#and it was WAY beyond my skill level but i practiced over and over again for hours until I could play ‘if I only had a brain’

[wickedhawtwexler]

shoutout to the wizard of oz (1939) for continuing to influence my journey as a musician

[coupsie-daisies]

Power Over Me - Part 1 | Jeong Yunho & Kim Hongjoong

Pairing(s): Werewolf!Jeong Yunho x Witch!OC x Werewolf!Kim Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong x Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho x Song Mingi

Genre: Smut (18+ ONLY), Urban Fantasy, College AU, Enemies to Lovers, Childhood Sweethearts, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: The sheer existence of Yunho's best friend, the person he imprinted on nearly a decade prior, near his pack sets Hongjoong on edge, and things go to absolute shit when everyone finds out why. Yet another thing that Blue has to fix, just like they always do.

Word Count: 25k

Warnings: Cussing, everyone in the pack is poly, unprotected sex, choking (technically nonsexual), excessive talk of scents, mentions of Knotting, mild infidelity, Yunho has a tragic backstory, angst (especially at the end of this chapter), voyeurism, I know I missed something so please let me know!!

Power Over Me Playlist

Power Over Me Pinterest Board

A/N: This is my piece for the Clownracha summer 2024 fic exchange. It's written for my beloved @ferrethyun, I hope you love it babe!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @brownieracha // @decaffedthoughts

Masterlist This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any platform is prohibited

Magic was, in its best state, a finicky thing. It relies entirely on a competent user to carry out its task, needing to be guided and shaped lest it break free and wreak havoc. Under a skilled, watchful eye, however, magic was a cure for just about anything. Magic is as old as the universe itself, and as time passes, the training of magic users and beings infused with its essence became essential to the growth of the world.

Those with the ability to manipulate magic were abundant in the world. It became common for them to rise to power or notability in many roles. Witches were in high demand as medics, teachers, mentors for those who knew less about the way the world worked. The water spirits and those that lived in the water worlds were vital to the growth of trade and travel. The Fae were consulted for matters beyond what the eye could see, and creatures of the night were revered for their power. As time went on, as the world grew and magic flourished along with it, the two became very intricately intertwined. So, naturally, the University of United Magic grew too.

The University started small, a coven of witches cooped up in a house where their elders taught others the trade, the tricks, and the sacred secrets of the past. Eventually, though, the University matured into a whole sprawling campus akin to any large college. All sorts of magic were taught within the looming buildings, and the lush nature that surrounded everything was healthier than anything touched by man's bare hands before.

Among the growing student body was one of the brightest witches on the continent, the child of two of the oldest, largest bloodlines in the history of magic. Of course, they had no intention of letting that go to their head. The rest of the student body, however, seemed to keep it fresh in their mind. People were never surprised when they came out top of their class yet again, or when they won another certificate or award of excellence. They simply understood magic in a way that other people couldn't begin to comprehend, forming it into something never before seen and harnessing it with the same level of care taken when handling a wild animal. It came more naturally to them than anything else.

Which, perhaps, was why they so rarely left their room beside for their classes, too busy experimenting with their newest brews or enchantment combinations. They were always seeking ways to grow their practice, if for no reason other than fucking around and finding out. Still, to say that they had privacy was a bit of a stretch. Not only were people regularly seeking their assistance with issues that basic magic couldn't begin to touch, but more often than not there was one particular werewolf stretched out on their bed, watching them work with a quiet, satisfied adoration.

"Must you stare at me when I'm working?" Blue deadpanned, looking over their shoulder for a moment before turning back to the swirling, shimmering liquid trapped in the beaker on their desk.

"I'm not staring! I'm just...watching. Like a normal person." Yunho answered casually. He sat up, long legs folding on the bed. He was, in fact, staring. But it was hard to blame him what with the way that he enjoyed magic. As a turned werewolf with no magical heritage, there wasn't much magic that he could practice himself. He had really only applied to the University to learn to brew his own remedies for his condition -- his rut suppressants and potions for the pain and whatnot. Not to mention that a degree in Magical Literature could come in handy in the future. But, most of all, Blue had applied to the University, and if there was one thing that had never changed about Jeong Yunho it was his dedication to following Blue around like a lost puppy. He'd been doing it since they were just little kids.

"Right, definitely normal. Can you pass me that bottle there? The lavender concentrate?" And like the obedient dog that he was, Yunho jumped up to pass the dropper bottle over to them. He stayed there, watching as they carefully dripped three perfect beads of the liquid into the mixture. It hissed, and bubbled, and turned a vicious shade of red before settling. It let off a subtle aroma of wood smoke and something sort of sweet. Blue seemed satisfied with this, wafting the steam towards them before carefully pouring it into a bottle and stoppering it. 

"What's that one for?" Yunho asked, picking up the bottle and turning it back and forth in his hands. Blue grabbed one of the sticker labels that was laying on their desk and scrawled a name onto it.

"It's a fuel substitute for fire demons. For Juyeon from our History of Enchantments class last semester. He's been having trouble with his current fuel, so this should help him until he can get it sorted out." They got up, taking the bottle from Yunho, labeling it, and tucking it into their bag.

They were always doing things like this, working tirelessly to help others in new and creative ways and expecting nothing in return. Yunho admired that. They said it was their duty to the world, to do what they could for those who couldn't. They'd been studying magic since they were little, learning under their grandmother and picking up tricks from covens all over the world. Blue's grandmother was one of the most powerful witches in the entire country, and most importantly, she was a wonderful woman. Yunho remembered that very well from their childhood, from the day he'd met her and Blue so many years prior.

The day Yunho met Blue was a blur in his mind. He'd lost a lot of blood, and the therapists said that trauma could make his memories disjointed on top of it. But he remembered the fresh linens hanging outside, the way that the breeze carried the scent, and how it was so strong in that moment.

He wasn't sure how the old woman had found him, or how she'd been strong enough to get him back to her cottage all by herself. He didn't remember how long the walk had been from the forest to the front door, but surely it had been a lot of work. But he did remember how she'd laid him carefully on a blanket on the workbench, the way that the pain had seared through him, and how he'd cried. It wasn't the violent, heavy sort of crying - he didn't have the energy for that - but it had felt like it to him. Every heaved breath ripped through his body like the claws that had put him in this state in the first place.

Grandmother recognized his condition easily as she worked her magic to heal him, stitching his wounds back together with her gentle chanting. This room, Yunho remembered, looked very much like what he'd imagined a witch's home to look like. There were dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and sigils painted on the door frame, and the shelves and cupboards that lined the walls were full of jars and bottles of things he didn't know about, all labeled and neatly organized.

And then there was Blue. They were so small and unassuming as they stood against the wall, far enough out of the way that their grandmother could work but not so far that they couldn't examine what was being done to him. Yunho remembered their eyes; wide, and curious, but so very calm in the face of all the blood and pain.

Grandmother hurried around the room, speaking as she gathered her ingredients -- maybe to herself, or maybe to her grandchild who was certainly listening intently. She measured everything carefully into a bowl, beginning to grind everything together and chanting something over it, a language Yunho didn't recognize. He was cold, but it was so late in the summer, and that would have worried him if he wasn't so preoccupied by how sleepy he was getting. His eyes were growing heavier by the second, and every breath was beginning to feel like an uphill battle. Was he shivering? His mom had his jacket in case the night got cold on the way home, he wondered why she didn't put it on him before he left. Or maybe she'd just brought it with her...wherever she was now.

"Stay with us, now. Just a little longer." Grandmother soothed, her voice gentle and worn like the leather bracelets that Yunho admired when he went into town. He liked those, and he liked her voice too. "Bluebell, now."

Bluebell. The word repeated in his mind as he watched the child across the room jump into action. It sounded so pretty the way it rang in his ears.

"Bluebell," He repeated, he wasn't sure why, and it was so quiet that he could barely hear it. Then they looked at him with those eyes again. Maybe that was their name, it would be very well suited to them, he decided, so pretty. They were very pretty too. But not like flowers, he thought, like the rocks along the edge of the stream. Different, not so delicate and fragile as the flowers, special, something that he wanted to hold onto.

They passed something to their grandmother, a small jar of ground ingredients that she sprinkled into the discolored mush in her bowl. Then she mixed some more, asking for more jars and adding them to her odd mixture before moving closer to him.

"This might hurt," Bluebell said quietly. "You can hold my hand if you want to."

They offered their little hand to them, and Yunho took it in his. They must have been near the same age, but he was already big for his age. His parents said he'd be taller than his dad if he kept growing like this. He thought he'd like that a lot, being tall was very important to him at eight years old. He reached for their hand, holding it in his weakly on the table.

Blue watched on, caring eyes scanning his face for discomfort when Grandmother began applying the poultice to his wounds. He was weak, and tired, but even so he hissed at the burn and tried to squirm himself away, but he couldn't make it very far in his condition anyway. Grandmother shushed him, but not in the mean way that most adults shushed him, it sounded more like a comfort.

"Will he be okay?" Blue asked. Yunho's eyes were squeezed shut, and he gripped their hand a little tighter when they tried to pull it away. They didn't try to move again afterwards.

"He'll be alright. I'll wrap his wounds up and we'll let him rest for a while. I imagine he must be very tired now." Grandmother said. Yunho heard her begin to move around, cleaning up the messes she'd made. A hand stroked his hair, now damp with sweat and maybe a little bit of blood. "We'll get him cleaned up and fed when he wakes up. But for now, I think we best leave him alone."

"I don't want to leave him alone. Can I stay until it's time to eat?" Blue asked. It wouldn't really matter anymore, Yunho was already fast asleep on the bench, his hand relaxing in theirs. But their grandmother nodded anyway, a smile on her face. She was sure that Yunho would recover just fine with Bluebell at his side.

"You're, like, a really good person," Yunho said, settling back onto his friend's bed. Blue rolled their eyes. This was something that Yunho felt the need to tell them often. And, sure, it was nice being praised, but Blue didn't do this sort of thing for the praise or the gratitude. If anything, they did it because they felt obligated to. See, very few witches understood the intricacies of magic the way that they could. That meant that it was their responsibility to help how they could, to teach what they discovered, the things that they learned. Which was also part of why they always had tutoring slots open -- not that they really wanted to be teaching people who were most interested in cheating off their work. But Blue did it all, most importantly in their opinion, because they loved magic.

"Can you stop with that?" They said, pulling out a notebook that they'd filled with their goals for the week and scratching off a bullet point. "You praise me too much."

Yunho shrugged.

"I'm serious, though! You know that. I know a lot of people who wouldn't try half as hard as you do even if they were getting something out of it."

Blue was about to argue back when a knock sounded at their door. It was a sound that they sometimes dreaded, but this time they were relieved to have someone intervene and cut Yunho's rants short. They jumped up from their chair, stepping over Yunho's bookbag on the floor and opening the bedroom door.

"Hyung," Yunho said, surprise evident in his voice as he perked up from the other side of the room.

"What brings you here?" Blue asked, stepping aside to let the older man inside. Seonghwa looked breathtaking as he always did, maybe a side effect of being an Incubus, or maybe just sheer luck. He brushed his hand through his dark, wavy hair, looking between Yunho and Blue.

There weren't many things that weren't shared in Yunho's pack, very few secrets existed between the boys, so Blue knew it must be fairly severe for Seonghwa to be hesitating in front of the werewolf.

"Do you need to talk to me in private?" Blue asked. They didn't notice the way that Yunho started to sulk before the other man even got a chance to answer. He wasn't obsessed with Blue. They were, however, attached at the hip and had been for so long that most people found it unnatural being around only one of them or the other outside of classes. Everyone knew they were a package deal. If you wanted Blue, you could count on having to deal with Yunho. So Seonghwa shook his head.

"No, it's fine." He answered, making himself comfortable in the plush armchair pushed into the corner of Blue's dorm. The witch nodded, sitting back down at their desk. "I really hate to do this, I know you're always busy, but I think I might need your help Y/N."

They flipped to a new page in their notebook, already writing Seongwha's name at the top before looking back to him.

"What can I do for you?" They asked. To anyone else, it might have seemed clinical, but the upward tilt at the corner of their lips spoke volumes to their friends.

"I need a...I need something to help me not need to...feed so often." He explained, a pretty flush creeping up his neck as his dark eyes flickered to Yunho. Yunho choked on a flustered cough, dropping his gaze to his hands which were suddenly busying themselves with one of the plushies on Blue's bed. Blue, however, wasn't bothered in the least.

"And has the need been getting stronger lately?" They asked, jotting down a quick note on the page. "Or has this always been a problem for you? Not being able to have enough sex to satiate your hunger?"

It was clear that their lack of discomfort around the topic helped Seonghwa relax, an easy smile starting to creep onto his face.

"It's not been a problem before, not since I was a lot younger. But I'm reaching the peak maturity of a sex demon, it's about time for my hunger to peak, isn't it?" He pointed out. Blue nodded. "It wouldn't be a problem, but I'm too busy to be meeting the need. I just wanted to...improve my quality of life, I guess."

Blue gave another understanding hum, not that they had any experience with an Incubus' need for sex first hand, but they'd read about it plenty. Of course they had. Besides, they'd known Seonghwa since he'd met Yunho back when the two started at the University.

"Have you tried heat suppressants? That's what the nurses recommend, right?" It wasn't exactly the same, but it was supposed to have a similar effect.

"Yeah, I tried, but it didn't help. Just made me feel weird. Hongjoong said they made me smell weird." His nose crinkled at the idea of smelling bad. Blue laughed.

"So Hongjoong doesn't mind you trying to dial your sex drive back? I figured he'd be jumping at the opportunity to sleep with you more." They half scoffed. Hongjoong was a werewolf like Yunho, the leader of the pack. He'd first met Seonghwa during his rut and practically drove the rest of the pack members out of the dorm for a few days.

It made sense, really, for a hungry sex demon to be drawn to someone who couldn't be satiated. A match made in heaven, especially since they bonded not long after. As much as Blue didn't get along with Hongjoong, they made a good couple.

"With his extra class this semester he doesn't have time to keep up with me either." Seonghwa admitted. The two of them had an oddly competitive relationship, Blue chalked that up to Hongjoong being the overly intense, proud bastard that he was.

"Right, so heat suppressants are a no go, have you tried lust potions?" A dumb question considering he wouldn't be here if he hadn't already jumped through all the hoops already, but they had to ask anyway. Seonghwa nodded. "Alright, I'll try to figure something out. Just give me a bit of time. Yunho, library trip?"

The library was a place that both Blue and Yunho frequented, generally together, and generally tucked into the same study room they were in now. It was easier for them to work together behind locked doors where they couldn't be bothered or bother anyone else. There was a precarious stack of books sitting to Blue's left, and a handful more flipped open and spread out on the table. Their notebook was laid in front of them while Yunho slumped back in his chair, spinning his pen around his long fingers.

"So, what's the problem again?" He asked. Blue sighed, rubbing the bridge of their nose before turning back to the books.

"Incubi need sex to live. It feeds them, keeps their souls burning and tied to their bodies. Seonghwa is trying to find a way to obtain the energy he needs without actually having to have sex." They said, drumming their pen against the paper with a dull tap, tap, tap.

"Right. And that's difficult why exactly?"

"Well, if the heat suppressants didn't work, it means that he doesn't need to suppress the need to feed. He needs a supplement. Kinda like....a vitamin." They sat up straighter, pulling one of the books closer to them and flipping through a few pages. "But I'm not sure how to make a supplement for sex. Or if it's even possible."

Yunho took one of the books off the stack, a thick, heavy one on all sorts of advanced potions that he hadn't even begun to study yet. He traced a finger down the index page.

"If anyone can figure it out, it's you. What about a modified aphrodisiac potion?"

"Aphrodisiacs are known to stimulate Incubi hunger. It'll make it worse." They dismissed the idea.

"What if you, like, reversed the effects or something? Like you did for that one project last year."

Blue shook their head again. This did this often, posed a problem to Yunho and let him throw darts. He always missed, never really coming up with a helpful solution, but it did push Blue to think outside of the box, seeking ideas that they couldn't find on their own. And as far as Yunho was concerned, helping them by being incompetent about magic was still helping them and it still did wonders for his ego.

"There's ingredients that wouldn't work properly together. It could cause a lot of problems. I don't think I should be taking that risk unless we really can't figure out something better suited." They picked up a different book, beginning to flip through it.

"I was thinking maybe there's some sort of preexisting magic that we could...I don't know, harness, I guess? Concentrate and manipulate and use as ingredients. It might be difficult, but I don't think that simple ingredients are gonna cut it."

Blue slumped back in their chair, bringing the book closer to their face and scrunching up their nose as they tried to think. It was a habit that they'd had since they were just little, their entire face growing tight when they worked on something hard. It made Yunho want to reach out and smooth away the wrinkles, tell them to relax, remind them that they were downright brilliant and would get there if they just gave themselves time.

"Okay, what kind of magic do you think could help? I don't imagine nature magic could be of much use." He said, doodling on the cover of his own notebook.

"Maybe some sort of love or illusion magic. If I can concentrate that, pour it into a mix sort of like the fuel potion I made, it could act as a substitute for the type of energy they get from sex. Maybe a siren might be able to help? But I don't think there's a way to make that physical." They looked around, scanning the titles of the books they'd been tossing around carelessly. "Have you seen my book on-"

"Sirens and merpeople?" Yunho carefully shifted the books on the table until he could hand them the volume they were looking for. Blue thanked him in a barely there voice, flipping to a chapter about Siren magic. It had always fascinated them, it didn't work the way that most illusion magic did. It was like a spell cast by the Siren's bodies themselves. Nobody had been able to harness it, which led to a whole revolution some hundreds of years ago after a handful of revolts by Sirens in unjust magical study environments, a very nasty thing with lots of losses on both sides, though the Sirens had won their rights and their respect from it. So, all things considered, Blue really didn't expect to be the magical researcher to figure that one out, at least not at such a young age.

"Maybe a Cupid?" Yunho asked. It was an offhanded comment as he picked at a callous on his hand, but the lack of a response caught his attention. He watched with wide eyes as Blue's grin grew.

"Yunho, you might just be a genius." They said. "I'll need to talk to some people, see if they might be willing to transfer a couple samples to me. I haven't worked hands on with Cupid magic before, it's real unpredictable stuff. Hence all the stories and whatnot. They get their names from a truly tragic story, but you know all that already."

"Maybe Mingi can help. He should be back from visiting home soon." Yunho was still beaming from the praise, chest warm.

Yunho's relationship with Mingi was...complicated. They weren't boyfriends, not technically, and it was hard to say if either of them were properly in love with each other, but there was an unrivaled sort of affection there. They were happy when they were together, and they brought out the best in each other. So they were together often, not to mention they shared a room at the pack dorm. Most of the relationships between the pack were like that, hard to define and transcending the typical rules of friendship. They were based on the innate feeling that came from being together. Blue admired that, or maybe they craved that. It was sort of like how they were with Yunho after all the years together.

"Perfect. You'll let me know as soon as he's back, right?" Blue questioned, still flipping through their books. After all, it never hurt to have a backup plan, and a backup backup plan. So on and so forth, they were nothing if not prepared. Yunho just nodded quietly as if it were a dumb question to ask him.

As they continued reading up on all sorts of different magic that may or may not be an effective sex substitute, Blue found their will to stay awake dwindling. Their eyes were heavy, and a glance at the time told them that it was significantly later than they'd realized. It was a few more hours of groggy studying before their head dipped onto their arm, cheek squished against their forearm and eyes shut tight.

Yunho looked up from the essay he was working on about some book published about sixty years before he was born, a fond smile growing on his lips. This was another constant, almost as regular as their library study sessions. Blue was comfortable around Yunho in a way that they weren't with nearly anyone else. They let their guard down enough to find peace with him, to fall into rest even when they weren't trying to. Yunho never said anything about it, lord knows they needed the sleep.

So the two of them stayed put for a while longer, Yunho working on his project and Blue drooling just a little onto their arm. After another hour or so of them not stirring even a little bit, Yunho began to worry about them waking up stiff. So he packed up his things, and cleaned up as many of the books around them as he could without disturbing Blue's nap. Finally, once almost everything was put away, he shook them awake lightly. It took a couple of tries to get them to fully blink their eyes open, squinting up against the fluorescent lights.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." He teased, reaching to brush their hair back into place while they rubbed their eyes. It damn near made his heart ache seeing them like this. It always reminded him of when they were little kids and he'd stop by their house to pick them up on the walk to school. "Do you wanna go back to yours or stay at my place for the night?"

