#also i need to get back to ao3 comments i get so overwhelmed by how nice they are

[johnslittlespoon]

man someone left a comment on one of my buckbucky fics today that said 'i can feel how much you love them through your writing' and i literally cried lol. why is that like. the sweetest/most fulfilling/validating thing you can say to a fic writer (who is way too deeply invested in his fandom of choice lmfao)? i've never gotten a comment worded like that before and it was so unexpected, i didn't realize how meaningful the sentiment would be to me wahhskdgjg <333

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀

NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for  around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!! 

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.

You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt. 

With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).

So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of. 

It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.

There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.

You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.

The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so. 

One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life. 

Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.” 

You mirror their gesture as well. 

As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is. 

An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case. 

Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor. 

You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time. 

As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.

“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.

Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?” 

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle. 

“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.

Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.

“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together. 

You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor. 

Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.” 

“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.

Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.” 

“No worries. Anytime.”

When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.

He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.

“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?” 

You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.

Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.” 

Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.

Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.

“When are you off?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”

Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?” 

“Yeah. Later.” 

The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.

“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.” 

Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.” 

You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.

Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago. 

Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.

No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.

You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.

See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case. 

But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.

He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him. 

You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.

Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.

“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously. 

“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate. 

“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu. 

“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.

Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill. 

Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 

“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.

“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.” 

“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”

It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.

You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.

You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.

When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions. 

“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers 

Shoot.

You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.

Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there. 

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 

How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!

Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.   

But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already. 

You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu

You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 

“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.

The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.” 

“Wha—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting. 

Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary. 

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.

When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text. 

“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you. 

You don’t really know how that makes you feel. 

“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door. 

“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again. 

“I— huh?”

“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.

You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.

“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything. 

Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”  

But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.

You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app. 

A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.

You don’t really know why you’re here. 

It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay. 

So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside. 

Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.

It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird. 

Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.

Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that. 

You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual. 

You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open. 

“Hi.” You smile. 

“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.

“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?” 

You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”

Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”

“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.” 

He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.” 

“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?” 

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.” 

“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”

He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.” 

“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.” 

Jungkook grins.

“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies. 

“Okay, Anton Ego.”  

You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.

You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon. 

You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him. 

Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.

As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.

It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago. 

You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous. 

It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering. 

You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.

It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little. 

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.

A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you. 

Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.” 

You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.

As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.

There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly. 

“__,” Sol calls beside you. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.

Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.” 

You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer. 

“Okay. Just text me.” 

You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office. 

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm. 

Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.

You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.

But then again, he seems to be busy.

With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text. 

You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch? 

Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend. 

You receive a reply a few seconds after. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __  I’d love to

Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins

Oh. Okay. That tracks. 

You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊

You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria. 

When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure. 

You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.

For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.

You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.

They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.

“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”

“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”

The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.

“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.

“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”

You nod along to his words.

Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.

“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.

“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.

You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.

It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.

“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.

You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”

“What?”

“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”

“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”

Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.

“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”

“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”

“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”

When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.

Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”

Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.

He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”

“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.

He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”

Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.

Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.”

“You don’t need to think at all.”

You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”

Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”

“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.

Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.

There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.

But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.

“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.

“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

“You’re right…” you say after a while.

“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.

You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”

“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”

You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”

Jungkook visibly stills.

“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”

You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.

“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”

He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.

You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.

Jungkook looks at you.

“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.

You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.

When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.

I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.

It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.

“__?”

You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.

With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”

You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”

It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.

When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”

He stops. And then you stop.

You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.

Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.

“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.

You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.

“T-thanks.”

Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.

You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.

Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.

But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.

When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.

It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.

But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.

You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.

“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.

“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.

“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.

Why was he naked?!

Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.

The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.

You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.

When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.

You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.

“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”

You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.

“It’s your place.” You reason.

“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.

“But—”

Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.

He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…

“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”

You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.

When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”

You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?

But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.

“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.

“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.

It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.

You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.

You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.

After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.

It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.

When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.

You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.

You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.

Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey,”

“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.

When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.

Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.

“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.

From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.

Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.

“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”

He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.

You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.

When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.

“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.

Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.

“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.

“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.

You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.

“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.

“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”

“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.

You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”

Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.

“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.

“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.

He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.

But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.

“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”

“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”

“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.

It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”

“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.

You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.

“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.

“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.

Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”

Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”

“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”

He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

You sigh, out of reasons now.

“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”

Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”

“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”

It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”

It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.

You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate. 

You give him a small salute.

Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast." 

You laugh at his squinted eyes. 

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back. 

You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.

All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.

After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.

You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.

But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.

It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.

He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.

One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.

On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.

Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.

After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.

As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.

That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.

Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.

You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.

You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.

Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.

“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.

Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”

You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.

“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”

At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.

“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.

“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”

Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.

He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.

You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.

The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.

At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.

You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.

In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.

Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.

Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.

When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.

Jungkook.

The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.

When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)

     — Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.

And you did not forget to say that either.

“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.

Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”

Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.

“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.

You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.

Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.

So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.

Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”

You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.

You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.

Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.

Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.

Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.

It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.

“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.

“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.

You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.

You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.

“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.

You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”

“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”

You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.

“What?”

“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.

“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.

“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.

After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.

You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.

“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.

“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.

After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”

“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.

“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.

You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”

“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”

“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.

You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.

“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.

Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”

Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”

“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”

“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”

“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.

Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.

“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.

He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.

You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.

When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.

You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.

There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.

You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.

And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.

You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.

But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

Again.

His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.

“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.

It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.

You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.

As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.

He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.

You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.

Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.

Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—

But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.

You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.

Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.

It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.

But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.

There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.

You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.

When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.

So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

“Hmm…”

At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.

Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.

When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.

He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.

You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.

When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.

You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!

Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.

He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.

You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”

You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.

“We slept together.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.

“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.

Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”

“Oh?” You parrot back.

“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”

You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.

It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.

When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.

“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”

“Oh.”

He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.

“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.

“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”

“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.

You failed to do that, obviously.

Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.

After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.

Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.

Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.

“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”

You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”

Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”

You nod in understanding.

You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.

As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.

“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.

You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.

You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.

“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.

Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”

“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”

“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”

“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”

Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”

“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”

Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.

“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.

A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.

“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”

You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”

Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”

“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.

“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.

“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”

Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.

“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”

He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype

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[aprocessionofthoughts]

Explanations

part 4 of MM ao3

Danny winced, overwhelmed for a moment at the emotions Hood was projecting. A flurry of fear, anger, not again, pain being shoved at him as forcefully as if someone were screaming in his ear. 

Danny raised his hands in surrender. “Look, we don’t mean any harm. I honestly have no idea what pits you’re talking about, but I do know a lot about the being dead thing.”

Hood didn’t move, just kept glaring at him.

Danny took a chance and projected peace, want to help, it’s ok. 

Hood’s angry aura faded and he stumbled back a step.

“What was that?” Hood growled and Danny gulped as Hood’s aura flared again with anger, confusion, fear.

“Sorry.” Danny said. “I forget that new liminals aren’t used to projecting, but it’s just another form of talking. And you don’t need to worry, I’m also dead adjacent. “Though,” Danny paused, “I don’t know what the lazarus pits are.”

Hood was still tense but his aura had pulled back a little. “The Lazarus Pits are lakes of glowing green goo.”

“Huh.” Danny gleaned at Jazz. “We call the green goo Ectoplasm. But if these pits are what brought you back, I think they might be rancid. You stink.”

“Excuse me?” Hood took a step back as his aura flared with indignation.

Jazz cleared her throat.

“What my brother means is that the ectoplasm that brought you back may have been polluted. He can tell because he also has ectoplasm in his system which allows him to sense other sources of ectoplasm.”

“Explain.” 

“Look,” Jazz said, “Why don’t we all sit down and I’ll make some tea and then Danny can explain better.” she sent a pointed look in his direction.

“Fine.”

Jazz nodded and turned and walked toward the kitchen where there was a table and some chairs. Danny followed her and so did Hood.

Danny fiddled with his hands as Jazz was making tea. Honestly, Danny was trying not to comment on the fact that the fully dressed vigilante looked kind of ridiculous sitting at their kitchen table.

“Would you like some tea?” Jazz said, looking toward Hood.

Hood paused before responding. “No thanks.” 

Jazz nodded then turned back toward the kettle.

“Soooo….” Danny started. “Before we go on, i do need to know if you actually died, or if you just encountered some green goo.”

Hood didn’t say anything.

Danny sighed. “If it helps, I actually died and was brought back to life via green glowy stuff.”

Danny waited and was about to give up and wait for Jazz to lead the conversation when Hood finally spoke.

“I died, I’m not sure what brought me back. But then I was dumped in a Lazarus Pit.”

“Huh.” There weren’t a lot of things that could bring people back from the dead as far as Danny knew, but with all the craziness he’d already experienced in his own life, he wasn’t surprised. Though it was interesting that Hood had been exposed to ectoplasm afterward. What would that make Hood? A liminal, or a halfa like him? But as much as Danny would like someone else like him, since it wasn't ectoplasm that brought Hood back the man was probably just a liminal.

“Here you go, Danny.” Jazz said, setting a mug in front of him and then taking a seat next to him.

Danny inhaled the warm scent of spices and then looked at Hood. “So, how do you want to do this? I can do a quick info dump and then you ask questions, or you can just ask questions and I’ll answer them?”

“Info first, then I’ll ask questions.”

Danny nodded.

“First of all, ghosts are real.” he paused, but when Hood didn't say anything he continued. “They live in an alternate dimension and are fueled by and made of ectoplasm, the green glowy stuff. There are various things that can make a ghost, but we don’t need to get into that now. This is just the basics. When a human has a near death experience, or is exposed to ectoplasm they have the chance of becoming what we call liminal. That just means that they lean a little toward the ghostly side.” he glanced at Jazz, his gaze questioning and she nodded. “That’s what me and Jazz are. And that’s what I think you are.”  Danny waited for a moment, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Any questions.”

“How did you heal me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Danny shrugged and sat back. “As liminals we actually need some ectoplasm to survive and it can help heal us. Usually, the ectoplasm in our bodies heps us heal ourselves, but I think yours can’t since,” Danny wrinkled his nose, “whatever source you got yours from is obviously rank.”

“What does that even mean?” Hood said, but he sounded tired not angry.

Jazz smiled gently at him. “Ectoplasm that stays too long in the Living Realm, here, can absorb pollutants. Think of it like,” she hummed and tapped her finger against the table, “like air in an improperly ventilated area. If air isn’t allowed to move and flow it can become stale. The same with ectoplasm. It’s a form of energy that needs to flow and be filtered in the Infinite Realms, where the ghosts are, or it needs to be filtered by ghosts. But if it’s allowed to just sit in one area and build up, continually absorbing energy, but unable to filter or release it then it grows rank.”

“It’s complicated.” Danny said. “And neither of us is the greatest at explaining since we’re still learning. But yeah, ectoplasm is a form of energy that flows between dimensions.

Danny smiled at Hood, there were faint feelings of confusion, disbelief, denial, no true, not true, I’m alive. But Danny did his best not to push anything toward the other liminal. He didn’t want to scare the man.

“I need to go.” Hood said, standing abruptly. 

Danny startled, but nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Jazz stood. “You’re welcome back here anytime if you have questions.” Jazz smiled. 

Danny felt the briefest glimmer of attraction come from Hood and while Jazz was good at not projecting, Danny could tell from her face that she was feeling similarly toward Hood.

Danny smirked. This would be fun.

[ragnarlothcat]

I know I’m a chronic overthinker but I’ve been in the same fandom for three years or so now and I was reflecting that writing seemed so much easier when I first started out. Just looking at my output since 2021 shows a clear trend: I’ve been writing much less and it’s been taking me way longer.

I figured that I’d gotten a little burned out and that three years is a long time to focus solely on the same two guys making out and that there’s a limit to the number of situations I can put them in before I start to get bored. But I don’t think that’s quite my problem because even now, a million years later, I have ideas for dozens of fics and AUs that would be interesting to explore or funny to write.

No, it’s that I’ve let the larger fandom overwhelm me and it’s left me constantly second-guessing my writing. And I don’t mean that I’ve gotten nasty comments or asks, because I haven’t! All the other fans have been consistently wonderful and fun people with really valuable insights. And it’s not that I’ve been obsessing over stats or comments or worrying about going against popular headcanons. I mean, I’m just as excited as anyone else to see an AO3 email in my inbox but I’m also perfectly happy posting niche fics for an audience of me and my three weirdest friends.

It’s more that after so long engaging with other fans and other fics and the general meta, I’ve ended up writing too self-consciously. I’ve read so many interpretations of canon events, analyses of characterization and comparisons between fiction and real-world politics over the years, and I’ve enjoyed them because I genuinely care about these stories and these characters! I like seeing what everyone else thinks and then considering their points of view, no matter how bewildering they might seem at first.

But now it feels like I’m writing almost defensively, like I have to justify every choice I’m making based on this enormous and contradictory body of information. Three years ago I’d have written a scene in a few thousand words and moved on to the next plot point with my momentum intact. Now I’m constantly wringing my hands over things like physical details (I guess he’s not exactly a redhead) or broader social implications (is this trope misogynistic?) or finicky logistics (these locations are too far apart for this scene to make sense) or controversial character nuance (does writing this guy as a kind, doting husband make me an abuse apologist???) and the result is that I’m paralyzed with indecision and a ridiculous need to support everything I write with a lot of context that isn’t especially fun to write or, I suspect, especially fun to read.

I’m aware that this problem is entirely in my own head and that no one has asked me for any of this. And it’s not that all those questions aren’t interesting and important things to contemplate. But I miss the days of sitting down at my laptop and going “wouldn’t it be funny if these dorks played a video game together?” and then writing exactly that.

I don’t know. Were my fics better three years ago? I kind of doubt it. I’ve looked back at some of them and if nothing else I now have a better grasp of what tense I’m supposed to be using. But I definitely had more fun writing those older stories, which maybe feels more important.

[letsgoletsgetit08]

fix off pt. 2

summary: Mingi turns to every coping mechanism besides a healthy one in the aftermath of Jongho's death, two years later.

warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, su*c*de attempt, implied/referenced su*c*de, major character death, overdose, recreational drug use, religious imagery & symbolism, catholicism, barebacking, strangers to lovers, bittersweet ending, angst, hurt/comfort

pairing: priest!soft dom!Jeong Yunho x hot fucking mess!Song Mingi

author's note: HEY! Read the tags! This fic has some very heavy content! Please DO NOT READ this if mentions/discussion of suicide/attemps or character deat (RIP Jongho, so glad you're alive IRL, king) are in any way triggering to you! Also, know that myself and Ateez would be very sad if any Atiny or anyone else took their own life. Don't do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ! !! !!! That said, this work is based on/influenced by/referencing - sometimes lightly, sometimes very directly because Phoebe Waller-Bridge is more of a genius than me - the show Fleabag. This show is personally very important to me, it both healed me in some ways and also hurt me very deeply. If you have seen the show, you know how this ends. Again, read the tags. Phoebe, if you happen to read this for whatever reason, I just hope you're flattered because of imitation and all that.

OKAY! Disclaimers disclaimed, please let me know if I missed anything. And with that, please enjoy. This one is kind of my baby. I hesitated to even post it here because I'm a little scared of how it will be received but you never know until you try, right? Comments, likes, & re-blogs are always welcome, but please be civil.

word count: 23,480

ao3 link: fix off

December 3rd

Mingi had been back at his apartment for a few weeks, finding it odd to be there. Exciting and nerve-wracking, but also comforting. It didn’t feel the same, but he hadn’t wanted to be at Wooyoung and San’s any longer. After Halloween weekend, he had been doing much better. Reading for fun again. His bar hadn’t even fired him, it turned out that Hongjoong had explained everything to his manager, who begrudgingly agreed, probably, Mingi thought, under Hongjoong’s scary gaze, to let him come back whenever he was ready. Mingi was very grateful. Yes, he had been considering if he had even wanted it any longer, but once he decided he wanted to go to grad school, he realized he would probably need at least a part time job. Plus, his savings wouldn’t last forever. 

He was getting ready for dinner that night, debating on what to wear. Mingi honestly had no clue who all was going to be there besides his friends. Seonghwa hadn’t wanted to overwhelm him by forcing him to un-mute the group chat, so he just texted him the dress code, location, and time in a separate text. 

Eventually, he landed on a black turtleneck under a blue (so dark it was nearly black itself) suit with a black satin lapel and matching blue suit pants. Black dress shoes. Silver jewelry. 

Upon his arrival to the restaurant, he couldn’t help but be startled. His friends sat around a large round table, with the addition of a man in a black button-up with a little white piece in the collar, silver rosary necklace around his neck. 

His beautiful neck.

The empty spot at the table was next to the hot priest. 

“Mingi!” Hongjoong called as he approached, “Glad you’re here. This is Father Jeong Yunho. He’s going to be marrying us.”

The man, even taller than Mingi, large brown eyes holding a subtle mischievous glint, stood to shake Mingi’s hand, “Just ‘Yunho’ is fine. Nice to meet you.”

Mingi glanced down. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, his hands. “Mingi, nice to meet you.”

Yunho quirked an eyebrow, head tilting to the side like a confused puppy, almost like he could hear Mingi’s thoughts, “Seonghwa was just telling about how he and Hongjoong met.” He changed the subject. 

“Yes!” Seonghwa exclaimed, evidently already a drink deep, “I mean we met in college, but we didn’t really meet each other until karaoke on New Year’s Eve…”

Mingi had heard the story a thousand times, letting his brain go blank as he ate, knowing that everyone else would carry the conversation. 

He was right, too. It lasted through appetizers. 

No one has said a word to me in half an hour.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Yunho turned to Mingi. 

He probably jumped in his seat at the sudden attention, “Oh. Um. I’m a bartender.”

“He’s applying for grad school!” Seonghwa supplied. 

“I’ve also recently decided to apply for grad school.” Mingi echoed, holding back from rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Amazing. What will you study?” Yunho’s eyes locked onto his like he was the only person in the room.

Mingi felt his face go red, “Oh. Um. Anthropology.”

“It’s okay, Mingi. Believe it or not, some priests also believe in evolution.” Yunho smiled kindly. 

He’s sharp.

“Are you one of those priests?” Mingi couldn’t help but try to feed his curiosity some scraps.

“I am one of those priests.” Yunho winked, “I believe in a lot of things that would probably surprise you.”

“Gay marriage.” Mingi offered.

“Mingi!” Seonghwa accosted him. 

Yunho chuckled, “Yes, including gay marriage. Just none for me, personally. They really frown upon that.”

What about gay sex?

Yunho raised his eyebrows, a movement so quick that Mingi was sure the whole table had missed it, seeming to follow Mingi’s train of thought. 

“What's the worst wedding you've had to do so far?” Wooyoung piped up, changing the subject once again. 

Yunho huffed a humorless laugh, “Ah, probably my brother's but that's because he's-” 

“Uptight groom, huh?” Hongjoong offered.

“No, it’s-”

“I'm sure it was a little weird marrying a family member.” Seonghwa tried to conclude on his own.

“Did you not like his spouse?” Yeosang asked. 

“He's dead!” Yunho said, a little too loudly, “Sorry. Yeah. This will actually only be my second wedding. Turns out Catholic priests who are willing to perform gay marriages aren't exactly in high demand.”

Mingi's hands had gone clammy at his words, “Cigarette.” He mumbled, pushing his chair back. 

“Mingi, wait, I'll go-” Wooyoung called after him, but someone cut him off. 

“Let me.” He heard Yunho's voice but didn't turn around, heading out the side door of the restaurant, steadying his breathing as he leaned against the brick wall. His hands shook as he brought the cigarette to his mouth. 

Yunho was there beside him in the blink of an eye, raising a lighter and cupping his hand around Mingi's cigarette to light it. 

He was grateful the man let him sit in silence for a minute. He heard him light his own cigarette, ignoring how he could see how pretty his lips looked as they wrapped around it from the corner of his eye. 

Mingi let out a long draw, smoke hovering in the cold autumn air, “My friend, our friend, Jongho, passed away a little over two years ago.” 

“Oh, Mingi, I'm sorry. I didn't know. This was supposed to be a get-to-know-each-other dinner so that I could do the couple justice at their wedding.”

Mingi could feel the others’ eyes on him, but didn't dare look quite yet, “There's no way you would have known. I've just been. Well. It's been a lot, lately. I'm trying to be better.” 

Yunho leaned into his space far enough that Mingi had to look into his eyes. He had never felt eye contact that left him feeling so open, so vulnerable before. But not in a predatory way. Not like he was rolling over and showing his belly in submission. It was something else entirely. He felt seen. “If you ever need to talk, Mingi. My rectory is right behind the chapel. Over on 3rd street downtown.” 

“I'm not religious.” 

“Neither am I.” Yunho looked serious. 

“You're literally a priest-” Mingi started.

“I know, I know. It's not that I don't believe, it's just… complicated. But I am a qualified person to lend an ear. If you ever need one.” 

Mingi studied him as he took another drag of his cigarette. “I'll keep that in mind, Father. ” He blinked up at him through his eyelashes, just to see what reaction the man would have.

Yunho rolled his eyes, but Mingi clocked the exact shade of red his neck turned at his words. Yunho put his cigarette out on the wall beside him, “I'll see you back inside, then.”

Mingi’s head spun.

Why does the priest have to be hot?

December 7th

Returning to work was disorienting to say the least. The bar had a pretty high turnover rate, so no one he currently worked with had been there after Jongho passed. He had intentionally not gotten close with any of them since then. He had hoped his manager hadn’t said anything about why he had been gone, but as soon as he arrived, he knew that wasn’t the case. His coworkers all gave him horribly pitying looks and skirted around him like he might dissolve on the spot if they were anything but excessively gentle with him. 

