “It was iconic as always!”

The boys seem to happily accept my answer. Well, most of them do. Yoongi is staring at me with a suspicious expression. Damn, that boy is too observant for his own good.

“Well,” I decide to try to regain some semblance of self-control, “Where did I put my keys?”

“WHAT!”

“You can’t leave! It’s only 9pm!”

“You said you would would stay overnight!”

I roll my eyes upwards, at least this provided Jungkook an opportunity to tug a pillow onto his lap. “I’m going to get my bag from the car, you fools.”

The boys let out a collectively sheepish “Ah”.

“I’ll walk you, noona,” Jimin stands, making his way over to my side.

“Trying to butter me up, baby?” I can’t help but ruffle his hair, “Okay, come on.”

Jimin and I make our way to the front door where my keys lie on the entryway table. Grabbing them, I head out into the darkness of the front yard with Jimin trailing after me.

“Will you sit with me for the next movie, noona?” Jimin asks, running a hand through his hair as we trek towards my parked Jeep.

“What’s in it for me?” I joke, unlocking the passenger side door and grabbing my bag. Turning back towards the house, I shut and lock my car behind me.

“Cuddles?” Jimin answers, eyes wide and bottom lip poked out.

“Stop that,” I moan, moving swiftly past him, “Puppy-Dog eyes? That’s so unfair!”

“Is it working?” He races to keep up with me, “I think its working.”

“You’re still on my shit list, Park Jimin,” I whirl around, drop my bag to the ground, and grab the front of his shirt. Moving to a standstill with his lips an inch from mine, I say, “Or did you forget?”

Jimin gulps, his eyes dark, “I didn’t forget. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

I place the lightest kiss to his lips, “Good answer.” With that, I pick my bag back up and waltz back into the house. “Are you coming?” I call at the boy still standing in the middle of the front yard.

“Now I know why Kook says you’re mean,” Jimin shakes his head at me as he regains the will to move.

“You’re a fast learner,” I comment, placing my keys back onto the entryway table. “I’ll sit with you.”

“Yay!” Jimin cheers, “I’ll go tell Taehyungie!”

“What?” I screech after the boy’s departing form, “I didn’t know this was some sort of package deal! Lord give me strength…”

Rifling through my bag to double check I have everything, I notice that I seem to be lacking a sleep shirt. How is it that I could pack three different pairs of socks for one night over but forget a fucking shirt?

“SOS,” I call out, zipping my bag back up. Once again, the sound of stampeding steps is heard before the seven of them appear above me.

“Someone needs to give me their biggest and comfiest t-shirt.”

A brief pause permeates the room before all seven boys dart into action. Left all alone in the entryway, I let out an incredulous laugh at how completely whipped I’m becoming for them.

After a few minutes, I hear them congregating in the hall just up the stairs. Just as I’m about to go investigate, they shuffle down. Namjoon presents me with a pile of what must be a selection of t-shirts from the bunch.

“We all want you to wear our clothes, so we decided to make it fair and just let you pick one without knowing who’s it is,” Seokjin explains.

Looking around the room, I can tell they all think this is a magnificent idea. Meanwhile, I’m baffled why they think I wouldn’t know who’s shirt is who’s just from the style, size, and smell. However, I decide to be a nice girl and play along.

“Okay,” I grab the entire pile along with my bag, “I’ll go change.”

“I’m so excited!” Taehyung bounces up and down, “She’s going to pick mine. I know it!”

“That’s because you gave her your Ce—” As Taehyung tackles Jimin to the floor, I take that as my cue to leave.

Speeding up the steps, I make a beeline for Yoongi’s room, entering and locking the door behind me. My bag is tossed on the bed first followed by the sea of mostly black and white clothing. They know me so well already.

I examine my options:

A white Balenciaga t-shirt with “Europe 2018” embroidered in red over the heart,

A soft pink hoodie by Marques’ Almeida with long black silky drawstrings,

A red and black striped Raf Simons long-sleeved shirt with sewn-on patches,

A Fear of God white t-shirt with the iconic “FG” on the front,

A black Mastermind t-shirt with the brandname and a skull and crossbones emblazoned on it,

A black Celine t-shirt also with the brandname on the front, and

A grey long-sleeved t-shirt by Carhartt with the name in blue along the sleeve.

Making my selection, I shake my head over the careless nature these boys handle their extremely expensive clothing. I am almost certain that Jungkook had given me the only shirt of the bunch that was under $100.

Regardless, I fold the rest of the shirts before stuffing them into my duffle bag. If they all want me to wear their clothes, I will - eventually. Quickly, I change into my sleep shorts, tug on what I assume is Hobi’s shirt, and head out of Yoongi’s room.

Opening the door, I blink as seven expectant faces shine back at me. Six expressions fall as one lights up even more. “You chose mine!” Hoseok cheers, running to engulf me in a hug that sweeps me off my feet, “Oh, you look so cute!”

“Can’t. Breathe.”

“Why’d you leave your stuff in Yoongi-hyung’s room, noona?” Taehyung pouts as the rest of the boys try to pretend like they also aren’t miffed.

“Because I’m going to sleep with him?” I march over to Yoongi and hug him from behind, pressing my lips to his cheek. “Is that okay with you, Yoongs?”

The boy grumbles under my show of affection, but his hands come up to clasp over mine as they circle his waist. “I can live with that, I guess.” The eye roll accompanying his words is so evident even when standing behind him.

“You’ll pay for that, baby boy,” I whisper in his ear before biting gently down on his earlobe, reveling in the cute little squeak that emits from him in response.

“She’s still sitting with me and Tae during the next movie, though!” Jimin - ever the instigator - interjects as the group makes their way back downstairs. Yoongi and I shuffle behind them.

The eight of us decide to watch The Hangover next since that had been the runner-up before. Once again, I’m draped between Jimin and Taehyung. This time, I’m fully placed on Jimin’s lap while my legs are sprawled out across Tae’s thighs.

My legs had barely even settled onto his lap before his hands were on them. This time I don’t even pretend like I’m paying attention to the movie. I’m more entranced by the way Taehyung kneads his way up my legs from my ankles to my calves to the insides of my thighs.

Meanwhile, Jimin is snuggled into me tightly. His face is shoved into the crook of my neck, and I honestly think he might be sound asleep. With each breath, Jimin’s pillowy lips brush my collarbone. I couldn’t tell if this is my own personal heaven or hell.