With Mingi gone, there was nobody sharing his room back at the Pack's dorm so, like he generally did, he invited Blue to stay the night. It was closer anyway.

"We can go back to my dorm. Don't wanna bother the pack."

They both knew what that really meant; They didn't want to see Hongjoong in the morning. Despite Blue having a close relationship with everyone in the back, and Hongjoong being in charge, the two of them could never seem to get along. Blue had really tried at first, it was important for Yunho to have a pack and they'd never want to stand in the way of that. Still, no matter how much Yunho played the buffer, the two just couldn't be around each other. So he didn't argue, just stood up and shrugged.

"I'll go put these books on the return cart. Meet you out there, okay?" He easily scooped up the stack of books from the table, piled concerningly high, and managed to nudge the door open.

Blue moved slowly, their body weighed down with grogginess and their brain refusing to focus. Their mind was fogged over with sleep and the fading warmth that hung around with it. But soon enough all of their things were neatly organized in their bag and they found Yunho waiting right where he said he would.

The walk back to Blue's apartment was short, but it was taking longer with them dragging their feet. Yunho silently arranged his backpack to sit against the front of him, crouching down to pick Blue up on his back. Normally they argued, but they never said no to a piggy back ride. This time they didn't even speak as they climbed onto his back and let him take their weight.

Winter was just around the corner, and the late fall air bit at their cheeks and their fingertips. Blue hated the cold, but luckily Yunho played personal space heater, more than happy to hold them close and warm their cold hands in his own.

When they got back, it was late enough into the night that all of Blue's own roommates were asleep besides Yeji, but her nocturnal nature always kept her up more often than she would have liked. But even she was tucked into her room for the night when the door code chimed them in. It was easy for the two to move in unison, taking their shoes off and making for Blue's bedroom. Yunho continued inside, finding clothes in the dresser drawer devoted to him while Blue detoured to the bathroom.

Nights like this were easy, space shared in comfortable silence as they both got ready to sleep. They worked around each other like a well oiled machine, Blue washing their face while Yunho brushed his teeth next to them, taking turns getting changed. Impromptu sleepovers were almost over-practiced. So as Yunho climbed into Blue's bed, taking his side by the wall and waiting for them to finish up, he didn't feel anything less than at home surrounded by the scent of them. Blackberry and vanilla and warm musk cutting the sweetness surrounded him, as it should be in his mind. It was his favorite scent, a vast ocean of Blue that he set himself afloat in, washed away in the calm waves.

When Blue finally came back, they were wrapped in one of Yunho's shirts, face glowy from being freshly washed and eyelids growing heavy with sleep again. They climbed into the bed next to him, and even in his half asleep state, Yunho welcomed them into his arms. He nuzzled his nose against their hair once they'd gotten comfortable. Blue's presence calmed him down from even the worst moods. They smelled like home, and Blue was the closest thing to home that Yunho had anyways.

"Go to sleep," They mumbled, almost as if they could sense the way his mind was sinking dangerously into memories of the past. Thinking about his childhood had a habit of keeping Yunho awake at night more often than he cared to admit, but Blue could read him like a book. They saw through him when he'd act like he got enough sleep, or when he'd wake up beside them and insist it wasn't because of a nightmare.

"I will. You first," He said. And generally they would argue, they always did with their endlessly caring nature, but they couldn't find the energy to argue this time. They closed their eyes, relaxing next to him.

Yunho laid there for a while, idly stroking Blue's arm until he was sure they'd fallen asleep next to him. Then he was alone with his thoughts, a dangerous pastime. When he was alone with his thoughts, the guilt started to set in all over again. There was a familiar feeling of missing what could have been so badly that it ached settling into his bones, and for a moment it was like he couldn't breathe at all with how heavy it sat on his chest.

The first time that Blue slept beside Yunho was nearly a year after they first met. It was late evening, and he'd been laying in his room at their grandmother's house since morning. He'd gotten much more used to the moons, but sometimes it still brought out a side of him that he was afraid of, a side of him that reminded him on the night he'd lost everything. His home, his family, his humanity.

That was the thought that made him curl in on himself, tears running down his face. He was old enough now that it felt embarrassing to cry like this, so desperately. Nevertheless, the sobs shook his body and his tears stained the pillow under his head. His entire body was still aching from the transformation even after he took the tonic he'd been given.

He'd known Blue was there when he came, but he was too ashamed to face them, too exhausted. He felt like a monster all over again, he shouldn't be trusted to be near anyone, let alone someone who wouldn't hurt a fly. He shivered in the bed then, the only light shining in was from the waning moon through the window, casting the room in an eerie, silvery glow that sent a shock of terror through Yunho's body.

He heard the door creak open, and he buried himself even deeper beneath the worn blanket. He could smell them, the familiar scent signaling the identity of his visitor. He wasn't used to that still, how intense all of his senses were now. It had given him migraines for several months until he adjusted to it. Grandmother said that they'd fade with time. He hadn't had anyone else to ask, so he'd just had to grit his teeth and trust her.

"Yun?" Blue whispered, closing the door behind them and tiptoeing closer to his bedside. "I brought your medicine. You should take it if you're awake."

They sat at the end of the bed, tentatively reaching out to touch his leg, checking to see if he was awake. He jumped nearly out of the bed at the touch. His eyes were so big and round and filled with a terror that made Blue pout.

"Did I scare you? I'm sorry." They held out the vial like a peace offering. Yunho took it with shaky hands.

"You should go," He said, fumbling with the cork in the vial. Blue reached out, touching his hand gently to move it aside and opening the vial for him. He drank the liquid, wincing at the bitterness coating his throat. "It's not safe with me."

Blue furrowed their brow, taking the vial from him and setting it on the table by the bed.

"My grandmother wouldn't let you stay here if you were dangerous," They said, voice entirely matter-of-fact. "Besides, you're just a kid. You can't be so dangerous."

"I'm a werewolf," He argued.

"Yeah, but you're a boy too. And your transformation won't happen again for a month. So I don't think you're very dangerous as just a boy." They poked at his arm as if testing to see if he was stronger than they thought. He was, but they didn't mention anything about that. "You should sleep, you know. You need a lot of rest to recover, that's what my grandmother says."

They were so young, not yet ten, but they spoke like they knew so much more about the world than he did. He nodded. And maybe he knew back then that he'd follow them wherever they led him.

"Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?" They asked. Yunho hesitated. He didn't want to be alone, but more than that, he wasn't sure if he trusted himself. Blue must have seen the dilemma he was having written across his face, because they shooed him over on the bed and laid down beside him. "Close your eyes."

He did as they said, closing his eyes and breathing them in. They reached out, stroking his hair out of his face like his mother used to, like their grandmother did too.

"I'll stay, you don't have to worry. Just sleep now."

It was such a confident statement, and his mind and heart were yearning to believe it. So he closed his eyes, and Blue fell asleep before he did. Even so, he didn't run away. How could he?

Several more days of tireless research and experiment followed their long night at the library, and several more requests from classmates were filled by Blue in between classes, and homework, and little dates with Yunho at their favorite cafes and the arcade that he frequented with the boys. Finally, Mingi came back from his time away, and Blue was kicking their brain back into high gear.

Yunho was still in class when Blue made it to the pack's dorm, and Blue triple checked the schedule in their phone to make sure that Mingi would be home. They knocked on the door and waited for someone to open it. However, several moments passed by with nobody acknowledging their presence. So they knocked again, louder and longer this time. They'd barely managed to pull their hand away from the door when it swung open. On the other side was Hongjoong, quite possibly the only person in the entire world that simply couldn't stand Blue by presence alone.

"Yunho isn't home yet," He said, moving to let the door close in their face, but Blue pressed their palm against the wood.

"I'm not here for Yunho."

A flicker of confusion, and maybe frustration, washed across Hongjoong's pixieish features as he silently questioned what could have brought them there besides Yunho. Hongjoong wasn't a bad person, at least anyone who knew him well believed that to be true, but he was viciously protective. Much to his chagrin, Blue liked to joke that he was an under-trained guard dog, and he supposed it made some kind of sense. He didn't like feeling like his emotions were out of control, which meant he didn't like having new people in his space. Usually the pack kept their friends and flings out of the dorm, not entirely to keep them away from Hongjoong, but they wouldn't say it was entirely unrelated. But Yunho and Blue had been together for so long that separating them was an act of cruelty, even for Hongjoong.

"Why are you here, then?"

"Is Mingi here? I had a few questions about Cupids, and Yunho said he got home last night." Blue took a step closer in hopes that Hongjoong would move enough to let them in. Unfortunately, he was just as stubborn as they were. He didn't budge, leaving them intimidatingly and uncomfortably close to each other. Despite Hongjoong's relatively small stature, the aura about him was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine. Blue crossed their arms over their chest.

"He just got back, he should have time to relax. He hasn't been home in a while. Besides, don't you spend all of your time with your nose in a book? Can't you get your information from that? Since when do you ask for help?" He scoffed, lips turning up into a sinister smirk. The one he always got when he felt challenged. Blue had been dealing with Hongjoong's inexplicable prejudice for long enough to know that he was all bark and no bite.

"What better way to learn than from the source? But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that. I've never even seen you pick up a book." They pressed even closer, and the way their scent wrapped around him and the warmth of their skin radiated against him was enough to knock Hongjoong back a couple of steps, leaving room for Blue to step past him.

Hongjoong made a sound in his throat, one that couldn't quite be considered a growl, though it still made the hairs on Blue's arms raise. They kicked off their shoes and made themselves at home like they always did. Hongjoong tried not to snap. It wasn't even entirely Blue's fault, the moon was coming around, and he always got unreasonable this time of the cycle. Especially when someone he didn't want around was invading his home.

"Whatever. He's in his room, go bother him instead of me." He returned to the sitting area, flopping into the plush armchair with his phone.

"Whatever you say, Alpha," Blue said, not giving him a chance to bite back before heading for Yunho and Mingi's room.

Getting the pack all together in one dorm had been an ordeal that Hongjoong and Seonghwa had fought through tooth and nail during Blue and Yunho's second year at the University. They'd petitioned the board, claiming that having the pack be separated was detrimental to their health and, in turn, their ability to attend their classes and be upstanding students. It wasn't untrue in the least, being apart from the pack was hard on them all, especially those from pack-oriented species, and the school would have been stupid to fight them and risk stepping on a law or two in the process.

So, the boys had been moved into one of the largest dorms on campus, a four bedroom accommodation with two full bathrooms and a decent kitchen. The living room was a little cramped, but none of them ever minded. As such, all the boys were stacked two to a room, but that tended to work in their favor anyway.

Blue knocked on the door, waiting for the deep cadence of Mingi's voice to invite them in before turning the handle. The Cupid was sitting on his bed, wrapped in a cozy looking hoodie with his platinum hair falling unstyled in his face. When he saw Blue, a grin split his face. The two of them were fairly close given the relationships they'd both built with Yunho.

"Hey Mingi," They greeted, sitting down on Yunho's bed opposite him. "I hope I'm not interrupting you. Yunnie said he'd make sure you made time for me, but I don't wanna bug you."

Mingi shook his head, fingers fidgeting with the charm hanging on his phone case, a gift from Blue for his birthday - imbued with an anti-anxiety charm.

"You're not bothering me, don't worry. I'm not sure what you needed me for, though."

"I'm trying to work on something for a friend, but I'm coming up short. I was thinking that maybe if you teach me about Cupid magic I might be able to figure it out." They explained, flashing a sickeningly sweet smile at him, the one that made people melt to their will.

"Me?" Mingi was surprised, but Blue nodded adamantly.

"Yes, you. You're one of the only people I know that's patient enough to stand me. Plus, you're my favorite Cupid. But don't tell Channie, he'd be so sad." They laughed, fishing in their bag for a notebook and a pen. "So, can you tell me how it works?"

The next half an hour was Mingi trying and sort of failing to explain how Cupids harnessed their magic to guide people to each other. It was an essence, he explained, showing them the shimmering magic that he could produce. It played sort of like a pheromone but in spell form, a magical component of attraction that emulated the feeling of falling in love with someone. Even just being in the presence of Mingi as he let the pink haze sparkle between his palms was making Blue's mind feel a little bit strange. 

Blue reached out, feeling the way the air around the magic pulsed and plucked the magic from Mingi's hand, willing it into their own palm. That was another thing that Blue picked up easily, the manipulation of unfamiliar magic. It was, if they were to be completely transparent, the only reason that they excelled so heavily in their classes. Magic seemed to obey them in a way that it didn't for most people. They swirled the mist around their fingers before drawing a bottle from their bag to cast it into. They watched the way it moved, calm and slow like a miniature galaxy wrapped up in glass.

"You're the best, Mingi. I might be back if I need more help figuring it out. Is that okay?" They asked as they stood up. Mingi got up with them, stretching his arms over his head.

"Please, when have I ever said no to you? You can come over whenever." He said, a shy, sincere smile rising on his face. See, Yunho had a soft spot for Blue, and Ming had a soft spot for Yunho, so what the three of them shared was particularly special. Blue was grateful for it, the knowledge that they could trust Mingi the same way that they did Yunho, and that Mingi would always take care of him if Blue wasn't able to. They smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand before heading for the door with the Cupid hot on their heels.

"I should go. Lots of work to do. But I'll let you know how this goes? We can grab coffee or something?" They said, situating their bag back on their shoulder and sliding their shoes on at the door. They spared a smile and a wave over to where Yeosang and wooyoung were cuddled up in their makeshift movie night nest. "And don't forget about game night at my place on Friday. Everyone's invited, Yunho's idea. Let me know who all is coming."

And with that Blue was back on their way, leaving the building with a bounce in their step as they headed home to pour themselves into Seonghwa's supplement.

It was another two days before Yunho saw Blue, far too long as far as he was concerned. Which was why he turned up at their door, being greeted at the door by one of their roommates on the way out. She smiled and let him in before closing the door behind herself. Their other two roommates were playing some video game in the sitting room, bickering aimlessly about something as they tended to be when he came in. They paused long enough to say hi and tell him that Blue was still cooped up in their room. 

"Can you bring them something to eat? I don't think they've been out since last night." One of them added. He was sweet, a guardian angel with visuals more like a pixie, and he had a habit of keeping his watchful eye on his friends.

"Thanks, Woong." Yunho sighed, grateful that he’d already planned ahead. He knew well that Blue had a habit of locking into whatever project they were working on and completely forgetting their own basic needs.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, knowing they wouldn't answer, expecting it to be one of their roommates checking up on them. He let himself in, and even upon realizing that it was Yunho, Blue didn't look up from the elaborate spread of materials set up on the desk.

"Yunnie, sorry I didn't answer your messages. Been busy," They said, finally sparing a glance and a tired smile over their shoulder. They looked downright exhausted, but that spark in their eye was burning brighter than ever.

"You're almost done now?" He asked, recognizing the look. They were pushing through the last leg now, more determined than they were when they started. He held out the container of food he'd packed from home for them, and they took it. Immediately they set it to the side, returning to stirring the miniature cauldron sitting on their desk.

"I think so. Just a few more minutes, then I can add in the final ingredients and then....I think it'll be all done after that." They smiled, that wholeheartedly proud one that made Yunho feel like his chest was being lit on fire. "Do you wanna try it for me? I wanna make sure I didn't add too much of the Cupid magic concentrate."

The average person may have shied away from being used as a glorified magical lab rat, but Blue was nothing if not diligent, and Yunho had tried so many potions and spells for them that he knew he could trust them with his well-being. Barring the time that they accidentally made his skin start turning blue, but that was apparently some sort of magical allergy. So he nodded and moved to sit down out of their way.

"Do you think it'll still work if I'm not a sex demon? Shouldn't you ask Soyeon or someone to help you out?" He asked. They held up a hand for him to pause, sprinkling a dark powder into the mixture and chanting a few words over it. Once they were done, they spun in their chair to face him.

"It should be enough to see if its intended effects are strong enough. And then I can ask Seonghwa to help me tweak it from there. But I just wanna get it to him as soon as I can. He really seems to be struggling with this."

Yunho scrunched up his nose. From the amount of nights he'd had to sleep with headphones on, it didn't sound like Seonghwa was suffering exactly, but he didn't feel the need to divulge that. Blue turned back to the potion, pouring a small bit of it into a tiny cup and offering it to him.

"Drink. It might still be a little warm, and it probably tastes like ass, but that's what this is for." They explained, offering up a piece of candy along with the potion. He hesitated, looking down at the cup full of deep maroon liquid. He swirled it around the cup before caving under his best friend's heavy gaze. He took a breath, then threw the potion back in one swift move, swallowing it as quickly as he could and trying desperately not to gag at the taste that coated the inside of his mouth. The candy followed quickly after, easing the horror he'd experienced.

"And what exactly is this supposed to do?" He asked, even as he felt a creeping warmth running through him.

"Make you feel like you've just had an orgasm, basically. That afterglow, you know? Sexual satisfaction. That's the feeling that Seonghwa feeds off of." They said it so nonchalantly that Yunho nearly choked. He was no virgin, but he wasn't even sure that he could put a finger on that feeling that Blue was describing. "I would try it for myself, but sometimes I sort of...wish my magic into working on myself. But I haven't managed to do that with anyone else. Not yet."

Yunho was trying to listen, but he was too distracted by the heat radiating through him, the relaxation tugging at his muscles. He shivered, humming out a pleased little sigh. His head felt a little heavy, and his body almost ached with the feeling of relief.

"Yeah, I think it's working." He said. Blue looked over, jotting down a quick note about the way that his face had flushed in their notebook, and Yunho couldn't tell the dull shock of vulnerability apart from the faded shivers of pleasure that thrummed through him. There was something about being so openly observed in that state that he couldn't exactly explain, so he was grateful that they didn't ask.

"Good. We can deliver this tomorrow. Don't think I feel up to the Pack right now," They admitted. Yunho had closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He definitely understood that. Despite their sometimes excitable roommates, Blue's dorm was much calmer than his own. Maybe that was a small part of why he escaped to their room so often. Second, always, to spending time with Blue.

"Sure, whatever you want babe." He agreed, opening his eyes to look at them. Blue nearly startled at how dark his gaze was, weighing heavy on them. "How long is this thing supposed to last?"

"A few more minutes. Shouldn't be longer than 30?" They didn't sound sure about that, and Yunho shook his head in disbelief.

"Why do I let you do your little experiments on me, again?"

Blue opened the container of food, finally beginning to eat and setting Yunho's mind at ease.

"Because you love me so much that you'd do anything for me. Duh."

Right. Duh.

Days at the Pack House were always full of chaos. Even the most normal days like this one had a lot going on. To be expected when you had a dorm full of young men of supernatural descent. It was almost time for the moon, which meant that Yunho's anxiety was peaked, and that time of the month was when Blue spent the most time at the dorms. Which, coincidentally, was when Hongjoong spent the most time out of the dorm. Surely unrelated, Yunho insisted, but Blue knew better. And, quite frankly, they were silently grateful for his absence. One moody werewolf was more than enough for them.

But Hongjoong being out when he was at his most vulnerable, or at least at his most volatile, usually meant that Seonghwa went with him to keep him out of trouble. So Blue became something of a dorm mother, helping to keep everything tidy and keep everyone fed.

 It was a good thing for them too, they figured, kept them from diving too deep into their work when they should be taking care of themselves. Surrounding themselves with people who took care of them in return instead of other students who just treated them as some sort of magical ATM was - unsurprisingly - good for their mental health. They sighed, stirring the fried rice they were prepping for everyone's lunches.

Meal prepping wasn't on the metaphorical list of responsibilities for them, but it was a comfort that they found. And Seonghwa let them since it meant everyone was being pampered. So they carefully packed the pork they'd cooked earlier into containers while waiting for the rice to finish up. Meanwhile, San had coaxed Wooyoung and Jongho into playing a game with him in the living room, the entire dorm filled with sounds from the screen and the shouting between the three. Yeosang was curled up in his favorite chair, supposedly working for a project coming due in one of his classes, but his eyes hadn't left the other boys in ages. Blue smiled fondly.

Being with the pack felt like coming home. They'd never had much family. Their parents were always busy, away saving lives and solving problems as part of various magic councils, and their grandmother was generally busy with work, though they spent much of their time working together. So, for a long time, it had really just been Blue and Yunho. Having so many other people treat them like they were part of something laid a blanket of belonging around Blue's shoulders, one they wouldn't trade for the world.