One of them tried to give him her tips when her shift was over. He declined, of course. Although the money would have been nice. Another one of the servers made sure to say “please” and “thank you” when dropping off drink orders. His fellow bartender had insisted upon letting him work the well so he didn’t have to deal directly with customers. It was nice and in theory, he appreciated it. But in practice, it made him feel singled out. 

When his manager offered to cut him early, he accepted, pretending not to see the other bartender slip some of his tip money into Mingi’s tip jar while he thought Mingi wasn’t looking. 

Mingi walked out, shivering in the chill air before remembering he had left Jongho’s hoodie inside. He turned back to retrieve it but something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A bell tower piercing the night sky could be seen a few blocks away. 

Yunho did say to come by any time.

He opened his phone to Google Maps to confirm that the church he was headed towards was indeed the one the priest had been referencing. 

It was.

After retrieving his hoodie he began to make his way over.

He skirted around the outside of the main building, finding the rectory exactly where the man had said it would be. 

Why did the priest have to be hot?

He knocked, never once considering it was nearly 11pm and non-bartenders with normal hours might be asleep. 

Yunho answered the door a minute later, one eye still scrunched closed, hair mussed in the back, wearing a well-worn Spiderman t-shirt and athletic shorts. 

“Mingi?” Yunho’s voice was raspy.

He remembered my name!

“Hi, sorry.” Mingi felt his ears go hot, “You said come by anytime-”

“No, no, of course.” Yunho rubbed his eyes, “I meant it, too. I just maybe hadn’t considered um. Bartender hours.”

Mingi stood like a deer in headlights, frozen in the doorway, “I can just go-”

“No.” Yunho moved out of the way, “I’ll put on some tea, come inside. I really don’t mind. I’ve just been, uh, really enjoying going to bed early lately.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing or I’ll kick you out.” Yunho turned towards his small kitchen, looking for the kettle.

“That seems counterintuitive, Father.” Mingi couldn’t help myself. 

Yunho whipped around, “Oh, fuck off with that.”

“With what?” Mingi asked, trying to sound innocent.

Maybe he prefers ‘daddy’. 

Yunho stared him down, “Do you want some wine instead?

Mingi chuckled, “Like… the blood of Christ himself?”

Yunho rolled his eyes, “No like wine from France that’s burning a hole in my cabinet.” 

“Yes, that sounds nice.” 

Yunho smiled, eyes tracing over Mingi’s face like he was reading the subtitles to his inner monologue. Mingi looked down, unable to stand having someone flay him open so casually like that. Yunho turned, fishing coffee mugs and the wine out of the cabinets. 

“Sorry, I don’t own wine glasses, funnily enough.”

Mingi huffed haughtily, laying his fake distaste on heavily, “Ew, nevermind, I’m leaving.”

“No, wait, come back, I haven’t even made you repent yet!” Yunho called as he brought the coffee mugs over to the table, where he indicated for Mingi to sit. 

“You’re just assuming I need to repent for something?” Mingi crossed his arms over his chest.

“Do you need to? Why don’t you tell me what brought you here tonight.” Yunho handed Mingi the coffee mug, fingers brushing. 

Electricity shot up Mingi’s arm, nearly making him drop the mug. 

God, his fingers.

“Where’d you just go?” Yunho caught his gaze again.

Mingi met his eyes, thinking that he might feel more naked in front of him now than he would if he actually had his clothes off. He ignored Yunho’s question. “I work nearby, actually. My shift was… weird tonight.”

“Weird how?” Yunho leaned in, propping his forearms on the table, listening intently.

“It was my first night back.” Mingi took a sip of the wine, letting it warm his insides and loosen his tongue, “I didn’t expect everyone to know and they all treated me like I would break.”

“First night back from…?” Yunho looked genuinely curious.

Mingi felt embarrassed, having gotten used to everyone knowing what he’d done that he was surprised when Yunho hadn’t been filled in. “Oh. I um. I tried to- well. I did overdose. About a month and a half ago. I apparently had some self-preservation left in me because I called Hongjoong at the last minute.” He stared at the wine in his mug the whole time he spoke, but could feel Yunho’s eyes on him the whole time. “I stayed with Wooyoung and San afterwards because everyone was scared I would… try again.” 

“Mingi…” Yunho reached forward, grabbing Mingi’s wrist, “I’m glad you weren’t successful.”

“Because I would have gone to hell?” Mingi raised his eyebrow.

“Because I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you.” Yunho answered. His words hung in the air, the implication of them, the acknowledgement of the chemistry between the two of them crackling the atmosphere like heat lightning. 

Mingi didn’t know what to say, but Yunho continued before he needed to reply, “You’re doing better now, though?”

Mingi nodded, “I am. I’m maybe actually um processing things. Rather than just coping. But everything on the other side is a little overwhelming, I guess. I hate that my friends are so worried. I want them to be able to just enjoy Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s wedding.”

“Hm.” Yunho let go of his wrist, taking a drink of his own wine, “Do you want my advice?”

Mingi smiled, “No, I came over just for the wine and weird energy between us.”

Yunho laughed, “Okay, heard, loud and clear.” He composed himself, taking a breath, “Mingi, I think that you have to realize your friends find it to be a privilege to have you in their lives to worry about you. Worrying is one of the biggest indications of caring about someone. The fact that you’re worrying about them worrying… well it sounds to me like you and your friends have a lot of love for each other. Just try to be grateful you have people to worry about and who worry about you in return. Not everyone can say that for themselves.” Mingi didn’t miss how the vein in Yunho’s forehead became slightly more pronounced at his last sentence. 

He sighed, finishing his wine as he let Yunho’s words process, “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that. Thank you.” 

Yunho smiled, “Any time, Mingi. So I guess you don't actually have anything to confess then, hm?”

Mingi barked a laugh, “Ha! I have so much to confess but not tonight.” Mingi stared a hole through the table.

“Well,” Yunho waited until Mingi returned his eye contact, “I'm here. If you ever need to. Actually, here.” He pulled out his phone, “In case it's a very specific priest-related emergency.”

Mingi chuckled as he put his number into the man's phone, “Have you experienced a lot of those?”

“Nah,” Yunho dialed the number so Mingi would have his as well, “Surprisingly, most of the time it’s a pretty monotonous lifestyle.”

“Most of the time.” Mingi couldn’t help but admire the man’s pretty cheekbones, plush lips. 

Yunho seemed to be doing the same, “Yeah.” He sighed, eyes lingering on Mingi’s lips a little too long to be subtle, “Most of the time.”

“I should get going. It’s past your bedtime.” Mingi stood up rather abruptly, breaking the tension.

“It is indeed, but that’s okay. I’m glad you came by.” Yunho’s expression was genuine, eyes holding a hint of what Mingi swore was forbidden desire swimming behind the surface. 

Mingi stood to leave, letting Yunho walk him to the doorway. He turned before he was out the door, “Yunho?”

Yunho smiled softly, “Yeah?”

“Who do you have that worries about you?” Mingi whispered it, too nervous to speak any louder. 

Yunho’s eyelids fluttered, “Surely after all the time I’ve devoted, the Lord himself worries for me.”

“He doesn’t count.” Mingi was standing so close he could have kissed him, “I’ll worry for you now.”

Yunho’s chest heaved at his words, “Mingi… I’ll worry for you, too.” 

December 12th

Therapy. 

Mingi was going to really try this time, too. 

His chest was tight with anxiety as he entered her room, sitting on the couch opposite of her chair. She was older, hawk-like features trying to appear soft.

Not my type.

“Is there anything in particular you want us to focus on today?” She asked, reedy voice managing to cut through his nervous internal monologue. 

He took a deep breath, then started the only place he knew to, “My best friend is dead.”

“That must be very hard for you.”

“Well, yeah. Made all the worse because I did something that I think contributed to him dying. We don’t even know for sure if it was a suicide or not. But I feel like deep down, we all know.” Mingi couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

“Why do you think you contributed to it?” She kept her face neutral.

“Because. It was a pretty direct cause and effect. I know I should probably tell them but I never even told him and I think if I had that he might still be here. He could have placed his anger on me rather than himself.” Mingi had never said it out loud before. 

“Hm.” She considered his words, “Why do you think you should tell your friends? This seems to be something between yourself and your friend who passed on.”

“You don’t think I should tell them?” Mingi was surprised.

“If you would have told him originally, he would have been the one in the position to tell your friends what happened. Not you. It’s his to tell. So I think you should go tell him.” She said it like it was the simplest answer in the world. 

“Go… tell him?” He was confused.

“Does he have a gravestone?” 

“He’s in an urn. It’s with his parents.” Mingi replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

She thought about it for a minute, “Do you have something of his?”

He nodded.

“Take it outside somewhere nice. Close your eyes and say it out loud like he’s there with you.” 

“That will work?”

She chuckled, “It’s not a magic trick, Mingi. You can’t make grief or guilt go poof with a few words like a magic spell. But you can find ways to lessen their effects. To process. Heal. And I think doing this will help you.”

“I honestly did not come here thinking I would leave with homework.” Mingi couldn’t help but laugh. 

She smiled, “I can’t force you to do anything. I’m just telling you what I think might assist you in building some coping skills.” 

He sighed, slumping back, “Okay. I guess next time we'll get to the story about me trying to kill myself a few months ago.”

Her perfectly composed mask faltered slightly, eyes going wide at his words, “Oh, well, yes. We should definitely talk about that next time.”

Five Years Ago

“I can’t believe we’re about to graduate in a few months.” Jongho sighed, leaning his head against the wall of the library where they were studying. 

“I can’t believe both of us spent four years here and we’ll just be bartending still. Like we could have done without a degree.” Mingi chuckled. 

“Hey!” Jongho kicked his ankle, the angle weird since they were sitting side by side, taking a study break, “Are you saying you don’t think I’ll make it as a musician?”

“No way! Not at all. Of course I believe in you.” Mingi nudged him with his elbow, “I just think it’s funny that all of our friends have real people jobs, or at least auditions or grad school lined up and we don’t.”

“Hm.” Jongho looked at him, “Do you want a boring desk job?” 

“Hell fucking no. I’d rather die.” 

Jongho chuckled, “I’ll sing at your funeral, don’t worry.”

“Good. You better let me die before you.” Mingi fixed him with a serious expression, “I don’t know what I’d do if I had to live life without you, Jjong. I’m your elder, you have to listen to me on this one.”

“We’ll be in the same nursing home together, don’t even worry. If I feel like I’m going to die first, I’ll just murder you real quick.”

“Okay, good, thank you.” Mingi sighed, genuinely relieved at the thought of it, “And make sure they get us plots next to one another at the cemetery.”

Jongho gave him a disgusted look, “Ew, no, I want to be cremated. Whoever survives the longest from our group - Yeosang, I assume - has to put us side by side on his mantle, though.”

“Deal.” Mingi agreed. 

December 13th

Mingi’s thumb hovered over the text box on his phone, typing and re-typing before finally sending the text. 

Me

I have a very specific priest-related favor to ask.

Father Daddy Yunho

I thought you’d never ask. 

What’s up?

Me

My therapist told me to go talk to my dead friend

I don’t want to do it alone

Father Daddy Yunho

I’m free after 3pm

Meet me at the rectum?

**RECTORY 

Dear god, I should really proof-read before sending texts

Me

Buy me dinner first

I’ll see you at your rectum at 3:30pm

Father Daddy Yunho

Ha! Happened to you, too!

Me

No, I typed exactly what I meant to, Father

Father Daddy Yunho

I’m throwing my phone away now.

See you soon

Mingi knocked on the door of the rectory at 3:30pm sharp. He had barely started putting his hand down when it swung open. 

“Hiya!” Yunho chirped, looking a little too peppy for the task at hand.

Mingi couldn't help but smile at the cute look on the priest's face, his eyes crinkled at the corners, “Hi, Father.” He simpered, laying it on a little thick, unable to resist.

“Bye.” Yunho pretended he was closing the door.

“No, wait!” Mingi stopped him, “I'll be good, I promise!” 

Yunho closed the door behind himself, “Very well. Shall we?” 

The walk to the park wasn't a long one, but it felt especially quick given how easy it felt to be around Yunho. He was quick-witted and funny, sometimes verging on cheesy, but fun to talk to, keeping Mingi on his toes in a way that made him feel like he had just hopped off a rollercoaster. Alive, heart pumping, cheeks hurting from laughter, hair swept back from the wind. Once they found Mingi’s favorite park bench overlooking the pond, he pulled noise-cancelling headphones out of his backpack, handing them to Yunho. 

“Sorry, you don't mind, do you? I'm just not ready to tell anyone besides him yet.” Mingi hoped the explanation would be good enough. 

Yunho's eyes were soft, understanding, “Of course.” He reached for them, fingers brushing Mingi’s again as he passed them over, the jolt of the contact going once again straight up Mingi’s spine. 

“Thank you.” Mingi pulled Jongho’s hoodie out of his backpack, “Can you, um. Put that on, too. I just think it will help if I feel like I'm talking to a real person.”

Yunho slipped the hoodie on, not hesitating for a second, “I'm happy to help however you need, Mingi.” He slipped on the headphones, then put the hood up over them, turning to look at Mingi and giving him a small smile and thumbs up as Mingi scrolled through songs on his phone, finally finding one he remembered Jongho liking. Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears. 

“Is it too loud?” Mingi shouted, but Yunho didn't flinch or even turn his head. 

Mingi knew he could have been faking it. He knew that the man could try to listen to his confession. But for whatever reason, he knew Yunho wouldn't. He just wasn't like that. 

Mingi couldn't deny how uncanny it was to see someone else in Jongho’s hoodie with the hood up. He understood how Wooyoung must have felt when he saw Mingi in it in his kitchen a while back. He stared at Yunho for quite a while, letting his mind fall into the illusion of it being Jongho beside him instead.

He cleared his throat, “Jongho. I-” His breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat immediately, “I'm who Tuesday cheated on you with. I'm so sorry.” His voice shook as he continued, “I should have told you immediately. I'm a horrible friend. And the fucked up thing is, I only did it because I knew you would forgive me. But then I couldn't even bring myself to ask for it. And you thought it was your fault he cheated somehow. I was just trying to test his loyalty and then it got out of hand and-” He paused as a sob caught in his throat, hearing Yunho sing the song that was playing quietly under his breath, exactly like Jongho would do if he had a song stuck in his head, “I'm just so sorry, Jongho.” He couldn't go on speaking as the tears took over. The movement of his body being racked by sobs must have caught Yunho’s attention because soon, he was being pulled into the man's warm, strong embrace. 

“Shh, Mingi, it's okay. I've got you.” Gentle hands rubbed his back, “I've got you, Mingi, you're okay.” 

Mingi composed himself enough to sniffle and croak out, “I'm sorry.” 

“No, honey, don't apologize. You're okay.” Yunho cooed. 

Mingi didn't miss the pet name, but chose to ignore it for the time being. The shock and excitement of hearing it did snap him out of his tears, though. He was used to such pet names from his friends, but this felt different. 

Honey.

He finally composed himself, sitting up enough to look into Yunho's eyes, “Thank you.”

Yunho’s breath caught as he became cognizant of their proximity, “Do you feel any better?” His eyes trailed over Mingi’s lips as he asked it. 

“I really do.” Mingi thought he might lean in and kiss him, but decided to pull back last second instead, “Maybe therapy isn't a total crock of shit.” 

Yunho did a good job of hiding his confusion, covering it with a laugh, “I'm glad you're going to therapy, Mingi. I hope it's helpful to you. I think it shows a great deal of love for yourself to seek out help when you need it.” 

“I hadn't thought about it that way.” Mingi confessed. 

“Do you not think you love yourself?” Yunho asked, his deep voice soft as silk. 

Mingi considered the question. I did just try to off myself. “I don't know. I think I'm trying to. Or I want to try. Which is better than could be said about me two months ago.” 

“Hmm.” Yunho studied him, “I think that even trying or wanting to try shows that you already do. Are you going to try, Mingi?” 

I'd do anything you asked me to.

Yunho’s expression changed to one of curiosity, like he had just witnessed something he wasn't supposed to have seen, “There! Just then. You seem like you're here with me and then I'll lose you out of nowhere. Where is it you're going?”

“I probably just had to sneeze or something.” Mingi lied, feeling cagey, like he was being backed into a corner. 

He's lost it.

“That was it again just now!” Yunho was teasing but Mingi felt the end of his nose get tickly with frustration. 

“You're being weird.” Mingi was deflecting. He just wasn't used to feeling so seen. 

Yunho’s face fell, “Sorry. I didn't mean to offend-”

“It’s fine.” Mingi snapped, “Thank you for helping me, can I have the hoodie back now? I'm ready to go home.” 

“Yeah, of course, sorry…” Yunho trailed off, looking embarrassed that he had just gotten scolded. 

He took the hoodie off carefully, handling it like it was a sacred artifact. Which to Mingi, it was. 

“‘S fine.” Mingi mumbled as he started to put the hoodie in his backpack, but stopped as a chilly breeze blew in, deciding to wear it instead. 

They walked back to the rectory in silence, both of them evidently with a lot on their minds. 

“I actually have something for you.” Yunho said a little hesitantly as they arrived, going inside to retrieve it. 

“Um. Okay.” Mingi didn't know what to say. 

Yunho handed him a Bible, well-worn and almost excessively annotated, “I, uh. Highlighted some of my favorite parts.”

Mingi tried to refuse, “Oh, I mean, I really don't-” 

“Read it.” Yunho all but pleaded, “For me, Mingi. Trust me. I'm not trying to make you believe. It's just really well written in some parts.” 

Mingi reached up and took the book into his hands. It felt weird. Almost like he could feel the book breathe in time with Yunho. “Okay. Yes, Father.”

Yunho rolled his eyes, “You really have to stop saying that.”

“Because it turns you on?”

“Because it turns you on.” Yunho parried, eyes leveling with Mingi’s, his stare unwavering. 

Both things are true. 

Mingi blinked, not denying it. 

“Call me if you want to talk about any of it or have any questions or anything.” Yunho offered, referring to the Bible, breaking the heated silence all at once. 

“I will.” Mingi didn't know what else to say. ‘Thanks’ felt wrong because he wasn't quite sure he was thankful for the book. “Thanks again for going with me today. I'll, um. See you.” 

“Anytime. Really. Bye, Mingi.” Yunho looked like he didn't really want him to go. “Be safe.” 

Holy shit he was not joking. 

Mingi felt scandalous as he lay in bed, reading some of the most toe curling, shocking, dark and sexy literature he'd ever read in his life. From what was supposed to be a holy book. 

He didn't hesitate to call when he needed context for a particular story. Or, maybe he just wanted to hear Yunho’s voice. 

“Mingi.” Yunho answered the phone, though it was past his bedtime, voice raspy with drowsiness. 

“So what's the significance of washing feet? It seems kinky to be honest.” 

Yunho chuckled, “I'm sure it easily could have been. It's a sign of respect. Reverence. Mary Magdalene didn't have the proper supplies but she was determined to do it. She presented herself to him anyway. Worshipped him with what she had. Judgement from others be damned, she did it with the faith that Jesus would understand and not be so caught up in the how but instead understanding of the why.”

“A calculated risk.” Mingi thought he understood.

“Yes.” Yunho's breath picked up slightly on the other end of the line, “A surrender.” 

Mingi couldn’t help that he was getting aroused at Yunho's words and his voice. He let out a tiny whimper unwittingly, touching himself through his boxers.

“I think I understand her.” Mingi confessed. 

Mingi heard a faint rustling - bedsheets, he assumed - on the other line before Yunho spoke again, deep voice barely above a whisper, “How so?”

“I just…” He took a shaky breath, “Sometimes I wish someone would just tell me what to do. I fucked it up for so long on my own. I think it would be nice for someone else to take the reins for me.”

“Mingi-” Yunho spoke his name like a prayer. “Say what you’re asking of me. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please. Tell me what to do, Father.” Mingi exposed his desires, laying himself naked at Yunho’s feet.

Metaphorically.

He palmed himself harder, not giving himself the satisfaction of skin to skin contact yet. 

Yunho hesitated, taking an excruciatingly long deep breath, before finally, “That’s it, very good. I knew you could say it. Are you already touching yourself, Mingi?”

“Not yet,” Mingi whined, “I'm trying to be good.”

“Good boy.” Yunho growled, “Just do what I say, okay?” 

Fucking hell.

“Okay.” 

“‘Okay?’” Yunho sounded put out, “Do I need to teach you manners, too, darling?” 

“No, sir.” Mingi’s considerable length was threatening to rip a hole through his boxers, “Sorry… Father. I'll be good.” 

“I know you will. You're already so responsive. I can hear your breath shaking. Why don't you show me how much you like this, hm? Take your underwear off for me, gorgeous.” 

“Yes, sir.” Mingi obeyed, then decided to pop his airpods at the last second, knowing he would want to be hands-free at some point. 

“Let me see. I bet you're already leaking just at the sound of my voice, aren't you?” 

Mingi whimpered at the truth of it, turning on his lamp to get the lighting right as he fisted his throbbing cock, making sure to capture the glint of the shiny pearl of pre-cum already having had gathered at the tip. “Yes, sir. Just look.” He sent the photo. 

He swore he heard Yunho muffle a whine on the other line, “Christ, Mingi, what the hell am I going to do with you?” It was rhetorical, but Mingi answered anyway. 

“Cum with me, I hope.” 

Yunho laughed, the sound of it strained as Mingi could hear the slick noise of lube being applied in the background, “Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I plan on it. Go ahead and touch yourself. Close your eyes and listen to my voice. I want you to pretend that's my hand that's stroking your pretty cock, baby.” 

“Yes, sir.” Mingi whined as he spit into his hand and grasped himself genuinely, working the pre-cum that had spilled out down his length for extra lubrication. 

“I love how you sound, honey.” Yunho groaned, “Such sweet noises from that pretty mouth of yours.” His voice was becoming strained, “I've thought about your lips since I met you. How plush they are. How they'd feel on mine.” 