Looking up, I meet the dark gaze of Min Yoongi once again. Neither of us break eye contact as I try to read the look on his face and his body language.

He is either: 1) pissed off by something I did, 2) turned on by something I did, or 3) all of the above.

My hunch is the third. Testing that theory, I slide my tongue across my bottom lip. Sure enough, his eyes track the motion instantly before returning to mine. Bing-pot.

The movies seems to take way longer than it’s hour and forty-something minutes. I blame the combination of my sexual frustration and the varying degrees of awareness of it from the boys.

As soon as the credits roll, I extract myself from the holds that Jimin and Tae had on me. “I’m tired,” I lie.

“Aw,” Seokjin hurries over to me and sweeps me into a tight hug, “Get some beauty sleep, darling. Because, in the morning, I’m making pancakes!”

I place a swift kiss to his cheek, “Sounds perfect.”

I bid the rest of the boys goodnight with similar affections. Slowly, I make my way over to the stairs, knowing that Yoongi is trailing after me closely.

Making sure to put an extra swing in my hips, I climb up the staircase like I was getting paid to do it. Finally, I enter Yoongi’s room, turn to face the boy it belonged to, and tug him inside.

“What the fuck, Min Yoongi,” I hiss before closing the door behind him and shoving him against it.

“What?”

He has the audacity— I take a calming breath.

“You eye-fuck me throughout the entire movie and ask me ‘what’?” My hands curl into the fabric of his shirt.

A small smile makes its way across Yoongi’s face as my glower intensifies, “You can’t expect me not to think about that after you announce to everyone that you’re sleeping with me.”

“I didn’t mean literally, you buffoon,” I groan, turning away to head towards the bed.

Yoongi grabs my hips, halting me in place. “I know. But that didn’t stop me from thinking about what it would be like with you. What it would be like to be selfish with you.”

“You want to be selfish with me?” I ask softly, “What does that mean?”

“It means that I know that Tae was the first to get your mouth, but I want to be the first to give you mine.”

Yoongi’s words steal the breath from my lungs and the chill from my very soul. I gasp out, “You want to taste me, baby? That’s what you want?”

“More than anything,” Yoongi groans, pushing his hips into mine. “Please, (y/n), I’ll do anything to put my mouth on you.”

I pull away from Yoongi so that I can face him. His pupils are blown out, his hair is messy, and his expression is devastating with its pleading look. After being teased by so many of the others for the whole evening, he looks like my salvation.

“Okay,” I nod, lying down with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed. “Do your worst. No, not the time for that expression. Do your best. Please.”

Chuckling, Yoongi sinks to his knees before me, running his hands up my legs and resting on the hem of my shorts. He sends me an asking look, and I nod. His fingers shake slightly as he pulls off my shorts.

Left in nothing but pair of lacy red boy-briefs, I shiver in anticipation as I feel Yoongi slip a tentative finger underneath the remaining material.

“Fuck,” He groans, sliding his finger up and down my folds, “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

“Well, do something about it,” I command, moving my hips up so that he might get the hint to take of my underwear. His finger slides out from underneath them and he doesn’t even hesitate before sucking it into his mouth.

“Yoongi,” I hiss, getting more and more impatient.

Yoongi pulls his finger out of his mouth, “Sorry, (y/n), I just want to savor this moment.”

“You can savor my pussy with your mouth,” I say, “Or are you all talk, Min Yo—”

Quicker than I can comprehend, Yoongi slides my panties to the side and licks a stripe up my folds. I moan as he sucks and licks at my pussy like a man possessed.

“Fuck,” I grab his hair and tug him closer, feeling him moan into me.

The build up of tension and frustration from being surrounded by these boys for the entire day has me on the brink of orgasm already.

Yoongi’s mouth closes over my clit, circling it with his tongue and flicking it slowly.

“More, Yoongi,” I demand.

He listens. Still worshipping my clit, Yoongi slips a finger inside me, curling it in such a practiced way I could scream.

He adds a second. Yoongi’s fingers thrust in and out of me as his tongue continues to taste and tease my pussy.

When he hits a certain spot in me, I moan his name, and I swear he growls. Repeatedly, his fingers hit that same spot inside me and I’m panting, trying my hardest not to come. Not yet.

“Harder!” I moan. Again, Yoongi follows like a good boy, his fingers and tongue picking up the pace.

Pausing to pull my legs over his shoulders, Yoongi meets my eyes. The pinkness of his lips glisten with my juices as he sighs, “I think you might be my new favorite meal.”

Before I can even respond, his resumes wrecking me. He fucks me with his fingers, grabbing at my ass with his free hand.

His mouth devours my pussy, wreaking havoc on my clit with every flick of his tongue.

My thighs quake as my battle to hold off coming becomes too much to endure. My back arches as the pleasure builds up with each quick stroke of his tongue and every movement of his fingers.

As if he knows exactly how to ruin me forever, Yoongi sucks on my clit harshly, and I come, my thighs trapping him between them. Despite it all, Yoongi continues to fuck me, lapping up everything like a starving man.

Soon, the overstimulation hits and I relax my thighs. Pulling his hair, I murmur, “Stop.”

Yoongi obeys.

“Come here,” I sit up, extending an arm out to him. He shuffles forward and when he is within reach I launch myself at him. Kissing him fiercely, I taste myself on his tongue.

“That was so good, baby,” I reach my hand up to stroke his flushed cheek. “Do you want me to help you out?”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head, “I would rather eat you out again.”

“You’re insatiable!” I cry, tugging out of his hold. “We’ll see…”

TO BE CONTINUED...

[softupshur]

Sullivan, you ARE the father!

Ao3 link if you’re into that kind of thing

Winding down for the evening, you catch a peculiar episode of Maury complete with shotguns, bluegrass tunes, and parables of The Enemy.

*Note that the characters of Matthias and Barnabas are borrowed from my friends!

Matthias belongs to @billy-hoepe Barnabas belongs to @taekwondoit

A thousand thanks to both of you for letting me borrow your hicks for this delightful nonsense <33

After a long day at work and an even longer traffic jam, you sink into the couch. For a good ten seconds, you close your eyes and breathe easy. The silence is welcome, initially, but you soon reach for the remote and flip the TV on just in time for the latest episode of Maury. You’re about to change the channel, but you’re drawn in by the rustic attire of Maury’s teenaged guest. It looks like he should be playing a part in the community theater’s production of “The Crucible”. With nothing better on at this hour, you set the remote down as Maury introduces the young man.