As Blue looked around the living room, the only boys unaccounted for were Mingi and Yunho, likely cooped up together in their room like they generally were when Yunho wasn't feeling his best. Blue remembered how jealous they'd been when Mingi first came stumbling into their lives, watching their other half be swooped up in a whirlwind of someone else. But now they were just grateful. Mingi was all too familiar with anxiety, so it was easy for him to help Yunho when Blue was busy.

Yunho was, in fact, curled up against Mingi's frame, their long limbs tangled together. The low, thrumming ache in his bones was really starting to settle in now with less than two days to the full moon, and his moods were becoming unstable which, as always, led to the usually bright natured boy turning into a recluse in fear of hurting one of his pack mates. They never deserved his attitude, and they were always patient with him, but he'd hurt Wooyoung's feelings one too many times to feel comfortable spending time with them in this state.

Mingi ran his fingers through the other boy's hair, picking up easily on the tension that was building in his body.

"Stop thinking so much," Mingi mumbled. Yunho tucked his head under Mingi's chin with a quiet, puppy-like whine, breathing in the familiar strawberries and cream scent that rolled off of him. It was almost sickeningly sweet, all Cupids tended to be, but he didn't mind it in the least. It blended well with the cologne that he wore, turning the sharp edges smooth on Yunho's senses. He toyed with the hem of Mingi's shirt, seeking something to do with his hands.

A knock came at the door, and Mingi granted them entrance with a soft but gruff 'what?'. Yunho buried his face deeper into his chest, pressing himself somehow even closer. But then Blue was there, leaning over the both of them to stroke Yunho's cheek.

"Wanted to check on your guys. I made extra food in case you're hungry." They said, voice soft like silk in the calm air, nearly lulling Yunho into a trance. This was maybe his favorite place to be. "We're gonna watch a movie while everyone eats so maybe Wooyo will settle down. Jongho is antagonizing him again."

Yunho shook his head. The young banshee's shrieks were already too loud in his ears with plenty of space and a closed door between them. He didn't really feel like facing them head on. Neither Blue nor Mingi argued. Blue leaned down, pressing a kiss to the crown of Yunho's head.

"Alright, well, I'll bring some food anyway. Just in case."

They left, and Yunho felt his chest ache as if it were going to cave in at the distance between them. He always got like this, helplessly clingy with Blue - and sort of with Mingi too, but never like he was with Blue. But they'd been there for him since early on, more than anyone else in his life, and it was as if his entire being knew that there was nobody he could trust the way he trusted Blue.

"They worry about you, you know." Mingi said, pulling away enough to look down at Yunho. The werewolf didn't answer, but his brows pulled together as he thought. He didn't like the idea of making them worry, but he knew that much was out of his control. He'd tried his best to act normal, but it was hard when everything was too loud and every touch made his skin crawl, and his bones felt like they were shattering in his body on some nights. But Blue didn't need to worry about him, he told them that time and time again, but they never listened.

"They shouldn't. They know it's going to happen every month," He grumbled, voice still hardly audible in the room.

"But that's never stopped us. I mean, if you're suffering, it makes sense that they want to fix it. Fixing things is what they do. And you're the person that matters the most to them in the world."

The words weighed on his mind. Of course he knew that the two of them were close, and he wouldn't hesitate to say that they were the most important person in the world to him, a part of his own personal pack as far as he was concerned, but it hadn't fully occurred to him that maybe they felt the same way about him.

"What are you thinking about?" Mingi asked. Yunho didn't get a chance to answer because Blue came back then with two plates of food for them, setting them both carefully on Mingi's desk which was pushed up against the wall between their beds.

"Get some rest. I'll check in one more time when I get ready to go home." They reached down, brushing Yunho's hair from his forehead to press another chaste kiss there, and any thought in his mind was immediately silenced. And just like that they were gone, and the sliver of light from the hallway disappeared, and that ache was back again, and every thought in his mind was so loud that it felt like his head would burst.

"I don't know what I'd do without them." He answered after another few moments of quiet. "It hurts so bad when they're not here with me. I don't want to feel that way."

"Then don't be without them."

Mingi leaned down, pressing a short kiss to Yunho's head, right over where Blue had left theirs, before letting him curl up again, holding him close to his chest.

It was several hours later when Seonghwa dragged Hongjoong home for some rest. He was exhausted, and irritable more than anything. His mood swings were worse than Yunho's, and he had a tendency to hyperfocus even more than usual before the full moon, like his mind could only handle one thought at a time. When they got back, he couldn't even bother saying hi to the rest of his pack - and Blue - who were sprawled out around the living room. The scent of a freshly cooked meal still lingered in the dorm, and the noise from the television was enough to give him a headache, so he headed straight for their room with Seonghwa hot on his heels.

Blue didn't give it a second thought until the end of the movie. It was getting late enough that they should leave soon, or crash on the couch which was always an open invitation in the dorm. But, before that, they headed for Seonghwa's room. They knocked on the door lightly, trying not to bother Hongjoong too much while he rested. When the door opened, it seemed they hadn't succeeded, because Hongjoong stood on the other side, his hair tousled as if he'd been asleep, but his eyes were heavy enough that Blue knew he wasn't getting any rest. If he had just a little more patience for them, they'd have been happy to help him remedy that. There were about a million concoctions to help him sleep.

"Really?" He snapped, a growl rumbling in his chest.

"Calm down, Alpha, I'm just here to give this to Seonghwa. I'll be out of your hair in no time." They said, Despite their teasing words, they were gentle with their tone, much like they were trying to soothe a feral puppy.

"I asked them to come, you can let them in." Seonghwa said. Hongjoong's dark gaze stayed on Blue before he was sulking back off to his desk, the several tabs open on his laptop stealing his attention again. Blue closed the door behind them, letting the darkness engulf the room again, aside from the color shifting LED lights casting slow, colorful stretches of light around the room.

"Here," Blue handed him the bottle. "Drink about a shot once a day and we'll see how it works for you. Just text me about any side effects or anything unusual. Or if it doesn't help anything at all. Then we can work on it a little more until it's just right."

Seonghwa smiled, setting the jar of liquid down.

"You're an absolute lifesaver, you know that? There's nobody like you." He told them. Blue laughed, shrugging off the compliment.

"I just do what I can do. But I have class in the morning, and I think your little wolf might be getting sick of me. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Without another word, Blue saw themselves out of the boys' room, closing the door behind them and stopping by to say goodbye to Yunho and Mingi one more time. They were relieved to see the dishes wiped clean of food. They kissed Yunho's cheek, then Mingi's, and said goodnight.

The next day was going on like any other, about a billion notes spread in front of them on their desk as the professor droned on about the magical compounds that formed celestial magic, and the complex history of divination amongst the human world using them. It would have been fascinating if Professor Lim wasn't such a jumbled teacher. But Blue took notes anyway, copying down everything they wrote onto a separate copy for Yunho who was missing class for the next couple of days until he was feeling well again. The full moon was only one sleep away, and the University was always more than accommodating for those with disabilities, magical or otherwise.

It was in the middle of the last class of the day, a more laid back one thankfully, that Blue's phone started buzzing on their desk. They picked it up quickly, silencing the call. Nobody paid it any mind, but being the definition of a picture perfect student that they were, Blue was mortified. They declined the call from Wooyoung, sending a text that they were in class and would call back later. They were granted another couple of minutes of peace before their phone began to buzz again. They huffed, putting down their pen and declining another call from Wooyoung. The third time, they had half a mind to block him, but a glance at their phone stopped them in their tracks.

It was Hongjoong's number this time, their screen lit up with 'whiny wolf' written across it. They froze, mind coming up with about a hundred terrible options for what could be happening. Hongjoong didn't just call to chit-chat with people, least of all with them. Maybe to ask about some stubborn bit of magic he was dealing with, but he was much too proud to ask them for help with that. It had to be Yunho, he had a habit of getting terribly sick before his transformations, too overwhelmed with his pain and anxiety until he'd worked his body up into a tizzy.

They shoved their phone in their pocket, messily gathering their notes and slipping them into their bag. They stood up, chair scraping against the floor, but they didn't care about that as they took the lecture hall steps as fast as they could. Everyone was working on their respective assignments, so it wasn't too much of an interruption as they explained that there was a family emergency to their professor and booked it into the hall.

They pulled their phone out, the device frantically vibrating in their palm all over again. They swiped to accept the call, pressing it to their ear as they walked fast enough that they were almost running.

"Hongjoong, what the hell is going on? I was in class, what happened?" They hissed, though it was hardly angry. Their mind was too full of worst case scenarios to make room for the usual reactions that they saved for him.

"Get over here now. I don't know what you did, but you're dead, do you hear me?" He growled. Blue was somehow left with more questions than answers as the line went dead. But even so, they knew how protective he was over his pack, they remembered the way he'd ripped into one of the older students for trying to take advantage of Yeosang's sweet disposition to use his magic.

So they picked up their pace, running across campus to the pack dorm, then taking the stairs in hopes that it would counter the elevator wait time. By the time they made it to the door they were breathless, chest aching as their heart pounded against the ribcage. They banged on the door, and a moment later Jongho opened it for them.

"Seonghwa-hyung. He's not doing great. Hongjoong-hyung has been flying off the handle all day," He said, closing the door behind them while they kicked their shoes off and immediately started down the hall. Of all the outcomes they'd imagined, they'd never even begun to consider something being wrong with Seonghwa. Maybe they should have grabbed their medical kit on the way, they thought, but they'd been far too frantic to think ahead.

They knocked on the door, barely finishing before it was tanked open. Hongjoong grabbed their wrist, dragging them inside and slamming the door shut behind them.

"What the fuck did you do him?" He asked, backing Blue into the door. They clenched their fists. They knew that fighting him wasn't the answer when he was like this, especially with his transformation coming. He wouldn't hesitate to hurt them. They nudged past him as gently as they could, walking over to the bed where Seonghwa was laying down, skin shining with a light sheen of sweat. They reached out, brushing his dark hair back to lay a hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong with him? He has a fever, what else?" They asked, pulling out their notebook to jot down his condition. "When did all of this start?"

"He hasn't been able to eat, he could barely stand up. He's...he's weak and exhausted." Hongjoong was pacing now as Blue held their hands above the Incubus' head, muttering a soothing spell under their breath and letting the magic seep into him. "It was after he took that fucking potion or whatever it is that you brought. The suppressant or whatever the hell."

"The supplement? Do you know how much he took?" They stood up, brushing their hands off on their thighs and turning to where the jar was sitting on the bedside. It looked like he'd taken what they'd instructed, a problem with the magic then.

"What you told him to. You're gonna fucking kill him." Hongjoong snapped, baring his teeth while his eyes flickered dangerously. "I told him not to trust your shady magic, but he swore up and down that everyone trusted you, that Yunho tried all your shit and he came out fine."

He scoffed, and Blue crossed their arms.

"I know that you're worried about him, but I need you to work with me here. If you want him to get better any time soon, then you need to calm down. Breathe." Their voice was calm, imbued with a light magical air to try and bring him down. They had enough experience with trying to talk down a wild animal.

"Don't tell me to calm down until your mate is dying and you can't do anything about it. You don't get to do that." He said, voice strained and eyes wild when he looked at them. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath, his fists unclenching at his sides and his frantic pacing coming to a halt.

"Has he had anything to drink?" Hongjoong nodded. "And he's not eaten anything, right? When's the last time the two of you had sex?"

Hongjoong growled then, a real one. He took a few menacing steps towards Blue, but they still didn't back down, tilting their chin up.

"I wouldn't ask for my own fun. I need to know. How long's it been?"

"A couple of days."

"He needs to feed. As soon as possible. Has he been responsive today?" They asked, turning back to Seonghwa. His face was scrunched up like he was in pain, quiet sounds of discomfort coming from his lips, albeit weak and barely there. If it weren't for that, they might not even know that he was conscious at all. "Hwa, baby, can you open your eyes for me?"

He blinked a few times, eyes burning red like they did when his Incubus spirit was taking over. Blue stroked his cheek, tilting his head to get a peek at his teeth where his fangs were beginning to form. Another sign that he was slipping into demon form involuntarily, losing his grip on his own being.

"I know this is awful, but just stay with us for a bit, okay? Gonna make you feel better, I promise. Hongjoongie is here too, he's not gonna let anything happen to you." They cooed sweetly, still emitting that barely noticeable soothing spell.

"I don't know what will happen if he doesn't feed," Blue said, looking over their shoulder at Hongjoong. "I haven't treated an Incubus this far gone before."

Before they could process what was happening, Hongjoong had pinned them to the wall, one hand pressed to their throat and the other arm laid against their shoulders. His gaze was burning through them, something barely contained flickering behind his irises, and Blue immediately felt their stomach drop.

"If he dies, you die next. I don't give a single shit what Yunho has to say about it. You won't step foot near my pack ever again." He growled. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you from the moment I met you."

Blue refused to flinch away, refused to close their eyes, refused to let the odd mixture of emotions burning inside of them set them ablaze. So they stared him down, slowly inhaling through their nose and ignoring the way that Hongjoong's grip around their throat was beginning to make them feel lightheaded.

"If he dies, it's going to be because you're too pissed to help him." They said, trying to sound calm even when their voice came out tight. "You're fighting the wrong battle right now, Hongjoong. Focus."

There was a beat, then another, and Blue swore that their vision was beginning to tunnel before Hongjoong let go. Then his entire body weight pulled away from them, and they collapsed to the floor. The room was spinning as sucked in a deep, ragged breath and immediately lost it again as they coughed. Their fingers curled against the carpet, trying to regain the sense of confidence that they'd had before this.

It was true, if Seonghwa died, it was all their fault. Hell, if Seonghwa died they could have their magic stripped away all together. If Seonghwa died, their entire life was over. The Pack would never forgive them, not even Yunho, and Blue wouldn't forgive themselves either. They needed to stop panicking, they needed to think. Surely Seonghwa feeding would help, but if it didn't help enough, then what the hell came next? Could a professional fix whatever it was that they'd broken? Should they try to call someone for help?

While Blue curled into themselves on the floor, Hongjoong moved to Seonghwa's side, every ounce of aggressive body language melting into something delicate and careful. He leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to Seonghwa's lips before pushing his hands up under Seonghwa's shirt, dragging it up his torso and then guiding him up enough to take it off.

"Joong," Seonghwa whined, and Hongjoong shushed him with another kiss, his tongue dipping into his lover's mouth and tracing against the sharp points of his fangs.

"It's okay, I'm here. We're gonna fix it." Hongjoong promised, moving down to make quick work of Seonghwa's sweatpants, tugging them down and leaving him in his boxers. His hand ghosted up, tracing over the outline of Seonghwa's cock. "See? Gonna take care of you."

Hongjoong sat back, stripping his upper half and silently cursing the fact that he was still turned on in a situation like that when every part of his being should be taken over by worry. But then Seonghwa was reaching out, grabbing for him weakly, his long fingers curling around Hongjoong's wrist and pulling his hand to run down Seonghwa's toned stomach. Hongjoong huffed out a noise, palming his mate's desperate cock over the absolutely useless cotton of his underwear.

"Gotta let me get my pants off, pet. Just hang on, not gonna leave." Hongjoong promised. He shuffled around, pushing the bottom half of his clothes off in a series of swift movements and kicking them aside.

It was the sound of his jeans thudding to the ground that pulled Blue out of the panic in their mind. With wide, shaken eyes they looked up to see the expanse of Hongjoong's bare back, the dip of his waist down to the curve of his completely naked ass, all on display in front of them. They scrambled back, bracing themselves against the wall and dragging themselves up to their feet. The scene in front of them had them breathless all over again, and a terrible blend of disgust and anxiety and searing arousal began pulsing through them.

Hongjoong maneuvered Seonghwa's legs around his waist once the two of them were fully naked, spitting lewdly into his palm and stroking Seonghwa's length. He was already leaking onto his stomach, arching against the bed and whimpering at the slightest touch. Just from jacking him off, Hongjoong was feeling like he'd combust. The heat in the room had to be rising a good few degrees between them.

"Please," Seonghwa keened, the loudest sound he'd managed to make in hours. "Need you to fuck me, need you inside."

"I know pet, it's okay. I will, I promise." Hongjoong swore, leaning down to kiss Seonghwa slowly one more time before sitting back on his heels. He looked over his shoulder to where Blue was pressed so tightly to the wall that they may as well have been trying to fuse with the paint. Hongjoong, however, looked entirely relaxed, not at all bothered by the show he was putting on. "Either make yourself useful for once in your life or get the fuck out. You don't deserve to watch."

Hongjoong's words sank into Blue's mind, blowing the fog and the panicked thoughts out of the way, and they scrambled for the door. They shut it behind them, the sound resonating through the dorm as they pressed their back to it. They closed their eyes, chest heaving as they chased their breath. They hadn't just seen Hongjoong about to fuck Seonghwa, they hadn't gotten horny over it, and they certainly hadn't almost killed Seonghwa with some rogue magic. None of this was real. They'd go home, they'd go back to bed, and when they woke up, this would all have been some freaky nightmare.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Yunho asked, the door to his room open just enough to reveal him standing there in just his favorite sweatpants, the material slung low on his hips. Not an unusual sight, but hardly one that Blue could handle seeing right then and there. They stared at him, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing as they searched for some sort of excuse for their presence.

"I was...I was just leaving. I should go," They said, heading for the door without another word. They were shoving their feet back into their shoes when Yunho caught up, large hand circling their wrist.

"Hey, are you okay? You look about one wrong move away from a panic attack." He observed. And damn him for being so sweet, and for having those perfect big brown eyes that made them melt. They bit back the fear, and the upset, and the confusion, and plastered a smile on their face.

"No, I'm fine, I'm good. I was just checking on Seonghwa. He didn't feel well. But he's...fine." They managed, albeit unconvincingly. They pulled their hand free. "I'm sorry, Yunnie, but I do gotta go. Sorry, I'll talk to you later? After the moon?"

They didn't give him a chance to answer, letting themselves out and practically leaping down the stairs. The burn of cool fresh air in their lungs couldn't come quickly enough, the sensation sending a chill down their spine and shocking the rest of their reactions out of them. They were still trying to process what had happened inside. Their hands were shaking; Adrenaline, they decided. Their head was hurting too. But one thing was clear to them, they still had to come up with a backup plan in case whatever the fuck they'd just witnessed the beginning of wasn't enough.

Once they were settled back in their dorm, locked behind closed doors and wrapped in their most comforting hoodie, they dropped a text in the dorm group chat to announce that they were working on an important project and couldn't be disturbed for the foreseeable future. If their friends had any questions or concerns, they didn't say anything. But no matter how long they sat there, or how long they stared at their blank sheet of paper, no real solution came into their mind. The tapping of their pen on the desk was steadily driving them crazy, but it was all they could manage to do. The sound rang through their head, echoing over the image of Hongjoong's naked form burned in their mind, and the way he sounded when he talked to Seonghwa. The memory of it was burning hotter than whatever hell they were going to for witnessing it.

They stood up, giving the room a couple of paces back and forth before collapsing onto their bed, palms pressed to their eyes as if it would erase the memory of this entire shitty day.

"Get your shit together," They nearly shouted at themselves, taking a long, deep breath and huffing it back out. They were in for a very long, very difficult night.

Nobody saw Blue for several more days. They were living off the stash of snacks under their bed and the bottled waters that they'd shoved to the back of their closet for events like this. Well, not exactly like this. Most of the time they wouldn't be so worried about the entire world crashing down around them. They'd denied every offer Yunho had made of bringing them takeout, or any requests by their roommates to go out to grab late night snacks with them. They were hardly even sleeping now, too focused on trying to dig their way out of this hole.

Seonghwa had texted, apologizing for the concern as if it was somehow his fault and not theirs. He assured them that other than a heightened hunger, they were doing fine, no signs of starvation or long term effects from the magic. Blue didn't call that fine, especially when he'd sought them out to do just the opposite. They'd been studying until the words blurred together, seeking some sort of reason that this had happened.

It was late into the night, nearly a full week after the incident, and Blue was half asleep, slumped over their notes and ideas, eyes falling shut when their bedroom door opened. They gasped, scrambling to stand up on sleepy legs. But it was just Yunho, the worry on his face bringing a new wave of guilt and exhaustion. They'd not avoided him for this long since they were young, they never went more than a day or two without talking.