Mingi’s pace quickened at the man's words. Every nerve on fire, senses alight. “Please, I want that so bad, Yunho.” 

“How they would feel wrapped around my cock.” He gasped on the other line. 

“Please, I'll do anything-”

“Tell me how my hand feels around you, baby.” Yunho instructed. 

“You feel incredible, Yunho. I'm- I'm getting close.” Mingi’s hips bucked and he knew he wouldn't last long. 

“Fuck, Mingi.” Yunho whined, “Me, too.” 

“Wish you were here.” Mingi all but sobbed.

“I know. I know, I do, too.” Yunho panted, “Go ahead and let go for me, angel. Cum all over my hand.” 

Mingi let out a noise that would make a nun faint and a seasoned war veteran blush, releasing endless amounts of thick, hot liquid onto his hand and stomach, breathing hard from the effort, calling out, “Yunho-” at his release.

“Mingi-ahh!” Yunho echoed him. Mingi knew he would become easily addicted to the sound of the man’s pleasure if he ever got to hear it again. 

“Thank you.” Mingi said, catching his breath, voice sounding small, sated. 

“No, thank you, jagi. You were so good for me, honey.” Yunho, too, was out of breath as he praised him from the other line, “Are you okay? That wasn't too much?”

“It was so good, Yunho.” Mingi breathed, “I feel safe with you.” He couldn’t believe he admitted it. 

“Mmh, I'm so glad, baby.” Yunho's voice was warm on the other line, so close that Mingi could almost feel him in the room with him. 

“Yunho?” 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Yunho’s dulcet tones soothed Mingi’s nerves like a balm. 

“Can you. Um.” Mingi swallowed, “Nevermind.”

“No, what is it, angel? Do you want me to stay on while you fall asleep?” Yunho sounded so concerned, so sweet. 

“Is that too much to ask?”

“No, of course not. I'm happy to do it. I enjoy any time I get to spend with you, Mingi.” Mingi's heart warmed at the vulnerability of the statement. 

“Me, too, Yunho.” He smiled, finished cleaning himself and curled up into bed, fluffy duvet falling over his shoulder, half wishing Yunho was there behind him. 

“Sleep well, Mingi.” Yunho yawned, “Sweet dreams.” 

“Goodnight, Yuyu.” Mingi was only half-conscious of letting the nickname slip out. 

“Mmh.” Yunho sighed, “What am I going to do with you, Mingi.” 

But Mingi was already asleep. 

December 19th

Mingi sank down once again onto his therapist's couch, feeling a little nervous, but also excited to report that things had gone well talking to his friend last week. And it was true. Mingi had to admit that he had felt somewhat of a weight off of his shoulders after confessing.

Maybe the Catholics are onto something. 

“I'm expecting an A+.” Mingi quipped as his therapist entered the room. 

She tried to maintain her professional air but Mingi caught the slight upward curl of her lip, clearly amused, “I'm sorry, Mingi, I don't give out grades. But I'm assuming that means you did your ‘homework’ as you called it?” 

“I did.” Mingi nodded. 

“How do you feel afterwards?” She asked, leaning forward. 

“I feel… like it was the right thing to do.” He sighed, “I had a new friend - well, I’m not sure I can really call him a friend, but that’s all he can be - help me out. I’ve been trying to ask for help when I need it. It’s hard for me, but I’m doing it. I just feel so embarrassed when I do ask for it. But this new friend of mine… I don’t mind asking him for help. I want him to help me. I want, like, a lot of things from him, though.” Mingi felt that he was rambling, stopping himself before he said something he wasn’t even ready to admit to himself. 

“Hmm.” His therapist had been taking notes, but stopped to meet his eye, “When you said all you could be is friends, what does that mean?”

“He’s a priest.”

Her eyes went wide, something that Mingi found amusing, knowing how hard she tried to keep a poker face with him, “So it’s forbidden.”

“Sacrilege, yes.” 

“That’s part of what appeals to you about it, though.” It was technically a question but she said it as a statement. 

“I, um.” Mingi felt himself become a little overwhelmed, “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that. But yes, I’m sure it plays a part.” He knew she was right as soon as she had said it. 

“And it’s mutual?”

Mingi’s ears went hot at the thought of just how mutual it had been the other night.

If only she knew.

“It’s definitely mutual.” He confirmed, hoping he wasn’t being too candid. 

"We're supposed to be talking about your suicide attempt." She fixed him with a stony expression.

"Aw, come on, please let me talk about boys!" He whined.

“Well, okay. Next time.” She considered, “You’re both adults. He knows the risks as much as you do. As long as it’s consensual and enjoyable and you are fully aware that there’s a significant if not one-hundred percent chance that he’s going to choose God over you in the end, I don’t really see how it’s an issue. If you think you can handle it, emotionally. See where it goes.”

“I’m not sure I can handle it. But I also don’t think I can handle not trying to explore it.” 

“Ah, yes, isn’t that Tennyson? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’” She quoted a line from a poem Mingi vaguely thought he had heard before. Regardless, it fit exactly how he was feeling about everything. “Yeah. I think that’s it exactly. I’ve had that mindset for a long time, actually. But before I got to the point where I wanted to end things, it came from a different place.”

“How so?” 

“I guess because it was never mutual before. I would follow any thread pretty recklessly, knowing how I would be left on the other side, but going anyway. Fully cognizant of the fact that these whims had no concern for my well-being. I think it was a form of self-flagellation. But now that I’m learning to love myself, it’s different, I guess. It’s safe to love the priest because it has to end, not because it won’t. The predetermination of it is the perfect out.”

She studied him, absorbing what he had just said, “I think you’re too self-aware for your own good, Mingi.” She smiled, a first, “Why do you think you find comfort in the fact that it has to end?”

Mingi chuckled, “I don’t know. I think because I’m not ready to do anything more than microdose love. At least not yet. And I can also tell that this is going to set the standard for me going forward.” 

“But you’re still hesitating. Why?”

“I’m fucking scared. I’m half convinced I’m lying to myself about every justification I just gave you.” Mingi let his head tip back to the back of the couch, emotionally exhausted. 

“I think you’ve already made up your mind about it, though. And if you want my two cents, which, I’m assuming you do, I think it’s okay to be scared. It’s good to do scary things. Within limits, of course. But I think letting yourself be loved, even briefly, and although yes, very scary, it’s still a beautiful thing.” 

“I thought you would try to stop me.” Mingi raised an eyebrow at her. 

“I fear that only would have driven you towards it faster. Plus, it’s not my job to try to stop you. It’s my job to help you through it.” 

I’m going to fuck the hot priest.

December 24th

It had been a few days since he had heard too much from Yunho, at least outside of the few texts they sent back and forth each day. His therapist’s words rattled around in his head the whole time. He’d been doing a lot of letting himself be seen lately and it wasn’t the easiest, but at least he paid her for it. When it was Yunho, it felt raw, exhilarating. 

The bar was closed for Christmas - and it was still rather early in the morning - so Mingi was home, and very surprised when his phone buzzed. 

Father Daddy Yunho 

I have a very specific priest-related crisis that I need your help with, please

Me

An in-person emergency?

Father Daddy Yunho

Yes, please hurry. 

I’ll order coffee if you pick it up on your way over.

Did I mention pretty please? 

Me

Only because you asked so nicely. 

Mingi struggled to knock with two large coffees in his hand, but luckily, Yunho was antsy and had been waiting for his arrival. 

“Oh my god, my hero!” Yunho praised him as he entered, taking his coffee cup from Mingi. 

They hadn’t talked much about their activities the other night, but it didn’t really bother Mingi, mostly because Yunho hadn’t just completely ghosted him and had treated him as normal as things had ever been between the two of them in the days following. 

“What’s this emergency?” Mingi asked, making himself at home on the couch. 

Yunho blushed and Mingi had to restrain himself from launching himself at the man and kissing his rosy cheeks to make the blush even worse. “I’m way overthinking it, but I need help choosing which vestment and chasuble to wear for the Christmas Eve service tonight.” 

Mingi’s face lit up, “Fashion show!” He giggled, watching Yunho’s face crack open with a smile at his excitement. 

Yunho looked good in everything, and Mingi told the man as much as he showed him option after option while they drank their coffees and chatted about nothing. But the dark green robes with cream and gold accents were so lovely on him that Mingi declared them the winners. 

“For someone who claims to not be religious, you sure do seem nervous for tonight.” Mingi chided him lightheartedly. 

“I’m not religious.” Yunho looked at him seriously, his eyes seeming to search Mingi’s for some sign of understanding.

“And I’m still fascinated by that claim.” Mingi replied, settling into the couch, waiting for an explanation. 

Yunho crossed over and sat down next to Mingi on the couch, “I grew up hating everything about religion. Catholicism, in particular. I still am very critical of it. For me, being a priest is like a vegan who chooses to work in a slaughterhouse because they trust themselves to be more humane in the animal’s last moments than someone else would be. Sacrificing their morals in order to save them. If I weren’t in this position, someone else would be, and at least I can trust myself to not be the stereotype of a Catholic priest.”

Mingi considered this, “Well, don’t they say the last person who would ask for power is the first person who should be given it? I think that it’s admirable of you, Yunho.”

Yunho smiled, but his eyes still held something Mingi couldn’t quite put a finger on, “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say. But in all honesty, Mingi, I don’t know what I would have done, don’t know what would have happened, had I not chosen this path. I…” He took a deep breath, finding Mingi’s eyes once again, “I have a very addictive personality, Mingi. This was the only way I felt like I could trust myself. And it’s worked, so far.”

“So far.” Mingi echoed him, studying every single square inch of his face, suddenly hit with the realization that he wouldn’t have forever with the man beside him to ever fully memorize it. Mourning what he had yet to lose. 

“You scare the shit out of me, Mingi.” Yunho confessed, hand finding Mingi’s own, thumb tracing softly over his knuckles. 

Mingi swallowed, feeling like he had just been hit with a truck at the confirmation that Yunho had it just as bad for him. He drew his hand back, “Maybe we…” He tried to blink back the tears he could feel pricking at the corners of his eyes, “I’m sorry, it’s all too much, I have to go. I’m sorry, Yunho.”

Yunho looked like a puppy who had just been kicked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s not your fault, I promise. I’m just- It’s just too much right now…”

“I understand.” Yunho cast his eyes down to the floor, “I’ll leave you alone, Mingi. I’m sorry.” 

Mingi turned and stood up, heading out the door without a backwards glance as his tears finally began to fall. 

December 30th

Mingi dreaded tonight. Rehearsal dinner. He was so excited and happy for Hongjoong and Seonghwa, of course. Happy to see his friends. But he knew Yunho would be there, and they hadn’t talked since Christmas. 

Mingi had gone to Christmas mass the next night. He watched from a pew at the very back as Yunho spoke, followed along the best he could to all the standing and kneeling and singing. He was mesmerized by all of it. Yunho was good at his job. He had made eye contact with Mingi from his spot at the pulpit, and his gaze said more than his words. He looked apologetic. Mingi realized he would never try to convince the man to leave the church for him. That was where he belonged. 

It didn’t help him stop yearning for him, though. In fact, it made it all the worse. 

Besides the night he had seen Yunho in his Spiderman pajamas, and his brief donning of Jongho’s hoodie, tonight was the first time Mingi had seen him in regular street clothes. 

A dark blue sweater that made his eyes look an even more rich chestnut brown, slacks and loafers. It was nothing crazy but still. 

Salt in the wound. Unable to stop the visions of the two of them together just living a normal life. Domestic bliss. A dream that would never be actualized. 

To make things even worse, Yunho seemed to be trying to spare him that night. Intentionally ignoring Mingi, avoiding eye contact.  

He left early, while Mingi was in the bathroom. 

Bastard. 

Mingi had manners and waited until everyone else was leaving, said proper goodbyes, Wooyoung and San keeping an eagle eye on him. 

“Everything okay, Mingi?” Wooyoung asked as he hugged him bye. 

Mingi sighed, “It’s kind of a long story.”

San smiled gently at him, “We’re all ears if you need to talk about it.” 

He looked between his two friends, reminding himself of the promise he had made, “I’m sort of in love with the priest.”

Wooyoung and San made identical shocked faces, the former snapping out of it to start barraging him with questions, “Are you guys together? You’re not going to make him lose his job, right? Is it mutual?!” 

Mingi groaned, “Ugh, no. We’re not together. It’s absolutely mutual. Not that either of us have said it. We both know how it will end. But we both want to do something about it. Like. Bad. Something besides the phone sex.” 

San high-fived him, “Hell yeah, nice.”

Wooyoung glowered at his boyfriend, “You both are such bros sometimes, it’s hard to remember you’re bisexual.” 

Mingi and San looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh. Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “Mingi. I’m sure you’ve already made up your mind. And judging by the way he completely ignored you tonight, I’m sure Yunho is on the same page.”

“He’s right.” San nodded, “Just please, don’t take it too hard on the other side. And remember we’re here for you. Don’t you dare start isolating again when this inevitably ends like I’m sure you’re both well aware it will.” 

“I know.” Mingi sighed. As much as he knew that logically, there was only one way things between he and Yunho could end, there was still the smallest glimmer of delusional hope that reared its ugly head every single time the inexorable end was mentioned. “I promise, I won’t try to deal with the aftermath alone. You guys just have to promise you won’t hate me if I’m mopey and miserable for a little while.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “Mingi, we could never hate you. There’s no reality where you’re too much for us. I know we didn’t have the best way of showing it, but I promise you, we love you so much and we want to be there for you. Just like I know you want to be there for us.” 

“It’s what family is for.” San agreed. Mingi couldn’t help but feel his heart warm at his wording. Really, they were his family. He was finally starting to believe they always would be. 

“I love you guys.” Mingi admitted, hugging them tight before darting off towards the fate that awaited him at his favorite priest’s living quarters. 

“Good luck!” They called after him. 

Mingi arrived to the rectory out of breath and sweating under the layers he was wearing. 

It felt like an eternity after he knocked before the door swung open, revealing a red-nosed, puffy eyed Yunho.

“Mingi, you shouldn't be here.” Yunho couldn’t even look Mingi in the eye when he said it. 

“I’ll leave. If you actually want me to.” Mingi took a step closer, removing his coat and scarf, tossing them inside, all but demanding to be let it. 

Yunho sighed, moving out of the doorway, closing the door softly behind Mingi. Clicking the lock into place. 

“Are you finished ignoring me now?” Mingi asked, edging closer to Yunho's personal space. 

The priest finally leveled his eyes to Mingi’s, “I could never ignore you, Mingi.” He moved microscopically closer, the air between them sparking with electricity, “I was trying to make it easier on you. Given how you left the other day. I didn't want to push your boundaries.” 

Mingi leaned further in, “You scare the hell out of me, Yunho.” He quoted the man back to himself, “Yet here I am. I can't stay away. I've read the book. I know the end.”

Yunho’s eyelids fluttered as he reached forward, taking Mingi's hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle slowly. 

“Like a lamb to slaughter.” Yunho whispered, his breath tickling the back of Mingi’s hand. 

“No,” Mingi gasped as Yunho worked his way up the inside of his forearm, “No, I feel like a lamb who trusts his shepherd. But neither of us can help that we're surrounded by wolves.” 

“Blind faith.” Yunho's voice was deep, unwavering. 

“Isn't that the only way to reach heaven?” Mingi asked. 

Yunho placed Mingi’s hand that he was still holding onto his chest. Mingi could feel his heart beat through the fabric of his sweater, perfectly in time with his own. The priest leaned in, lips barely whispering over Mingi’s as he spoke, “You'll let me take you there?” 

Mingi felt the desire for the man in front of him in every fiber of his being, “Please, Yunho.” 

Time stood still as Yunho pressed his lips to Mingi’s for the first time. They were soft and warm, reverent as they explored him. There was something desperate about how they slotted together, savoring each movement, neither of them in a rush, despite the knowledge that they were on borrowed time. 

Mingi felt like he had just jumped off a cliff. Free falling. Yunho would catch him, he knew. Even if it was brief. His feet would hit the ground hard, come morning. But tonight he would relish in the exhilaration. The head rush of lying prostrate at the feet of the man with whom he was in love, but would never have the privilege of loving. 

The kiss deepened, heads turning to the side for better access, bodies pressing together, desperate to feel, to touch. To worship. 

A soft moan escaped Mingi’s lips as Yunho guided his tongue inside to explore the other's mouth. Mapping it out, committing it to memory. Mingi's hands found purchase in the silky hair at the nape of Yunho's neck, fingernails scraping lightly at his scalp. He thought he might die at the noise that left the man’s mouth at his touch. It was almost too much. Mingi felt his head starting to swim and pulled back to catch his breath. 

He was caught off guard, though he shouldn't have been, at how beautiful Yunho looked with flushed cheeks and plump, parted lips, blood red and shiny with spit. 

“You okay?” Yunho asked gently, caressing Mingi’s face softly with his elegant hands. 

Mingi shivered at his feather light touch, “I just needed a second.” 

Yunho peered straight into his soul, a feeling with which Mingi was becoming familiar. “Come sit down.” He backed away, leading Mingi by his hand to the couch. 

Mingi sat, peering up at Yunho through his eyelashes, waiting for further instruction. 

Yunho dipped down and kissed him sweetly on his forehead, “You trust me?”

“Fully.” Mingi breathed. 

“I'll be right back.” Yunho stood, heading into his kitchen. 

Mingi heard the water running in the sink and couldn't help but be curious. 

Yunho arrived a few moments later with an intricately designed metal basin full of warm water, soap and a couple of towels in hand. Mingi was speechless. He could have giggled, been embarrassed, felt too shy or silly to continue. He would have, had it been anyone else kneeling in front of him. Yunho’s sweater was rolled up to his elbows and Mingi couldn’t help but study his forearms and hands as he placed the towel and water basin down in front of Mingi, light blue veins prominent on the backs of his lovely hands, beautifully landscaped under soft, flawless skin. 

Yunho reached forward and rolled Mingi’s pants legs up with deft fingers. He leaned forward as he lifted Mingi’s left leg, pausing with it in front of him, practically bowing down as he began kissing softly from his ankle up to his calf, his lips barely ghosting over Mingi’s skin. He released his foot into the water, which was the perfect temperature, before moving on to the next one. Mingi’s head tipped back and his eyes closed at the intimacy of it. But as he felt Yunho’s hands find his left foot once more, lifting it so he could wash it properly, he opened them to watch, not wanting to miss a moment of the man’s act. Yunho’s brow was ever so slightly furrowed in concentration as he massaged Mingi’s feet with soapy hands. He was so beautiful, a face to match the quality of his heart. Mingi’s own heart ached, and he let it. Determined to be present for every emotion that overcame him, at least this once. Just this one night. 

Being worshipped. It was the most mind-bending experience of Mingi’s life. Feeling both worthy yet completely undeserving of it simultaneously. A miracle that someone would display such devotion to him. A miracle that he would let himself allow it. Jeong Yunho, a miracle. 

Yunho lifted Mingi’s feet out of the water as he finished, moving the basin over so he could dry them off. 

“Thank you.” Yunho whispered, leaning forward to kiss the inside of Mingi’s knee, resting his head there for a second as he fixed his gaze on Mingi’s face. 

“I should be thanking you.” Mingi blinked, shocked that he was the one being thanked, “Can I wash yours as well?”

Yunho shook his head, “No, Mingi. Thank you. But let me take care of you tonight. Please.” He stood up, pulling Mingi to his feet as well, “Can you do that for me, jagiya?” He touched Mingi’s cheek, and Mingi felt himself lean into it. 

“Yes. I want that, Yunho.” Mingi met his eye, “Please.” He let the word hover in the air.

Yunho smiled, “Follow me.” 

Mingi was led to a part of the rectory he had never seen before. A small, cozy bedroom in the hallway behind the kitchen. The bedroom was exactly what one might picture a bedroom in a Catholic church to look like. Mingi highly doubted Yunho had chosen much of the decor, certainly not the four-poster bed. Yunho led him over, stopping at the side of the bed to pull Mingi in for another kiss, his hands reaching up to start unbuttoning Mingi’s dress shirt, then followed with his own sweater. Mingi gaped at the priest’s body, looking like it could just as easily be carved from marble as it could be skin. But unlike a statue, he was soft and warm to the touch. They couldn’t stop their hands from skimming over one another’s bodies, touching everywhere that they could reach.

Yunho revered his body, fingertips lightly skimming over his hips working upwards, back to Mingi’s face, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Yunho broke the kiss long enough to asess Mingi’s body, “Oh, angel, you’re so beautiful.” He reached down to begin unbuckling Mingi’s belt, “I need to see all of you.”

Mingi opened his mouth to reply but his brain went blank as Yunho guided his pants off and returned, fingers lightly grazing Mingi’s cock, which was quickly filling with blood at his touch. He whimpered as his boxers were pulled off and he was finally free, no more uncomfortable tightness. 

“You’re so lovely.” He leaned in, kissing across Mingi’s jaw, causing him to have to latch on to Yunho’s hips with his hands for balance, breath sucked out of his lungs at Yunho’s attention, “So reactive.” Yunho smiled into Mingi’s neck, then pulled back to work his own pants and underwear off. Mingi would have tried to get them off sooner, but Yunho had requested he be the one to do the caretaking, and for once in his life, Mingi wanted to do exactly as he was told. 

Yunho walked him back a couple of steps until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, “Why don’t you lay down, Mingi? Get comfortable.”

Mingi situated himself in the middle of the bed, head on the pillows, propped up enough to where he didn’t have to strain his neck to watch whatever Yunho planned to do to him. 