“Say hello to our guest, Otis.”

The audience offers a polite applause, though Otis only nods in response.

“And he’s here today, because for three years, he’s been raising little Seth all by himself. No alimony, no child support, not so much as a word from the father, and he’s decided enough is enough. It’s time for the father to step up and give Seth the life he deserves.”

The screen behind Maury turns on to show a toddler in a button up shirt and overalls. Despite the horrendously crooked bowl cut, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to reach through the television and pinch his chubby cheeks. Unfortunately, you have to settle on joining the audience in their collective, “awww,” as he waves to the camera with both hands.

“Cute kid, cute kid,” Maury remarks before he turns his attention back to Otis. “Now, Otis, tell us about what you’re hoping for today.”

Otis sighs and buries his face in his hands. “I’m tired, Maury. I love Seth, but I can’t do this by myself anymore. Did you know he brought a gila monster in the house last week? How did he even catch a gila monster? Not only that but he didn’t get bit! It’s ridiculous! When I take it away, it decides my hand is dinner! The swelling didn’t go down for a week! Imagine what it would have done to Seth!? But oh no, I’m the bad guy for taking away his new friend! His new friend was poisonous! Excuse me for saving the kid a trip to the hospital! Oh, that’s right! We don’t even have hospitals in Temple Gate!”

Maury cocks his head. “Temple Gate. Backstage you mentioned it was in Arizona, but I never heard of it. Is it one of those rural communities?”

Otis is quiet for so long that you fiddle with the volume. When he finally responds, he only says, “Yes.”

A smile from Maury follows. “You must have been working very hard then. That’s why we’re going to do our best to help you today.” He looks back to his audience. “Now we have four men with us who might be the father: Jebediah, Matthias, Barnabas, and Sullivan!”

The screen turns on to show all four men. They look at the camera as if they’re staring at a ghost, except Sullivan who maintains a neutral expression. You stare at him the longest due to the conspicuously absent right eye.

“Now all four of them have agreed to a paternity test, and while we wait for the results, let’s welcome them all out today!”

The men file out to boos and jeers. Once again, Sullivan is the only one unphased, but your attention only lingers at him for a moment, as the full screen reveals that Barnabas is missing an arm. He’s the first one Maury addresses.

“Now, Barnabas-”

“Aw, shucks! You can call me Barney! Everyone does!” Several of his teeth are missing and those that remain are tarnished and chipped.

Hiding his disgust behind an unreadable smile, Maury continues. “Right, Barney. Now you stepped forward because you have reason to believe you might be the father.”

“Well, Mary-”

“It’s Maury.”

“Murray?”

“Maury.”

“Marie?”

“What makes you think you might be the father?” Maury settles on.

Barney’s eyes glow. “Gosh, I just...ever since I was a boy, I wanted a little one to call ma very own. Me and a purty wife would do our part to make the prophet’s line a nation, livin’ on a big, old farm, and…” He tears up. “If that little boy needs a role model, I wanna be there fir him! Murphy, I want t’be the dad!”

It’s the first time you see the audience applaud for one of the possible fathers.

“I’ve never seen this man in my life,” Otis remarks dryly.

It’s also the first time you see the audience turn on the main guest to which Otis snaps back.

“What!? I’m just stating the facts! I know damn well who the father is and it’s not him!” He marches past the men so he could look Sullivan in the eye. “This guy! This fatass right here is the father!”

Sullivan doesn’t even flinch. “No, I’m not.”

“You look at that child and say it’s not yours!”

The screen shows photos of Seth and Sullivan placed side by side. Otis points at the eyes. “Look at that! Can’t you see it!? You both have the devil in your eyes!”

The audience is hollering, but Sullivan maintains his cool. “I only have one eye.”

“But you had two eyes once!” Otis shouts. “You just cut it out like a crazy person!”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s in the gospel that you wrote!”

“What chapter?” Sullivan asks.

“Oh, lay off it!”

“What chapter?” Sullivan pulls a small book from his robes and hands it to Otis. “What verse and chapter?”

Otis squints at the curiously untitled book before chucking it back at Knoth. You don’t hear what Otis says next due to the endless series of beeps, but he’s frantic enough that Maury comes to take him by the shoulders and guide him back to his chair.

“That father is clearly Jebediah.” Sullivan states in his defense. “Everyone knows him and Otis were seen together around the time of conception.”

“I just traded to get some furs from him!” Otis protests. “Something I wouldn’t have had to do if you just installed some heating in Temple Gate! Why don’t we have that!? Where’s our air conditioning!?” He’s out of his seat again, storming up to Sullivan. “Why!? Why do you do this to us!? Just let us have space heaters for God’s sake!” Another flurry of beeps follow before he rejoins Maury’s side.

“Now Sullivan makes a good point,” Maury says. “You were seen with Jebediah around the right time and sources say you two were quite friendly.”

“I was trying to be civil!”

“Ya, that’s it!” Jebediah nods in agreement. “I couldn’t be the father!”

“And if you are?” Maury asks.

Jebediah bites his lip. “Then my wife sure is gonna be awful mad!”

The audience jeers and Jebediah puts up his hands in defense. “Now lookie here, folks, I ain’t no bad guy here! I just came on cuz Papa asked me to but the truth is I ain’t talked to Otis not but twice in my life!” He then points to Matthias. “I reckon he’s the father! I dun seen him and Otis be mighty chummy to each other every Friday!”

“He’s just my neighbor!” Otis argues. “Everyone has neighbors!”

“Y-yeah, that’s right!” Matthias’ voice is too shaky to convince anyone. “I just give him a howdy hi cuz he’s always at the dock on my way to band practice, but I swear to Knoth, that’s all!”

The screen cuts to a prerecorded video where Matthias is the center focus. “Now there’s no gosh darned tootin’ way I could be Seth’s father. If ya ask me, I say it’s Jebediah. Everyone knows he fornicates behind his wife’s back all the time. I dun seen him do it sometimes after sermon….not that I’m into that kind of thing! It’s just that ya sometimes seen strange things in Temple Gate and I done suspect Jebediah has a few littluns runnin’ around the place. I even see him at the docks near Otis’s house when band practice runs late.”