"What are you doing here? It's late." They sighed, body nearly giving out as they collapsed back into their desk chair.

"You're avoiding me." Yunho walked closer, pressing a hand to their cheek to check that they weren't feverish. "You look like shit, when's the last time you slept?"

He moved around their room, clearing out some of the snack wrappers and the pile of empty water bottles - or at least trying to limit the mess to one little corner until he had time to properly clean up.

"I don't know. What time is it now?" They asked. Yunho didn't answer that, he knew they didn't really want to know in the first place.

"You need to rest. We can talk about this in the morning. But it's never good news when you coop yourself up in here for this long." He tried not to let out a sigh. At least they'd been eating, that was one less thing for him to fuss over.

"You're not my dad, Yun. I'm fine." They said, but despite their protests they were already standing up, eyelids heavy as they stretched their arms above their head and twisted their back. A series of semi-concerning popping noises followed each move, and Yunho side eyed them. "I'm barely even tired. And I'm sure you came here for something better than telling me to go to bed."

"That's exactly what I came here for. Not the first time." Yunho pulled the blankets on their bed back, nodding for them to get comfortable. They meant it when they said they were barely tired, at least they really thought so. But their spot looked so appealing in the moment, and their entire body was begging to betray them. "Sleep, Bluebell. I mean it."

Blue knew he was serious, he always was when he called them that. No room for teasing or whining.

"Whatever you say," They grumbled, not quite managing to throw in the sarcastic tone they intended. They wiggled their whole body under the blankets, not even managing to stay awake long enough to feel Yunho tuck them in and kiss their cheek.

The second time that Yunho caught Blue's eye, they were outside, a small basket sitting at their side as they picked flowers from the edge of the woods. He peeked his head out of the door to the cabin. He'd been cooped up in his room for ages - which was really just a week or so, but when you're eight or nine that's an eternity - and he'd been itching to catch a glimpse of the other little kid running around.

"Hey," He called. Blue jumped, looking back at him with wide eyes. They gave him a tight lipped smile before turning back to their basket. Yunho didn't like that response very much, so he made his way across the lawn to where they were knelt in the grass. "Your name is Bluebell, right?"

The question made Blue laugh, a pretty giggle rang out like birdsong to match the pretty smile that took up their face. They shook their head.

"No, that's not my name." They said, "Bluebell is a flower."

"But lots of people are named after flowers," Yunho pointed out, his lips downturned into a confused little pout. Blue tipped their head, their little eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed tight. Then they nodded.

"I guess you could name someone Bluebell. What's your name?"

"My name is Yunho."

Their friendship blossomed easily after that, but no matter how many times Blue argued about the name, it stuck around. To Yunho, calling them something unique was his way of showing them that they were special, a little inside joke to remind both of them that even if a nickname was something anyone could use, nobody would have the bond that they did. It stayed that way forever, them being his Blue, and even when it caught on with other people, the nickname reminded them of that little boy that they spent all their time protecting. The one who grew up all alone with the wood nymphs and the moon, the one who would walk them to and from school day after day every year. The boy that stayed by their side even when he was sick of them wanting to study magic instead of playing games with him. Blue knew all the way back then that they had no intention of living without him.

Yunho barely slept that night, he was too worried about making sure that they were okay. Blue always took care of him, and he figured he had to repay them for that every now and then. He took time to tidy up their room, or sometimes wash a load or two of their laundry. The sun was already peeking over the horizon when he crawled into bed with them, pulling them tight to his side and falling asleep to the sound of their gentle snoring.

It was afternoon when Blue woke up to Yunho stretching beside them. They groaned, rubbing at their eyes and curling deeper into the blankets. They were still so tired, but their stomach was starting to ache with hunger, and they probably needed to use the restroom, but both of those things meant getting out from the warm embrace of their bed. Yunho reached down, stroking their cheek gently, and they blinked up at him.

When he looked at them like that, it felt like the entire world stopped spinning, leaving them a little off-kilter. It was the softest gaze, the one that he always saved just for them. He smiled, pinching their cheek before moving his hand entirely.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. How do you feel?" He asked. They didn't answer, just curling closer to him so they could rest their head on his chest. He didn't push it, sliding an arm around them and letting them soak up his body heat.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me," They said after a while. He shook his head.

"You don't ever have to apologize for that. I'm always gonna take care of you. I promise you that."

They looked up, their faces a little too close, and their hearts both beating in time, just a little too fast now. Blue nipped at their bottom lip, fingers twisting and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. The moment was stretching out, becoming a little too intimate. They pulled themselves away.

"But you have enough on your plate. You shouldn't have to worry about me too."

"I'm going to worry about you. Stop thinking about it." He said, hand coming back to stroke their face again. Blue frowned. "You're my number one priority, so stop trying to argue with me. If you're gonna be reckless, someone has to take care of you, and it's gonna be me. No fighting me about it, yeah? You'll just make it more difficult."

The words carried a sense of finality about them, and even though they wanted to argue, part of Blue was aching to be taken care of just like this. So they nodded, and laid their head back down. It was quiet for a long time, several minutes dragging out until it felt like a century of peace passed between the two of them. And finally, after a long while, Yunho spoke up.

"What had you working so hard that you wouldn't answer my calls?"

Blue didn't answer right away, thinking back to the fight with Hongjoong, to the sight of Seonghwa laying there, pale and weak. To the sight of the two of them naked, the way that Hongjoong spoke and moved with such gentle certainty, the way it had awoken something downright forbidden in them.

"Seonghwa was sick. My supplement didn't work, it made things harder. I'm trying to fix it." They answered quietly. Yunho sighed. He could hear the guilt in their words, the way they put all of the blame on their shoulders.

"It's not your fault. You wouldn't have given it to him if you thought you'd hurt him." He reminded them, nudging Blue so that he could sit up and face them. They pushed themselves to sit up, but they didn't look back.

"I know. But it hurt him anyway, and it didn't even solve his problem in the first place. He came here for a solution, and he came here because he trusted me. I don't even know if he'd accept my help again. Or if he should. But I feel like I have to try, I have to do something. It was...awful. I've never had anything backfire like that before, this is supposed to be easy for me. I could have killed him, Yunho."

"Blue,"

"And I know that I'm probably being reckless. I mean, I never actually thought that much about it before. I didn't think my magic would ever hurt someone. I didn't even know that I was capable of that, and I can barely even stomach doing magic anymore. It feels awful."

"Blue."

"Like, I always try so hard to make sure that everything I'm doing is safe and ethical, and I do all of this research, but I'd never even considered that by doing unregulated research and testing, by allowing innocent people to use my magic, that I could be killing people. I mean, I haven't. But I could"

"Bluebell. Look at me." Yunho snapped. Blue looked up, eyes brimming with tears. Yunho made a soft, wounded sound. He shook his head, dragging them into a hug and rocking them both back and forth. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's okay, I promise. He's okay, and so are you. Just breathe. You're not gonna figure anything out when you're panicking like this. Relax."

Blue closed their eyes, pushing down the wave of tears that were trying to fall, inhaling Yunho's scent, that faint, woody smell of mint, and pine, and fresh morning air. They were so tired, tired of being angry with themselves, and tired of pushing their limits, of trying to meet everyone's expectations. 

"Yunho, I'm so tired," They said, and their voice gave away exactly what they meant. He held them tighter as if hugging them could squeeze all of the negative feelings wrapped up in them back out.

"I'm here. You can rest with me, I've got you now." He promised them. He stroked their hair, tracing their cheek. His touch was gentle, always so careful like they'd shatter into a million pieces if he wasn't. And, for once, Blue really felt like they just might. They leaned into his palm, soaking up his warmth and the calloused touch of his skin.

"What would I do without you?"

"We don't have to worry about that," Yunho laughed. "I'm not going anywhere. You've helped me through my hard times, so it's my turn, right?"

"Can we go to the Noodle Shop?" Blue asked after another long bout of silence. Yunho nodded, mostly just delighted that they'd suggested eating without his prompting. "Let me clean up a little."

Blue stood up, stretching the tension out of their shoulders and heading for the bathroom. They stared in the mirror there, examining their reflection. It was hard to see the differences from how they usually looked, the bags under their eyes and the crease between their brows that hadn't left for a day or more. But they knew regardless that this wasn't how they wanted people to see them. Sure, they'd allowed themselves a moment of relaxation, but that didn't mean they were going to let everyone see behind the curtain.

A quick shower later, they were digging through their closet, pulling on their favorite pair of jeans and one of Yunho's old hoodies. The whole time, he was waiting patiently, the picture of reliability, and for a moment Blue wondered who they had pleased in a past life to deserve someone like him.

Yunho had been a werewolf for years now. They were both grown into teenagers, and somehow the feeling of self loathing that came with every transition never faded away. It had been two days since his last transformation, and he should have gone back to Blue's house by now. He should have checked in, he knew that they'd come looking for him otherwise, but he couldn't find it in him to leave his den.

Waking up after the moon left him with an ache in his bones and a heavy feeling of confusion that he couldn't manage to shake off. What was worse was the blood staining his hands this time around. It wasn't his, he'd checked everywhere. It was staining his clothes too, and he'd scrubbed himself as clean as he could before changing into a clean set. He'd never had this problem before, half the time he wasn't even sure that he left the den. But now he'd hurt something, maybe someone, and the idea of facing anyone after that, after knowing that he wasn't fully in control, that he'd always be a threat, he couldn't stomach that.

It was evening when Blue came out to find him. It was dangerous for them to be that deep in the woods alone, especially so late, but that didn't stop them from seeking Yunho out.

"Yunho," They called from outside, not willing to encroach on his space. He flinched at the sound of their voice, and even though everything in him wanted to hide away more, to dig himself in deeper and not look them in the eye, he couldn't leave them out there all by themselves as the sun went down.

"You shouldn't be out here," He said, running a hand through his hair. His skin felt different now, like it was stained so deep that scrubbing off the evidence wasn't enough, but maybe that was in his head. Blue took his words as an invitation to duck into the small opening of his home. It was clear to them immediately even in the dim lighting of his lanterns, that he hadn't slept well the past two nights.

"You shouldn't either. You didn't come home, I thought something happened to you." They reached out, grabbing his wrist and tugging him this way and that, diligently checking to make sure that he wasn't injured anywhere.

"I'm fine. You should go back." He said, pulling his arm back and shrinking into himself. Blue narrowed their eyes at him.

"Not without you. What's going on with you?" They asked him, their voice harsh and making it unbearably clear that they were hurt. The way they looked at him, however, betrayed the undercurrent of concern that ran through them.

"Nothing."

"Don't you lie to me, Jeong Yunho. I know you better than you know yourself." They snapped, and Yunho looked at them with big brown eyes that were all too quick to fill with tears. Immediately the harshness that Blue had shown was gone as they rushed closer, reaching up with gentle hands to cradle his face. "Hey, hey, you're okay. What's the matter? Don't cry."

"I'm a monster. You aren't safe with me, nobody is. I'm dangerous." He sobbed, tears streaming in torrents down his face. Blue had no idea what to do, they'd never seen Yunho break down like this. Not the day he came home to them, or when he'd confirmed that his parents were gone, or even after his first full transformation. For as long as they could remember, he'd been their rock, their ray of sunshine. He was supposed to be all bright smiles and contagious laughter. It was devastating to see him fall apart in their hands.

"Don't say that. You're no monster." They said, using the sleeve of their hoodie to gently dab away his tears. "Look at me. You're perfect. You'd never hurt a fly, let alone a person. You're a good person."

"There was blood. I did something, and I don't even know what it was. I couldn't have stopped it." His entire body was shaking with his sobs now, his hands clutching desperately at the hem of Blue's hoodie like he was scared that his confession would drive them away from him.

"You don't know what happened, Yunho, that wasn't you. Maybe you were defending yourself. You wouldn't do anything like that if you were in control. That doesn't make you a monster." They promised, pulling him in until his frame melted against theirs, face tucked into the crook of their neck.

Yunho had never felt like this before, so vulnerable and broken yet so wholeheartedly safe. It was like having Blue with him was enough to dull the pain, the insecurity. They would do anything to keep him from believing the worst about himself.

"I'm scared," He whispered. They shushed him gently, stroking their fingers through his hair and trying to avoid the knots from his lack of a shower since the moon.

"I know. But you're not alone. I promise."

The living room of the Pack dorm was always crowded on study night with Blue. It was one of the only ways that they could get some of the members to actually sit down and face doing their work instead of complaining about not understanding. It wasn't that they didn't get it, but Blue found that they had a tendency to psych themselves out. Thankfully, the pack had discovered that they had a way with poking and prodding at the boys until they were right where they should be, until everything made sense. And, best of all, they managed to make sure everyone came out of things feeling confident.

This one was a special study session, partially because midterm exams were coming up, and Seonghwa had managed to coax Hongjoong out of his room, though he wasn't exactly a part of anything. He had his headphones clamped firmly over his ears and his laptop propped on the arm of the chair he was in, working on some music project from the looks of it, but he wasn't hesitating to send burning glares towards Blue every now and then.

Blue was sitting on the floor in front of the couch where Yunho and Jongho were working on a project together, something about the history of demonic bonds and trades with the human race, Blue wasn't entirely sure. Across the coffee table from them, Yeosang was typing away at his computer, and Seonghwa was sitting behind him, taking notes from his Fae Literature textbook. He was doing significantly better than the last time that they'd been over, and he didn't seem upset about the issue with their work in the least. That alone helped to ease their worries.

"Blue," Wooyoung whined, head dropping on Blue's shoulder. They reached up and tousled his dark waves. He was sitting on their right, San on their left. Only Mingi was missing since he was off working on a group project.

"Yes, Wooyoungie?" They asked, leaning over to look at the sheet of problems he was working through. They gently pushed his head back towards his work. "Finish two more before you take a break. I know you can do these two."

They doodled a little star by each of the problems they pointed out before giving Wooyoung a little kiss on the cheek. Yunho smiled, watching for a moment before turning his attention back to Jongho. It was comforting how easily the two parts of his family fit together.

It was then that Hongjoong took his headphones off and got up to grab a snack from the kitchen cupboard. He would have much rather stayed cooped up in his room until Blue left or fell asleep. But he guessed this past few weeks had been getting to him, and trying to leave Seonghwa unattended in their presence was too much to ask of himself.

There was a sort of reliance that his pack had on him. It was his job to lead them, to sort out their issues and make them feel safe and at home. He'd been the one to bring them all together. Yunho had been his first pack member, and Hongjoong had never felt quite as comfortable as he had once he'd found him. Unlike Yunho, Hongjoong had been born to a wolf pack. He knew what it felt like to belong, but once he was old enough to go on his own, he'd lost that bond. Yunho helped him bring it back.

He hadn't expected to pick up the others, the non-wolves, but he knew what that bond was supposed to feel like and he'd be damned if anyone took them from him. It was his nature that drew him to his pack, they all fit together like pieces of a puzzle, creating something so natural that it almost felt like magic. They belonged together. So he couldn't entirely understand the connection that all of them had with Blue. And sure, he guessed that it made sense to an extent, the relationship that Yunho had with them went far beyond friendship, even if the younger wolf wasn't fully aware of that, and maybe it could be natural for Yunho's packmates to feel some type of bond with his chosen one too, but for Hongjoong it just felt wrong; The feeling he got around Blue was too hot, too sharp, too all-consuming, and he couldn't decipher it. It felt like the world was punishing him for something that he couldn't begin to figure out.

He watched the way that San asked Blue about his homework, and the way that they diligently explained the concepts to him and emphasized them with a reassuring pat on his shoulder. They were so patient, even with Wooyoung clinging to their side, pouting and whining about how he'd never be able to understand Applied Magic in Mathematics (which Hongjoong couldn't really fault him for, that shit made no sense. How could there be an entire course on the rules of exceptions?) Every time that Blue was in his dorm, surrounded by his pack, it was like they belonged there, and no part of him was willing to accept that.

"Joong," Seonghwa called, and Hongjoong looked up from the bag of chips he was opening. "What have you been working on?"

See, the thing about Seonghwa was that Hongjoong could hardly ever say no to him. He insisted it was something to do with the demon's magic. Seonghwa, however, insisted that his magic didn't work that way and Hongjoong was just down horrendously bad. The pack tended to agree. He tensed for a moment now that everyone was turning their attention to him. He tried to calm down, to let the familiarity of his home and his pack distract him from all the frustration he was harboring.

He walked back over and slotted himself in between Seonghwa and Yeosang, offering to share his snack. Blue flashed him a look, eyes wide. They hadn't seen each other since the incident, and when Hongjoong met their eye, there was something unfamiliar in them, something that put Blue on edge. They shifted in their seat, looking between him and Hwa. Hongjoong didn't relish in their discomfort, but he wouldn't say that he wasn't at least a little pleased to see that he still held some power. Was it so wrong to want an intruder in his home to feel threatened?

"Have you been working on your songs all day, hyung?" Wooyoung asked, putting down his pencil and disregarding the work he'd been doing. Hongjoong nodded, and Seonghwa half sighed, reaching a hand up to rub the back of Hongjoong's neck. He wasn't usually a fan of affection like this in front of others, but with how tight his shoulders were getting, he let himself melt into it a little more than usual.

"You shouldn't work so hard." Seonghwa scolded him, but Hongjoong only grumbled in response and rolled his eyes. He'd sat through this lecture enough times.

Hongjoong had come to the University to study multicultural music and magic tech, so he often spent his time writing and producing music for use in various areas of magic. Honestly, Blue found it sort of inspiring. 

"Can we hear it?" Yunho asked. Everyone knew that Hongjoong was protective over his magic, working on it tirelessly and insisting that nothing was ever good enough. Though his grades in all of his classes implied otherwise.

"It's not done yet," He answered, reaching for a few chips. "Maybe once it's finished."

"You never think your songs are finished," Jongho pointed out, looking up from his laptop. Hongjoong glared at the Hellhound, but he just laughed and went back to his work.

"Can we at least hear a demo?" Yunho asked. For a moment Hongjoong regretted even letting them know he was working on something at all. They always got like this, so nosy and supportive that it was mildly suffocating. But he couldn't really be mad that people cared about him, that was more than a lot of people in the world. He was lucky to have them, he knew that. He stretched to grab his laptop, opening up a file with his demos in it and started one up.

It was good, everyone knew it would be. They were honored to be one of the only people outside of the pack to get to hear Hongjoong's songs like this, and hear how they grew from beginning to end. They could feel the magic weaved into each track, the careful use of incantations in the lyrics and the power each instrument held in the overarching sound. It amazed them, and they had yet to dislike a single track.

"It's really good. Is that the one you're still working on?" Wooyoung asked, a grin lighting up his face. Hongjoong nodded, closing his laptop and setting it aside.

"I really like it. It sounds a lot like your older stuff, I think. Better than the last one." San added.

A couple of the boys laughed, and Blue nearly snorted. Everyone had listened to San complain for ages about having to hear Hongjoong's last track a hundred and one times. His own fault for asking to help with it. Now even hearing the title of the song made him throw a hissy fit.

"The last one was good!" Hongjoong argued, a growl reverberating in his chest.

"I loved the last one." Blue shrugged. Hongjoong's eyes were on them as they continued. "I will forever and always be a Desire supremacist. I'm San's worst nightmare."

San immediately started whining, but Hongjoong just stood up. He was honestly a little shaken at being addressed so casually, so gently by Blue. He didn't really think of them as friends, but they were still so kind to him and, in truth, it sort of pissed him off.

"I'm going to work in my room." He said, gathering his things to leave. His chest was aching with how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. With the door closed behind him, firmly separating him and the rest of the world, he pressed his palm over his chest.

He knew that he was the asshole in this situation, and part of him really did want to feel bad because, somehow, the worst part of everything was that there was nothing wrong with Blue. They were a good person, maybe too good, and they took amazing care of Yunho, of his entire pack, and he hated that. They'd never been mean to him, at least no more than he deserved, but being around them aggravated him in ways that he couldn't begin to explain.

He thought back to the day he'd been taking care of Seonghwa, the way that his mate had been fading so fast he couldn't even think properly. He didn't know that Wooyoung had called Blue before he did, but he remembered the way that his hands shook when he finally called them, the way his wolf was screaming to take over. He hadn't felt that out of control in a long time, just so goddamn helpless. He needed to protect Seonghwa, his pack was one of the only things that had ever really mattered to him, and his pride had been ripped to shreds when the only thing that he could think to do was call someone else. To call Blue of all fucking people. But they'd come, of course they had. They'd come running the second he called because that's what they did. In some fucked up way, Hongjoong was very much aware that he and Blue weren't so different after all.