Yunho placed lube and condoms within reach on the bed, then crawled in between Mingi’s legs, lifting his feet one at a time and placing the soles down flat on the mattress before slowly starting to kiss up the inside of his legs once more, nipping and marking him occasionally as he went. Mingi felt his dick hit his stomach, now painfully hard. Yunho pulled his lips off a particularly tender spot on his inner thigh, soothing the mark he had made with his tongue before leaning forward, hovering over Mingi to kiss him again, wrapping his long fingers around the other’s wrists, pinning his arms up by his head as he began kissing his way down his neck, then chest, lips landing on Mingi’s erect nipple, pulling it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before letting go and moving to the next one. Mingi gasped at the sensation. 

Yunho laughed sweetly into his skin, lips popping off of his nipple as he spoke, “So sensitive, baby. I love it. Wanna hear you keep making those pretty noises for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Mingi whined, “I will.” 

“Such a good boy.” Yunho praised as he sat up to apply lube to his fingers. “Mmh, god, look at you. I want to devour you.” His eyes were on Mingi’s cock when he said it, but it was still a surprise when he leaned down to lick a stripe up the underside of Mingi’s throbbing dick, flicking his tongue as he reached the tender underside of the head.

Mingi whimpered, “Fuck, please, Yunho.”

“Shh,” Yunho quieted him, “There’s no rush, darling. I want to make you feel so good.” His finger started tracing circles around Mingi’s rim, “You still trust me to do that, right?”

“God-” Mingi gasped as Yunho’s tongue found the tip of his cock again, “Fuck. Yes, sir. I trust you.”

“Good,” Yunho’s finger began applying pressure, slipping inside as Mingi relaxed, “I’m so glad.”

Mingi was right to have admired Yunho’s hands. His fingers were incredible, long with prominent knuckles, reaching deep inside of Mingi, the sensation almost being too much to handle. As Yunho worked his second finger inside, his mouth found the head of Mingi’s leaking cock once again, taking it inside, moaning at how Mingi filled him up. Both men were large. Mingi was glad for Yunho’s fingers after seeing just how stuffed full of Yunho he would be very soon. Yunho’s fingers found Mingi’s prostate, applying pressure there in time with the bobbing of his head as he sucked Mingi’s cock down, acting more protestant than priest in that moment. 

“Yunho, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that!” Mingi warned as his hips bucked in response to the attention Yunho was giving him. 

Yunho pulled off, the release of his mouth off of Mingi’s dick making a faint pop noise, “Well, we can’t have that yet, can we?” He added a third finger, scissoring them open to ensure Mingi was fully prepped to take him. 

“No, please, not yet. Want you inside.” Mingi almost felt panicked at the idea of cumming without Yunho buried deep inside of him. 

Yunho smiled, reaching for the condom, “As you wish.” 

“Wait,” Mingi stopped Yunho as he tried to rip the packet open, “I’m clean, I swear. Can I please take you raw?”

Yunho growled, “Fuck, Mingi, you must be trying to kill me.” But despite his words, he tossed the condom to the side and reached for the lube instead, “I’d love to, honey.” 

Yunho lined himself up, leaning down to kiss Mingi again before he began his slow venture inside.

It was unlike any feeling Mingi had ever had in his life. Completely at Yunho’s mercy. Surrendering himself. The sensation of being filled, split in half, washed over him, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes as Yunho finally, decadently, buried himself to the hilt. “God, Mingi, you took me so well, darling.” He kissed the tears off of Mingi’s cheeks, “Still doing okay?”

“I’m perfect.” Mingi sighed, overwhelmed at how content he felt as he was speared within an inch of his life. 

“I think that might actually be true.” Yunho muttered, “You feel like you were made for me. Can I move now?”

“Yes, god, please move, Yunho.” Mingi begged. 

The first pump of his hips and Mingi saw stars. He savored every sensation, Yunho’s cock gliding in and out, reaching the depths of Mingi’s insides. 

Mingi canted his hips so they met Yunho’s motion in the middle, their bodies slamming together, becoming desperate in their pursuit of release. 

“Fuck, Mingi-” Yunho gasped as he fucked into him harder, motion still slow and languid, his talented fingers wrapping around Mingi’s desperate cock, stroking him in time with his hips. “Feel so good. Sucking me in like that.”

“Yunho-” Mingi moaned, lost in the sensation, “God, Yunho-yah.”

“Mmh, that’s right. Say my name, baby. I love hearing it.” Yunho’s pace quickened, highlighting his point. 

“Yunho, please,” Mingi babbled, completely cockdrunk, “Want you to fill me up. Please, Yunho-”

“Oh I will, sweetheart.” Yunho grunted, adjusting Mingi’s hips ever so slightly, getting the angle just right, “You have to cum with me though. Can you do that?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, Yunho, please.” Mingi’s voice was weak, demonstrating exactly how deprived he felt. 

“So close-” Yunho pumped his hips a few more times, harder than ever, his pace faltering, before he finally let go, “Fuck, Mingi-” 

Mingi was nothing if not obedient, crying out as he released over Yunho’s hand and his own stomach. 

Yunho slumped over Mingi as he came down, pulling out slowly before falling to the bed beside him. Mingi reached out hesitantly, not knowing exactly why he was feeling shy after having the man deep inside of him just seconds ago. Yunho smiled, sensing Mingi’s caution, wrapping his arms around him and tucking him snugly to his chest. 

“Mingi, you can touch me, honey. Come here.” He kissed Mingi’s temple, “You were amazing, baby. So perfect for me.” 

“Yeah?” Mingi asked softly, feeling a little raw after that experience. 

“Yes, angel. Was it okay? I wasn’t too rough?” Yunho asked, his voice pitching up with concern for Mingi’s well-being. 

“No, it was wonderful.” Mingi sighed, “Incredible.”

“Good.” Yunho tilted his chin up to kiss him again, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Mingi asked, not understanding. 

Yunho tucked Mingi’s head under his chin, stroking his hair, “Just… thank you. For everything. For coming into my life. For letting me into yours.” 

“I would do it all over again, Yunho. Every single time.” Mingi confessed, surprising himself with his candor. 

“Me, too, Mingi.” Yunho kissed the crown of his head, “In every lifetime.” 

They showered together afterwards, taking any last opportunity to touch one another freely, knowing their time together was ticking away faster than either of them would like, or care to admit. They didn’t acknowledge it, not outright. But it was understood by both of them that it was best to not worry about it before it happened. 

Back in bed together, limbs tangled, breath soft on one another’s skin as they relaxed into the embrace, Mingi couldn’t help but breach the silent contract they had made.

“Yunho?” He dared to whisper. 

"Hm?"

“That story about Lot’s wife and how she was told not to look back as she left Sodom and Gomorrah, lest she be turned into a pillar of salt?” 

Yunho nodded, “What about it?”

“I keep thinking about it. I already know I’m going to look, too. I won’t be able to help it, Yunho.” He drew the priest closer to himself, though it was nearly impossible to do so, considering how tightly they were clinging to one another already.

Yunho traced soft, comforting patterns over Mingi’s back, “I know, Mingi. I won’t either.”

Neither of them dared to elaborate further before letting themselves fall asleep. They didn’t need to. They understood each other perfectly as it was. 

December 31st

It was a beautiful wedding. Mingi let himself be pulled into the joy of it all that day, concentrating on anything that offered itself up. Anything to take his mind off of the fact that this was the last time he would see Yunho. Hard to do when he was the star of the show during the ceremony. He looked beautiful up there, at the flower adorned pulpit, wearing the same dark green robes as he had worn for Christmas, this time with a slightly different chasuble, this one embroidered with wildflowers in every color. A subtle hint to a rainbow, if Mingi had to guess. Sweet of him, really. 

“When I first met Hongjoong and Seonghwa, heard the story of how they met, how their love developed and turned into what it is today, I knew that the tired Bible verses everyone uses for weddings wouldn’t be suitable. ‘Love is patient, love is kind…’ and yes, don’t get me wrong. This couple demonstrates great patience and kindness to one another. But love is also vulnerable. It’s terrifying. It’s not only a feeling, but also a verb. As you fall deeper into it, you start to build a contract with one another. Committing to act on that love again and again, circumstances be damned. Love isn’t something weak people do.” Yunho’s eyes found Mingi’s in the front row pew at that sentence. “Life may get hard, but the love itself has to come easily. And after spending time with the couple here in front of me today, I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that these two are built for it.” 

Yeosang looked up at Mingi from his position beside him, seeing the tears roll freely down his face, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze before lacing his fingers into Mingi’s own. Mingi knew he understood. Wooyoung and San are bad at keeping secrets. But he was okay with the fact that his friends knew. Happy for it, even. He would be needing them. 

“I’ve seen it in the little things, like how Seonghwa makes sure that Hongjoong has eaten. Or how Hongjoong makes Seonghwa laugh with only a certain look in his eye. But it’s also in the big things. Through life events that easily could have torn them apart. They weathered the storms and came out on the other side stronger. These two here before me today are some of the most brave and courageous people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I’m beyond happy to declare them husbands.” 

Cheers and applause echoed off the stone walls of the church, Mingi’s amongst them. 

Mingi stepped outside of the reception, pulling his coat around his shoulders as he leaned against the wall of the building. He hadn’t told his friends he needed some air this time, but that was because he knew someone else would follow him outside. 

Yunho’s weight settled against his shoulder as he joined him against the wall. 

“You’ve really found your calling, Yunho.” Mingi complimented him. 

Yunho chuckled, “Feels more like a curse than a calling at this very moment.”

Mingi turned his head to look at the priest’s stunning profile, committing it to memory. “No, don’t think of it like that. I’m sure we’ve done this before, in a different life. I’m sure we’ll do it again in another one. Hopefully, the next.”

Yunho smiled, turning his head to meet Mingi’s gaze, “Let’s agree now to just both be accountants or something in the next one.”

Mingi laughed despite himself, fighting the urge to sink his claws into Yunho and never let go. Reach in and pluck his own rib out to breathe life into something that never had a chance in the first place. “Deal.” Mingi blinked back tears, “I love you, Yunho. For whatever it’s worth.”

“I-” 

“No.” Mingi cut him off, “Let’s just sit with that for a second. I love you.” 

The moment felt exactly like midnight in the early winter, on a night where you could tell it was going to snow. Quiet. Crisp. Still. The anticipation building slowly. 

“I love you.” Mingi repeated a third time after the moment passed.

Yunho reached up, wiping the tear that had escaped off of Mingi’s cheekbone, “It’ll pass.”

“Are you sure I can’t just shrink myself down and live inside your heart? So we could be together?” Mingi scrambled at the last minute, searching for ways to prolong this inevitable moment. 

Yunho’s eyes watered at his words, “You already do live there, Mingi. You have since I first laid eyes on you.” He pushed off the brick wall to stand in front of Mingi, letting his hand fall down to grab Mingi’s, pulling it up to kiss his knuckles once more, “I love you, too.” He dropped Mingi’s hand. “Until our next life, then.” He turned away, seeming to walk in slow motion. Mingi turned, too, walking back towards the door inside. 

He turned back.

Yunho had looked back over his shoulder. 

They held each other’s gaze for one last moment before turning once more and going their separate ways. 

Neither of them turned into pillars of salt.

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part vii (final)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // this godforsaken mess that you made me

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut

Words: 9k

A/n: Sorry it's been a month since I updated this but we made it to the end!! Just wanna say thank you to everyone who's followed along, liked, commented on and reblogged this series, I've been so overwhelmed by the amazing responses to this, just all the love 🖤 Also available to read on AO3.

It’s easy to forget just how fucking freezing King’s Landing can be in December. She pulls her leather jacket a little tighter around herself but there’s not much she can do about the cold stabbing at her legs through her fishnets— why the fuck had she worn a mini dress in the first place? It falls a little higher up her thighs than she wants it to and the bust just doesn’t fit quite right, but she supposes she has to commit now. She at least counts herself lucky that it’s not snowing.

She looks down at the pavement as it moves underneath her black boots. There’s her second mistake— one cocktail past her usual limit. Now she feels aware but somehow numb. She finds wonder in everything around her, the glare of colourful lights on the outside of the bars they rush past, the pulsing of music from every direction, the smells of smoke, vapes, and that distinct, sharp scent of winter.

She had met Baela, Rhaena, Jace and their friends at a pub near the train station. Being the last to arrive, she sat at the edge of the table. It wasn’t a big group but that only made her more nervous. The other girls introduced themselves as Coryanne, Jeyne, Jess and Floris, all beautiful, all dressed immaculately. She told them her name and they said a unanimous “hi!” but other than that it was hard to talk to them while they gossiped about people she didn’t know and reminisced memories she had no part in. Even Jace was distracted; he was clearly all over Coryanne and spent the entire evening trying too hard to make her laugh.

So she kept ordering cocktails, a different one each time, downing them in quick succession and waiting for the evening to pass.

She keeps telling herself this was a good idea. She needs the distraction, anything to get her mind off the obvious.

The others are all walking ahead of her, and she has to keep sight of them because she has no idea where Dracarys actually is. Baela keeps looking over her shoulder every so often, to check on her she assumes. She gives her a nod and a polite smile, but when Baela turns around, her face falls back to a comfortable frown. She doesn’t mean to look miserable, but she can’t help it. It must be so obvious that she doesn’t belong with these people. She’s just a stray they’ve picked up out of pity.

They turn a corner and suddenly half the street is taken up with a queue of impatient looking people, all in smart shirts and party dresses. Baela calls her name and grabs her hand, pulling her along after the rest of their group.

“Surely this isn’t the line for Dracarys?” she says.

Baela chuckles and keeps marching ahead.

They walk along the queue for a good few minutes. Suddenly they reach an old building with columns and a bell tower. It looks like it could be a Sept or a museum, until she registers the glaring red lights, the tall braziers marking either side of the entrance and the neon logo of a dragon against a blue flame.

Apparently tagging along with not one but two Targaryens has its benefits. Baela keeps her close and their whole group breezes past the bouncers without being asked for ID or charged for entry.

“Dad’s a co-owner,” Baela says in her ear as they walk towards the front steps. She can already feel the bass of the music rattling in her chest.

There’s a smoking area at the bottom of the steps, cornered off from the street by tall hedges and iron gates. It’s dotted with mostly pairs of people, each engrossed in their own conversations.

As Baela leads her up the steps she notices a solitary figure, obscured by shadows, leaning against the wall with his back slightly curved and his chin tilted down. He lights a cigarette. The flicker of flame lights up the sharp features of his face and his silver hair.

Fuck.

Aemond’s not even a club kind of guy. He hates the dancing and the “shitty” music. He likes metal concerts and late-night conversations, preferably somewhere you can actually hear the person next to you.

A plume of smoke billows from his lips, and for whatever reason, he glances towards the front steps.

After a double take, his eyes meet hers, wide and curious.

She only realises she’s stopped walking when Baela tugs on her hand. “You coming or what?” she says over her shoulder, trying to keep up with the others.

She can’t take her eyes off him. Of all the places he could have spent New Years, why does he have to be here?

Don’t engage.

His back straightens as he takes his weight off the wall.

Let go.

She shakes her head and snaps herself out of whatever trance she’s under.

She’ll just ignore him. As long as she sticks with Balea and Jace, everything will work out fine. Surely.

The inside of the club is vast like the nave of the Grand Sept. It has a high vaulted ceiling and an enormous stained-glass window on the farthest wall from the doors.

The floor before them is a sea of bodies in flashy outfits, moving in time to a low, synthy song. Colourful lights cut through the darkness, giving the faces an eerie glow. A few groups linger around the edges of the room, drinking cocktails and taking shots in booths around glass tables. At the end of the hall, under the stained-glass window, is the bar, illuminated with red lights.

Baela keeps a tight hold of her hand as they all fight their way to the bar. Someone orders for her and the bartender places a shot glass of vibrant blue liquor in front of her. Rhaena screams “Happy New Year!” as the others cheers their glasses together.

She holds her up to the light before she downs it, wincing at the sickly, sweet and sour tang it leaves on her tongue.

Her heart thunders in her chest, confused by the music and the sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

Aemond is here.

She’s supposed to be ignoring him, and she had been doing a good job of it so far.

Until that fucking call on Christmas Eve.

What did he think was going to happen? Six months of nothing, then one phone call and she was going to come running back to him?  

But she had already proved that she can’t say no to him, the night of the dinner party, while Alys and Cregan were only in adjacent rooms. All it had taken was his hands on her hips, his breath on her neck, a few harshly whispered words and the promise of a quick fuck. It was enough for her to give in, consequences be damned.

She looks back at doors on the other side of the room. She tells herself she’s not looking for a head of silver hair, but it isn’t much good lying to herself. One look at him outside a club and she can feel that hollow feeling in her chest, an emptiness that Aemond has always been able to fill so perfectly.

“How could I ever stop wanting you?”

“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

Would he say the same now?

Rhaena screams again. She doesn’t catch what she says, but the answer to that is evident when Aegon and Daeron materialise from the crowd, hugging Rhaena, Baela and some of the girls. Jace’s face hardens and he puts his arm around Coryanne’s shoulders.

Then Aegon’s eyes come to her. “Fancy seeing you here!” she shouts into her ear over the music.

She can’t stop herself. “Is Aemond with you?” 

Aegon glances towards the door. “He went outside for a fag.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and furrows his brow. “How are things with you and your mum?”

She frowns. “Why?”

Aegon’s eyes widen and he laughs to himself to play it off. “Just asking, I thought things might be a bit awkward what with… everything that’s gone on.”

“Everything?”

He pauses. “Him and Alys.”

“Right,” she says.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s looking at her like he’s trying to read her mind.

She hates not knowing what other people are thinking, and it only adds to her growing restlessness. Aemond wouldn’t tell Aegon about them, would he? But part of her thinks Aegon would use the opportunity to be more of a dick about it if he knew.

They find a booth and file in. Jace is clearly trying to avoid Aegon; he sits between Coryanne and Daeron. Baela is polite with both of her cousins and Rhaena is friendly, but maybe that’s just the booze. Either way, Aegon is a charmer, and slots himself nicely beside Floris. Jenye and Jess are all over each other, whispers into each other’s ears becoming kisses to their cheeks, necks and mouths.

She slips off her jacket and sits at the end of the table, alone. It's like being at the pub all over again.

Until she spots someone walking towards their table.

Aemond stops, his eyes only on her. No one else seems to have noticed him yet.

She looks across the table, at the only empty space left.

His chest rises and his nostrils flare. He slowly sits opposite her, keeping his shoulders tense and his hands in fists.

She wishes she had a drink in front of her, if only to have something to do. She moves between having her hands on and under the table, unable to keep her fingers still. She bounces her leg, messes with her hair, tries to focus on fragments of conversation drifting from the others.

Then something brushes against her, under the table. She freezes, but relaxes as she feels Aemond’s leg settling against hers. She glances across at him while pretending to listen to something Rhaena’s talking about. Aemond holds her gaze, leaning against the back of the booth with a solemn look on his face.

She can feel his breath on her hands as he exhales a deep breath.

Baela insists that she wants to dance, and so does Rhaena. They drag Daeron with them and disappear into the mass of dancers. Aemond has to stand to let them out, and when he sits back down his leg brushes against hers again.

It’s so painfully obvious that everyone at the table is coupled up, Jace and Coryanne, Aegon and Floris, Jeyne and Jess. Aemond seems to be trying not to pay attention to any of them. He angles his head in the other direction.

She lets her eyes wander along the tightness of his jaw, the tendons in his neck, and the glint of a silver chain beneath his shirt.

She presses her lips together.

Don’t engage.

Don’t do anything stupid.

But maybe she should have thought of that before the cocktails.

She leans forward on her elbows, but as she opens her mouth to speak, Aemond calls Aegon’s name.

“Drink?” he mimes.

She doesn’t see Aegon’s reply. Aemond’s eyes move over her before he stands and heads towards the bar. Suddenly her leg feels cold at the absence.

A particularly loud giggle catches her attention. She looks down the table. Aegon is leaning into Floris’ ear with a dark look in his eye and she’s smiling, but he’s watching her. His eyes flicker over to the bar, and he grins.

Fucking pricks. The pair of them.

Only when she stands up does she realise how dizzy she is, but she ignores it, and makes her way through the crowd until she finds Baela, Rhaena and Daeron. She grabs Baela’s hands, less dancing, more stepping and swaying to the music.

But she keeps ending up turning her head towards the bar. It’s easy to spot Aemond, he towers over most of the people here, his silver hair gleaming under the red lights.

“I didn’t know they were going to be here,” Baela shouts into her ear, “it’s not too awkward is it?”

The music doesn’t make sense to her. It’s just noise. Everything is just frantic noise, and she can’t stand it. She feels restless, and so fucking angry. She wants to dig her nails into her palms. She wants to cry. She wants to scream.

“It’s fine!” she shouts back, “So fucking fine!”

She looks back to the bar. Aemond is at the front of the queue now.

“I need a drink,” she says, not loud enough for Baela to hear.

His name is a gentle hum in her throat as she gets closer to him, weaving her way through the other bodies in the crowd. She doesn’t care when they tell her to get in line and wait her turn. She keeps her eyes fixed on him.

Until he’s close enough to touch.

She watches her hand reach for his shoulder.

He turns his head around with a sharp look of surprise, but it melts away when he realises it’s her.

He mouths her name but she doesn’t hear it. He brushes his fingertips against the bare skin of her arm and she feels weightless. He’s looking at her. She can feel his heat through his shirt.

Until he withdraws his hand with an irritated huff. He leans into her until their noses are inches apart. Even in the low light of the club his eyes are only marginally blue, and she smells whisky on his breath. “Don’t start this again,” he says over the music.

She scowls until her face hurts. “You called me.”

“And you didn’t pick up.”

Her heart shatters. She thought she had done the right thing, but it seems a common occurrence with Aemond that nothing is ever right.

“It was a mistake,” he says sharply, “a stupid fucking mistake. Just forget it.”

He brushes her hand from his shoulder and storms off towards the front doors.

Panic and confusion courses through her. It feels worse because she’s drunk, she knows that, but it still hurts.