You plug your ears at the twangy bluegrass that follows. It sounds like it was recorded in someone’s basement.

“Now if you want to hear some of our tunes, we done burned a few CDs.” He holds up a CD with “Nu Moozik Toons” written in sharpie. “One of the deacons got a pack frum Office Depot and uh...once we realized ya ain’t s’posed to burn them at the bonfire, we got a few workin’ copies. If you want one uh...just come on down to Temple Gate.”

No website nor phone number is provided.

The screen cuts back to the show and Maury is holding the yellow envelope.

“Now we’ve met the men, heard all sides of the story, and the results are in!”

The audience loses their shit as Maury opens the envelope. All the men, aside from Sullivan, are at the edge of their seat. The studio hushes when Maury speaks.

“Barney! In the case of three-year old Seth...you are not the father!”

Though the audience cheers for him, Barney rests his head in his only hand while Matthias pats him on the back.

“I just really wanted to be the father,” he chokes out as a single tear rolls down his eye, but Maury doesn’t skip a beat.

“Matthias! In the case of three-year old Seth...you are not the father!”

A sigh of relief escapes Matthias. All eyes turn to Jebediah who bites his nails as he awaits Maury’s sentence.

“Jebediah! In the case of three-year old Seth...you are not the father!”

Jebediah leaps from his chair and shouts out, “Yeehaw!” He does a jig around the studio, before he fires a shotgun into the ceiling. It takes out one of the lights. You wonder why you didn’t notice the gun earlier.

Finally, Sullivan’s name is called.

“Sullivan! In the case of three-year old Seth...you are the father!”

“Ha!” Otis shoots from his chair and storms to Sullivan. “I -bleep- knew it! No one believed me, but I always knew it was you! Now everyone knows you’re a one eyed slut and a deadbeat father!”

You wait for Sullivan to explode as he rises, but he only states. “That child is not mine.”

“Oh -bleep- you, old man!” Otis snatches the results from Maury and holds them up to Sullivan. “The results are in and you owe me child support!”

Sullivan takes a deep breath. When he speaks, you’re taken aback by his booming voice. “That child is of The Enemy!” He turns to the audience as if addressing a congregation. “And the filthy seed must be eradicated before it lays waste to all we know!”

“Wait, no! Not like that!” Otis cries out. “I just wanted you to pay child support, maybe spend time with him on the weekends!”

“God wants the child,” Knoth’s voice sends chills down your spine as he pulls out a hunting knife.

Maury hurries to come between them. “Hey, Sullivan! The child is yours. Now put the knife down…”

Sullivan seems to obey at first. He lowers the knife and bows his head. You have to turn the volume up to hear him murmur, “God give me voice, God guide my hand.”

“Alright, good,” Maury says. “Now-”

Before he could finish, Sullivan lunges.

Maury dodges the first swipe, but the two run off camera while Otis shouts for Sullivan to put the knife away.

The camera falls and the screen cuts to a technical difficulties card accompanied by a deafening ringing. You’re quick to turn the volume down. You wait a full minute, but the card remains. With a sigh, you reach for the remote. Right when you’re about to change the channel, the show returns.

The camera is upright again. Only Sullivan and Otis remain. They sit across from one another in silence, except for Sullivan’s heavy breathing. Between them, Maury lies dead with the knife in his back.

[iwritefanficsometimes]

13 Days of Halloween Day 1: “This Haunted House is Kind of Over The Top.”

Welcome to Day 1 of 13 Days of Halloween Writing Challenge, or, as I’m calling it, #13DoHWC2018. Here’s the main post. Here’s the AO3 work. I hope you enjoy!

Day 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13!

Pairing: IronStrange

Rating: T

Warnings: Cursing, subtle and not subtle innuedo/sexual language

Word count: 3,827

Summary: Newly graduated Tony Stark apparently has nothing better to do than build a ridiculously scary haunted house. At said haunted house he meets a super hot tall guy who doesn’t take any of his shit, and it’s amazing.

----

Once Upon a Time in This is a Good Idea Land, Tony decided that he wanted to make the scariest haunted house anyone had ever experienced. He didn’t know why he wanted to do it, he couldn’t conceive of any motivation for a mature young man with post grad education in engineering and physics to be working on a haunted house. It was juvenile, and it was a waste of what Pepper insisted was his very valuable time, and okay, maybe he just wanted to scare the pants off some people because it sounded like fun. Of course, making a Very Scary Haunted House quickly became a matter of personal achievement. Tony wanted to make the biggest, scariest haunted house anyone had ever conceived of... and he kind of had.

“Are those, are those paramedics?” Rhodey asked, looking at the not one, not two, but three ambulances parked near the entrance of the house.

“Um, yeah, kind of. See, we had some problems with panic attacks that people thought were heart attacks the first night. They have to sign a waiver to go in, and no one under 18 is allowed to even be in the parking lot...” Tony looked over the gutted and rebuilt structure of his childhood home. Really he’d left all the outside parts the same. He’d only changed the inside. The inside... was a problem.

“Tony, I think you went overboard.”

“Maybe,” Tony shrugged and waved at one of the anxious looking 20 somethings who was looking between Tony and the ambulances and the door like he wasn’t really sure going in was a good idea. “I had to do something to keep me busy. It’s better than drinking myself to death.”

“You could have been, I don’t know, making something that isn’t going to be obsolete in a month?”

“In a world of changing technology that’s everything playtpus.“ Tony put his sunglasses on and took Rhodey’s arm in his to lead him towards the house. “See, that’s the beauty of a haunted house, really. If the technology I put in it is obsolete in a month, that doesn’t matter, because so is the haunted house.”

“I can’t believe you did this to your house.”

“Yeah you can.”

Rhodey sighed, “Yeah, I can. Well, at least you’re having fun. The press certainly is.” Rhodey looked towards the news crews that were just off the property of Tony’s parents’ mansion, talking into their cameras about the phenomena of the Stark Raving Mad House, coined, unfortunately, by Tony.

“Oh the press!” Tony giggled and Rhodey raised a cautious eyebrow, “Boy do I have plans for them. They can’t go in until the last night, obviously, wouldn’t want to spoil the surprises, but...” He waved at one of the cameras that was obviously zooming in on them and then blew a kiss. “Boy do I have plans for them.”