"You're being an idiot." Hongjoong snapped, whirling around to look at Seonghwa. Honestly, he knew this conversation was coming and that only made him more sick of it. It was later the same day when Seonghwa mentioned wanting to work with Blue on his supplement again. He wasn't generally one to turn on Seonghwa, but there was one thing that he couldn't tolerate and it was watching his mate put his safety on the line.

Seonghwa didn't even flinch at his outburst. Honestly, he'd seen it coming. He knew Hongjoong, knew his body language. The Incubus frowned, crossing his arms across his chest. He straightened up in his spot, sitting at the edge of their shared bed.

"I appreciate your input, but it isn't up for debate." He responded. Hongjoong growled, beginning to pace the room again. Seonghwa hated seeing him stressed out like this.

"You could have died. You said yourself that you'd never been that close to losing yourself before." Hongjoong said. His voice was sharp around the edges as he thought back to that day again. Honestly, he hadn't stopped thinking about it. It haunted him, watching Seonghwa barely able to speak. If he'd waited just a little longer to call for help, he might have lost him altogether, lost an entire piece of his soul. Fuck, he'd had to call for help in the first place and that was all Blue's fault. His job was to take care of Seonghwa, of all of them, and he had never had a problem doing so before then, so clearly the issue wasn't him. It couldn't be.

"But I didn't. You can't blame them because I had an adverse reaction to some magic. It's like an allergy, how could they have known?" Seonghwa tried to reason. "I want to solve this problem, and nobody has been able to help me. If they might be able to, then I want them to try."

"Why them? You could ask anyone."

"Because I trust them."

"I don't."

"But Yunho does. Everyone else does."

"Then maybe they're all idiots, too. Maybe you're all being stupid." Hongjoong was losing this fight, he knew that. He generally lost fights with Seonghwa. Unlike the demon, he was quick to anger and slow to cool down. Seonghwa didn't answer that, he didn't need to. Hongjoong took a moment to breathe. "I don't understand what you all love about them so much. I don't get it. The entire pack is obsessed with them, and Yunho trusts them with his life. More than he trusts anyone, even Mingi."

"They've been there for him longer than you have. You have to accept that we'll never really know what the two of them have been through. And you have to accept that he's imprinted on them, you can't change that. We should just be grateful that they take such good care of him."

Seonghwa stood up, tentatively stepping towards his mate as if he were a cornered animal. Hongjoong was quiet, defeated. He let Seonghwa take his hand, the warmth reminding him of who he was talking to. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

"I am grateful. That's not it."

"Then what is it? They're good for everyone. That's all you've ever cared about with other people. Everyone gets along with them, and they're always willing to help."

Hongjoong wished beyond all wishing that any of these things made it easier for him. Not all wishes come true, though, and he was being made very aware of that.

"I don't know. Can we just forget it? If anything happens to you again, though, you're not doing this anymore. I'm not going to let them experiment with some bullshit magic until they do something that they can't fix."

Seonghwa nodded, less of an agreement and more of a show of surrender for the time being. The conversation was less than productive now, so surely it could wait for a better time. He knew well that there was no use in talking to Hongjoong when he was feeling threatened.

The fight was inevitable, and it had tensions high in the dorm even if nobody else knew what was happening. Yunho had taken to spending even more of his time outside of classes at Blue's place, and Wooyoung was spending more time with his other friends than usual. The only member particularly willing to withstand Hongjoong's terrible attitude was Jongho, but the Hellhound was built to withstand much worse than a moody werewolf.

However, after a few days of bickering and brooding, Hongjoong decided that the best way to handle things was confronting his problem head on. He knocked on Blue's front door, waiting impatiently for them to answer. When they didn't show their face quickly enough, he banged on it louder. When they did whip the door open, they looked exhausted, and Hongjoong had to will himself not to ask them if they were okay. He clenched his jaw, and Blue rolled their eyes.

"What is it now? I'm busy." But they were nicer than Hongjoong in the long run, everyone knew that. As they retreated back into their dorm, they left the door open for him to follow if he so desired. He didn't exactly, desire that is, but he followed them anyway. He closed the door behind him, growing somehow more frustrated that they were hardly paying attention to him at all.

"I came to talk to you about your little project with Seonghwa." He said.

They stopped, turning back to look at him. They looked significantly more worried now, which eased his mind more than he wanted it to. At least they cared enough to worry about him, that reassured him, but not enough to lay down his arms.

"Is he doing okay?"

"I want you to stay away from him. From all of my pack." Hongjoong said, crossing his arms over his chest. The wait that his body sank into such a confident gait pissed Blue off, maybe even more than his words themselves.

"And who exactly do you think you are to tell me who I can and cannot spend my time with?" They asked, eyes narrowing in his direction.

"I'm the head of their pack." He answered as if it were obvious. Blue stepped towards them in two long strides.

"And as the leader of their pack, it's your job to take care of them. Not control them."

"I am taking care of them."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you're taking care of your own fragile ego. You're afraid that if anyone else is nice to them they'll realize how shitty you've been. And you just couldn't live with yourself then. I don't know how they put up with this bullshit. Go tell them to stay away from me, but I don't have to listen to a damn word you say." Blue snapped, their rage and frustration radiating off of them, a stifling wave of heat.

"You watch your fucking mouth." Hongjoong growled. Before he even finished speaking, he had Blue against the wall again, just like they'd been before. His face was dangerously close now, teeth bared and fangs sharpening before Blue's eyes. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. They're my pack, that has nothing to do with you."

"You're just mad because I had him first." Blue said, voice shockingly smooth despite the wincing pain in their back from the collision with the wall. Hongjoong faltered, his snarl dropped for a second to give way to complete shock at their statement, then his eyes were blazing even hotter with unspoken emotion, things he'd never even considered before this.

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you," He warned. He pressed closer, too close. He could feel Blue's body heat radiating off of them, making the tiny bit of space between them feel like it was scorching. He didn't flinch, neither did they.

"If you think your empty threats and your stupid attitude scare me, you'd better think again. I stopped being afraid of you a long time ago, Kim Hongjoong."

If it weren't for the slightly soured notes of their scent, and the way that Hongjoong could feel their pulse under his touch, he probably would have believed them. They were good at this, the acting bit, the pretending that they weren't being consumed by this the way that he was. Hongjoong didn't like that. He wanted to hear what they really thought, wanted them to give in, to cave under the pressure.

"Get off of me."

"Stay away from my pack."

"What are you gonna do if I don't? Kill me? Lock them in a fucking cage? Or just come here to push me around and threaten me some more?" They spat back. Hongjoong flinched, his weight slowly easing off of them. But they didn't move, and the tiny bit of space between them didn't grow any wider. They just looked at each other, angry and burning and so alive.

Neither of them knew exactly who kissed the other first, but Hongjoong wouldn't be surprised if it was him. But it didn't matter with the way that Blue's hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, opening their mouth to let him in as he crowded them against the wall. The hands that had been pinning them in place slid down to their waist, dragging them into him until their fronts were pushed flush against each other.

He pulled away only when his lungs began to burn, firmly tipping their chin up to nose along their neck. He dragged his fangs over the soft, clear skin there, down to the crook of their neck. He breathed them in. Blackberry, vanilla, sweet honeyed musk. Familiar and infuriating and fucking intoxicating. He growled. His hands slid under their shirt, forcing it out of his way to feel along the expanse of warm skin under his palms.

"Hongjoong," They breathed out, the sound clipped off by a throaty moan when he bit harshly against their shoulder, just the tiniest pinpricks through their skin. His tongue dragged over the spot, soothing it. That would certainly leave a mark. Hearing his name like that, a prayer on his lips, it was a drug he needed more of.

"Bedroom." He pulled them away from the wall and spun them towards the bedrooms. They led the way, opening their bedroom door and pushing him inside. They were kissing again before the door was fully closed, only ever pulling apart enough to tug their clothes off, discarding their shirts one and then the other until they could explore the fully bared territory of each others upper bodies.

Hongjoong pushed them onto the bed, maybe harder than necessary, but they didn't complain even with their gasp and stunted cry of surprise when their back bounced against the mattress. He lingered over them, tugging their pants off with a couple of harsh pulls, leaving them so close to naked beneath him.

There was a sick sense of pride that felt like ice spreading in his chest - foreign, and sharp, and almost unwelcome - as he looked down at them. He got them like this first. He was in control. Not Blue, not Yunho, or Seonghwa, or anyone else in his fucking life. Just him. He was coming out on top. He had conquered.

He slotted himself between their thighs, kissing them again. Each kiss was hungrier than the last, not as calculated as he would have been under different circumstances. Their teeth clashed, and they nipped at the skin of each other's lips, the mix of tongue, and spit, and huffed out whines should have been borderline disgusting, but neither of them could get enough of it. Hongjoong sat back, and Blue propped themselves on an elbow to chase him until he was out of reach.

His hands slid up their front, finding their nipples and circling his thumbs around them. He started slow before he progressed to toying with them harshly with both hands, tugging and twisting hard enough the Blue's hand flew to one of his wrists. He knocked their hand away, leaning down to soothe the sting with his tongue. He suckled one nipple, then the other, teasing his fangs against it and reveling in the way they whined for him.

"Hongjoong, please." They gasped, nails digging into the flesh of his forearms, leaving pretty little crescent moons against his skin.

"Please, what?" He asked, lips quirking into a smirk that sent another wave of arousal through Blue's body. They huffed, and Hongjoong sat up, shifting so his hips were pressed flush against theirs. He was hard, painfully so, and the friction between the two of them was more of a tease than it was any sort of relief.

"Fuck me," Blue said, but they weren't begging, not really demanding either. Still, Hongjoong was too worked up to argue. The anger was bleeding into arousal and leaving his mind foggy and locked in on nothing but feeling Blue wrapped around him, on watching them fall apart just for him.

Blue reached into the drawer beside them, pulling out a bottle of lube and tossing it to them with a challenging glint in their eye. Hongjoong stared back, not wanting to give in to anything they offered him, but that urge was hardly enough to stop him.

So he shucked off his bottom layers, leaving him completely naked and all too comfortable with being exposed in front of Blue. They weren't complaining, their eyes following the planes of his toned stomach, the muscle of his thighs, all leading them to the pretty cock sitting between his legs.

While Hongjoong popped the cap of the lube and coated his length with it, Blue wiggled out of their underwear so the two of them were back on even ground. Hongjoong settled on the bed on his knees, tugging at Blue's hip hard enough to half force them to flip onto their front. He slapped their ass, the sound resonating in the room.

"Ass up," He ordered. They listened without hesitation, lifting themselves up onto their knees to present themselves for him, back arched so prettily beneath him. He smoothed one of his hands along their back, the other spreading them open to watch the way their hole clenched around nothing at the lightest touch. He spanked them again, and again, and a few more times after that until they were practically panting into their pillows, leaking arousal like a bitch in heat.

He didn't give them any proper warning, just the feeling of his cock lining up with their hole before he started to bully his way inside of them. He wasn't terribly big, but he was usually a kind lover anyway. If it hadn't been Blue, he would have stretched them open, maybe gone down on them for a while if he was feeling patient, but he was burning much too hot with need to care about that. He needed this, needed to fuck them into the mattress until they couldn't walk, or talk, or think about anything or anyone but him. Him and his dick splitting them open.

Underneath the heavy roll of his hips, Blue whined, feeling him fill them up inch by inch. The stretch ached a little, stinging as he finally laid his hips flush with their ass. Their fingers dug into the comforter on their bed, trying to ground themselves as he immediately pulled back, not giving them a chance to adjust to the feeling.

"Fucking look at you, sucking me in so good," He hissed, hands kneading their ass, spreading them open to watch the way they swallowed his dick, how they opened up just for him. The thought had him going absolutely insane. All he could think about was how warm they felt around him, how he could smell them so much stronger like this. "So tight, s'like you're choking my dick."

His words were strained as he fought to keep up the brutal pace he'd started. Blue buried their face in the bed, muffling the moans and cries that he was dragging out of them with every drag of his dick against their sweet spot. Hongjoong, however, was having none of that. He curled his fingers into their hair, tugging at it hard enough to have them pushing themselves up on their hands, back arching harder and neck curving back. Without something to stop it, the incoherent string of curses and moans filled the air of their room, and Hongjoong soaked it all up.

His hand slid out of their hair, around to wrap around their throat. He wasn't choking them, just reminding them that he could, holding them and pulling them closer to him until their fingertips were barely brushing the bed. He leaned down, his chest pressing into their back and his nose brushing against their jaw. He inhaled, their scents mixing in the room and being weighed down by the musk of sex. He was scenting them, letting himself sink into their skin, claiming them even just for a while. He growled, nipping at the skin of the neck and earning another sharp yelp.

"Needed me so bad, didn't you? Wanted me to fill you up so bad that you just couldn't act right." He hissed, letting their body collapse against the bed again. "That's okay, I can fuck the attitude out of you."

They pressed back into each thrust, fucking themselves onto him even with their thighs starting to shake from the exertion.

"So deep, Joong, please." They buried their face against their arms, too lost in the feeling of their building orgasm to feel any sort of way about what either one of them were saying.

"I know, gonna fuck you so good. Make you all mine. You're just gonna come crawling back for more, aren't you? Gonna beg me to fuck you dumb again." Hongjoong could feel his own control slipping, his grasp on whatever sanity he'd come into this with was gone. He couldn't think, could only listen to the way they chanted his name and the way it sent shockwaves through him.

"Gonna cum," They warned him, but he could already tell with the way they were squeezing him. He gripped their hips tighter, squeezing until his fingerprints were bruised into their soft skin, fucking them until they were nearly crying. He poured his entire soul into fucking them so good that maybe he wouldn't be able to stay angry with them, so hard that maybe they'd realize that this wasn't a fucking game. His knot was swelling, and he probably should have thought about that first as he willed himself to hang in a little longer even when he was so goddamn close.

Blue's high shook their body, making their knees go weak under them as they clung to their pillow like a lifeline. One of their hands flew back to find Hongjoong's over their hip, fingers bumping and linking together as they used him to ground them through it. Every thrust pulled and stretched them in a way that made their vision blur.

Then Hongjoong was pulling out, stroking himself to completion and shooting against their thighs. His orgasm seemed to last forever, so intense and yet not enough. The urge to have them stuck on his cock was strong enough to feel like the earth was tilting on its axis. He swallowed it down, looking at Blue as they relaxed against their bed.

Hongjoong stood up, trying to figure out what sort of fucked up blend of pity and pride was spinning through him. Blue looked tired, or maybe just disinterested in the situation, but that idea made his chest hurt, so he avoided it. He didn't want to think about them at all, or the fact that he'd just had sex with them when that was the last thing he had planned on doing, the last thing he should have done. Especially when he'd just said he never wanted to see them again.

"You can leave now." Blue said, finally pushing themselves to stand up. His cum was still dripping down their legs, and he was trying so hard to stay sane with that visual right in front of him. But they were acting like it was nothing, like they weren't still naked, and marked up, and covered in him. As if their legs weren't visibly shaking under their body weight when Hongjoong could see every sign of what had happened between them. "And you can take your demands with you. If I help Seonghwa is up to him, you can take that up with him at home. As for the rest of them, they have a right to choose who they want to spend their time with. I won't take that away from them, you shouldn't either."

They grabbed something from the laundry, wiping themselves clean before tossing it back. Hongjoong followed their lead, pulling his clothes back on in a hurry. By the time he was slipping into his jeans, they were fully clothed and heading for the bathroom.

"Oh, and Hongjoong?" He looked up at them, noting the cold look in their eye. "Don't come back. You have no business with me."

They closed the door, leaving Hongjoong in their room, the air heavy with the two of them, and his heart sinking so low into his stomach that he felt like he was gonna throw up. What the hell had he just done?

Once Blue cleaned themselves up and made sure that any traces of Hongjoong's presence were gone, they weren't actually sure what to do with themselves. They had never really considered doing something like that with Hongjoong, maybe because he hated their guts. But it was good, they'd be lying if they said they wouldn't be thinking about it in their own time. But now they weren't sure they could show their face at the pack dorm again, or anywhere that Hongjoong might be, actually. Maybe he'd gotten his way and they'd never see any of his pack ever again, because maybe it would be better if they just didn't leave their room. Ever. For any reason.

They didn't realize how long they'd spent pondering their impulsive decisions until Yunho was knocking on their bedroom door. they'd forgotten they'd promised him a movie night to celebrate the end of exams. They froze for a moment until he knocked again.

They stood up, smoothing their hair once more and trying to calm themselves down. Yunho was good at noticing when something was going on in their head, and they really weren't sure how talking to him about this situation would go. Not until they determined what the hell it meant and if it was going to happen again, if it changed anything whatsoever about their confusing ass feelings that they were trying to choke down. They huffed out a broken laugh.

"Blue, lemme in! I can hear you, you know." Yunho whined from outside the door. They finally twisted open the door handle, letting him and the takeout he'd brought into the room. But YUnho didn't move, just looked at them for a concerningly long moment with a slowly growing look of confusion. Blue wondered for a second if maybe he'd developed some sort of mind reading ability because he was certainly searching their eyes for something. Finally he stepped into their room, setting the bag of food on their desk and looking around with narrowed eyes.

"What is going on with you?" Blue asked, trying not to act suspicious. They started opening the bag of food to unpack everything.

Yunho could tell something was off, Blue could see it in the tension in his shoulders, and the way he didn't immediately throw himself onto their bed, in the way that he seemed to be avoiding looking at them now when he'd been practically burning holes into them a moment prior.

"Where is he?" Yunho asked. And when he looked at Blue, it was with an expression they hadn't ever seen on him before. His eyes were dark and weighed heavily as he moved closer. They took a step back for every move forward he made, trying to maintain the distance between them, but his legs were longer, and he was clearly not looking to let them escape. "Did he leave? Did he fucking touch you?"

"Yun, what...what are you on about?" They asked, but it was clear enough when Yunho grabbed at their shoulders, holding them still so he could examine them. One of his hands came up to tilt their head up and to the side, revealing a previously overlooked mark left by none other than his own pack leader. Yunho's breath caught in his throat, and he let out a growl that made Blue shiver.

He tugged at the neckline of their shirt, pulling it out of way to show off a few other love bites on their skin, down to the tiny puncture marks Hongjoong had left behind.

"That bastard," Yunho spat out, letting go of Blue and heading back for the door. They watched him with wide eyes as he put his shoes on, and they rushed to do the same before Yunho's quick stride could take him out of reach, their meal left abandoned on the desk and the door to Blue's dorm slamming shut behind them.

"Hey, what the hell is going on with you?" They asked, grabbing at Yunho's hand just before he reached the stairs. Their touch stopped him in his tracks, and when he looked at them he softened just a little, letting them catch a glimpse of their beloved Yunho before he was hidden behind the walls again. For a moment, their best friend felt so terribly out of reach, even with their fingers intertwined, with the warmth of him seeping into their skin.

"He touched you. He fucked you, didn't he?" Yunho asked. "I'll kill him."

They weren't used to seeing him like this. Yunho was slow to anger, and even when he was upset, it was never like this.

"I can smell him all over you, all over your fucking room. He's dead."

When Yunho pulled his hand away, it was still so gentle as if he were afraid of hurting them. He took off back towards his pack's dorm and, half terrified of what would happen if they didn't, Blue followed behind him.

Back at the dorm, things were quiet for once. The boys were minding their own business, San and Wooyoung curled up on the couch with Yeosang playing a game quietly in front of them. Mingi was tucked away in his room, Jongho too, and Seonghwa was tidying the kitchen after the dinner they'd all had. Hongjoong, however, hadn't left his room since he got home and scrubbed himself clean in the shower, trying to wash the feeling, and the scent, and the guilt of everything he'd done from his skin.

The calm was shattered by the door slamming open, probably hard enough to dent the wall, and certainly loud enough to alert the entire floor of Yunho's anger.

"Hongjoong," He screamed.

The name hung heavy in the air. It wasn't common for Yunho to call his hyungs by name, and never so loud, and deep, and weighted.