Her eyes start to sting as one song ends and another begins. It’s one everyone in the room seems to recognise.

She fights her way back to the booth and grabs her jacket, slipping it over her arms.

Jeyene and Jess are gone, and Jace and Coryanne have found their way to the dancefloor. Floris and Aegon are the only ones left, her legs draped over his lap.

“Leaving so soon?” Aegon coos.

She doesn’t spare him any of her attention. She tries to spot Aemond as she makes her way to the doors on unsure legs.

What if he’s already left? What if this is it, and he never so much as tries to speak to her again? What if she finds him and he pushes her away?

“Five minutes to midnight, ladies and gentlemen!” a voice booms through the speakers. Moving through the room is like swimming against the current as more people make their way to the dance floor, but she manages to make it to the doors.

The cold air hits her suddenly. It burns in her lungs and bites at her skin. The front steps and the street below her are quiet now, and so is the smoking area. Save for one person.

Aemond sits on a bench, hunched over himself, flicking his lighter, but never lighting a cigarette.

He looks up when she stops in front of him, his lips slightly parted, the red lights casting shadows in the angles of his chin and cheeks, and his nose.

“Are you seriously running away from me?” she says.

His mouth is in a thin line. He keeps flicking the lighter open and shut, open and shut. “You seemed happy enough avoiding me before.”

“Before? Before what? Before you left me in a hotel room?”

Aemond groans and rubs his fingers over his temple. “I’m not sober enough to have this conversation.”

“No, you’d rather ignore me for the rest of your life.”

“Look, I just want to go about doing things the right way—”

“I think we’re way fucking past that now.”

He groans. “What do you want me to do then?” he says, his voice laced with spite.

“Take some fucking responsibility!” she cries, louder than she means to.

He takes her off guard when he stands and steps into her. She takes a step back, and he keeps walking, until her back meets a wall. “And what does responsibility look like, hmm?” He places a hand beside her head leans in further still, until all she sees is the furious look in his eyes. “I called and you didn’t pick up. I try to keep my distance and look at you, you’re still practically begging for my attention.”

“Once,” she utters. “You called me once in six months.”

“And if I had tried before, after the dinner, after I left Alys, would you have listened to me?”

Her head lolls into her shoulder. All she remembers of that day is her mum, screaming and crying, storming upstairs and slamming her bedroom door. She stood there, in the kitchen, hands shaking, tears streaming down her face and her heartbeat pulsing in her head.

Her entire world had come crumbling down. Her mother hated her, and she was going to have to break things off with Cregan, and Aemond was gone. If he had called her then, she doesn’t know if she would have been able to manage a single word.

“No,” she says.

Her heart leaps as he takes her chin in his fingertips and tilts her gaze up to him.

He looks down at her with challenge, his eyes squinted slightly, lips in a smug pout. “What do you want me to do? How do I make this right?”

Her hands press against his chest, hypnotised as it rises and falls with each breath he takes. Then her eyes move to his mouth, that perfecting fucking mouth— it’s her favourite feature of his, she decides, the telling twitches of his lips and the way they feel against her skin.

Aemond clamps his hands over her wrists. “See?” he says in a low voice. “You think you’re so righteous, so perfect, but you’re just too fucking needy.”

She surges into him, grazing his lips with hers before he pulls away.

He keeps a tight grip on her wrists, and stares at her with wide eyes.

Only for him to come crashing into her, returning the favour with his own harsh and bruising kiss. He’s desperate and unforgiving, cupping her face with his hands so she has no choice but to let it consume her.

And she lets him. She lets him graze her lips with his teeth, slip his tongue into her mouth and steal the very air from her lungs.

The faint but familiar taste of whisky burns on her tongue. It’s thrilling and grounding all at once.

When they finally part from each other, he rests his forehead against hers. They glare at each other as they try to catch their breaths.

She can still feel the beat of the music from inside the club, and a voice over the speaker, gearing up for the countdown for the New Year.

“I meant it when I told you I loved you,” she says. “It’s not how I wanted to say it, but it was the truth.”

Aemond takes a harsh breath and runs his hand over his forehead, through his hair. “I can’t do this now,” he whispers.

She leans further into the wall, only to find she can’t get away from him. She pushes against his chest, but all her strength is gone.

Aemond takes a small step away from her. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m not thinking straight I…”

She doesn’t listen to him. She can’t, not past the pounding in her head, the retching feeling in her stomach and the crowd inside the club as they start to chant.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“You must have known how much you meant to me,” she says. Her voice is clear and her tears are effortless.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“And what did you do with it? You left me with nothing…”

“Four! Three! Two!”

“You showed me something I’ve never known and then you took it away, only to drag me back in…”

The world erupts around them. Every single voice in the city screams as midnight hits, fireworks and flares soar into the sky and burst with colour, light and noise.

“And I feel so stupid because I let you do it. But I still don’t understand… why do you have to be so fucking cruel? What did I do wrong?”

Aemond looks back at her with a face of agony. Flashes of green, red and gold glisten in his eyes.

“I thought I mattered to you,” she says.

“You did. You still do.”

Her head must be about to burst. She chokes on a sob and cradles her head in her hands.

She keeps her eyes on the floor as Aemond steps into her, and when he wraps his arms around her, she doesn’t have the energy to pull away.

“I’m so tired.” She says it over and over again.

There doesn’t seem to be a moment where they make an agreement, but she lets Aemond pry her hands from her face and lead her onto the street. He tucks her jacket tighter around her arms while he mutters about how cold it is.

She doesn’t feel the cold against her skin, but she can feel herself shivering and her teeth chattering.

A car pulls up to the pavement. Aemond opens the rear door and ushers her inside. It’s warm inside, and the seats are soft. He sits beside her and she falls into him. She closes her eyes, letting the motions and the hum of the engine lull her to a place between waking and sleeping.

Aemond’s gently shakes her awake when the car stops. Wherever he’s brought her, it’s quiet, and once the car disappears down the street, it’s almost silent.

Something cold lands on her cheek. She brushes it away and it melts under her fingers. She looks up, at heavy snowflakes against the streetlights, blinking them from her eyes as they fall.

Aemond takes her hand and she holds it tightly. The dusting of snow crunches under her boots as they walk, a short way along the street and up a series of steps. He doesn’t let go of her as he takes a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

He marches her up a seemingly endless number of stairs before they come to a corridor, and another door. It’s dark on the other side, and it smells like him.

She blinks as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. Tall windows make up most of the outer facing walls, and King’s Landing lays out before them. They must be on the outskirts of the city, given how quiet it is, but she can see everything from here, the lights on Conquest Street, the silhouettes of the Red Keep and the Grand Sept, fireworks and lanterns, and the void that is Blackwater Bay beyond the docks.

Aemond leads her through another door. She winces when he turns on a light, but as her vision starts to settle, she realises it’s a bedroom. She’s drawn to the bed like a magnet, collapsing against the duvet.

“Shoes,” Aemond says.

She kicks her boots off and tosses her jacket on the floor. She curls her face into the pillow. It occurs to her that she hasn’t taken her makeup off, but she’s too tired to really care.

Aemond won’t let her sleep yet. He hands her a glass of water and waits for her to drink a few sips. Then he takes it from her and hands her a t-shirt.

“No…” she drawls, falling back against the bed, “wanna sleep.”

“Please,” Aemond says softly.

She drags herself up, fumbling to undo the zip on her dress. She pulls it over her head and rids herself of her bra and fishnets and lifts her arms up for Aemond to help her into the t-shirt. That smells like him too.

“Better?” he says.

She won’t give him the satisfaction. She crawls underneath the duvet, and by the time the light switches off and the door closes, she’s already half asleep.

The first feeling that hits her is a dull ache pulsing in her head.

Then comes a dry feeling in her throat.

Then a nauseating kind of hunger.

And then dread.

Her eyes dart open; it’s still dark in here, wherever here is.

She looks down at the Pink Floyd t-shirt hanging off her. It’s too broad in the shoulders to be hers.

Her lips feel strange. She trails her fingertips over them and squints, just makeing out the shape of her dress and her boots on the floor.

The memories start to fade into view, like a fog lifting from her mind. The pub, the club, the loneliness, and Aemond…

“Fuck,” she hisses.

She’s still a little dizzy as she drags herself from the bed. She finds her phone in her jacket, on the last legs of its battery. 8:55, 1st January glares up at her on the screen, along with texts and missed calls from Baela, Rhaena, Jace and Alys.

“Fuck!”

She grabs the glass of water on the bedside table and treads softly along the hardwood floor, to the door.

She hovers her hand over the handle. She’ll have to come out eventually, might as well get it over with.

The bedroom leads out to an open living space she doesn’t recognise in the slightest. In the corner there’s a kitchen and a small dining table with four chairs, then the rest of the room holds two sofas, a coffee table, a record player, plenty of bookshelves and by the window, a desk and a prayer plant with a ribbon tied around its pot.

None of the lights are on and from what she can tell, Aemond isn’t even here. The room is lit only by daylight. Beyond the windows, the sky is a dull grey and King’s Landing is covered in snow.

Nothing about the apartment is disorderly, expect perhaps for the extensive collection of shoes and coats by the door, most of them black with the odd item of brown for some variety.

The only photos on display are on the desk. One is of Alicent and Helaena, both in pale blue jeans and white blouses, with gentle smiles their arms around each other. Another is of Aegon and Daeron sitting by the pool at Dragonstone. The final one is of an arched, stone bridge, which she recognises immediately as Roseroad Bridge in Oldtown. It’s lined with statues of famous Maesters, Steptons and members of the Hightower family, and she walks along it every day to get from her apartment to uni.

He has his own place now then. She wonders if he moved in right after he left Queen’s Park.

She resists the urge to run her fingers along the desk, or over the closed cover of a notebook and the ink pen beside it.

Her head snaps towards the front door as it unlocks. Aemond walks in with snow on his jacket, a brown paper bag and two coffee cups in a drinks holder.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Morning,” he mutters, closing the door behind him.

She slowly makes her way to the kitchen as he unpacks the bag— eggs, a loaf of sourdough and some cherry tomatoes.

He looks up at her, and places one of the cups in front of her. “Oat, vanilla latte.”

“Thanks,” she says. It’s not quite as hot as she would have liked, but she’ll forgive him on account of the snow.

“Sit down,” he says, nodding to the dining table. “Won’t take me long.”

He plates up scrambled eggs and smoked salmon on toast and they eat in silence. After that he quietly clears their plates. She wonders if he’s scared of making too much noise.

Then he comes to sit back down, with a fresh glass of water and painkillers for her.

He sits rigidly against his chair, with one hand on the table and the other in his lap. She’d bet anything his fingers are restless under the table.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

She considers for a moment. She’s starting to feel somewhat closer to normal, but the panic has yet to wear off. “Fine.”

She glances around the room. “This is nice,” she says.

“Rhaenys owns it. She let me move in at short notice.”

“After…”

“After I ended things with Alys.”

She hums distantly, folding her arms and crossing her leg over her knee.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says.

“Which part are you sorry for?”

He angles an eyebrow at her. “All of it?”

She pouts her lips in irritation— a habit she picked up from him.

His mouth quirks. He clears his throat, takes a sip of his coffee and, by the look of it, struggles to swallow it.

“I’m sorry too, for being so careless,” she says.

“No, I should have left once I saw you.” He presses his lips together and taps his fingertip against the table, three times. “And I’m sorry for calling you on Christmas Eve. I don’t even know what I would have said.”

Her heart sinks, but she reminds herself that’s what she should want. “Just a stupid mistake, yeah?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Did I really say that? It was actually highly premeditated.”

“Why?” she asks with more disgust than she means to.

He gestures with his hands, as though it should be obvious. “I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

The tension fades from her face. She feels the pull, the hope, the way it crushes her and makes her feel lighter. That’s all she had wanted, as she watched the phone ring, for him to want her, and then she could allow herself to want him back, even though it always ends in misery.

She can still remember what he looked like when they were at Dragonstone, that quiet, reserved kid who spent more time reading than he spent talking. She remembers how excited she was whenever their eyes met or she spotted him sitting alone. She remembers that day he showed her around the house and the gallery. She thought he was going to kiss her then, but he never did.

Maybe he never cared. Maybe was just using her. Maybe she was nothing but another body to fuck.

That doesn’t explain the small things. The hours he spent studying with her, the nights they stayed up talking about anything they could think of, his attentiveness for details, her coffee order, her favourite songs, the way he celebrated her happiness and read her like a book.

“How did we end up here?” she says, “how did we make such a mess of this?”

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach for her hand, but he stops himself. “I had such a crush on you, when you came to Dragonstone you know,” he says.

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t think you liked me.”

She tries to laugh but it comes out as a breath. It seems like such a simple misunderstanding for all the pain it has caused.

“I just remember thinking that someone as wonderful as you would never want…” he absentmindedly brushes his fingers along the scar over his eye. “I was different back then; I still had a lot to learn.”

“Aemond,” she says, drawing his eyes back to her, “I thought you were wonderful too.”

“Oh.” He stops himself from smiling and ends up twisting his lips and sticking his chin out in an awkward expression. “Look, I’ve had time to think, and talk this through—”

“With Aegon?”

“And Helaena.”

She tries not to roll her eyes.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” he says.

She leans back in her chair and raises her eyebrows.

Aemond draws his tongue between his lips. “I tried not to think much about you after Dragonstone. You were just Jace’s cousin, I didn’t think I’d have a reason to see you again. And then I knew that first night with Alys was a bad idea. But everything was happening with dad and Rhaenyra, mum was still upset about Storm’s End, and it was just after Harwin got sick… it just happened.”

“Good for you,” she grumbles.

“I’m not trying to play a sympathy card, I just want to tell you the truth,” he says. This time he doesn’t shy away from reaching for her hand. She doesn’t move, and watches as he settles for just resting his hand over hers. “I never meant for things to go as far as they did, but I needed a way out. I needed to get away from my family and Targ Corp. Alys gave me a purpose outside of all that.”

“So you used her?”

“Yes. And she got something out of it too.”

She doesn’t argue against that.

“I don’t know I thought maybe I’d be over how I felt about you. We were just kids, it had been a few years, but then I saw you… and you were perfect. Nothing could convince me otherwise.”

Guilt twinges in her chest. “It wasn’t just you,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“I kissed you first.”

He tightens his hold of her hand. “But I still wanted you. And we worked it out so well, I just thought we could keep going as we were.”

“Until I fucked it up.”

“No, that’s not it.”

“I did though. I should never have said…” her eyes are starting to sting at the memory. Sprawled out on the bed, naked and not quite satisfied. The empty feeling in her chest as he left her there.

“I couldn’t take me eyes off you at the wedding,” Aemond says. “And then you had one conversation with that Stark kid, and I was losing my fucking mind. I knew why it bothered me. I know how I felt, no matter how I tried to rationalise it. I knew how I felt about you. I always knew.”

She blinks and two tears trail down her cheeks. She can’t manage any more than that.

“I panicked. I didn’t know what it would mean if you felt the same. It just became too real, I—” He exhales heavily, and runs his hand through his hair. “I know this is my mess. I should have stayed away from Alys. I should have been honest. But at the time, it just felt easier to just… let everything happen.”

She had never seen Alys cry as much as she had, that morning when she told her the truth.

“What did you say to mum?”

“After the dinner party? She’d had a horrible night as it was. She said she wished I had defended her more against my parents. I said she should have known what was going to happen before she invited everyone over and that she should stop trying to get involved in my life.”

“Can’t imagine she took that well.”

“I ended up telling her I had rethought my priorities. I couldn’t be what she needed. I said I’d leave Rivers PR and try to patch things up with my family.”

“You didn’t tell her about us though.”

He swipes his thumb over her knuckles. “I didn’t know if you would want me to.”

She takes a shallow breath. “I told her. After you left, I went downstairs and told her everything.”

“What did she say?”

Sometimes she still has nightmares about that morning. She stands in the kitchen while her mother just screams at her.

“She was so angry. It was understandable, I guess, but we barely spoke until I went to Oldtown.”

“You’re at the university?”

“Yeah. She said Oldtown sounded like a good idea. Lots of distance, far away from her.”

“And how has it been, being back home?”

“We talked about it. I think we both realised we didn’t want to lose each other over some stupid guy.”

He half smiles, and exhales. “She called me in September,” he says. “It must have been after you left. She just said she knew. She said I was ‘sick bastard’ and that I should never speak to either of you again.”

“That’s fair,” she says. She takes a sip from her coffee and it’s cold.

“I’m sorry, for everything,” he says. “And you don’t have to forgive me, I just wanted you to know.”

She nods with the smallest movement of her head.

Aemond slides his hand away from her. He leans over his elbows and taps his fingertips on the table again.

She keeps her eyes down as he clears up the coffee cups and follows the sound of his footsteps as he walks to the kitchen, then back to her, hovering over her shoulder.

He takes a slow breath.

“Whenever you’re ready, I could drop you home.”

“Thanks,” she mutters.

“Or if you want another drink, or a shower, or anything…”

She lifts her head and turns herself around to face him. He looks so tired.

“I’ll take you up on a shower.”

He leads her back to the bedroom, handing her a towel from a cupboard, and through to an ensuite with dark tiles on the walls, ceiling and floor, and a shower cornered off from the rest of the room by a glass screen.

She hangs the towel on the back of the door while Aemond runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand.

They turn back into each other.

A hazy cloud of steam fills the room. Aemond’s skin glistens, beads of water and sweat forming along his brow and his neck, but she keeps her gaze on his eyes.

She’s not sure who moves first, but they drift into one another, until their lips meet in an effortlessly delicate kiss.

But it quickly leads to something more intense when she pulls the t-shirt over her head and slides her panties down her legs.

Aemond groans lowly, pulling her into him by her waist, tracing his hands along every inch of her body he can reach. He kisses along her cheek, neck and shoulder as she teases the hem of his t-shirt and his toned stomach underneath.

He moans into her mouth, and she delights in it. “Whose needy now?” she asks sweetly against his lips.

He tears his t-shirt off in one quick movement and surges into kiss her again, cupping and kneading her breasts and her arse.

Then he takes her hands in his, and brings them down to the fly on his jeans.

She grins as he presses his forehead against hers. They both watch as she slowly undoes the buttons and hooks her fingers around the waistband.

She keeps her eyes on him as she pulls his cock free and comes to crouch in front of him, smiling at his clenched fists and tight jaw. He’s already half-hard as she starts to stroke along his length and runs her tongue along the underside of him.

She misses the weight of him in her mouth, his fist in her hair, his praises and the noises he makes as he spills down her throat, but before she can even place her lips at the tip, he drags her up to stand.

“Daddy—”

His usual commanding façade falls to something softer. “No,” he says, “just use my name.”

“Aemond,” she sighs.

He gives her a smug smile and reaches for the side of her neck, tilting her gaze up. “You still on the pill?”

Her breath hitches. “Yeah.”

“Hmm, good girl.”

He walks her into the shower, putting her back against the wall. Her back arches at the cold and the sensation of Aemond’s hands on her hips as he starts trailing kisses down her stomach. He pries her knees apart and teases the sensitive flesh of her thighs with his lips and tongue, edging closer to her cunt.

He must be feeling merciful and doesn’t waste too much time before drags his tongue through her folds.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “missed this perfect pussy.”

It would be embarrassing enough how quickly she comes on his tongue, but what’s worse is just how many times Aemond draws climax after climax from her, circling his tongue over her clit, fucking her with it, then replacing it with his fingers.

Her legs tremble as she feels her slick trickling down her thighs, but he doesn’t need her to stay standing for long. He comes to stand hitches her legs around his hips.

With his face buried in her neck he lines himself up with her entrance and slowly pushes himself inside of her.

She hisses and tugs on his hair at the stretch, but the pain doesn’t last long as he starts to rut into her.

“’m not gonna last long,” he says against her skin, panting with the effort as he picks up his pace.

But she can feel just how responsive her body is to him, just how much she’s missed the feeling of him, his cock dragging through her and hitting that perfect spot deep inside her.

She moans his name and holds him tighter, pulling him closer, urging him deeper.

Her orgasm is a wave of warmth, a soothing relief that just keeps going as Aemond continues to fuck her.

Until his hips still and she feels his cock throb inside of her. His voice is somewhere between a groan and whimper as he comes, and it sends another thrill down her spine.

Carefully, he lowers her down to stand on her own legs, keeping hold of her waist as warm water cascades over their bodies. His eyes don’t stop moving over her face, and she can’t stop touching him, threading her fingers though his hair, feeling along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and his lips.

He turns her around. The cap of a bottle clicks and he lathers shampoo through her hair, then tilts her head back to rinse it out. Next, he coats it in conditioner, and keeping her back against his chest and his head over her shoulder, he washes her skin with a lavender body wash.

Then he pushes her into the wall by the base of her neck. She braces herself by her palms as he takes a delicate hold of her throat and fucks her again. He reaches deeper from this angle, bullying against her sweet spot.

Aemond keeps a steady pace and kisses the back of her neck. “Tell me you missed me,” he says.

“I missed you,” she utters, “missed how good you make me feel.”

“Hmm, missed being my good little slut?”

She tries to say it back, but all she manages is a throaty moan as she comes undone around him.

Then he washes the conditioner out of her hair like it’s nothing.

After he’s dried her off with the towel, he carries her back to the bedroom and lays her out on her back.

He’s insatiable. He fucks her again with their foreheads pressed together and their lips barely brushing over each other. Every brutal snap of his hips is another step towards a burning oblivion, and his pace barely falters as he positions her legs over his shoulders.

She can feel herself twitching and clamping around him, the coil in her belly tensing and tensing until it’s almost unbearable.

Aemond presses his teeth together and hisses like it hurts. “So tight,” he whispers, “my good girl, so fucking tight.”