“Please don’t get sued.” Came out of Rhodey’s mouth in a way that was far too easy and familiar for his liking.

“They can’t sue me if they sign a waiver.” He kept grinning as he took Rhodey around the side of the house to the staff entrance. “Besides, with as many of them that have tried to sneak in cameras, I’m not feeling all that merciful. Damn cheats.” He opened the side door, usually an entrance into an elaborate kitchen now being used for make-up and staging. It was noisy and chaotic and it just felt right. “Maybe I should do stuff like this full time. There’s good money in it, and I’m having a blast.”

“I’m sure Obediah would love that.” Rhodey rolled his eyes and let Tony lead him to the out of the way counter in the far corner where there was finger food fit for a king and smoothies for people with constricting costumes or masks that wouldn’t allow them to chew.

“You know, he hasn’t even been riding my ass about it, I’m kind of surprised. I expected a lot more resistance than I got.” Tony picked up a crustless half sandwhich and handed it to Rhodey before claiming one of the protein shakes that the chef was making one or two in advance.

“I can’t believe you have a Michelin star chef making sandwiches for a haunted house.”

Tony looked at Rhodey with raised eyebrows. “Can’t you?”

Rhodey sighed and Tony grinned, “Unfortunately, yes. Of course you would.”

“Of course I would. Nothing but the best for my favorite people.” He said it a loud enough that anyone in the vicinity probably heard him. He’d hand picked these people months ago, and he was paying them well. The set designers, painters, set builders, construction team, costume designers and actors had all been top of their field. Tony spared no expense, and it was paying off, despite Pepper’s insistence that it would be a money pit. He was pretty sure she’d only been telling him that because she wanted him to stop though, not because she thought it was true. If nothing else Tony opening up his house for people willing to buy tickets would have drawn in enough money on it’s own.

“Yeah, okay. So, when are you gonna show me your secret project, or is this all I get?” He asked, indicating the half dressed actors and costume designers and emergency crew.

“Don’t worry, Honeybear, I’m going to take your through myself once the crowds clear out a little.”

“You don’t close the doors until past 2am Tony.”

“What, can’t hang anymore, army man?”

“I’m in the Airforce.” Rhodey corrects him without much heat.

“Huh, I could have sworn you were an army man. Must be all the paint fumes I’ve been sniffing as we got the place ready. And the construction adhesive. And-“

“Don’t-“ Rhodey said, shoving the straw of Tony’s shake into his mouth, “finish that.”

“Don’t finish my protein shake? Okay, Rhodey, whatever you say.”

“Oh shut up.” Rhodey laughed and Tony smiled at him.

“If you two are done,” a woman dressed like a zombie, smiled, showing all her grotesque fake teeth that looked far too real, “Some of us want to eat before our four hour shift.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said, dragging Tony away from the table. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but it’s officially freaky.”

“That was all the costume designer. She’s wonderful, Janet! Wave and acknowledge your awesomeness to my Rhodey.” Tony called in the general vacinity of the costuming area, there were several stalls set up for people to change in and beside them was a rack of costumes and a slight woman about Tony’s age, with pins in her mouth that she was to fake skin and torn cloth delicately.

“I’m awesome, Tony’s Rhodey, thanks for acknowledging it.” She mumbled around the pins, never dropping one.

“You know, the more I look around the less I like this.”

“That’s the point.” Tony smiled, “Come on, let me show you the studio.”

Tony dragged Rhodey to what used to be the large butler’s pantry that had been converted into a control room. Several people were inside, watching the monitors and making the affects happen, each wearing a head set to communicate with the actors in their rooms. The lights were dimmed, but there was no trace of red corn syrup or costumes to be found. It was the least creepy room in the house.

Tony dragged Rhodey to the closest screen, the one with the dinning room setting and a tablet set with realistic looking cooked human remains. The bigger pieces were fake, but each of the three actors at the table, dressed to resemble Tony and his parents, were eating rather docily from plates of completely edible non-human food that looked like human food. They were getting paid extra.

“Um...” Rhodey said, but Tony smacked him in the arm lightly to shut him up. “There’s a new group coming in, shut up.”

Sure enough a new group of people, mostly college age students, were walking into the room, marveling at the scenery. The floor around the table was dripping in red corn syrup, and there were rusty pieces of metal tacked up against the wall and hidden under the floorboard to give the room a rusty feel. Someone got the bright idea to try and touch the food and “Howard,” roared, exposing fangs and red contacts. The guy jumped and Tony giggled.

“I can’t believe you really did this.”

“Yeah you can. Keep up the good work, Gary.” Tony said, clapping the tech on the shoulder as he led Rhodey back out.

“You got it boss.” Gary said, pushing a button and making a leg on one of the plates jerk.

——

“This haunted house is like the equivilent of a monster truck with six foot tires. It screams ‘I’m insecure in my masculinity and overcompensating.’” Stephen Strange, med student with no sense of adventure told his best friend, Christine.

“This haunted house is amazing and you need to quit being such a condescending jack ass. A lot of people put a lot of work into making this really cool. Respect that.”

“I will not respect one of the geniuses of our generation wasting his talents on...” Stephen looked at the plain house with a line of people all the way to the gate, “this.”

“Don’t say it like that. The staff has a twitter account and it’s hilarious. They all say he’s fun to work for, and since when is giving people jobs a bad thing?”

“Since those people are actors and he could be employing people with actual college degrees.”

“Wow, you are determined to suck the fun out of this for me, aren’t you?” Christine grabbed his arm and dragged him to the back of the line. “Well, be prepared to be amazed. Everyone who’s come out on the other side says it’s terrifying. I’m so excited!”

Stephen looked down at her, nothing short of condescension in his expression and she punched him in the chest. “Don’t be a dick. This is gonna be fun. Trust me.”

“I trust you. What I don’t trust is the ambulances parked outside.”

Christine looked at the ambulances and back at Stephen. “I bet he’s paying them just to be here. And I bet they’re not actors.”

“I bet you chicken out before we get to the door.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m so excited for this.”

“Do you remember that Halloween party we went to last year?”

“Stephen, shut up.” She glared at him and he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright but all I’m saying is that frat boy in a bed sheet-“

“Shut. Up.”