Seonghwa was the first person to respond, rounding into the living room. He checked on the others first, a side glance to make sure the three boys weren't overly startled. All of them were just looking on with wide eyes and tensed muscles in case they needed to leap into action.

"What's going on?" Seonghwa asked delicately, looking between Yunho and Blue, who had only just managed to catch up and was breathless and clearly distressed.

"Where is he? Hongjoong, get out here!" Yunho shouted again, taking a step to pass Seonghwa, who reached out to grab his arm. "I know what you did, you bastard. Come on,"

Mingi came out first, looking visibly shaken. If anyone knew Yunho anywhere near as well as Blue did, it was Mingi, and he was certainly not familiar with this side of the wolf either. Jongho's door opened a second later, and he looked more bothered by the noise than anything else.

"Hey, what's up?" Mingi asked, taking a couple cautious steps towards the trio with Jongho following behind.

"I need to talk to Hongjoong. Now." It was the first proper answer that Yunho had given since they got there, and Seonghwa finally stepped away to grab his mate.

"Okay, he'll be out in a second. Just take a breath, okay?" Mingi reached out to massage Yunho's shoulder. Having Mingi at his side calmed him down a little bit, much to Blue's relief, but it was clear that he wasn't over his emotions just yet. "Can you tell us what this is about?"

"Don't worry about it." Yunho said, eyes still trained on the hallway and frame practically blocking Blue from the room. Mingi stepped past him to get to the witch instead.

"What's gotten into him? I've never seen him like this before."

Blue picked at the old, frayed hoodie that they were wearing, one of Yunho's, and maybe Mingi's before that, but it had been in their closet so long they couldn't remember. They wished desperately that it was doing more to make them feel safe at that moment. They shook their head.

"I did something stupid. Really really stupid, and Yunho is pissed. I don't know....I don't..." They sniffled, fighting back tears.

Mingi's expression shifted into one of understanding as Hongjoong finally stepped into the hallway with Seonghwa behind him. As soon as Hongjoong joined the room, any calm that had washed over Yunho was gone again.

"You," He jabbed a finger in the air towards the leader, taking a few steps towards him only for Hongjoong to stand his ground, chin tipped up defiantly. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Calm down." Hongjoong answered. He looked past Yunho's looming form to where Blue was still standing with Mingi, the Cupid's arm around their shoulder as if to steady them from the shock of what was happening in front of them.

"Don't tell me what to do, you have no right to do that. And don't even think about looking at them, I think you've seen more than enough." He growled, baring his teeth. His fangs were on full display, and his eyes were flickering amber when Hongjoong looked back at him.

"I think we can have this conversation in private."

"Why? Because you don't want everyone to know that you took them from me? Because you know that you're a fucking dick for touching them? You don't have a right to act like I'm the one in the wrong here."

A wave of understanding washed over the room, and everyone looked over at Blue. They shrunk closer to Mingi's side, and he shook his head at his pack mates.

"Nobody said you're in the wrong, now let's take a deep breath and we can talk about this." Hongjoong said. Blue hadn't seen him like this either, his entire being radiating pure dominance, and they could see the other members shrinking away from him. But not Yunho, he puffed his chest out, baring his wolf proudly and without hesitation. Pack leader or not, no level of respect of rank difference could have stopped him from pursuing this battle. The only other member of the pack who moved was Jongho, the de facto protector with his eyes red and his energy darkening enough to dim the lights in the room.

Blue was shaking, and they wanted to run away from the situation entirely, but instead they were rooted in place so firmly that they weren't sure they'd be able to leave even if things turned bloody.

"You knew all along, I know you did, but you couldn't keep your hands to yourself," Yunho growled, poking a finger into the center of Hongjoong's chest. The smaller man huffed out at the feeling, taking a step back from the sheer pressure, but refusing to cave in. "My mate? What, you just had to assert your dominance? Put me in my place? What the hell did I ever do to you?"

"It's not like that," Hongjoong shook his head, and when he looked over at Blue, he looked genuinely remorseful. Blue looked at their feet, the gears turning in their head. Mate. Of course they knew what it meant, but hadn't occurred to them that Yunho may have cross-species imprinted, that he'd imprinted at all.

Their whole lives it had been just the two of them, and then Mingi, then the others. If anything, they'd assumed he'd imprinted on Mingi and they'd all live happily ever after, but now...now every memory of their lives looked a little different in their memory. Their stomach twisted in knots, wave after wave of nausea hitting them.

"Oh, of course it's not." Yunho snapped. His arm wound back to land a punch, but before he could swing, a firm hand gripped his elbow with inhuman strength that had the wolf groaning in pain.

"Don't." Jongho warned, steady and calm amongst everything going on. His aura of darkness had turned a smokey grey, materializing into shadow around him. Yunho's eyes softened when he noticed how hard the Hellhound was fighting, the internal battle of which side to take in his own pack. Then he looked at the others, his entire pack putting distance between themselves and the two wolves clashing in the middle of the dorm, between themselves and him. Wooyoung looked startled, and San looked so wounded that Yunho worried he might have actually hurt him.

And Blue, his beautiful Blue, so close to tears and huddled up in Mingi's arms. His heart shattered, his mind spinning. He didn't know if he was angry, or scared, or just blinded by jealousy, but whatever it was that he was dealing with had him feeling weighed down and wholly out of place.

"You can be mad at me if you want to, but that won't change anything. Did you even talk to them before dragging them here? Do they know what's happening?" Hongjoong asked, trying not to let his emotions come through in his voice, but his own anger and bitterness were evident.

Of course he knew that was the problem, he was the villain in the story, but he wasn't ready to back down and admit that. Losing to Yunho was one thing, but it was another entirely to lose to him in front of their entire pack. He wasn't going down without a fight, and he wasn't ready to acknowledge that all of the hurt and anger and frustration were desperately outweighed by guilt and concern. He'd really never meant to hurt Blue, or Yunho, or anyone.

"Did you bond with them? Did you tell anyone? Or did you think that wanting them was enough to make them yours? Because God knows they'll give you whatever the fuck you want. Do you really think I'm scummy enough to do anything they didn't want me to?" Hongjoong pushed on, stalking closer to Yunho, who finally took a step back.

His words hung heavy, and he could feel everyone's eyes on him, the disapproval. He regretted it the second that he said it, but it was too late for him to take them back now.

"Hongjoong," A voice said, soft but firm enough to cut the tension. "Don't say things you'll regret. I think you both need some time to cool down, we can handle this later."

Seonghwa stepped forward, placing himself between the two of them. The room was burning hot, and everyone looked about one second away from snapping or bursting into tears.

"They're my mate. You know how sacred that is. I never would have done this to you," Yunho said after a moment, taking another few slow steps back from the wolf in front of him. "Stay away from us, or you'll regret it. I thought I meant something to you, but clearly you've only ever cared about yourself and your stupid ego."

Those were the last words Yunho ever intended to say to Hongjoong. He turned, taking Blue's hand gently, trying not to scare them more than he already had. As he pulled them out of the dorm, Blue looked back, eyes glossy with tears and dark with desperation as they silently begged Hongjoong to look at them. They were wading through the shame too, through the pain of watching the pack separating because of them. He didn't look up, not a single glance, just watched the floor as the door shut.

The quiet in the room was deafening with Yunho gone. Hongjoong could feel tears pricking his eyes, could feel the building desperation to break down, the weight of it trying to drag him to the ground. He had done a lot of terrible things in his life, he knew damn well that his hands weren't clean, but he'd never imagined that he would carry the weight of destroying his own pack. He had never been so impulsive, and reckless, and cruel, and selfish. And now it was time for him to face the consequences of his actions.

"Hyung," It was Mingi who finally spoke. And Hongjoong prayed that his usual kind, patient words would follow. "Blue? What were you thinking?"

Hongjoong felt the words run right through him. He couldn't breathe, lips parting in a silent gasp as he tried to steady himself. It was true, though, everyone knew from the moment they met him that Yunho had imprinted on Blue, that he just needed the time to realize it, and Hongjoong had taken that from him. Why? Because he was bitter? Because he was self-destructing? Surely he could have destroyed himself in a quicker, less devastating way than this.

"I don't know," He answered.

"You shouldn't have fought with him. You know how he feels about them, and he hadn't even figured it out yet." San said. His voice was gentler, but his words were still a slap in the face.

Nobody else had anything to say as they left, and maybe the silence hurt more. Then it was just him and Seonghwa, and Hongjoong couldn't keep his composure anymore. He sank to the ground at his lover's feet, head in his hands and sobs quaking his body. Seonghwa stepped closer, and laid a hesitant hand to the crown of his head.

"What have I done?" Hongjoong asked, looking up at his lover. Seonghwa just shook his head, lips pursed into a line and silent disappointment painted on his face. Seonghwa gave his head one last stroke before leaving him alone.

The dorm had never felt this quiet or cold to Hongjoong before, he'd never felt so uncomfortable in the home he'd made. He closed his eyes, tipping his face to the sky and sending out a prayer to whatever or whomever it was that was waiting for him at the end of this cruel life. Please, he begged, please let this be over, let him fix this, and - at the end of the line - let him suffer for what he'd done. He deserved that much.

[basuralindo]

!!!! I'm in a ranting mood, but not a very articulate one, about Floyd/Jamil. Bear with me.

Like, obviously I love Jamil and Azul, but I can't believe how much everyone overlooks Floyd?

Jamil actually tolerates him, which is actually A Lot coming from Jamil. And he isn't just politely neutral, he's one of the very few people Jamil actually speaks to normally, and the very very few that he talks to normally without being overtly hostile.

Jamil is one of the only people who can manage Floyd's temperament without trying to suppress him. Like he's shown to work with Floyd's moods, and negotiate mutually beneficial solutions that Floyd actually agrees with, and all upfront. Jamil doesn't get scared and try to mince around him, Floyd doesn't get irritated and try to intimidate Jamil, and for the most part Jamil doesn't try to quietly manipulate him. Jamil also doesn't have to fight with him to behave, and Floyd doesn't back out because he's lost interest. For the way they both tend to operate around people, that all strikes me as mutual respect.

While he's usually not as aggressive about it as Azul, Floyd also shows an interest in Jamil. He specifically wanted to hang around Jamil in book 4. He was also impressed with Jamil's skills. He pays attention to Jamil's talents and interests and tries to engage with him on shared interests like dancing. He seeks out or positively reacts to Jamil in group settings. He actually seems to like interacting with Jamil on equal terms, rather than wanting to torment him for entertainment.

During the Halloween event, when preparing to enter the mirror, he was the only one to encourage Jamil to give it his all, and singled out Jamil specifically. (also Jamil teasingly telling him not to screw around, and Floyd reacting positively? does he do that with anyone outside of Jade and Azul??)

He nicknamed Jamil after an animal that preys on moray eels, and uses the -san suffix rather than -chan. Both of which implies taking him seriously.

The entire beans event??? This was set early on, before book 4, so they didn't have much rapport. But Floyd's entire thing was centered around Jamil. The only person he willingly came out of hiding to engage with was Jamil, specifically because he found him interesting, and he chose to help him out despite being on opposite sides, again because he was interesting. He said several times that he found the whole event boring, except for the opportunity to fight Jamil, which became his primary motivation for participating (aside from learning Vil's throw, which was his motivation for sticking with them instead of running off to hunt Jamil alone). He literally told Jamil to his face that he was "the best part" of the whole event. He refused to quit even after the event was over because he wanted to keep fighting Jamil, and for Floyd, that implies a positive opinion towards someone.

His beans vignette further elaborates that his entire motivation for sticking with basketball was to compete with Jamil. Even staying up for several days in a row to do nothing but practice in order to get on his level.

For Floyd, there's nothing he values more in a person than being interesting. There's nothing he respects more than competence. And he's blatantly stated that Jamil has both. He doesn't care for people who are intimidated by him and he doesn't tolerate people trying to boss him around, and he seems to genuinely enjoy Jamil, who does neither. I honestly haven't seen him show as much complex interest in any other character in the game (like beyond picking a fight or tryna get a rise out of them).

For Jamil, it's extremely rare for him to drop cold formalities and speak with anyone casually, but he does so with Floyd to a greater extent than most. Even if he doesn't seek Floyd out, considering he doesn't tend to seek anyone out, the fact that he'll engage when Floyd approaches him instead of trying to escape the conversation speaks volumes in my opinion. He also doesn't seem to overlook Floyd's intellect. He gets shocked by the extent of his abilities sometimes, but he never seems surprised that Floyd's intelligent, and Jamil doesn't usually think much of other people's intelligence. And so far Floyd's the only one who's gotten him to dance just for fun (one of the few independent passions he has), and he's managed it twice. Floyd brings out passion in him.

Just, they're both so othered in very different ways. Jamil keeps everyone at a distance, and is intentionally uninteresting enough that nobody seeks him out unless they want something. Floyd doesn't bother with anyone who doesn't entertain him, and either scares or frustrates most people so much that they avoid him as much as possible. But they seem to respect and understand each other, even if they don't drop their walls, because neither find the walls to be that big an obstacle.

There's just something really valuable to me about two such extremely overlooked/misunderstood people managing to see and understand each other so easily.

[arrthurpendragon]

Reading Class Incentives

Hi all! I appreciate all the help you have given me so far this year but this school year has been difficult. Not only financially - but external motivation for students is high this year. I tend to get the more difficult students (because I can handle them) who need external motivators to behave or participate.

I have about 40 students that I'm working with on this project. I'm giving up my duty-free lunch and recess twice a week to let them come into my room and read. Reading is such an important skill for these kids and I'm trying to help any way I can. And I'm sure that most of you as fanfiction readers/writers understand the doors that open when you are able to read.

So, I have a few asks (if you're able - there is no pressure here. Especially since I know a lot of you have helped me out significantly with Misha kitty. But I figured I'd ask)

Things on the wishlist w/ explanation:

Keychains - I have low-level readers who struggle with fluency. I'm trying to get them to practice reading out loud. Each week they have a reading they need to practice out loud 4 times and then they earn a keychain. I've already seen a massive boost in fluency because of this. I'd like this to continue.

Boxed Candy - the only homework students at my school have is to read 20 minutes 4 times a week. Over this quarter, there are 36 times expected. I'm incentivizing this (and it's working so far) their reading - the prize for having read 25 times for 20 minutes is the boxed candy.

Stickers - back to reading incentives the prize for 5 times read is one big sticker, the prize for 10 times read is 1 big sticker (and a piece of candy) the prize for 20 times read is 2 big stickers and 2 pieces of candy. Again, really trying to get these kids reading.

Scholastic Gift Card: Again, I'm trying to get these kids to read - so the prize for 30 times read is that I will get them a book on Scholastic that is $10 or less. I do have teacher points on there from parent orders, but any help would be appreciated!

Individually wrapped Candy: This is used both as a reading incentive and sometimes as a classroom management tool. For example we have what are called "candy days" where everyone starts the class with 3 pieces of candy and they can gain more if they go above and beyond or they can lose the pieces if they are disruptive. (Most kids get all three pieces on these days)

Amazon Wishlist

Scholastic eGift card (message me for my school email)

Please know that I know that y'all have your own holiday shopping to do. This is just intended for those who are looking for a way to donate to a classroom during the holidays if they have a bit of extra cash to spare.

[valkyrie-kun]

5Ds ending breakdown: Why did Yusei stay in Neo Domino? (2/2)

4. Epiphany while dueling Jack? The final duel of the show was one of the best ones, in my opinion, just because Yusei's winning move included monsters from the very start (Junk Warrior, most representatively, with his fellows amping him up - hence the symbolism of the team 5Ds and their friendship (see part 1)) and there was no deus ex machina this time around, not even Clear Mind. But it was also during this duel that Yusei announces his final decision (just like all of his friends did) regarding his future, and that was to stay in Neo Domino (without stating clearly what he was going to do as his job, but telling Ushio that he will take care of the city - hence why the audience (me included) took that innuendo as an indirect confirmation that he had decided to remain with MIDS). Now, how come it was a duel that had led him to make that final decision, and not talking it out with his friends/Martha, or, I don't know, sleeping on it like a normal person? I mean, the obvious answer is that we're still in Yu Gi Oh universe, where the weight of card games on motorcycles is beyond the level beyond fun hobby/passing time activity - it's the matter of honor, it's the matter of code of duelists and probably reminiscent of an old, more violent (*cough*) practices in Japan, but it's not really my field of expertise so I won't dig too deep into that. But with a general picture in mind and out of the way, the duel seemingly inspired everyone - duelists included - to follow their own path as they have all they need to take care of their future, albeit alone this time - with faith in each other to treasure their bonds. More correctly, Yusei inspired everyone by, as Aki put it, "finally dueling for himself to find his future". So, this duel is basically the YGO version of mulling it over, a reminder of each character's competence, the friendship, and the skills they've acquired whilst being friends with Yusei (and Jack). Yusei, too, feels confident to let them go, as he announced that he had decided to stay in NDC. Even if it remains undisclosed, if he, say it, did end up MIDS (as all the evidence points out at him doing so), we can break down that epiologue timeline (from Yusei's perspective) neatly.

5. Making the final decision. I think, having everything in mind I've listed before, we can track the exact process (or, writers' buildup) to Yusei deducting that staying in NDC is what he has to/wants to do. Firstly, he is unsure of what to do with himself, but he has months of working at MIDS, at Neo Domino City, under his belt, while also harboring not fully resolved savior complex and a sense of responsibility for his father/his father's sin, taken the latter's plea to "unite people" as a sign to most likely focus his work on Fortune/to protect "his" city from the tragedy occurring ever again. Secondly, his friends are going their separate ways, and while having no clear direction on what his life would be like, he won't impose his personal wishes on anyone, including the person he loves. So, he falls back to not knowing what to do with himself, but this time without a group of people to back him up. Finally, he has a duel with Jack that sets him up for making that final call - he thinks about things, realizes he has nothing left to prove anymore in the dueling sphere, remembers his father's words and his mission to unite people, and ironically decides to unite people by making a home in NDC without the team 5Ds (but while keeping their bond alive and with faith that one day they would meet again - as a true bond is not synonymous with being together in everything 24/7, what the show and its predecessors had tried to teach us). Long story short, no real plan, some residual burden, selflessness, and a true bond that encapsulates even letting your loved ones chase their own path, and our dear Yusei had made his decision. As I mentioned, we've never learned what he ended up actually doing for a living, but I think after this dissection it's safe to say that it wasn't dueling, and that he wasn't ready yet to chase his own ambition and his own endings yet. So, only one logical option remains - that is, if we focus on what he was doing immediately after the 5Ds show came to an end, not eventually.

6.Discussion. Now, now. Knowing how split our tiny fandom is regarding the ending, and how satured each opinion is (scarcely anyone is lukewarm who finished 5Ds), the main two questions being asked right now are: is this a good ending? Is this a happy ending? (As those two things are very, very different aspects of a show/characters.)

My answer to both of these questions is yes. But, but, we didn't get the amount of happy ending we would have got had 5Ds been, say it, something more like ATLA. It's optimistic - the world is saved, and everyone's well, but it's also realistic enough to establish that the hero didn't reap what he sowed fully and lived happily ever after with all of his friends. It's good writing before it's a happy ending, and that's why Yusei's life probably didn't turn out the way we, the audience, would have wanted for him. But, however extremely flawed at times, the writers stayed extremely consistent with their development of Yusei as a person, and that's why - at least for him - the ending is done well. We're never shown what Yusei decided to do, and that is also a good thing as it reminds us that everything's possible, and indeed, the only thing consistent in life is that things are always changing. He may not have followed his heart, but maybe he did (and I say that as a person obsessed with their IRL craft, love isn't enough when you're finding yourself professionally), and that's okay because he stayed true to himself, as Yusei Fudo The Character. And I believe, eventually, we can all agree that the same tides of change brought him to where he belongs, because, at the end of the day, he was only twenty when the show wrapped up. He has the time to grow in post-canon, to put it more clearly.

TL;DR, Yusei's life probably didn't turn out perfectly/like we wanted for him to have it all, but that's what makes his storyline wrapped up neatly from a writer's point, unlike for some other characters. And for whether he and Aki reunited, what Yusei ended up doing, and where he lived, it's for us to find out by exploring post-canon (if we want to). By chasing our own ultimate endings for our sweet boy.

[dayseternal-blog]

In Memory, Katarinahime. Part 10.