“Please,” she utters, “Aemond, I wanna come,”

He frowns in mocking sympathy and grazes his lips over her the sensitive spot on her neck. “I know you do, baby, I’m close too, just hold out for me a little longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, barely a breath, and she says it over and over again. She closes her eyes so she can lose herself in it all, his cock dragging through her, the wet sounds of sex, the smell of sweat and lavender bodywash, his nose pressing against her cheek as he turns into her, his breath over her mouth, his desperate moans and whimpers…

Her orgasm rises and comes crashing down, until her skin comes alight and her body starts to tremble underneath him.

Aemond lets out a guttural groan as he comes, stilling his hips against her, pushing in impossibly deeper as a warmth floods through her.

He lifts his face to hover over hers. His hair is still damp and so is hers, leaving a cold patch on the pillow that makes her shiver.

Aemond leans on one hand over her and brings his thumb to her bottom lip to pry open her jaw.

She sticks her tongue out, ready and waiting as he trails a slow line of spit into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he mutters, and she does.

He smiles vaguely as takes her legs down from his shoulders and pulls her to sit up, cupping her face in his hands and leaning in to kiss her lazily.

This is how things were supposed to be, she thinks, winter mornings wrapped up in each other, her body settled in a perfect state between bliss and numbness.

Suddenly he’s moving away again. “All fours,” he says.

She rolls over her side and props herself against the mattress on her hands and knees.

Aemond keeps a punishing grip of her hips as he slides his cock into her sensitive pussy, fingertips digging into her flesh as he pulls her into him with every thrust.

It doesn’t take long before her arms feel weak and her wrists start to ache. “Aemond,” she whines, “please, please…”

Aemond pulls her against his chest as he keeps pounding into her. One arm wraps around her shoulders and her chest, holding her against him while his fingers pinch at one of her nipples. His other hand snakes down her body to play with her clit.

“Mine,” he groans against the shell of her ear, “you’re mine and you love it. I’m never going to let you go, never.” As harsh as his voice is he sounds desperate, pleading.

She holds her arms over the arm keeping her in place, helpless to do anything but cling to him and just take it.

She’s lost count of how many times he’s made her come, and this orgasm tears through her suddenly as a broken cry sounds in her throat. She digs her nails into Aemond’s arm to take the edge off as white-hot pleasure surges through her.

Her mind is completely fucked out. Aemond lets her fall back on the bed and spreads her legs, trailing his thumb through her soaked folds and his cum as it dribbles out of her.

And he slips into the bed beside her, pulling the duvet over their bodies and holding her close.

“I might need another shower,” she says.

Aemond huffs a laugh and presses a kiss to her temple.

It’s cold but she drags herself from the bed and goes to the ensuite to sort herself out. She runs herself another shower and brushes her teeth with a spare toothbrush she finds in a basket under the sink.

And when she comes back into the bedroom, Aemond looks at her with a dazed smile and a look of wonder in his eyes. She practically runs back to join him, wrapping her arms around his torso and tucking herself under his shoulder to rest her head over his heart.

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.

She doesn’t reply but he knows she’s listening.

“I’ve been talking to mum and Otto, and I think I might take him up on that job offer at Beacon.”

Her heart beats a little faster, in time with his. Dread pools in her stomach again, eased by the afterglow and the satisfied ache between her legs.

“We’d both be in the same city, away from our families. I could get my own place.”

“And?” she utters.

“We could start over. We could try to make this work.”

Away from his parents and Targ Corp. Away from Alys. Away from the city she’s been trying to run away from.

“I think mum would kill me,” she says.

Aemond shrugs. “She wouldn’t have to know.”

“So what, we go back to keeping secrets?”

“No,” he says, turning on his side to face her. He places his hand on her neck, caressing his fingertips over her skin. “No, that’s the whole point, we wouldn’t have to hide anything in Oldtown. It would just be me and you.”

She meets his suggestion with silence.

“You don’t want to,” he whispers.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she says, propping herself up and resting a hand on his chest. “But we’ve made mistakes before. I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

Aemond’s expression shifts. His mouth tenses and his brow furrows, not quite angry, but hardly innocent.

“I understand,” he says, but she’s not sure she believes him.

She pulls herself away from him and swings her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet on the floor. “I think you should just take me home.”

They fall back to silence. She slips into her dress and her jacket, stuffing her fishnets in her pocket because she can’t be bothered to put them on. She makes sure she has her phone and her keys, and waits for Aemond by the front door.

He’s not far behind her, appearing in a white knit jumper and a pair of blue jeans.

The streets are almost empty, and a good thing too because the roads are thick with snow. Aemond drives slowly and cautiously, not that he’s ever been an especially reckless driver.

The Bluetooth on the car picks up her phone automatically. She tuts as a Lana Del Rey song plays through the speakers.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, reaching to turn to audio off.

“No,” Aemond says, holding his hand over the button. “I like this song.”

She withdraws her hand and tries not to smile. “I fucking knew it. You’re a secret Lana fan.”

Aemond huffs a quiet laugh. “I just appreciate good music. Ultraviolence is a modern masterpiece.”

The weather gives them a reason not to talk for the rest of the way. She keeps her eyes ahead, pretending to be enchanted by the snow, but she keeps stealing glances of him, with minimal movements of her head so as not to draw his attention. She watches his hands as they grip the steering wheel, his legs as he presses down on the pedals, and his face in the reflection of the windshield.

It takes twice the amount of time it should for them to reach Queen’s Park, and he pulls over a few houses before hers.

Once they’ve stopped Aemond sighs and runs his hands over the wheel. He leaves the engine running to keep the heating going.

She eyes the door handle and her fingers twitch.

“When would you be moving to Oldtown?” she asks.

“I start at the end of the month. I’m trying to find a place before then.”

“Right,” she says.

She looks further down the street, but the house is hidden by hedges. Alys should have come straight home after her gala. Most days she’s an early riser, and she doesn’t tend to overdo it on the drinks when she’s working— which to her, is almost always. She’s probably in the kitchen, trying to figure out where in Seven Hells she ended up last night.

She looks back to Aemond. He’s watching her with wide eyes.

“I have my thesis due at the end of the term, and exams after that. I’ll be pretty busy,” she says.

He nods and peeks his tongue between his lips. “If you need anything,” he mutters, “you can call me, anytime.”

“Thanks.”

“And, you know, if you ever change your mind…”

“I’ll call you.”

The possibility seems more and more likely the longer she looks at him.

But she pushes open the car door before she does something stupid.

She follows the footsteps already laid out in the snow. It must be a good few inches of snowfall; the prints are set deep. Thank the Seven she’d chosen to wear boots and not heels.

“Wait—” He doesn’t need to say it loudly, it’s quiet enough that she hears him, even when he barely utters it.

She turns as Aemond slams the car door shut and closes the distance between them in a few strides.

“What?” she utters.

Aemond nudges his nose into hers and cups her cheeks in his hands. Her skin feels like ice against him. Warmth blooms in her chest, and suddenly she’s able to forget that she’s standing out in the snow, in a black mini dress and a leather jacket.

He tenderly presses his lips into hers. They kiss like it’s their first times, with slow and cautious movements. More than anything she just feels the shape of his lips and lets them rest against each other.

This time, when she pulls away for a breath, and those careless words come out of her mouth, barely above a whisper, he doesn’t break away from her. He doesn’t abandon her. He says it back.

It’s terrifying and grounding all at once.

She crashes her lips against his to kiss him properly, tugging at the collar of his jumper and running her hand over the pulse point of his neck.

She knows she can’t lie to herself. As soon as January is done, she’ll find his name in her phone. She’ll say she missed him. He’ll tell her he loves her, and she’ll say it back. Time will tell if it turns out to be a bad decision.

“I don’t think my life makes sense without you,” she says against his lips.

Aemond smiles, with a gentle curl of his mouth and a look of intense excitement in his eyes. “I know, baby. I know.”

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick @babygirlyofthevale

[alexandra-emerson]

Some Thoughts

(For readers horrified by what’s been going on in fandom who want to help)

Twats

I’m sad that some authors have been pulling their works from AO3, though I totally get it. But I’m not going to add to the “don’t sell fanfics” commentary much. I’m working with a lawyer to get mine taken down from Etsy, and it sucks, but I think this is an opportunity to talk about the fandom community as a whole. Specifically, what you can do to keep it alive and healthy.

I think it’s easy to sit at home, read about this illegal fanbinding drama with interest, run to AO3 to mass download your favorite fics, pat yourself on the back for not buying or selling fics illegally or not adding them to Goodreads, then move on with your life. But I would argue this passive attitude is just as harmful to the community, in some ways.

The Criticism Ratio

You all have probably heard that you’re supposed to deliver compliments and criticism with a ratio of 5:1. This is because negative comments stick in our heads more, so even if you were balancing the good and bad, or giving twice as many good comments as bad ones, the bad ones carry so much weight, they still seem to be winning.

With writing, I would argue this ratio is probably more like 10:1. Because it’s so personal. And most of us are so new to it. And it’s so much freaking work. I timed it once, and one chapter typically takes me 12 hours to write. That doesn’t include editing, or the hours my beta puts into editing. Then, to float all that work out into the world and get negativity back … oof, it makes embarking on the next 12 hours, and the next and the next VERY difficult.

My Experience

I’ve been an author of some popular fics in both the Harmony and Dramione spaces. On the Harmony side, I’ve dealt with personalized attacks, not just against my stories but against me as a person. And when that was going down, there weren’t a ton of fans speaking up on my behalf. I got a lot of DMs telling me those bullies were just the “loud minority” but from my point of view, with my supporters sounding like crickets, they felt like a majority. 

(Quick note to my Harmony readers: No I’m never writing Harmony again, get over it, and stop following me to every work I write next to ask me when I’m writing Harmony again. You had your chance to support me, and you fucking missed the boat.)

On the Dramione side, the public spaces are more moderated (thank God) so I’m less likely to stumble upon downright bullying. But this space is overwhelming in how BIG it is and how much conversation goes on about my fics. I always feel like the last to know when there’s some big Tik-Tok boom happening with one of my stories, when a story gets added to Goodreads, when there’s a reddit thread discussing the flaws in ‘Timeless’, when it gets posted for sale on Etsy, when someone popular binds it. It’s very hard to keep up with this giant fandom and it’s too much to handle at times. Which means if people don't send us things directly, we don't see it.

I also get this thing in Dramione that I didn’t get as much in Harmony where people act afraid or embarrassed to reach out to me. They’ll say things like, “I’m so sorry to bother you…” or “I’m sure you hear this all the time, and I know you don’t need to hear it from me too, but your works are great…” I think in Dramione people assume because it’s so big, other people are taking care of things, but that’s not the case. There is a lot of activity, for sure, but not much of that is making it back to the author.

My Ask

So anyway, think about the role you play in fandom. Are you contributing to the compliment bank, or the criticism one? (Remember, abstentions go with the majority. And in this case, every negative experience holds x10 weight).

Good things can be as simple as sending a quick note like, “Just letting you know I thought about your story today” or “Here’s another kudos because I just reread this gem!” It can be correcting a negative comment or review you see out in the wild, so that if the author ever stumbles across it, they see that their people are out there, sticking up for them. Ten people can instantly negate a bad comment with ten positive ones. Then if the author ever finds it, no harm done.

We all know the bad things that harm fandom, so there’s no need for me to rehash them here. But don’t forget that the passive things can be just as harmful. Things like: Rating a fanfic on Goodreads, because it’s already there, and you really want it to count towards your goal. Downloading a story, loving it, and never letting the author know. Reading rude comments online, complimenting yourself for not being that mean, then scrolling to the next thing.

My challenge to fandom is this: Let’s fill that compliment and support bucket so full that when an author does encounter a negative experience with one of their fanfics, they have a giant, fluffy pillow of endless love to fall back on. Let’s make those rare moments of nastiness truly feel like a minority to our creators. It’s not a ton of work. Our fandom is so flipping large, it just takes a tiny comment from each person to keep our community feeling like a fun, positive place to play.

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 10/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Notes:

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Leave your thoughts (or don't, your choice) in the comments, I enjoy reading through your thoughts :)

Word Count: 2531 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: mentions of sexual interaction (nothing too graphic)

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

Carlisle has reached out to the Uley pack one night, an offer that was sure to satisfy them in his mind.

The Volturi’s letter to them had caused him to spiral into paranoia for Celine’s safety. He knew that if he stayed with her, the Volturi would come after her one way or another.

He’s seen it with Bella, he’s not gonna risk his Celine the same way that Edward did with Bella.

“What is it?” Sam, the leader of the pack, asked him

“The Volturi wants Celine.” He announced to him “I will place my full trust in you in protecting her for one year.”

“What’s in it for us?” Sam asked him

“You get to kill the Volturi.”

“I’m intrigued. What is it?” Aro asked, Caius and Marcus were now intently listening to him as well

“One year.” Carlisle said, his eyes directly on him “My family will be away from Celine for a year. There are no limitations on what you could do to her. But after that one year, you are to stay away from her and my family.”

“It’s a trap.” Caius called out immediately, but Aro only hushed him

His two decades spent with them taught him a lot of things about their dynamics. One crucial observation was the strained relationship between Aro and Caius. Aro's tendency to disregard Caius's counsel and blame him for any attacks carried out under the Volturi's name was a stark reality.

Carlisle also knew that Aro still trusted him despite of their past, because why would someone dare to oppose the Volturi alone?

And that just made him the biggest loser of today.

Because he would dare oppose the Volturi alone for his Celine.

“I will accept your deal.” Aro said, a smile on his face “It will start a week after her birthday.”

“Deal.” Carlisle said, a smile on his face

Carlisle turned his back on the scene of suffering and stormed out of the room with a heavy heart and a resolute determination that echoed with his decision. As he stepped out into the shadowed area beyond, he couldn't help but feel that every eye in the area, other from Celine's, already knew what he was going to do, their heightened senses attuned to the subtle shifts in atmosphere that betrayed his plans.

Though Carlisle had made an effort to keep things under wraps, he was well aware that secrets were scarce. His family's enhanced senses, polished over decades of life, were highly sensitive to even the smallest details of intent and feeling.

“How are you, my love?” Carlisle asked, looking at the makeshift bandage on her arm and gently holding her wounded arm

“More than alright. Those are some cocky bastards.” Celine said, resting her body on Carlisle. The blood was still overwhelming him, but he pushed his desires away

Celine needed him right now.

“You’re really brave.” Carlisle said, kissing Celine’s forehead “And a bit of an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.” She teased him

In that moment, Carlisle realized the weight of his decision, recognizing the gamble that he had taken. His attempt to shield Celine unintentionally risked causing greater pain to her. He pulled her for a deep kiss, thinking that it’ll be one of the last times that he’ll get to do that.

Upon their return from Italy, Carlisle dedicated the nights leading up to Celine's birthday to be by her side at her place, ensuring her every desire was fulfilled in these final moments together. She drifted off to sleep on top of him and she woke up to the sensation of his fingers tracing through her hair, the scene similar of a happy newlywed couple.

Carlisle wishes that the scene would have been reality.

And on the night of Celine’s 28th birthday, Carlisle made her see stars with his finger and mouth alone, just like how he did on their first date. He was attentive to her every moan, her every whimper, and her every plea that she uttered. He savored the moment, aware it might be their last such intimate exchange.

All while the other Cullens packed their house away and settled some paper works to leave Forks again.

“They always come back.” He says, but would it be the same?

It was the middle of the night, exactly on the date agreed, when he decided to leave her. He understood that if he caught even a glimmer of pleading in Celine's eyes, he would abandon his mission without hesitation, willing to face the Volturi alone to shield her from harm. It was a selfish impulse, driven by an overwhelming desire to safeguard Celine at any cost. Despite the inherent risks, Carlisle was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice if it meant protecting the woman he loved from the Volturi.

As Celine woke up, she found her bed empty, a sense of unease crept over her, her thoughts spiraling into a frenzy of worry. Hastily, she dashed downstairs, her heart pounding with increasing urgency as she searched for any sign of Carlisle. Finding nothing, she made a swift decision to grab her keys and race to the Cullen residence, her heartbeat thundering in her ears with each passing moment of uncertainty.

As Celine parked just outside the house, the absence of any car in front intensified her growing apprehension, causing her thoughts to spiral out of control. Self-doubt gnawed at her, berating her for once again placing her trust in another man. She walked into the house, seeing it empty. It was as if no one had lived in it. The silence that greeted her felt suffocating, amplifying her sense of isolation and fear.

In a moment of clarity, Celine recognized the gravity of the situation and couldn't help but laugh bitterly at herself. Of course, she thought, this outcome was inevitable.

What had she truly expected, after all?

“I wouldn’t have expected that Cullen would actually hold his end of the bargain.” A voice taunted behind her, she turned around and saw Caius, his eyes black in thirst

Had he sold her to them?

“Go ahead then.” Celine said, tilting her head and offering her neck to him “Have at it.”

“Where would the fun in that be?” He taunted her, the smirk on his face growing “Maybe I’ll have a taste of you myself before bringing you back to the castle.”

A growl was heard surrounding the place. Celine could conclude with her own human senses that it was a wolf. Caius looked around before a wolf attacked him from above

“I knew it was a trap!” Caius yelled, trying to fight the wolf on top of him. But it was stronger, having separated his limbs already. She saw a man come out of the wolf once Caius’ body was separated, which made her shocked and concerned

“Get the fire starting. Burn every bit of him.” The man ordered to her before rushing out, his attempt to not answer any question that she’ll have for him

Celine quickly went to the kitchen, grabbing something that was not fireproof to light on fire. She collected all of Caius' body pieces and threw them outside before starting the fire and burning him.

“Damn you Carlisle.” Celine hissed, watching as Caius’ body became ash

With a realization, Celine pieced together the truth: Carlisle had orchestrated her to be some sort of pawn in his dangerous game, using her as a sacrificial lamb in a bid to dismantle the Volturi's power slowly. She figured out that it was a misguided attempt on his part to protect her, flawed and filled with risks, But it spoke volumes about the depth of his love and his willingness to do whatever it took to keep her safe.

But did that mean that she misses him?

Hell no.

Celine quickly bounced back to work after Caius’ death, her colleagues bombarded her with questions about Doctor Cullen's whereabouts and the nature of their relationship. With a heavy heart, Celine responded with a simple but firm statement: "I don't know, and we never dated."

“Are you really like, unaware of his whereabouts?” Sean asked her one breaktime

“Trust me. If I knew, I would tell his fangirls so they’ll go talk to him.” Celine answered cooly, taking a sip of her coffee in an attempt to control her emotions

“Didn’t expect him to leave like that.” Eunice said quietly, Sean agreeing with her with a nod

“But he did, so let’s just suck it up and forget him. We managed without him before, we’ll manage without him now.” Celine answered, almost having lashed out on them

On her day off, Celine decided to visit her parents’ grave, a place she hasn’t visited the moment she’s got in a relationship with Carlisle. She swept off the leaves that rested on their grave as she sat down next to it. The solemn atmosphere enveloped her as she took a moment to reflect, allowing memories of her parents to flood her mind and offering silent prayers in their honor.

Celine began to ramble aimlessly about work, sharing snippets of hospital gossip and any other random thoughts that crossed her mind. She found solace in keeping her mind occupied, hoping to distract herself from dwelling too much on thoughts of Carlisle.

“I’m sure you would have liked Carlisle.” Celine accidentally said while rambling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before deciding to continue

“He— he was a great man. A father of three, but he took them as his own.” She continued, realizing just how much she actually missed him

“Have I told you that he’s also not human?” She asked, thinking that she would get some reply from their tombs “He’s a vampire, a really strong one too. Not once did he even think of making me his meal, even though I was already bleeding in front of him.”

“He accepted me, despite me telling him that I can’t give him children of his own, even though he knows that a vampire and a human can make a baby of their own. He made me feel so loved, so heard, so…understood. But he left.” Celine continued, wiping the tears that wanted to fall off her face

“He saw something in me that even I don’t see in myself. Would you believe me if I said that he said ‘I love you’ first?” She continued before laughing at herself in pity

“I loved him. So, so, so much.” She whispered, bowing as she starts crying “But he left. He only feels like a big part of my imagination now.”

“Is this some joke that you placed on me?” She asked, anger in her tone “Making me meet someone that will lift me so high, only for him to drop me from that height?”

“Why did he have to leave?” Celine whispered to the grass where she was bowing, letting the tears fall freely

She missed him. She misses her Carlisle.

~~

A year has passed since the Cullens left. She was now 29 and was still chief nurse, deciding that she’ll keep working until she leaves Forks on her 30th birthday.

There have been no more attacks from the Volturi, and the man who has saved her during that time at the Cullen’s house never showed up to her again. While questions lingered in her mind, she resigned herself to the uncertainty, knowing that it was just better for her to know nothing.

Despite occasional thoughts of Carlisle lingering in her mind, Celine had reached a point of acceptance regarding their situation. The abrupt departure of the Cullens had instilled in her a sobering realization: that Carlisle could leave her just as suddenly as he had entered her life.

Embracing this realization, she made the conscious decision to prioritize her own well-being, opting for a life of solitude rather than risking the vulnerability of opening her heart once more.

“You really should go on a date soon.” Eunice chastised to her, watching as she types away on her computer

“No time, need the money to travel the world.” Celine answered without removing her eyes on the screen

“He’s baaaack!” Sean said in a sing-song tune, walking in Celine’s office (which was still hers and Carlisle’s really)

“Who– ooohh.” Eunice said, realizing who Sean was talking about

“Nurses, let’s go welcome Doctor Cullen.” Doctor Daniel said. The name made Celine look at him, curious if he was messing with her or not

“We’re off to go, just calling Chief nurse Celine here to join us.” Sean said, shooing him away

“Doc Daniel is so interested in you.” Sean said, watching as he left

“Aren’t you gonna greet Doctor Cullen back?” Celine asked them.