“-made you jump into a lunch bowl and-“ Christine clapped a hand over his mouth. Stephen kept talking into her hand, smug at the attention they were drawing.

“You’re such a dick.” She shook her head and wiped his breath off her hand and on to his tee shirt.

“You’re the one who hangs out with me.”

“I’m starting to forget why.”

——

“Okay, I can’t wait any longer. We’re going in with the next group.” Tony said after his leg had been bouncing for nearly half an hour. The house was running smoothly, no one needed him, and Tony’s attention to Jan’s costuming of the second shifters was only going to last so long.

“Tony, the line is huge, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rhodey asked as Tony dragged him out of his chair and Rhodey had to quickly set down his soda or risk it being dropped in Tony’s haste.

“I’m positive that it’s a good idea, unless you want me to get in a costume and go scare people, because running a haunted house is even less fun than running a company once all the planning is over. Okay, maybe not less fun, but comparably unfun.”

Rhodey sighed and just followed Tony out of the kitchen back around to the front of the house. He smiled at the ticket taker and she gestured for the tall man and the girl beside him to stop coming inside. “We’ll get you in the next group.” She promised with a kind smile Tony really admired.

“We’ve been waiting for hours, he can wait for ten more minutes.” The tall man with angry blue (maybe gray) eyes said, and Tony didn’t hide that he was checking him out.

“I built this, and I can go in whenever I want to. You can wait ten minutes.” Tony shot back even though the tall guy was obviously not talking to him.

“Tony,” Rhodey murmured, “maybe we should wait, alright?”

“No, I’m not going to wait. It’s my creation. They can wait.” Tony usually agreed when Rhodey tried to reign him in, he didn’t do it all that often so if he was trying to now it was because he was being a serious asshole, but he didn’t like tall guy’s attitude.  And Tony kind of had a good track record with verbal sparring and someone ending up in his bed, but that was beside the point.

“That’s just like a one-percenter, entitled asshole much?” Tall guy glared, and Tony smirked.

“Yeah, pretty much, but listen, I’d rather be an entitled asshole than what, a burned out college student barely making ends meet being dragged here by hid girlfriend. No offense, you seem lovely,” he said to the woman standing beside tall guy.

“I am. And he’s gay.”

“Christine!” Stephen protested, shoving her and she laughed.

“What, he’s obviously into you, I was just doing you a favor.”

“I didn’t ask for your help, because you’re help is never as helpful as you think it is.” His glare focused back on Tony. “And that wasn’t an invitation.”

Tony tilted his head to one side, looking at tall guy up and down. “It should be. I’d accept it gladly.” He winked and tall guy glared, but Tony could see him blushing. Aggressive flirting was pretty much always the answer. “And I know how to show someone a good time.”

“I don’t really want to try and fit in a bed with your ego, thanks.”

“I like you.” Tony nodded, “You’re still not going in before us, but I like you. Maybe call me or something.” He pulled out a business card and handed it between two fingers to the girl standing beside him, knowing that tall guy wouldn’t take it.

He waved at tall guy flamboyantly and then turned to go into the house, dragging an exasperated Rhodey behind him. He was almost inside when something sharp and tiny hit him in the back of the head.

“What the hell?” He yelled, clutching the back of his head where his business card had just hit him. “Lovely woman, how could you betray me like this? I trusted you.” He looked over his shoulder at the two of them, and Christine was covering her mouth to giggle while Stephen just glared back at him.

“If I wanted your number, I would’ve asked for it.”

Tony was kind of taken aback. Sure, people hated Tony all the time, because of who he was, or because sometimes he could be an asshole, but tall guy with ridiculously beuatiful angry eyes was different somehow.

“Can I have yours then?” Tony asked, and it was Stephen’s turn to be taken aback.

“They’re soulmates, right? Like, they’re obviously soulmates?” Christine asked Rhodey who was just watching them both flabbergasted.

“Probably. You guys go ahead, we’ll wait.” He said pointedly, holding Tony’s arm and keeping him from protesting.

“How evil is it that I want them to go in together? It’d be a great bonding moment.” Christine grinned, and Rhodey raised an eyebrow at her.

“They’d kill each other.”

“Stephen doesn’t bite.” Christine waved a hand dismissively.

“I’m right here, you know. I haven’t gone anywhere,” he glared and she scoffed.

“Oh trust me, I know. The indignation rolling off of you is palpable. I can taste it it like sexual frustration in the back of my throat.”

Stephen gaped at her and Tony smirked, but Rhodey couldn’t just let this Stephen guy take all the blows. “I wouldn’t look so smug Tones, your thirst just as bad. You’d think he threw a love potion at you and not your own business card.”

“I was really getting that vibe from him.” Christine nodded, pushing Stephen towards the door. “You want to go into the haunted house so bad, do it with him. Now.”

“No, I’m not going to.”

“What, are you scared?” Tony asked, seeing a chance and jumping at it. He’d take Rhodey through on the next round, but he really, really, really wanted to screw with Stephen. And maybe just screw him. Maybe at the same time. That sounded great...

“I’m not scared of some cheesy animatronics and overpaid actors.”

Tony sucked in a breath, and Rhodey looked instantly worried. “Cheesy animatronics? No, these are top of the line animatronics that I designed myself.” The sharpness to Tony’s grin made even Christine, who didn’t know Tony from Adam, a little worried.

“Um, maybe-“

“Fine.” Stephen cut her off. “Let’s see how scary your little overcompensation project really is.”

“Please, lead the way.” Tony said, gesturing for Stephen to go inside.

“With pleasure.” He glared and went inside. Tony followed quickly behind and Christine, Rhodey and the ticket woman all looked at each other uneasily.

“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” Christine asked.

“Challenging Tony’s tech is like insulting his honor.” Rhodey confirmed and Christine nodded.

“Alright, well, now we wait.”

“Actually, I was going to go watch them from the control room. This is going to be too good to miss.”

“Can I come with?” She asked, not even caring about spoiling the surprise inside the house. She cared far more about what Stephen was doing with Tony freaking Stark.

“Be my guest.” Rhodey said, going back the way he and Tony had come.

——

Twenty five minutes later Stephen was sweating, Tony’s heart was racing, and they were both having trouble breathing as they filed out of the last room into what used to be the garage that had been converted into a cool down room of sorts complete with soft couches and snacks

“That haunted house is over the top.”