"For Fanfic Writer Appreciation Week, I had started a post that I didn't finish. It was going to be an in-depth review of her 'Serenity Prayer.' I was going to dig into her story structuring, her characterizations, her language...like. It was going to be a long post. And it's sitting in my drafts. And I never finished it. And she'll never see it. [...] I wonder if it's okay for me to just post a bunch of short reflections instead now."

For nhmonth2022, Day 11, Prompt: Serenity Prayer

“Serenity Prayer” by katarinahime - Rated M for depictions of domestic violence, substance abuse, and smut, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. When their fairytale endings smash to ugly pieces, Hinata and Naruto help put each other back together.

Let’s start from the top with this work of art.

She dove on the ground for her phone, pushing it further under her seat so it would take longer to grab. It was a silly move. She couldn't stay down there forever. - Chapter 1, when Hinata sees Naruto walking toward her at the airport.

☝🏼 katarina has an amazing way with throwing in bits of self-deprecating humor into primarily ANGST stories that lightens the load just enough.

"I still have that scarf." He admits, smiling at her like he can't see her wanting to shrivel up and die.

I felt this.  The embarrassment, the simply relatable wording of wanting to shrivel up and die, like it came straight from any mortified consciousness.  And again, another sprinkle of humor here.  AND on top of that, the canon reference in a Modern aged-up AU!

A cracked iPhone 5c that her little sister let her use, matching the outdated MacBook that was thicker than a college text book. At the moment, they are her most prized possessions.

The first chapter is one of the BEST establishing introductions I’ve ever read, and yet there isn’t a single true flashback.  Hinata’s medication, abusive marriage, regrets, shames, they litter her thought process throughout that in no way interferes with the “now” narrative of meeting Naruto in an airport and waiting for a flight on standby.  We get a clear picture of everything she’s been through since high school, as well as worrisome insight into her mental health.

And all through Hinata’s pov, we get a shocking and intriguing glimpse into Naruto’s life.  Quite a few major players in the story are mentioned in the first chapter without any of them having a “spoken” line.  Various complex plot points are laid out that hold across the story - her financial instability, Ino’s business proposal, the unresolved divorce, her unanswered confession,... It’s crazy how well-thought out it is.

katarina develops the romance, character growth, friendships, family relationships, everything beautifully.  All sensitive topics are treated with care, rather than written to entertain a trope.  The fic goes beyond “what if?”, diving into difficult topics like domestic abuse, PTSD, substance abuse, anxiety, etc. without any romanticism.

She bites her lip and nods, leaving that evening without agreeing to anything. - Chapter 2, at the end of Naruto’s and Hinata’s “business meeting” at Ichiraku.

I’ll never get over the skill of this story.  Down to its structure, the layout is masterful.  It has the smoothest scene transitions I’ve ever read.  Ever.  In any fanfic or published book.  In one sentence, Hinata has left Naruto’s date invitation hanging and is working at Ino’s house the next morning.  In Chapter 5, within a few lines, Hinata is at a bar one night and then at Hanabi’s dress fitting the next day.  There are practically no scene breaks in the entire story except for, of course, at the end of a chapter.

"Oh, you forgot your name at the top." Hinata spotted.

"Oops." Shinachiku reached back for his pencil to fix his oversight. - Chapter 7, the first time Hinata babysits Shinachiku.

The CHILDREN.  Feel like real, actual children.  I’ve read so many fics where the children don’t act like children, or are not behaving at a maturity level appropriate to their age.  Shinachiku’s intelligence is off-the-charts, as expected of the son of Sakura, and his personality is spot-on for an only child.  His social awkwardness at a playground, his comfort level around adults, his attachment to routines, his inability at times to interpret admonishments correctly, there are a plethora of details put into this kid.

The details are vivid in every character, from Kurenai and her plant-based diet to Shikamaru and his AA coin, from Moegi with her opinions on pearl succulents to Mirai’s preteen snarky attitude.  There’s a huge cast and each one feels in-character like in canon.

“Yes, the stories are dangerous, she was right. A book is a magic carpet that flies you off elsewhere. A book is a door. You open it. You step through. Do you come back?” -  Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

Did you come back?

I opened the door to “Serenity Prayer.”  I loved her so much I never left, I traced the veins of her words and ordered my own in her image.

When you step through my doors, I hope you recognize her magic.

[keepingthehopealive]

Updates

Job- going so well. I have a lot to learn, but also have a good basis of skills and knowledge which is allowing me to jump right in. My preceptor has worked there over 30 years so her knowledge is beyond extensive. Everyone has been so nice and I love the patients and their families. I'm definitely where I'm meant to be. I'll write more specifically on my other blog about work though

Fostering this weekend was so nice! It was good for me and for my dog to have another dog around and I know it was good for her to get a break from the shelter. I miss her so much already. Me and the dogs spent time with my cousins this morning, the dogs got to enjoy the nice weather and run around, B (foster) practiced being brave and meeting new people. All around a good day. E is currently catching up on sleep from all the play time. I hope to take her, and other pups out for breaks again, until I'm on nights or find a good fit that can do ok when I'm at work all day with just the walk mid day. B had too much energy so I know in some ways its better than the shelter but still didn't want to do that to her. Once I'm on nights I can take longer term fosters, but in the meantime these slumber pawtys are perfect.

Therapy- had an intake on Friday with a therapist and I thought it went really well. I didn't book another appt yet because I have another intake on Tuesday and therapist 1 (the nature therapist) knew that. Long story short we specifically talked about if she would see me and felt comfortable (I asked) and she said yes and said she would be upfront if that wasn't the case or if I needed more care she would tell me that and get a team for me etc. Then today I get a message that was pretty nonspecific that she's not able to see me, no reason given, just that the level of clinical support I need is outside her practice (what?! I've been doing weekly therapy now for 2 years and have been fine with that). I know it's unreasonable and maybe weird but I am so hurt and confused by it. I'm in a stable place and have been for a while, I'm not overly relying on therapy but benefit from the support. I don't know what I said or did that made her make that decision. I thought it was gonna be a good fit and was excited to work with her because she's different than what I've had in the past. I know I can't get stuck on it and maybe it's not as personal as it feels, but it feels pretty damn awful. And personal. I did message back and nicely asked for more of an explanation but I imagine she won't likely respond. And I know at this point I shouldn't want to see her anyway. It feels like a big rejection and proves that I'm too much and too hard for even a therapist to put up with me. I'm spiraling a lot. I thought this time would be different and that I would be in control of choosing who I want to see and had options (last time I had intense SI and SH and that really limited who would see me outpatient especially)

I'm hoping Tuesdays intake goes well and I've already started looking for other options if I need them. I still will be seeing L too until I settle with a new provider. I sent her an email today because that helps when I'm this upset and triggered. I know I'll find someone to see, I just hate all this so much.

I'm excited to go back to work tomorrow and am just gonna snuggle the pup and try to move on from this situation because I can't do anything to change it.

[theanimeview]

[Reflection] Endo and Kobayashi Live! The Latest on Tsundere Villainess Lieselotte: Finding An Outlet When All Feels Lost

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting

From the look on my coach’s face, I knew the fall I was about to take would not end well. My mother, her friend, and an ice rink full of people heard a deafening thunk noise over the chatter of a bunch of children, the music, and two thick glass walls separating the ice from the attached cafe. I didn’t hear it though. I couldn’t heard anything for a few minutes as went from upright to on the ground with a bunch of coaches leaning over me, telling me not to move.

Ice skating had been my passion since from age seven, up. I was a competitive figure skater with skill too back it up. Despite having started late for most children with dreams of the Olympic track, I was getting there and about to enter the “adult” competition ring, but that fall on the ice during group practice changed everything.

I struggled to recover and get back on the ice. I pushed myself so hard that I ended up falling more, and it became clear that my injury had ended my career. I couldn’t spin without feeling like I had just slammed my head onto the ice again. I couldn’t move quickly without feeling disoriented. It was devastating, and I felt lost and uncertain about my future because skating was all I had as an outlet.

https://theanimeview149171776.files.wordpress.com/2023/04/screenshot-2023-04-01-at-6.31.32-pm.png?w=2048

For Endo, he finds a new outlet in his friendship with Kobayashi, the Broadcasting Club, and in the game they are playing. He, essentially, found support and a new interest. It was the same for me; with time and support, I began to appreciate the things I could still do and explore other interests. My career in ice skating may have been cut short, but I learned that there is life beyond sports and that there are other ways to find fulfillment and purpose.

I got really into anime, and you all can see what that has led to via this blog, but it also led to me finding friends in the anime community. I ended up building an anime club at my High School, and that is where I met Casea (@coffeewithkrow) who is still my best friend today.

Anime and manga more than just cartoons or animation; they tell stories that resonate with people on a deeply emotional level. When we watch anime, we are not only entertained, but we sometimes connect with the characters and the world they inhabit like I did with Endo in this moment and like I have with other great series in the past. Why and how this is, to me, is how anime can be so deeply personal with its themes and messages. Many anime and manga explore complex and profound topics such as love, loss, identity, existentialism, and other life challenges and these themes are not just abstract concepts but something that we can relate to as people and human beings. I think that is also what sets anime and manga apart from typical Western animation and comics.

As we connect with the characters and the world they inhabit, we can also learn more about ourselves and grow as individuals. I have certainly felt differently about an experience after seeing a character go through something similar and after seeing them find a way out, as I am sure many other fans have felt too.

So next time you watch an anime, pay attention to how it makes you feel and what personal connections you might be making. You may be surprised at how much media can impact your life, your understanding, and your growth… and if you are up to it, I hope you’ll share your story as fellow fans.

—

Note: All images in this post are from Endo and Kobayashi Live! The Latest on Tsundere Villainess Lieselotte, Episode 3.

[noplsnoplsno]

Why I believe that I may be an autistic adult woman that was mis/undiganosed

Hi so just a brain dump here, and I am hoping that this is recieved well. If not oh well, it in the internet.

Things that I had as a child with vivid memories:

Ive went through almost my whole life not understanding how people make and maintain friends. Especially multiple friends.

I spent hours, days, weeks, studying social interactions as a child. I would watch movies of women that I wanted to be like (primarily the princess diaries) and would try to copy and learn everything I could to be more likeable. I checked out books on how to have practice social things. I would sit in front of the mirror and practice my face and tone of voice.

I would spend a lot of time creating worlds in my head, living in wonderlands of tiny people that lived in stick homes that I built them outside, delivering food. Creating governmental type systems for them. I would believe that I would be better off if I lived in these worlds.

Deep desires for unusual hobbies of orgainzing over and over again. My poor mom's bookcase has been orgainzed so many times by color, catagory, alphabetized by title, size. Her bookshelf is still organized to this day the way that I left it.

I believed that Pokemon were real at the age of 9 and fully planned to move to Japan to become a pokemon trainer when I turned ten. The day my mother told me they weren't real I didnt believe her and then afterwards had a 7 hour breakdown consistening of crying while continually trying to prove that they were real.

I was always uncomfortable on outings. I wanted to stay home all of the time. I would become distressed at sudden changes to routine, and would beg my mother while crying to just stay home.

In school I would engage in what I suspect is stimming behavior that was self injurous. I would pull my hair out, suck my lips until they bled and painful, I would eat my hair, and bite my nails until they bled. I would chew on my lips until they were raw and swollen. I also chewed my clothing until almost second grade.

I had a strong ability to read beyond my grade level, but I have been diagnosed with dyscalculia.

I was fearful of everything, once I was older. I remember becoming hyperfocused on a zombie survival book and begging my parents to become doomsday preppers and let me practice baracading their windows.

Sensory issues with clothing, those seams in socks, holy fuck, felt like their were stabbing my toes.

Afrid, I ate maybe a variety of 12 different foods and drinks and that lasted until I turned 14. I was terrified of new foods, their smell, their texture. But specifically the smell would be enought to make my stomach hurt.

Abnormal walking. I would walk on my toes, and remember my mom training me for almost two weeks outside to walk flatfooted, and to swing my arms instead of keeping them like sticks at my sides.

My mom took me to the doctor for my "little quirks" as she called them mutliple times, for the doctors to tell her that I was fine and just a little weird. Even despite her worries I stayed unsupported. I had to go to an alternative high-school just to graduate because I was not able to understand everything being spoken during lectures. I was unable to follow along as well as my peers despite being ,"Gifted."

As an adult:

I still have to monitor my voice, face, body language and how people react to me. I find social interaction absolutely exhausting and refuse to do it for more than two social outings in a row, and the following weekends I will be avoiding everyone and everything. I hate wearing clothes at home and will strip as soon as I walk in the door to change into a snuggie. Ive spent thousands of dollars on crafting supplies that I become obsessed with and then no longer use. I can pick up creative skills in an unnaturally fast way just by watching a single youtube video. I have issues with fast burn out in jobs and I cry a lot after work. I study psychology for fun, reading studies on pubmed and learning facts about the brain, especially abnormally psychology. I have been told my voice is "robotic" and that I come off as "sacrastic" by important people in my life such as my bosses at jobs, teachers, and clients. I have issues understanding verbal instructions and prefer to have them wrote down. I flunked out of college when I started to have to take classes in person rather than online because I could not understand what the important parts of the lectures were and the unimportant. I socially camoflauge but I still prefer to be a bystander in social situations. I have never dated casually, and always prefer to be in fully transparent longterm relationships because I struggle to keep up an appearance of a fully functional person for very long before people I want to be close to start assuming that something might be off. I have a routine I follow, and if I deviate from it my emotional state makes a downward spiral. I am able to go to work, day in day out, but I have a terrible temper after work. I developed a smoking habit to soothe myself that I am now in the process of breaking. I still have eating distrider issues regarding eating enough, or a healthy balance of food. I become obsessed with certain foods and dips. I generally feel that I am out of control rather quickly and deal with it by doing a ton of cleaning routines or making big decisions to feel more in control. When I hit meltdown level I close off, cry a lot, I become angry when people try and talk to me. I prefer to not hear anything in these states and prefer heavy pressure like my fiance laying on top of me or to just hold me tightly and pet my hair. I listen to calming music and sing really loudly and probably way too loud rock music for someone with hearing loss. I struggle in interviews, I hate eye contact and will stare passed someone or at a wall instead of looking at others when I have decided that I no longer want to try and blend in. I struggle the most in groups, and usually choose to not speak and only laugh when appropriate.

I still prefer things are probably young for my age. I am 26 and I prefer sanrio, all pink, stickers, squishamellows. I collect rocks and obsess over certain aesthetics for hours. People in my life still believe I am gifted but I dont feel that way. I still feel like ive never been on the same wavelength as other people, I hate that people look for some weird fucking hidden meaning behind my words and look at my tone and face instead of just applying the meanings of words to my words.

I have all of maybe 2 friends that I have maintained, and I still go months sometimes without speaking to them.

I only started considering this as a possibility once my son was born and was diagnosed with autism. I started realizing how much of the things he struggles with are things I also struggled with, but in different ways. I doubt it is even worth getting diagnosed at this age because like, for what ya know?

[saligiare]

Indeed, he was. Asmodeus could sense him even before the telltale sound, silent as it was. But even that demanded more of him than any regular old human would have ever dared to, which was yet another reason for him to dislike Hassan. Whatever fabric that man's flesh had been crafted of, it was as unassuming and elusive as the shadows he used to cover his tracks. At times the demon prince seriously doubted he even possessed a soul at all, and perhaps that was the most unsettling part. It left even an archdemon with very little to threaten.

Addhir turned in his seat, a lazy blink following Gaara's announcement, and there he was. Their guide for the night. Hassan, while his head and shoulders were covered by a black scarf, once again ruined any and all sense of modesty by showing off the intricate tattoos wrapping across his chest, arms, and all the way down his back. Sitting on the edge of the balcony, he flung a small bag of clothes over his shoulder and onto the tiled floor.

"Cute costume, but those garms haven't seen a day of work in their life. People are gonna smell your perfume before they even see ya", he sneered, before faltering under Addhir's smoldering gaze.

"Show some respect, you wretched street rat."

"Sure, sure, sure." Hassan raised his hands and went to pick up the bag again, though Asmodeus could not help but notice the small tilt in the corner of his mouth. With a theatrical bow, Hassan presented the bag to Gaara.

"My deepest apologies, your highness. But I really think you should get changed. Your dear pet, too. I'll wait by the balcony. Hope your highness isn't afraid of heights?"

~*~

The plan, that much Asmodeus quickly figured, was as risky as it was impossible for anybody prone to what Luzifer had once called the human condition. Luckily, it was aided by the fact that more than half of their little group of escapees did not succumb to it beyond surface level. Their biggest challenge consisted of getting the prince safely to the floor, back up a high wall and down again, while making it all seem as mundane a feat as possible. A long line of rope that Hassan attached to one foot of the heavy gigantic bed, a series of skilled knots and impeccable timing triumphed over the first part of their arduous journey. Asmodeus quietly thanked whomever that the prince, for all his youth and naivety, was far from a coward.

Addhir and Gaara both watched from the gardens as Hassan scaled the rope once more to remove any evidence from the bed, only to climb down the ornamented palace wall freestyle like an overgrown monkey. The next part would prove to be a lot trickier. After slinking through the shadows of a couple of cedar trees, avoiding two patrolling guards who seemed more than a little distracted by their own conversation, and carefully treading along the smooth sandstone wall encircling the gardens, the trio came to stop at the edge of an almost forgotten flower bed, as far away from the golden prison behind them as possible.

How on earth, in heaven, hell and below Hassan managed to cross the wall, which measured a good nine metres in height and provided a lot less stepping stones than the palace, would likely remain a mystery to Gaara. Asmodeus could only come up with a careful guess. Still. About ten agonizingly long minutes after Hassan had told them to wait here and disappeared within the shadows, the same rope as before came flying down the edge of the wall. Now was the time for Gaara to put his daily physical training to some practical use. Addhir followed suit, though he made sure to pant and shake appropriately once they reached the top. The view of the city, a sea of hundreds of bright sandstone houses and streets winding between them like veins on the back of a hand, was breathtaking.

"Quickly now", Hassan whispered. "I slipped the guard something to make him sleep. Don't know how long it'll stick though. Pretty boy, you're gonna go first. Our dear prince will come right after. Wait for me at the bottom and stick to the shadow."

"You'll refer to me as Baki." Addhir would be familiar with the name of the martial arts instructor. With a body like whipped stone and a demeanor to match, he and Gaara were alike mainly in their tendency towards perfectionism and a silent ambivalence for the unyielding rule beneath which they were both governed. He was easily the tutor Gaara disliked the least. "As for you - neither your face nor name are known to the general public. Addhir will suit you well enough."

Checkmate took a dozen moves. Gaara glided from the table as if the game had already been forgotten. In his room he dressed himself in plain pants and tunic; gone were the delicate gold bands around his fingers and wrists. His hair he left unoiled and unsmoothed, and it flicked in short wild tufts about his face. He stepped back from his mirror to examine the reflection of a stranger. Aside from the parts he could not strip - the unworked hands, the lean muscle, the practiced poise foreign to working men - he looked every inch the average commoner.

Yet he knew his eyes were untrained. Addhir's instruction branded themselves into his mind as law. In the palace Gaara was nothing short of the son of a god, but Addhir ruled the streets beyond.

Then he stilled. His ear twitched towards the balcony. The veneer of calm did not crack, yet the tension below it heightened, the frenzy of lightning across a sky without once striking the earth.

"He's here."

[eclassopedia22]

Back-To-School Season: Why Parents Are Choosing Online Tutoring Websites For Their Children?

Back-to-school season is here and with it comes the pressure to get your child ready for the new school year. Whether you're enrolling your child in public school or private school, there are many ways to help them succeed in this new chapter of their lives. One way that many parents turn to is online tutoring websites, but why? What makes them so beneficial for students who are going through difficult times like these? In this article we'll explore some reasons why more parents than ever are choosing online tutoring sites over traditional methods like attending parent-teacher conferences or having face-to-face meetings with teachers who might be intimidating at first glance (and even more intimidating when combined with all those other things!).

They want their children to receive a quality education

Online tutoring websites are a great way for students to get the help they need. Parents can rest assured that their children are receiving a quality education, and this is especially important when it comes to summer vacation time. Students who are struggling in school may find it difficult to keep up with their classmates during this time period because they're not being challenged by any new material or concepts. An online tutor will be able to provide them with one-on-one instruction without requiring much effort on their part--allowing them more time to read, play outside and enjoy all the other things kids love doing during summer break!