Something in her hoped that they would drag her out, giving her an opportunity to feign disinterest and reluctance at the prospect of seeing him, pretending that she had been unwillingly coerced into the encounter.

“Aren’t you gonna greet Doctor Cullen back?” Eunice asked, mocking her tone “Come here, we all know you miss him.”

Upon their return to Forks, Carlisle made a swift decision to head straight back to the hospital. He knew that somehow, he would see Celine there, even for a split second.

And when Celine walked out of her office with Eunice and Sean, Carlisle found himself struck by the same sense of awe and admiration that had captivated him on the day they first met.

“Doc Cullen!” Eunice greeted happily, Celine behind her before she was dragged by another doctor to be by his side

“I really think you should accept my offer. It’s New York, and you’re made chief nurse there immediately.” The doctor whispered to Celine

“I can make decisions for myself.” She hissed to him, getting Carlisle to smirk

‘Always my bold girl’ he thought to himself as he was chatted on by Eunice and Sean

“Come on, think of it.” The guy continued “Higher pay? You got it. A better place? You got it. Me there? You so got it, pretty girl.”

“Have I told you that I don’t  like cocky boys?” Celine hissed to him.

Carlisle's anger simmered as he listened to the doctor spout nonsense to Celine. He made his way to her, acting under the guidance that he didn’t know him, not that he cared enough about who he was

“Nurse Celine.” Carlisle greeted, his eyes meeting hers before he diverted his look on the doctor next to her “I don’t think we've met. I’m Doctor Cullen, former chief doctor here.”

“I’m Doctor Daniel, current chief doctor here.” Daniel smugly introduced himself

Carlisle wanted to drop a low comment about his performance as chief doctor, having heard rumors and stories about how he was. But with Celine’s burning gaze on him, he knew to act proper

“So, why come back?” Daniel asked him, the same smug look on his face

“I missed this place.”

A lie.

“Forks was always the place for me.”

A lie.

���No amount of team anywhere else could compare to my team here.” Carlisle finally decided on an answer, his peripheral vision looking at Celine The real reason of his return.

[arcanarix]

The Right Way Ch. 2 // Toji Fushiguro X Reader

AO3 (+ previous chapter)

What a goddamn menace.

A man of his stature showed manners in dining but not in charming a woman’s panties off.

Well, you had to admit everyone had their vices—some more than others. You only met the man, and you were able to gauge a number of things about him. He liked to carelessly spend his cash as if his wealth were the equivalent of breathing, and he even got you a private booth in the restaurant he chose for you to fine dine. You were taken aback by the lavishness of the place. Especially since at first glance, Toji seemed like your everyday bum. All the guy wore was a compression shirt and a pair of friggin’ sweatpants, for crying out loud!

But his choice of dining stated otherwise. Every element of this restaurant whispered time-honored luxury, exuding sophistication. With a unique blend of rustic imperfections and a dash of opulence, each careful detail retelling a tale of historical grandeur.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he grunted, opening the menu, and scanning down the endless list of entrees.

As a waiter came by to pour them their glasses of water, he also greeted them with the typical: “Would you like anything else to drink?”

“No, just the water’s fine, thank you,” you replied, lips curving upward. While you didn’t think of yourself highly, you always remembered to treat wait staff with the highest regard. They deserved recognition the most—dealing with the trashiest of customers was no easy feat and you didn’t want to make their lives any harder for them. “We do need more time to order, though”

“I’ll get my typical,” answered Toji, as he handed his menu already.

“Coming right up, Toji! I’ll let the lady take her time,” he winked while patting Toji’s shoulder and sauntering off.

“Didn’t think you were all fancy,” you commented, wraggling your eyebrows.

“I’m not, but a friend of mine owns this place. I get everything half off.”

You tilted your head, interest a little piqued. “Ah. So you’re a bit more frugal than I expected.”

Toji’s lips curled into that wolfish grin of his like when you first saw him take down that band of bad guys. “Sure.”

In an attempt to hide your oncoming flush, you glanced down at the menu, met with a vast array of options. You were more than overwhelmed and being as indecisive as you were, how the hell were you going to decide what to get at some fancy dining place?

Noticing your mild distress at the prospect of too many choices, he chuckled, pointing at a segment of a menu to snag your attention.

“Their dumplings are fantastic,” he suggested, and you ignored the fact that his fingers lightly brushed against yours.  

“Oh!” you blinked, following his finger. “Um. I guess I’ll get the veggie and soup dumplings then.”

“Excellent choice.”

The waiter returned with Toji’s typical order—which were the meat dumplings. A variety of them. That seemed very expected for some reason. Smiling, you told the waiter your order and handed him your menu as he refilled your glass of water.

“Why did you run away that time?” Toji asked out of the blue, moments after the waiter had taken your order and you had been idly sipping on your drink.

“You can’t blame me for being scared. I was ganged up on by different men, and then you took them down like they were nothing. I thought you were going after me next. I had to bolt.”

“I just wanted to take you back home,” he replied in an earnest tone. Your eyes widen, more in disbelief, and you laughed.

“Sheesh. Sorry. Again, you can’t blame me for getting spooked. What else did you expect to happen when a girl was about to get jumped by a bunch of big scary men?”

Toji grinned as he bit down on a pork dumpling. “Fair enough.”

“So, what was up with those guys, anyway?”

“…Probably just territorial,” he replied, but his tone seemed like it was wavering a little, like he was hiding something from you, something you were better off not finding out. “They looked like a gang.”

“Yeah. I mean, a weird one. One of them had hearts on his nipples. That was kind of hilarious.”

Toji snorted as he sipped on his drink. “Hilarious and yet that is one of the most dangerous men out there.”

“Maybe that’s a way to throw off his competition or something.”

“Who knows?” he laughed, “I’m sorry. I know tracking your address probably isn’t the best way to go about things, but something drew me to you.”

“How were you able to do that without any details, anyway?”

He didn’t answer. You stared pointedly at him, hoping he’d break his resolve because you knew you had a death stare from the depths of Hell.

When that failed, you took the loss with class.

“You know what, it’s probably best that you don’t answer that question.”

“Yes. I’ll spare you the details.”

He ran his tongue past his lips as he helped himself to another dumpling. Chewing through it, he pondered over what else to say.

Cliches be damned, your senses zeroed in on the squelching as he chewed on the dumpling and him gulping it down. Some of the oil from the dumpling dribbled a bit down the corners of his mouth and rather than dabbing with a napkin he caught the droplets with his tongue instead.

You almost wished you were that dumpling.

You diverted your attention, twiddling your thumbs. During that time, your order arrived, served piping hot and ready for you to chow down, and you couldn’t remember the last time you had soup dumplings. Clapping with vigor, you grabbed your chopsticks and tossed one soup dumpling in your mouth, chewing down, keening as the liquid hit your tastebuds.

All this time you were oblivious to Toji observing your excitement over food.

“Wow, those really are good,” you complimented as you took another one, smiling so big that your face was cracking. You paused, meeting his eyes, and you flushed at his expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just got… hold on.” He brought his hand to your face, took his thumb to brush off some leftover soup droplets on the corner of your mouth.

You blinked once. Then twice. You took note of how large and calloused his hand felt on your face, but you didn’t mind it. You almost leaned into the warmth, like it felt right. Secure. Fitting like the final puzzle piece.

“Sorry. Am I overstepping?” he asked.

“No!” you squeaked. “Speaking as if you didn’t already overstep when you stalked me.”

“Touché,” he smiled, taking his hand back. “Maybe I do have a chance.”

“I never said you didn’t,” you chuckled, “Just that there are less… forward ways to charm a woman.”

“You’re definitely right about that,” he conceded, glancing down at his now emptied plate but far from satisfied stomach. “Might have room for seconds. Would you like dessert?”

You glanced at your own plate, which was nearly empty as well. “Sure. What do you like to get? We can share.”

“Hmmm. Can never go wrong with Daiyaki.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

. . . . . . . .

Toji offered to take you for a stroll around Shibuya, and not minding the thought in the slightest--especially considering that bloat baby you needed to walk off anyway—you clung onto his overly swollen, muscular forearm as he led you out of the restaurant. Apparently all of that food was on the house. He didn’t have to pay a cent which he was over the moon about, and so were you.

The bustling district of Shibuya lived up to its rumors. It came alive in the night just as the media described it would—dotted with pubs, bars, and clubs, lined with glowing neon blues, reds, greens, and yellows. Giant illuminated billboards and massive screens flash animated advertisements. The people just below were lost in their own worlds, reflected in their unique street styles. Some screamed spunky, some screamed classy, and some just for a casual night out.

“Wow,” you breathed.

You didn’t realize the entire time you were observing your environment, Toji observed you, admiring the way your eyes twinkled, awe-struck by the life surrounding you.

He pulled you in inhumanely closer to him, so much so you could inhale the faint scent of his cologne—some musky, earthy, citrusy notes…

“And what a breathtaking view you are,” he murmured, as his nose brushed against the crown of your head.

If he kept talking like that…

Flushing a deep scarlet, you stammered: “You trying to charm my panties off like you planned from the start, hmmm Mister Fushiguro?”

“Mister?” his jaw dropped, then he laughed. “I’m not that old.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Maybe not, but maybe I’m into older men,” you quipped with a huff.

He laughed again. “Why? Does my plan have a shot at working now?”

“You have a better shot than you did initially,” you admitted, nuzzling closer into his chest as you continue to stroll down the sidewalk with him. A few blocks down, an animated advertisement of a boba commercial began to play.

It helps that you’re also so fucking hot I could die, you mused to yourself, but you didn’t think to inflate his already overinflated sense of importance. This guy definitely had quite the ego on him already.

“I’ll take whatever I can get, even if they’re practically breadcrumbs.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that notion. It’d been a while since you’d had a date with someone who actually cared enough about impressing you for real, instead of boasting about being a finance bro and his latest investments in crypto or in real estate or something.

As… impressive as those feats were, you were interested in something a little more intimidate and a little more connected. Call yourself old-fashioned, but you wanted traditional romance and a traditional marriage. Maybe you wanted to ‘just be a housewife.’ You were tired of working your damned ass off at five different jobs only to barely get by. You were happy to have your man, whoever that man was going to be, provide for you and take care of you, because you took care of him, however he wanted you to (within reason, of course). You were a team. That was what marriage was supposed to be like.

Too bad in these modern times all these people were interested in was a quick fuck and go.

You weren’t that simple. Well, actually, you were. Just not like that.

You didn’t like the idea of just being some quick fuck or someone’s “person who got away.”

You had no time for it. You refused to accept such treatment. You wanted real. You didn’t expect it with someone like Toji who for sure was waaay out of your league and so deliciously your type, but if by some strange miracle the odds were in your favor and the stars aligned for once in your damn life and this worked out? Hell! You wouldn’t complain one bit.

“Something on your mind?” Toji snapped you back to reality and you glanced up to see him smirking down at you. “Seemed a little lost there.”

“Sorry,” you replied, “Just enjoying the walk.”

An eyebrow shot up to his hairline. “Really? Not tired of me yet?”

You whacked his hip before you loosely wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Oh stop. I’m having a great time. This is the most relaxed I felt in a long time. So… thank you.”

“No need, the night’s still young. Do you mind if I take you back to my place?”

That snagged your attention. “Sure! I, uhm, that’s not taking things too fast, is it?”

“If you don’t feel comfortable, we don’t have to.”

“Toji, I feel more than comfortable after spending time with you already.” Maybe you didn’t have the best judge of character, but who were you to know anything at all? Thus far this guy just seemed to be full of (pleasant) surprises, and you were open to more.

“Good. That makes me glad. In that case, we’re already almost there.”

“Is that where you’ve been leading me this entire time?” you teased, “You’re not that slick, huh?”

“Not consciously,” he admitted, but you could easily sniff out a white lie. You were going to spare him the embarrassment by not calling him out on it, though. He could have this one. He scooped you up by your bottom and carried you the rest of the way princess style.

“Maybe I just want to hoard you to myself. Don’t want the night to be over.”

For some reason, that was the most flattering compliment you had ever received. The warmth around your heart was foreign but welcome, so welcome. It wasn’t warning bells or red flags, for once.

“Enjoy my company that much?” you giggled, sticking your tongue out.

“More than I care to admit.”

As he carried you to his home, one of his hands rested on your inner thigh, tracing patterns on it. You gasped, half-lidded eyes rolling up to gauge any emotion out of him but he was pokerfaced. Completely composed like he wasn’t committing something scandalous in the middle of the streets. His streets sure, but so fucking what? He inched his hand closer to your intimates, but you didn’t protest. You didn’t understand why exactly, either. Suddenly any and all caution you had before ceased to exist.

The skin close to your intimates was so damn sensitive and your breath caught in your throat again.

“Toji…” you whispered, hand reaching to rest on his pecs, admiring how sculpted and firm they were to your touch. He did work so hard. He was so fucking delicious in every sense of the word, and you wanted to get to know him too.  

He breathed your name in response, glancing down at you with those dragon-like green eyes with such intensity that it knocked your soul out of your body.  

“Can I?” he murmured, voice heady, and suddenly the air between the two of you grew staticy and electrifying yet you still felt safe around him.

You nodded, eyes remaining locked on his.

Hearing him groan, you braced yourself as he quickly led you into his home. You didn’t even get a moment to process anything because from the moment Toji shut the door behind him, he pressed you to the wall and plunged his lips to yours, desperate and wanting like he’d been holding himself back for too long.

 He pulled away once your once plump lips were red and raw from contact and he took a moment to admire his handiwork before nipping your lower lip.

“God, you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“Moi?” you replied, your tone incredulous as your knee pushed up between his legs to rub against his growing erection, matching his classic wolfish grin as he choked on another lewd groan.

“You little brat.” One large hand of his encircled hour neck, finger pads digging into your soft, supple flesh. “Maybe I ought to fuck that pretty mouth.”

“Maybe I want you to,” you purred, wondering where all of that caution had gone already. Tossed into the wind, maybe, because Toji was making you want to be a little more adventurous, a little more reckless, a little more free, even.

Something unnameable flashed in his mesmerizing eyes. Nothing dark, nothing lustful. Something else.

“Maybe you deserve something a bit better than that.”

You were impressed with the sudden affection in his tone, the shift in his demeanor. From aggressive to caring in nanoseconds.

His thumb traced your now dry, cracked, red lips. All thanks to him, you reminded yourself.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Toji continued to shock you with how tender he seemed in that moment, like this really mattered to him. “Because, gorgeous, I like you. And I respect you a great deal. I just want you to know that before we continue. Do you understand?”

You blinked, but nodded nevertheless.

“Good. So you’re sure?”

You nodded again. A little shyly.

“Good.” His other hand’s grip on your neck tightened just a smidge, his thumb pressing into your throat. “Because believe me, gorgeous, what I’m about to do to you might negate what I just reassured you just now. I just want to make it absolutely clear to you.”

Desire pooled in your groin at those words, and you stifled a whine. Toji chuckled, prying you off of the wall and leading you to the living area and resting you on the plush couch instead.

He captured your lips in another heated kiss and forced his tongue inside, smirking against your mouth as you gasped from contact. He pulled away just a bit to trail his tongue along your lips before going for another kiss again, devouring you whole.

You felt overwhelmed with a man his size on top of you, practically melting into the cushions beneath the two of you. He trailed sloppy, filthy, open-mouth kisses down your neck, hands flying to squeeze your ass.

“Toji…” you murmured, hands moving up to cling to his shaggy hair. You wanted him closer somehow, yet he was already as close as humanely possible.

He marked your milky, supple skin up, symbols meaning you were his one way or another. You honestly liked the idea of being exclusive.

You wanted a serious relationship, right?

“Such a fucking menace,” he growled, mouth trailing dangerously close to your intimates, nose hovering just over your shorts. “Got to teach you a fucking lesson. Someone so beautiful shouldn’t be such a goddamn brat…”

Beautiful?

You hadn’t heard that one before.

Not from someone who meant it.

“Please… I want, I want…”

“Patience,” he replied, pulling down your shorts and tossing them unceremoniously to the ground before nosing your clothed pussy. Instinctively, your legs constricted around his shoulders and knocked him in closer, nose pressing into your clothed clit.

“Patience,” he repeated, sound vibrating against the fabric and you whined again.

“Please…” you pouted this time, praying this would make him give in, but his resolve didn’t crack.

“I’m going to take my time taking you apart, gorgeous. And I’m going to milk every second of it.”

[softpascalito]

Raised on little light - 2003!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You don't have anywhere to go on Christmas Eve. Much less anyone to celebrate with. A neighbour down the street turns out to be your personal Christmas miracle.

Relationships: Joel Miller xF! Reader WC: 1500 Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Forehead Kisses, First Kiss, Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak Joel (The Last of Us), Christmas, Christmas Eve, Author needs therapy (and sleep), domestic abuse Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: hello loves. today is another sad one. please read the tags. the abuse is not very detailed but it's there. this fic is very personal to me and (partly) based on how i spent christmas last year. any comments are very appreciated. i'm sending you all all my love &lt;3 also i wanna mention that this has similar tropes to a longer story idea im working on so feel free to let me know if you like the vibes of this and would like to read more :) title from the song northern attitude by noah kahan and hozier

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

for everyone who has spent christmas alone.

The worst part is the shouting.

You can ignore the passive-aggressive snides, mumbles that reach your ears in passing. You can ignore the absence of the feeling of safety. You have even learned to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach when you apply another layer of concealer.

But the shouting seems to follow you. No matter how many rooms you put in between them and you, the sounds crawl through the house, slipping under doors and into hiding nooks that you’ve long outgrown.

It makes you freeze in your tracks, every time it starts. You stand still for a moment, listening, trying to hear what it is about, how bad it seems. There is always the gnawing fear of them running out of words and turning to actions instead. And despite the fact that you’re a grown adult, that you’re technically not the helpless child you once were, it still scares you like nothing else does.

It’s exhausting to exist in a violent house.

You silently let the front door fall shut behind you, stumbling a little as you make your way to the street. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out into the night without a goal in mind. Just get out of the house.

It’s surprisingly cold for Austin and you draw your jacket a little tighter around your shoulders as you move down the sidewalk. The houses on your street are lit up with Christmas lights, stars dangling in windows, colorful fairy lights wrapped around fences, a lit up reindeer figurine a few houses over. 

A truck drives by, the engine humming quietly, before it pulls into a driveway two houses ahead of you. When you pass the house with your head down, the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut makes you jump slightly.

The voice that follows doesn’t.

“That you?”

It only takes Joel a few strides until he’s in front of you, brown eyes searching your body for god knows what. There is a brown paper bag in his hand but you don’t dare lift your head higher to look at his face.

“Whatcha doing out here? Escaping the family gathering?” He jokes lamely, remembering the way he used to sneak off during the holidays if it got too overwhelming.

“Something like that,” you mutter back, trying to put on something resembling a smile. Either it doesn’t work or Joel is too smart to be fooled by it. Because he nods softly, bending his back a little to try and get a look at your face, “Can you look at me for a second, darlin’?”

Oh, he’s so not playing fair. He knows exactly what that nickname does to you, especially coming from him. And he’s shamelessly abusing that.

You swallow, hard and lift your head enough for the porch light to hit you. Joel’s face instantly changes. The somewhat cheerful, joking manner he’d been in a second ago is replaced by concern and something else. Something that almost seems like anger.

He drops the bags of groceries to the floor, bringing both hands up to cup your face. He’s mere inches away when he suddenly stills, eyes softening a bit, “Can I?”

You give a small nod and right away, he closes the distance, turning your head a little to get a better look at the black eye that is undoubtedly getting worse by the second. He should get some credit for not flinching away, you think, for not pretending not to see it like everyone else does.

“You put ice on it or anything?” Joel mutters, his gaze flying over the rest of your neck, clearly checking for more injuries. You barely have time to shake your head no before one hand is on your back, steering you back towards the Miller’s house. “We’ll get you patched up, okay?” Joel asks softly. When he sees your gaze, he adds, “Won’t take long, promise.”

The mood inside the living room could not reflect yours less. There is a bright tree by the window, colorful lights twinkling away. You’re barely inside when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs and you stop in your tracks. Of course Sarah would be home. You’ve gotten to know her rather well this year, after she almost failed Biology last year and when Joel mentioned it in passing, you offered to help out.

You don’t plan on letting her see you like this. She’s smart, like her dad and your afraid that just like him, she’ll know instantly what’s going on.

Joel tugs on your sleeve, motioning for you to stay. Then he turns the corner, catching Sarah at the foot of the stairs before she can reach you. Her voice still carries through to you.

“Did you get the ice cream?” Joel chuckles softly, “I did, dessert is safe. Listen, I gotta- I mean, Santa’s gotta do some last minute preparations. You mind staying in your room for a bit? And no peeking.” The girl grumbles something under her breath but heads back upstairs and a moment later, you hear her door close, a small breath of relief escaping you at that.

Joel's head appears around the corner, “Come on. I’ve got some stuff in the kitchen.”

He pulls out a first aid kit, disinfecting your wound carefully before wrapping a few ice cubes into a towel and dabbing it against your cheek a few times before holding still. The cold immediately seems to work and you involuntarily let out a sigh of relief.

Joel smiles a bit, his hand still pressing the cool sensation against your skin, “That’s better, hm? Just don’t leave it on too long.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, bringing your own hand up to take the towel from him. There is a small moment, merely a few seconds, when your hand sneaks below his, your skin pressed against him, somehow fitting more perfectly than you ever couldve imagined. It feels even better than the ice.

Joel let go after a moment, taking a step back and turning to the kitchen that is messy with dinner preparations.

“She made you get ice cream?” You ask softly, hoping to steer the conversation into a somewhat pleasurable direction.

“Yeah, yeah, she did. You know how she is,” Joel smiles softly. It doesn’t last long. He clears his throat, glancing down at his feet.