“I see that now. That was my first time going through it with the staff. They make it much scarier.” Tony took a bottle of water and an apple, handing the water to Stephen and taking a bite out of the deep red apple. It was a suggestion of Pepper’s to distract anyone who may be too traumatized. Tony had thought maybe it had been overkill, but now he understood her reasoning. He was a master of horror, apparently. Who knew?

“That room where the family was eating people, it smelled like blood...”

“Rust.” Tony corrected, “Similar, but not quite the same. The visual of the blood made your brain make the association though. Yeah.”

“And the... that woman she knew our names.”

“That... I didn’t do.” Tony said, taking another bite of his apple.

“I still think you’re overcompensating for something.”

“I’m trying to fill the hole in my heart with horrifying imagery, you caught me.” Tony smiled, but it was shaky at best.

“Well, you’re doing a damn good job.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe too good.”

“Definitely too good.” Stephen pulled out a pen, “If you ever wanna talk about that,” he grabbed Tony’s wrist and wrote his number on Tony’s arm. He was attractive, creative and intelligent, and he kept up with Stephen like only Christine ever seemed to, and he wasn’t a straight woman, so... He was pretty sure he was making the right choice. He looked up at Tony between his eyelashes as he finished, “this is my number.”

Tony breathed in evenly to hide the fact that he wanted to screech. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He said, and Stephen nodded, smiling and then he left. Tony stared down at his wrist, almost not believing what he was seeing, but the elegant scrawl had to belong to the med student, and unless it was a fake number... Tony sighed a little because he was happy and no one was watching. Maybe making a haunted house hadn’t been stupidest thing he’d ever done. Maybe it had served a very important purpose in his life after all. Take that Pepper.

——

Stephen was smiling tentatively as he approached Christine at the front of the house. “Well that looks like a good sign,” she said, “I can’t remember the last time I saw your smile when it wasn’t related to showing someone up.”

“Who says I didn’t show him up?” Stephen asked, immediately defensive, and Christine chuckled.

“That is not your ‘I just showed someone up’ look. Tell me what happened.” She demanded, and Stephen shook his head, looking at her and then at the line, squinting at it, “Weren’t you supposed to be inside already?”

“I wanted to see how it went!” Her voice was just a bit too strained for Stephen to believe her.

“Where’s that guy, the one who was with Tony.”

“He wen’t to meet him in the staging room. Said that was probably where he’d go when he came out.”

Stephen looked at her suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

He glared at her until she finally sighed, looking down at her feet. “Okay, we went to the control room to watch you guys go through. No, don’t look like that! You guys were so cute!”

“You spied on me.”

“It wasn’t spy... It was just... creative intervention.”

“You told them my name!”

She bit her lower lip, “Yeah, I did.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“You have him your number.”

“This, this is spying.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Stop being so-“

His phone pinged and she sqeaked, covering her mouth with her hand. “Is it him? It’s him isn’t it! I bet it’s him.”

“Shut up, it’s not...”

It was Tony.

Unknown number: Hey, it’s Tony. I kind of can’t shake this stupid house. Want to go get a coffee or something? My treat.

Stephen stared down at his phone for a second, giving Christine plenty of time to peer over his shoulder to look at the text.

“Say yes.” She whispered, and Stephen... did.

Stephen: Yeah sure, you know May’s?

Unknown Number: Hell yeah I know May’s it’s only the best coffee on the east coast. You’ve got good taste.

Stephen: I’m aware.

Unknown number: Are you still at the house? I can drive us down there.

Stephen: Yeah, that works. See you in a few?

Unknown number: Oh, you’ll see me alright

Stephen sighed, exasperated, but he couldn’t hide the tiny smile from Christine, who was jumping up and down on the porch of the ridiculously large house. “I told you you were soul mates!”

“Shut up, Christine.”

“I’m telling this story at your wedding.”

[noexit-ff]

47.

Slowly looking around the shower glass, Junior got ever so excited hitting the toys on the activity table and jumping up a little, his giggle warms my heart “I am not playing baby, I am trying to have a shower” he thinks it’s a game, I just can’t help but look at him because his giggle warms my heart. Let me quickly get this shower over with, I would have left Junior with Chris but he is asleep and with Junior being so active and rolling onto his front I don’t trust him, he may fall asleep. Junior having turned now five months he is so active, he wants to sit at the activity table, he wants to touch things. I am loving it but I also need to be careful, he is so jolly awake more than he is. He screams a lot now, his communication skills have got to step up but he gets that screaming from Chris, he be doing it to him to get his attention. My smile grew hearing Junior scream out and then hitting the rattle, that boy thinks I am going to play when I need to get ready. Better late than never but tomorrow we are finally Christening him, my family are coming today so I need everything to be perfect. It’s been an ongoing battle with who to invite, who not to invite. Then we narrowed it down to family only but then we had friends which are friends with the people we are not inviting so we just thought leave it, just going to invite them. Then I had to break it to Mel, she was fine about it, Mijo took it not well but I am glad Mel took it the way she did. I think she has realised I keep my distance now, I don’t need the mess in my life.

Wrapping the towel around my body and stepping out of the shower, Junior looked up at me “mommy is done now, I wasn’t long was I?” his smile grew “what is it baby? You just love me talking to you don’t you? Mommy loves you so much” my heart could burst every time I see my son, he just stares at me with a smile. His love is so pure I am overjoyed “let’s see if daddy is awake” tiptoeing over to the door, pulling the door open. Of course he’s not awake “your dad is so lazy” tightening the towel around my body, walking by Junior. He let out a scream, picking up my clothes and placing them in the hamper. I can hear Junior whining “mommy is here baby, I just need to clean” looking behind me seeing Junior trying to turn his head to see me, his activity table does not move. He moved his head looking ahead of him and then cried out loudly “I fed you baby, why are you crying?” picking up my phone from the side walking around Junior, his lower lip quivering and he sniffled “awww no, stop it I am here baby. Don’t cry handsome, I am here. I know you like to see me” leaning down kissing his cheek “let’s get you out of this baby” picking him out and placing him on my hip “now you’re quiet, you just love me so much. You love me more than your dad does, you do don’t you?” he is staring at me in amazement, Junior just loves watching me.

Hearing Junior gurgling ever so loudly, now his dad is awake, Junior’ hype man is awake so Junior is doing the most “ouch!! Why are you are trying to take my nipple off with your hand, if you don’t roll your ass somewhere!” Chris spat, Junior yelped out “you damn right, you better take yourself somewhere” poking my head out from the bathroom, seeing Junior on Chris’ chest just hitting his chest, Chris let’s him do that so that is what he gets “I think it’s your tattoos, he is trying to pull at them” Junior slapped Chris’ chest gurgling “nigga with the leg rolls” Junior looked up “yes you, you making my chest so red. We need to finish off the story from last night, you fell asleep on me” let me go back in the bathroom, his boring stories, even I get bored with the shits. I am not surprised he fell asleep, I am trying to look pretty for my family. It’s the first time for some to see our son, I am just so excited but nervous because there is a lot of family and a lot of opinions, those opinions Chris doesn’t want to know or hear. He’s slightly not happy but I told him, that is my family and I am not throwing my grandfather, my mother or aunties to a hotel. The house may be full but people can sleep on couches and what ever, this is why it’s taken this long but it’s getting done.

Chris is so silent eating his late breakfast, I made him steak because I want to make Chris happy before things get a little busy. I just pray he does well, it’s a lot but I need him to be strong “you haven’t complimented my food at all, are you tidying up your face? For tomorrow yes?” Chris nodded his head “tell me, what was your perfect Christening? Because you are not happy with this and I know it” Chris shrugged sitting back in his chair “just me and you, people that actually like me. Something small, you know. But I will do it for you, I said I will. I don’t get why Mel needs to be here, she has a home” he is not happy and I get it “because Mel is practically family, we are just going to have a nice night with the people I love and have been down with me. She wanted to be involved and I didn’t want to say no, she is staying over to be involved. It’s not like it is every day, it will be like old times, for me anyways” Chris groaned out “I’ll try and be good, changed man and all that. She foul as fuck, your family are full of shit and so is mine, I don’t give a fuck anymore. Everyone is fake” sighing out heavily “stop saying my family are full of shit because that is where the arguments happen, I get it. Two people out of my family fucked you over but stop it, seriously quit saying it because that is my blood. You need to give up the attitude, your family are coming too even your dad because why not” he’s holding on to hate, I wish he wouldn’t hold on to it.

I wish Chris went out, he hates my family so much that it is actually hurting me “remember we have the vogue photoshoot coming up” I said but Chris didn’t really respond “please don’t make this about you, this shit is about Junior. You’re hurting me way more than you think, you aren’t doing it for me because if you did then you wouldn’t say the things you say. You love me Chris and I love you but I love my family, it hurts me and then I see my mom praising you when you are calling her fake and full of shit. This childish Chris knows how to appear don’t it? I don’t want to argue, I just want my husband to be here for us. I know you’re stressing and I am also stressing, I am stressing because I am worried about you. If you don’t want to do it for me then do it for your son” Chris just stared at me pulling at his chin hair “sorry, I just don’t think when I say shit. I am only doing it for you, I told you Robyn you come before any baby and I said it to you when it came down to it. I just know what shit is like, I just want us to have a good day babe” nodding my head “I love you, please don’t be hurt with me. I do say shit at times but I don’t mean it, I just don’t know how to word the things I say” he really doesn’t know how to word the things he says.

Junior loves staying in his onesie but he has no choice but to sit in his jeans and polo top that he got sent from Armani with the matching shoes, that was kind of them but they want my son to model their clothing and I still have yet to answer. Junior stared at his feet in shoes, he is so intrigued by it, he is very intrigued by so much, he shows love too. The buzzer went off, my eyes widened “that will be them!” I yelped, getting up from the couch with Junior in my arms “come on Christopher” he needs to make the effort, I don’t care how he is feeling because he needs to get on with it. Looking over the security cameras, seeing the three SUVs, I made sure the jet picked my family up but Chris doesn’t know that. Buzzing them in through the gate “did they bring Barbados here?” looking behind me “just for me, please. Do what you want after that” walking over to the door, I have not seen my family in so long and I am so damn excited to see them.

I sighed out “you had the underground car park and you still blocked the gate, why? Why is your cars still here in my face?” he’s already pissed me off “I was tired” what a lame excuse “sure Chris, you drive into the fucking house. What you mean tired? You take the elevator up! You are so annoying” fixing Junior on my hip walking down to my family, these SUVs can’t get closer because both of his cars are blocking the way in. The anger I felt soon left me seeing Nicolette “ooohhh Robyn!!” she yelped rushing over to me “Nicooo, I missed you so much!!” wrapping my arm around her “Oh Robz, I have missed you so much cousin” grinning from ear to ear, the feel of having my family around just means the world to me “you look so beautiful and who is this!!” she yelped moving back from me “oh my god, he is so beautiful. Oh can I hold him” nodding my head smiling “yes, he will go to his auntie won’t you” Nicolette took Junior from me, looking behind Nicolette and seeing my grandfather, the man I have been wanting to see. Clapping my hands together shuffling over to him “you made it!” hugging him “you think I would miss this, oh no baby” my grandfather is getting ever so old, moving back pressing a kiss to his cheek “I want to see my great grandson, where is he” turning around, Junior is not crying “he is here, Nicolette. Come here!” I half shouted “mommy says he looks like me” Nicolette walked over to us both and Junior squinted his eyes looking up at me, fixing his chain while Junior grabbed my thumb “he remind me of you, oh yes” my grandfather chuckled.

Chris sat down next to me on the couch, the living area is very busy now. It feels like I am in Barbados, my grandfather touching Junior’ hand “baby, hey!” he is busy drooling on himself “he is happy looking at his shoes, oh he reminds me of you. Head not as big” my grandfather laughed, he thinks he’s funny “it’s like god copied and pasted your face onto his, Dolly would love him. She love the chubby babies, she would love you so much” I wish she was here to witness me be a mother “you both make beautiful babies” Rajad walked over “can I hold him, I never really get to see him” picking Junior up and lifting him to Rajad “and I am just a sperm donor, I am going out” Chris got up from the couch saying loud enough for me just to hear, looking up at him “Chris?” he looked behind him “I have an album to finish, I will be back” I don’t want to chase him so I will smile “now? Boy it’s family time?” My mom said, Chris just laughed walking off, looking over at my mom trying to cover the fact I am so angry at him “he needs to finish it off for the record label” I said lying.