“Listen, I know it ain’t my place. But this is not- it’s not normal. Not even close.”

“It is to them.”

Your voice is quiet. You don’t even want to say it. But something about Joel has always made you open up faster and more intensely than you have with anyone else, “It doesn’t happen that much.”

“Ain’t supposed to happen at all, darlin’,” he argues softly. His eyes fly to the window for a second. There’s a string of lights hung up in it as well. You think there’s not a single one at your house. You were raised on little light.

“We’re making dinner in a bit, Sarah’s pick, and Tommy can’t make it so we are one person short.”

You furrow your brows slightly, wondering for a moment why he is telling you about his dinner plans. But then- it washes over you.

“I couldn’t- I’m sure you have a lovely night planned and-”

“Won’t change if you’re there. It’ll still be a lovely night,” Joel says softly, nudging your foot with his. “Come on, let me- let me do this for you.”

You let him. There is dinner, luckily with no more questions about your slightly swollen face. Joel offers you some wine, lets Sarah pick a movie, pretends to hate that it’s some cheesy Christmas movie. You still catch him smiling at the screen throughout the film.

The teenager falls asleep halfway through and Joel gives you an apologetic look before he carries her to bed. When he comes back and sits down, his hand almost automatically finds your knee. Between the romantic movie and the second glass of wine, the atmosphere between you has changed.

“You know our door is always open, right? Sarah loves having you here.”

“Only Sarah?” You raise a brow, leaning into Joel’s broad form a little more and his eyes soften as he looks down on you, “You’ve had a long day. We shouldn’t add any more to that.”

“What if I want to?” Your face is hovering inches from his. You don’t remember even being this close to him, “Joel, please.”

He can’t resist your begging. He doesn’t think he could if he tried.

Christmas Eve brings you your first kiss with Joel. He runs his hands over your cheeks, always careful to avoid the bruise and even when you pull back to catch your breath, his mouth stays on your face, kissing your chin, your nose, your eyes.

He kisses your forehead an hour later when you’re wrapped into his sheets, after you’ve moaned and then cried immediately afterwards. He holds you through all of it, his voice barely a whisper to not wake Sarah.

“I like having you around too, darlin’.”

notes: thank you for reading. i love you &lt;3

[ceilidho]

Twenty questions for fic writers

thanks @kneelingshadowsalome !!!! @ohbo-ohno @charliemwrites if u guys wanna do this go ahead. or anyone else that feels like it

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

47 LMAO

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

a staggering 583,382

3. What fandoms do you write for?

call of duty basically exclusively now, but i used to also write for star wars, shadow & bone, spiderverse, rings of power, and the last of us (may write more for tlou in the future)

4. Top five by kudos.

dead ringer, take me home country road, red dawn, ghost prompts, and landscape with honey.

5. Do you respond to comments?

god i used to all the time ages ago, but now i don't. i truly just get so overwhelmed and it exhausts me. i will respond to the odd comment now and again though, and i read them all obsessively.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

"the terrible nature of ghosts" for sure

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

i guess "landscape with honey" ended on a sweet note. or "birdsongs". i like writing fics that have endings that feel neither happy nor sad; i'd like to think that most of my fics end on a note that make you feel mildly uneasy but overall good.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have blocked an UNTOLD amount of people, so not anymore. but every now and then i'll get the stray "you're evil and the shit you write is fucked up" comment. people tend not to do that when you moderate comments though.

9. Do you write smut?

well now, that's my bread and butter

10. Craziest crossover.

i'm with salome on this one - i'm a purist. not interested in crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

ages ago when i was younger sure. not since then thankfully.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

maybe?? i know some people have asked and i've given them permission but then they've never come back to tell me whether they did it or not.

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

yes!!! i wrote "dead ringer" with a friend and it's my most popular fic lmao. i love love love co-writing with people, but i rarely do it because your style kind of has to match the other person's in order for it to work.

14. All time favorite ship?

god reylo was really it for me for the longest time. i'm not sure any non x reader thing will ever top that. i do LOVE abby/ellie from the last of us, but there's hardly anything for them.

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

any reylo incomplete fic, im so sorry. it's just not gonna happen.

16. What are your writing strengths?

detailed descriptions. introspection and character analysis.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

DIALOGUE. i don't know how the fuck people talk sometimes. also longer plots. and i'm not amazing with visualizing how houses and places look for some reason so i really need to get better at that (i'll be honest, i still don't FULLY know what the town in "country roads" looks like so i try to describe it very vaguely).

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i really only enjoy it when it's used effectively - when the audience is supposed to be aligned with the main character in not understanding what's being said.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

teen wolf!

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

"saltwater" my beloved. or "auribus teneo lupum" from my reylo days.

[criolla-star]

Overwhelmed(Vinny x Garmadon)Part 80

(I suggest you check out parts 1-79 if you haven’t already, also my ao3 and wattpad for the chapters more organised)

Shancai and Vinny both stared up at the ledge, their expressions souring as they heard and saw Enjis’ voice. “Looks like my two favourite people have met!” Enji laughed out as he sat down on the ledge swinging his legs.

“Are you here to fight or talk?” The prince hissed as he held onto his spear, standing in front of the cameraman’s protectively.

“We both know I would love to talk to you, sunshine…but you are sooooo mean to me dear” The black haired menace spoke with fake offence as he stood back up, his hand gripping onto his enchanted mirror shard. Vinny had no idea what was going on, Enji was acting a little different.

“Whatever you do stay close” The prince muttered to Vinny, receiving a nod, what else was he meant to do? He couldn’t protect himself and definitely couldn’t outrun Enji, but the cameraman was torn out of his thoughts as Enji used the enchanted mirror to teleport behind him and rests hand on his shoulder.

“How you doing buddy?” The black haired menace spoke with fake care as he smiled at the cameraman devilishly, Vinny let out a small yelp as he jumped slightly trying to pull from Enjis’ touch. Thankfully, Shancai knocked Enjis’ hand away with his spear. “Oh you wound me Shanni!” He spoke as he clutched his chest.

“Enough with your dramatics” The prince spoke as he rolled his eyes, Enji just smiled at him before teleporting away, but still in sight.

“Alright alright!” Enji laughed out demonically as he pulled out a bunch of small daggers, “We can have a conversation another time, right now…I wanna see how far you’re willing to go to protect my new friend” he added with a smile.

“Asshole…” Vinny grumbled, Enji referring to him as a, friend, made him sick. He knew he was being messed with, but he still hated Enji. Though seeing Enji was better than seeing Rushifa.

“I heard of Rushifa’s little act” The black haired menace spoke, causing Vinnys’ throat to go dry as his heart dropped. Enji threw a bunch of daggers, but the prince pulled Vinny under a market stall and pulled down the cover, which managed to block the daggers.

“Ignore him” Shancai spoke, “He’s messing with your emotions” he added, as he kept the market cover down, shielding them from Enjis’ sight and attacks.

“It’s a bit hard when I’m freezing and he knows exactly what upsets me” The cameraman answered, his voice slightly frustrated, he wasn’ frustrated at Shancai, but at Enji, he was so sick of him.

“You’re cold?” The prince asked, Vinny nodded, but was a bit surprised as to why Shancai focused on that.

“It’s no fun when you hide!” Enji called out as the sound of metal clanking was heard. The prince ignored him and grabbed a random cloth and wrapped it around Vinny like a cloak, he also grabbed this clasp that kept the makeshift cloak together, it seemed like it had a phoenix on it.

“Better?” Shancai asked, receiving another nod from the cameraman.

“Shanni!” Enji called out, “Seriously! You usually fight me! But now you’re not to protect him!? I’m kinda jealous~!” He added, with fake innocence as he scrapped a dagger against the metal polls.

“You see there?” Shancai spoke to Vinny as he pointed to a different side, the cameraman nodded, “I need you to run, while I keep him busy” the prince added.

“Are you crazy?” Vinny asked, “I’m not leaving you” he added worriedly, receiving a confused look from the prince.

“I can defend myself” Shancai spoke, before rolling his eyes as Enji made another dramatic comment.

“I-I know, but are you sure? What if he hurts you?” Vinny asked worriedly.

“I’ll be fine…if I get hit it’ll be nothing short of a bruise” The prince answered before peeking out from the market cover, throwing a spear towards Enji, while another one rejuvenated in his hand which his hit the ground three times, before the old spear exploded.

“Fine…” the cameraman sighed before at where he needed to run, Shancai gave him a reaffirming nod which Vinny let out a shaky breathe before bolting out of the cover, he just kept running and running, he could hear Enji cackling as he threw daggers.

The prince however lunged towards Enji, taking his attention off Vinny, “Hey sexy~” Enji spoke, his voice slightly shaky as he was pinned down by Shancai. As much as the cameraman wanted it be weirded out by how Enji was being, he couldn’t, he just had to keep running.

Shancai let out a shaky gasp as ‘Enji’ disappeared from in front of him, either a clone or he used the mirror. The prince immediately got up and ran towards Vinny. “Watch out!” Shancai shouted as Enji threw a dagger towards the cameraman.

Vinny flinched away, the dagger thankfully missing anything important, but he let out a pained cry as the dagger sliced his upper arm. Blood dripped down as he stared at the cut. “Don’t stop! Keep running I’m enjoying this game!” Enji laughed out as he played with a new dagger.

Vinny growled in annoyance, ignoring the very obvious blood that began staining his clothes. He began moving away only to have Enji jump up and get ready to kick him. Vinny noticed too late.

The cameramans’ eyes widened as he saw Enji, he shut his eyes expecting to get hit, but the impact never came, he hesitantly opened his eyes as he heard a soft groan. Shancai was in front of his, staring daggers into Enjis’ head. Vinny couldn’t help, but notice how surprised Enji looked, he didn’t seem to expect to hit Shancai.

“Shit! You okay!?” The cameraman asked worriedly once he recovered from the shock, as he went over to the princes’ side.

“Way to take the fun out of it princey…” Enji grumbled before he grabbed a pastry from one of the now abandoned stalls, before disappearing.

“Go fuck yourself asshole!” Vinny hissed out, just incase Enji was still there listening, he turned his attention back to Shancai. “That’s gotta hurt…”

“I’m fine” The prince spoke as he stood up straight, holding onto his spear tightly.

“Don’t give me that fucking bullshit” The cameraman hissed, in a more harsh tone that even surprised himself, Shancai seemed surprised being spoke to that way. “S-sorry…fuck you shouldn’t get hurt to protect me…” he sighed out shakily.

“We’re both hurt” Shancai spoke, as he stared at Vinnys’ bleeding arm.

“Right…” the cameraman sighed out as he rubbed his temples, the prince grabbed a small cloth and wrapped it around Vinnys’ wound to somewhat stop the bleeding. It hurt when Shancai tightened the cloth, the cameraman took a sharp breathe and winced slightly.

“We should go back to the palace…I can help bandage that” The prince spoke, receiving a defeated nod from Vinny as they began making their way to the palace.

[menlove]

thank you @therealsaintscully for tagging me !! i always love writing tag games asjdfajsdf

how many works do you have on ao3?

on naturechild, i have 8. on my older, multi-fandom account (jamestkirk) i have 13. thennnn i have 2 orphaned ones in the star wars fandom & then on an ancient one i abandoned in 2014 i have 21. and i know i orphaned at LEAST 3 others at some point. so that's... like 44?

what’s your total word count?

141,179 on naturechild, 139,838 on jamestkirk, and then i have no idea what the password for my old one is so idk there. but at least 281,017. even though i had 21 on that super old one, they were all really short, and the orphaned ones i have are only a few thousand each. so probably around like the 290-300k mark.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

and oh, my heart was flawed (aziraphale/crowley)

is it a great or little thing we fought? (han/luke)

i'm not trying to write a love song (steve/bucky)

and all i ever knew (only you) (aziraphale/crowley)

the star to every wandering bark (aziraphale/crowley) (abandoned)

do you respond to comments? why/why not?

i try to !! i certainly read them all. i tend to get overwhelmed easily by responding to people, like just in general, so like any inbox i have (email, text, tumblr, discord, etc) i have a ton i haven't replied to. but i try for the first few weeks after a fic drops at least fjsdfjasdf

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

oh hm. well, i need you (never leave me alone) ends on an angsty note but there's the third installment planned where john survives getting shot and they wind up fine, so while the fic ends sad their arc isn't. so with that excluded, your midas touch (quentin/eliot) is probably the winner. it's just really angsty sex where they aren't together but they know they want to be together but eliot turned quentin down (like in canon for those of u who were wise enough to not watch the magicians) so it's just. smut and sadness.

what's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

uuuuh hm i tend to write a lot of like mid-canon fics i guess or angst or like fics that finish off with a Hopeful tone but not happy or sad but i guess the one that i'd say is the happiest ending is probably i'm not trying to write a love song. it's a stucky fix-it fic bc i was so mad about endgame that i had to make myself not mad by writing this, but it's essentially just. 5 times bucky "jokingly" asked steve to marry him and one time steve actually asked him. i'm gonna be so real i do not remember the plot of this at all beyond that.

do you write crossovers?

not anymore, no! i wrote some waaay back in the day on deviantart- most notably i was kicking around a star trek/beatles crossover as a kid where spock, bones, kirk, and uhura swapped places w the beatles. i don't remember where i was going with it at all, but i wrote it in a notebook at summer camp lol

have you ever received hate on a fic?

yeah lmfao most recently i had someone tell me i was ableist for not tagging a 7k fic "slow-burn" bc they didn't get to anal sex right away. mind you, they were still fucking, there just wasn't anal. and this meant i was ableist. absolutely insane comment i still think about it like weekly.

do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yeahhhhh most of my fics on naturechild are explicit. and idk i'd say usually just Porn With Feelings like i love using smut as a way to explore characters and relationships rather than just straight up being hot. which is maybe my downfall but hey i'm having fun

have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of!

have you ever had a fic translated?

i don't think so? i think i've been asked a few times but no

have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeah! i co-wrote a beatles fic w a friend in middle school, i co-wrote the star to every wandering bark w my ex, and i'm writing i want you, need you, i love you with @forthlin. there's ALSO in the works a thing i'm co-writing w @dykebeatles at some point that exists in our minds and is very beautiful such a beautiful world

what's your all-time favorite ship?

i truly couldn't answer this w a gun to my head this changes frequently. but my ones that keep returning are: kirk/spock(/bones), (redacted star wars ship u could all figure out w the slightest sleuthing), charles/erik, and john/paul. and then i'm also huge into mulder/scully, twelve/clara, and doctor/master, but i don't tend to read or write fics for those i just witness them on my screen and go crazy.

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

the star to every wandering bark will never get finished bc we broke up and then we were Planning on finishing it and he didn't get back to me lmaoooo. but also the universe for is it a great or little thing we fought? i thought was very neat and wanted to finish and then never got around to. given that it's literally 8 years old at this point i don't think i'm ever going to but i loved that little world!

what are your writing strengths?

i've been told i'm good at dialogue and i think i'm good at painting emotional pictures honestly !!

what are your writing weaknesses?

i get really bogged down sometimes and it's hard for me to know what to cut to make the action flow so it's not just chunks of rambling that take too long to move from one action/scene to the next. i'm trying to Actively work on this and get better though so ! i'm also not the strongest at smut bc again, i use it as a character study more than anything. trying to improve on that as well!

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

like prev said, depends on how well it's done. i've seen it done really well and really poorly. regardless i definitely think you should probably try and find someone who speaks that language and not just use google translate bc oh boy.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

fasdfasdf kim possible when i was 9...... first time i started taking fanfiction SERIOUSLY though was the beatles when i was 11

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

ohhhh hm. i really wanna write a mcharrison fic but they're so bittersweet to me and idk if i could do them justice. i've also only ever written one cherik fic and that's criminal, i'd love to write another one

what's your favorite fic you've written?

okay i know it's recency bias but it's between cut to chord: subliminal flash of love-making like i don't think i've ever been as proud of a fic as that one, and then i want you (every time that you're near) was just so fun to write and so adfasdf i love them

tagging: yall don't have to do this but tagging some ppl i know have published fics and may not have been tagged ! @forthlin @wronglennon @dykebeatles @sgtpeppers and anyone else that would like to do this can say i tagged them <3

[mercurial-cool]

💜Ambrosia Progress Update 💜

Hello lovely Bloodweave community! Since my last post was me nearly four months ago saying that a new Ambrosia chapter would likely be coming by the end of the year (lol), I just thought I'd pop back in here to give a quick little "proof of life" post and reassure anyone still wondering that, at least in theory, it still has not been abandoned -- I just took a little time away from working on it for various reasons.

[That's the important part of what I wanted to share, but I'm inserting a cut below for some additional self-indulgent rambling for anyone who wants a bit more context.]

One reason for the hiatus was that my job got crazy towards the end of the year, which both took away from my writing time and also my BG3-playing time, making it harder to jump back in and capture the characters' voices as accurately as I felt I could when I was playing more regularly. And the other, more recent and much sillier reason is that I accidentally and unexpectedly stumbled into an obsession with Formula 1 and had some writing ideas for that fandom that my brain demanded that I act on immediately... so, if you subscribed to me for Ambrosia updates and get a notification soon that I've de-anoned 45k words of (AO3 member-locked) Formula 1 RPF, I am so sorry for the possible bait-and-switch lmao. (But congratulations to the, like, three other people who might exist with me at the center of the Venn diagram of those two fandoms haha... I'd love to know if you're out there!)

I'll admit that I've felt guilty for doing that other writing while Ambrosia was still unfinished. I've never had anything I've written come anywhere close to the level of popularity that Ambrosia has reached, and it was something I've truthfully found a little overwhelming at times. At the very least, it's prompted me to feel quite a bit more anxious and perfectionistic about whether any new chapters I put out "live up to" the bar that's been set by how much people have enjoyed the previous chapters. None of that is to diminish how unbelievably appreciative I am of the people who have taken the time to read and comment on Ambrosia -- I still read and am grateful for every single comment that comes through, even though I've done a shit job of responding to them lately (another source of no small amount of guilt).

But I think I needed to take some time to do some writing that didn't have the self-imposed pressure of quite so many eyes. And now that I've done that, I'm excited to return to Ambrosia refreshed and with a healthier perspective. I know better than to actually try and give a timeline this time around for when the next chapter might be out, but just know that I'm once again actively working on it, and I'm very excited about some of the writing that I've already completed. :)

Thank you (and/or I'm sorry) to anyone who bothered to read this far, and hope you're all doing well. <3

[happiness-of-the-pursuit]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @kiwiana-writes for the tag!! I did this back in like... October, and a LOT has changed since then lol

How many works do you have on ao3?

29

What's your total ao3 word count?

299,988 (though this includes 110,000 from the co-written PJO AU and 2,000 words from Manu's fic that I podficced to)

What fandoms do you write for?

Only RWRB for now, though never say never to others. I recently read Check, Please! and I've had some thoughts, but I have far too many WIPs for RWRB to write them rn. Also I have some ideas for The Pairing, but again, I have... so many RWRB wips...

Top five fics by kudos:

Longer Than Most | 26K, trans Henry accidental pregnancy (also this is how I found out it had become my top kudos-ed fic AH)

The Super Six Take a Lie Detector Test | Vanity Fair | 7K, YouTube interview

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) | 6K, epistolary roommates

Claremont 2008 | 28K, canon divergence where Ellen gets elected in 2008, childhood friends to lovers

(Dil)Do It Yourself | 17K, meet cute at a DIY dildo workshop

Do you respond to comments?

I really try to. But. I have gotten quite behind recently. I would love to catch up but it's just a bit overwhelming at the moment.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really have any angsty endings?? but a fic @affectionatelyrs and I are working on is going to have an ambiguous ending and my joke is that someone should the version of it where things take the angsty route

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

I mostly write happy endings, but I am going to say that Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) is the happiest because it's kinda the tropiest

Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate, but I've gotten one or two weird comments, or comments asking about updates.

Do you write smut?

I do! (this is one of the things that's changed since the fall)

Craziest crossover:

The closest I've gotten to a crossover is the PJO AU, but that's not even an actual crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! Super Six and the Siren's Call with @inexplicablymine and @read-and-write- was the first, and then I wrote Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) with @affectionatelyrs. I also did the podficcing of the voice notes for love has a voice (and it's yours) by Manu. I've also got a couple more projects coming up with Jamie also.

All time favorite ship?

Well that I've written for, FirstPrince :)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Unfortunately I don't know if I'll ever finish Baby's First Pride because I've grown a ton as a writer since then and I would want to redo the old chapters and that just isn't all the compelling to me anymore...

What are your writing strengths?

I fucking hate this question. But I am going with dialogue and humor (and humorous dialogue) which has been co-signed by others so I feel less weird about saying this.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I would like to be able to keep smut more concise at times, because it always turns into a Big Scene but it doesn't always need to be a Big Scene. And I've been trying to work on a particular style of writing which is a bit more uhhh snappy? I don't know how to describe it. But that's still a huge work in progress, because I always get more rambly than I want.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I definitely try to include it for the characters in RWRB who speak other languages, and when I do I lean on my friends who speak those languages as a native speaker.

First fandom you wrote in?

Officially: RWRB. For myself: HP.

Favorite fic you've written?

Honestly it's always whatever I'm working on at the moment, which is a couple of WIPs: Fire Island WIP, Parasocial Relationship AU with @affectionatelyrs, and my Big Bang fic come to mind.

But really I want to know what y'all's favorite fic of mine is!!!!

I'll tag 20 people, sorry if anyone's done this recently, but in case anyone wants to go again: @mainstreamelectricalparade @14carrotghoul @anincompletelist @littlemisskittentoes @gay-flyboys

and @songliili @gayrootvegetable @leojfitz @welcometololaland @rmd-writes

and @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @captainjunglegym @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise

and @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @bribumblebee @nocoastposts @magicandarchery @itsmaybitheway!!!