They want their child to get the most out of their summer vacation

Summer vacation is a great time to learn new things, especially if you're a kid. Kids have more free time than they do during the school year, so they can use it to explore different activities and interests. This can be great for their development, but it's also important that parents help their children stay motivated by making sure they have access to resources that will allow them to practice what they know or learn new skills.

They want their child to feel more confident in school

Another reason parents are choosing online tutoring websites for their children is because they want their kids to feel more confident in school.

If you've ever been an elementary, middle or high school student, you know how important confidence is when it comes to learning. Students who feel confident in their ability and knowledge are more likely to perform well on tests and assignments than those who don't have that same level of self-assurance. And while having a positive attitude about your abilities isn't always easy--especially if you're struggling with something like math or reading comprehension--it can make all the difference when it comes time for test day!

Another benefit of having confidence as a student, you'll enjoy going to class more often too! If something doesn't interest me anymore or makes me nervous about failing again (and again), then why would I keep doing it? This was definitely true for me when I was younger; whenever my parents asked what classes were available at our local community college back home during junior year high school graduation season after graduation parties ended early due to curfew hours being enforced by both parents' work schedules being busy throughout most nights throughout May through September every summer since middle school graduation ceremony day had passed.

They want their child to improve his or her grades

Parents want their children to be more confident in school, and they believe that online tutoring can help.

Parents want their children to have a better education and they believe that online tutoring will help them achieve this goal.

Parents want their children to be more successful, so they choose a tutor who can help them reach this goal by providing the tools needed for success at school and beyond.

In addition, parents understand how important it is for kids to learn how to be independent thinkers when it comes time for college applications or job interviews; however, many kids struggle with this skill because they haven't been taught how during their academic careers! An online tutor can provide one-on-one instruction on critical thinking skills that will give your child an edge over other applicants when applying for scholarships or jobs later down the road!

They want their child to say goodbye to stress and anxiety about school

You can also help your child deal with stress and anxiety about school by providing him or her with an alternative learning environment. Online tutoring allows students to work at their own pace, which means they won't feel pressured or stressed out when trying to keep up in class. Your child will be able to take time out from his or her studies if he feels overwhelmed by homework assignments or tests, instead of being forced into a stressful situation where he might do poorly on purpose just so that he doesn't have any more work left over for the day!

With online tutoring services like Eclassopedia, parents don't have to worry about their child feeling overwhelmed by schoolwork either; instead they can focus on socializing and having fun while still getting good grades!

This is a great time of year for parents to enroll their children in online tutoring websites

This is a great time of year for parents to enroll their children in online tuition websites. Why? Because summer is the perfect opportunity to catch up on missed assignments, or get ahead of the game before school starts again. You can also use this time to help your child improve his or her math skills, science skills and foreign language skills. Your child might need extra help with reading comprehension if he or she struggles with it at school or home--and there's no better way than having an expert tutor who specializes in these subjects!

Conclusion

Parents are always looking to find ways to give their children the best possible education. Online tutoring is one tool that can help them with this goal and make it easier for parents to stay engaged in their children's education. The best way to get started is by finding an online tutor website that fits your child's needs, as well as those of other students around the country. This should be easy since there are so many options available out there today!

Article Source: https://medium.com/@eclassopedia22/back-to-school-season-why-parents-are-choosing-online-tutoring-websites-for-their-children-a8da45cdd9da 

[badnikbreaker]

since 06, elise has kept ruling soleanna, of course — she’s also followed in her father’s footsteps and become something of a scientist.  her primary object of study is chaos energy; after all, chaos energy is one of the few forces capable of overcoming her divine power.  she needs to know how to defend against it, as well as how to harness it if there ever comes a time when her godhood grows beyond her ability to control.

she’s also spent a great deal of time practicing and training with her god powers; everything from learning how to move into alternate worldlines, how to erase doomed worldlines, and how to alter hers.  eventually, she’ll be able to alter reality wholesale.  it’s slow going — there’s so much to learn — so while she is far beyond the power of any human and would take a great deal of power to defeat, she’s not to the level of power that she will eventually be.

this at times hampers her ability to help.  such as forces, for example!

i’m largely hand-waving forces and elise because my elise would have been more involved (  and, sonics, hit me up, i have thoughts  ).  but, as a general point of reference — during the war to take back the planet, eggman assassinated most heads of state; elise was a target, and she eventually faked her own death just to get eggman’s sights off of soleanna.  she’s a god, and very powerful, but still young and not experienced enough with her skill to, say, just transport infinite to a doomed timeline and then erase it.  (  at least, not without risking breaking a lot of timelines, especially because she didn’t have the means to understand how the phantom ruby works / might interact with her abilities.  )  

that being said, she did help; both overtly and from the shadows.  after faking her death, she dramatically cut her hair (  a very short pixie  ) and joined the resistance under a fake name; a few people thought she seemed familiar, but no one knew her personally anymore, so she wasn’t discovered.  on the frontlines, she could shield others, protect buildings, and et cetera — no one much questioned her powers.  it’s not like stranger things and people haven’t showed up, and with the hero gone...they’d take what they could get.

much like whisper, she also worked in the background; this was made possible because she c additionally, she could assist in other ways; losing a battled due to not having enough ammo?  surprise, there just happens to be a ton in this room! (  elise nabbed it from an adjacent worldline and brought it over.  )  there’s also stories about battles where hundreds recovered from wounds that should be fatal; godly powers, thank you.  et cetera, et cetera.

i’m choosing to believe that eggman was using chaos energy on the death egg because otherwise theres no way elise wouldn’t just get sonic outta there.  as it was, due to the chaos energy, her omnipotence was shuttered, and she couldn’t verify if sonic was still alive and, like much of the rest of the world, mourned him deeply.  

despite how horrible it got, elise is a large part of why the war was never lost, even if the resistence never knew it. 

she does regret not being able to help; she couldn’t risk eggman realizing it was her and targeting soleanna as a way to force her to yield, however.  assisting as she did was all she could do.  since the war, she’d focused much more on her training, so as to assure that such a thing never happens again.

[horanghoe]

meltdown - poly!txt drabble

members/group: Yeonjun + Soobin / TXT

pairing: poly!TXT, with only the two oldest members + reader.

genre: angst / fluff / SFW / poly!TXT / idol!au

T/W: !! deals with themes of polyamorous relationships, aka shipping the two boys together with the reader in a three-way dynamic. I do not condone heavy shipping that translates into attempting to change the sexuality of the idol themselves irl.

!! no NSFW content other than kissing and consented undressing of the reader.

!! deals with the general theme of anxiety or panic attacks / sensory overload / sensory meltdown often experienced by those on the spectrum

<3 the reader experiences the meltdown and there is a general plot of comforting from the boys <3

<3 I have detailed my own personal experience and don't claim to write on behalf of the neuro-divergent community, only myself. ty <3

MASTERLIST / TXT MASTERLIST

personal/vent piece <3 pls be gentle <3

.............

"hey hey hey, y/n, take a breathe - "

"no - please - don't touch me Binnie! It hurts, there's too much - and I can't - I won't - stop it, please -"

your attempt at forming a full warning is ruined by the gut-wrenching wails ripping from your throat.

an intense heat washed over your shoulders and scalp until your body is pulled to the ground via your folding knees; your hands covering your ears as you tense into a fetal position, knees to your lungs.

the booming of the stadium's bass music hit the metal of its carcass, drowning you in an unease you felt ringing deep within your bones.

.............

being on the spectrum has its perks.

noticing things others don't; finding patterns in the ordinary, being self-sufficient on an emotional level, finding little use in petty lies, when it's simply easier to spread the truth.

then again, it sucks ass when life demands things you simply don't have the ability to process. at least, not in the same way others do.

the modern world isn't built for the others; only the majority.

those that present what is considered normal, neuro-typical behaviour; usually fly through the world without much trouble.

.........

"please get it off Soonbin! I can't think -"

an intense headache formed in the middle of your skull, your body washing with a cold sweat as tears dripped from your chin. you unconsciously began pressing your palms to each ear as yet another loud boom to your booth made the walls underneath the venue shake, making it harder and harder to process the white noise piercing your mind.

"nghh, fuck Binnie, my head... it hurts..."

a pause in your tearful tone was met with disorientation; hands catching you as your knees buckled towards the floor. you couldn't remember when you last stood up - or how you had gotten away from the rattling plastic windows.

this was becoming a living nightmare.

.............

you had started out your career as a dance student, then graduated as an officially contracted backup dancer at Hybe entertainment. you had tried your absolute best to avoid too much recognition beyond your role of supporting amazing idols doing outstanding things. but soon enough your modesty was outshined by your skill, and a new idol was formed.

they had originally planned to debut you in a group, but your awkward social skills and difficulty living in a compact space made the decision easy; you were going to go it alone.

the company trained you up in a whip; you could dance with an impressive level of skill, but the singing was the challenging part. with practice, comes efficiency (something you understood via dancing and tutoring younger Hybe trainees) and so singing was an expensive skill added to your growing arsenal.

and of course, you put your everything into it - as it was your natural hyperfocus. you knew idol history like a textbook addict and could only hope to join the ranks of the kings of the company, once your fate was accepted.

and you fought the rights to your title with a vicious efficiency - a popular, small, relatively unpromoted, but comfortable with money, new debut artist.

and the path had been a complete and utter smooth ride; until one venue pushed you to your absolute limit. throwing you over the edge of learnt self-soothing tactics and ripping your mind apart moment-by-moment

.........

"y/n, baby, you're safe, you're okay, I promise. please look at me, I need to understand what's got you so upset. "

a kind male voice above you tried to coax out information; to see what was causing you so much stress. he had never seen a meltdown this severe from you before and was a little spooked.

.........

it was usual practice; performing at a stadium was big stuff. exciting, new, loud, full of smells. people and equipment, materials and severe temperature changes.

but it had proved to tip you over the edge, causing a major sensory overload and ruining your chances of a consistent promotion as soon as you realised you were spiralling into a black pit of lost hope and paralysing fear.

.........

"everything Bin! everything... it - make it stop... please..."

the boy sighed through his teeth, swallowing the lump in his throat as he slouched onto the ground before you at a loss. there was no getting you back now. at least, not until you left this damned venue.

he was tired. upset, for you. dangerously empathetic was your teddy-bear Soobin. the boy who cried for you on long nights, the boy that spoke to you so kindly.

your lover was pained.

.........

despite what it may sometimes seem, fate definitely has her kinder days.

she had granted you the pleasure of meeting the two eldest boys of TXT, for example.

granting you three the blessing of falling quickly, deeply and fully, into each other's arms - soaking in the unconditional love of those two sweet boys would heal you for a lifetime. even with any disagreements, you all cared for each other.

.........

the booming reverberation was intermittent - a demon without a consistent attack - leaving both you and Soobin at an uneasy disadvantage.

the rest of his band - three younger members, other than oldest, Yeonjun - had left to socialise in other rooms before they performed their biggest show in a long line of come-back performances.

he thanked the heavens they did, as he knew the extra eyes on you would only be more of a stressor. if he couldn't control what was happening inside your head - he could at least try and control your environment.

so as you wept, he pushed his emotions down his chest to listen out for any sounds of security or people rushing down the hall.

but he stayed by your side - despite the rip in his heart when your grip on his body left for your ears, completely closing in on yourself.

.........

Yeonjun's love language was physical touch. he remained a charming, goofy and handsome flirt throughout your entire friendship & relationship. always the rock in your swaying, vicious tide of symptoms.

Soobin loved to give and receive words of affirmation. he was the softie with a sweet tongue, and the second oldest member of the newly faceted boy group, TXT.

Yeonjun cared for you physically, while Soobin used his empathy to release some of the pain. as much as you would let them, anyway.

it was a well-garnered fact within your group of (idol) friends, that the polyamorous relationship was a complex and tight-knit one.

you were all open to date outside of the triplet - but were so deeply enamoured, you currently found it unnecessary to do so.

.........

"Binnie, I can't - I can't think. please, please make it stop - I'm so tired, Bin..." the arm you rested on wobbled, relenting as you met the cool cement floor.

your cries of fear had turned into exhausted sobs of pain and discomfort, Soobin gently brushing the hairs away from your face as he quieted your pain as much as possible. gentle fingers running against your aching head until the touch was just too much.

but your meltdown was due to attract attention; it was one inevitable to a throw-up of circumstances.

band member Beomgyu was tied into your triplet with the red string of fate; emotionally, he fell for you and the boys. but things got difficult, and it was called off. it didn't mean the emotions dissipated, however.

he had heard your familiar cries from a few rooms down.

he had sat with you once before, after an exhausting and failed shopping trip at a multi-storey plaza. the night ended with pizza and a lasting mutual love for each other.

so when he heard those cries again - a part of him was pulled away for a moment. he excused himself from his conversation with his friend, avoiding attention as he slipped out of the room to run down the hall.

Soobin heard him coming, so watched the changes in his expression as he swept into the space with a new brash wash of vitality. the door was solidly flung open, concern gracing his features.

"what the hell is going on in here guys? why is - why is y/n in here Soobin? and - crying? isn't she meant to be on soon - we could hear you guys from down in ATEEZ's makeup room - I had to stop some from coming with me -"

upon entering the room, and tumbling out an exasperated list of questions and queries, it took a few seconds of registering the scene for Beomgyu to finally come to a conclusion.

the heavy door closed softly behind him as he exhaled.

"oh, shit."

your sobs were choked, your previously perfect face of makeup now tear-streamed like a watercolour of mascara and coloured graphic liner spilling over your cheeks.

the day had started so well. and you hadn't been this overwhelmed in - since the time with Beomgyu.

you felt so much guilt, but you were unable to control the pain of too many stimuli poking and tearing at your brain and body.

bending at this angle - arms tucked against your chest and body to the floor - was making you choke and cough out tears, but it was the only thing that could ground you.

Soobin met Beomgyu's wide shaking eyes, shaking his own head before explaining what he did manage to gather before you snapped.

"she was saying she felt dizzy from the bass vibrations, then the fireworks started going off above us and she just completely lost it. I just don't know what started it, like this morning - she was completely fine in the apartment, and on the phone on the way over... this wasn't meant to happen today, of all days..." you heard Soobin explain - with a sigh of apprehension - to Beomgyu.

he was right. it had been going so well.

but a panic attack mixed with an onslaught of sensory triggers caused your brain to thaw and body to catch on fire as your heart leapt into your throat. your mind scrambled like a painful untuned radio on full blast, while your body kicked into fight or flight.

everything was too much - sound, taste, the feeling on your skin, the noise all around - and you were panicking for comfort.

.........

you often did prep in the same room as the boys - per your request. but today you were stationed in a spare makeup spot with a team you had never met before, and a newly debuted girl group that you couldn't communicate your discomfort with.

you were frozen in the makeup chair - struggling to swallow the anxiety in your shaking hands or withhold the flinching from the cold hands of the makeup artist. she was kind, but she had to do her job - and you were making it extremely difficult.

nobody had even noticed this hidden illness; until you had suddenly pushed back the chair with muttered apologies, your emotions finally bubbling over the hilt as the crowd and music above hitched up in volume and density -causing you to bolt out and down the hall until you found the door that read 'TXT'.

upon flinging the door open, you were met with a lightly napping Soobin, and as much as it pained you to wake him half an hour before an exhausting show, you couldn't do it anymore.

he awoke with a tiny yawn, blinking at you before cocking his head. a crease blessed his brows as he reached out to you - already dressed for the stage in a pristine suit.

"hey, baby - aren't you supposed to be down the hall? what happened? are you okay? you look - beautiful, but - upset?"

and then the anxiety bubbled up and out of your throat; stuttered crying sparked by the effort of a shortly staggered explanation.

you were having a sensory meltdown.

......

"y/n, I still need a colour - can I hug you baby? do you need a hug to ground you?" you shook your head a few times for no, but it was obvious you weren't calming down, if anything the snot that started to pool at your face and your incoherent bubbling noises for answers, was really starting to trouble your partner.

"okay angel, that's good enough. I won't hug you, but you need to calm down, you're making yourself even more upset than when this began. we don't want you going to the ER do we baby? because you can't breathe..."

you managed to raise a little, muscles rippling despite their tense state, shaking your head at Soobin with a few weak snivels.

and as the calm had begun to process - reaching eyes with Soobin as he left a gentle knuckle in the path of your wet cheeks - everything around you exploded.

the fireworks on stage, the bass of the music rattling your world, your heart, your tears, the static in your mind and the terror in your voice.

"RED Binnie, red - please - I need Junnie, please, I need Yeonjun, please - it's so - loud - please -"

Beomgyu made a startled noise, obviously affected by your pain and the fear in your voice.

"Jesus Soobin - I didn't realise it was this bad, man..."

Beomgyu watched with a twisting gut as you called out for your main support in a crisis - pushed to your limits in what should have been a regular and safe environment.

this was one of fate's days of tests of faith and courage.

Soobin had immediately teared up at seeing you in so much pain, watching you melt into body-claiming anxiety. he fought to keep his emotions in check, but his Adam's apple betrayed him, bobbing with each inhale.

"y/n, you need to breathe baby -" his voice broke as his hands rushed to you like a pull of gravity, before wrestling with the pain of not overwhelming via touch.

Soobin shushed your cries, painfully, before bending to tuck your hair behind the hands you pressed firmly against your skull. tears now spattering on the floor as you curled in on yourself.

he couldn't touch you like he yearned, couldn't envelop you in security - in fear of causing more upset - so he had to speak you through it.

but you couldn't hear him, couldn't process anything anymore.

"I can't Binnie - I can't do it anymore..."

Beomgyu's whole body twitched towards the door - his instincts forcing him to open it and run to find his older brother as fast as possible.

"I'll go find him!" he semi-shouted over the waves of noise booming from above, desperate to stop your pain as soon as possible.

Soobin nodded, wiping at his sniffling nose.

he was upset he couldn't protect you but was prepared to help you through this, no matter what.

.........

symptoms generally differ, but your sensory overloads had pretty consistent symptoms.

first, came the anxiety. a fizzling ball of charcoal in the pit of your gut that choked you with the smoke of unsaid words.

then the heightened sense of every 5 options, your environment forcing you to intake information at a speed your brain is unable to handle.

your skin feels everything and any pressure on your body that isn't wanted causes a faux kind of pain.

the boys had seen you become overwhelmed before, but it wasn't necessarily a common thing. thankfully, you had all spoken through it as one of the major stressors on the triplet.

the soothing came with time - and plenty of it.

removing the aggressor may not be the easiest thing in this scenario, but removing aggravates was the best tactic to reduce those chemicals running under hot and sensitive skin.

.........

after what felt like hours of rocking on the floor, heaving sobs and crying out for the loud sounds to stop, Soobin humming a gentle tune to distract your aching brain, a familiar figure quizzically opened the door at a slow pace.

there was a moment of silence.

Soobin's breath caught in his throat and a small gasp escaped from the new body in front of you both.

"oh, my loves -"

closing the door behind him, Yeonjun cautiously knelt on the floor in front of your folded over body.

he looked over you, making sure you weren't physically hurt, before turning his eyes to Soobin.

he was dishevelled. temporary bags under his wet eyes betrayed the breath he held, trying to keep it together, for your sake.

Yeonjun reached his hand out to thumb at the tears on Soobin's face, smiling ever so carefully as Soobin's head dropped, defeated. he released a quiet, selfless outcry before dabbing at the light foundation on his face, trying to keep it together.

the elder boy moved to squeeze his neck gently. taking a moment of silence to comfort the both of you.

"Beomgyu caught me on the other side of the venue, talking to Wooyoung. we didn't hear y/n, but he filled me in as much as he could remember..."

Soobin couldn't take it upon himself to lift his head up or answer his partner, simply nodding as he swiped at his nose. Yeonjun watched him uncritically. taking in his reaction and nodding to himself, rubbing Soobin's shoulders in a side hug.

"Does anyone have anything to say? seems like we both need a little love, hmm?"

he waited for one of you to speak before you forced your body up, struggling to keep your weight up via shaky arms and thighs.

when you looked up, you were roughly eye level with Yeonjan.

"Hey, baby," he whispered, his smile sweeping the pain away from your world, if only for a moment.

it was like he saw you, understood everything you were, and nodded in acknowledgement, all in one second. there was no judgement there - he looked at you like the most precious thing he had ever seen.

"something went terribly wrong tonight, hey babe?"

your attempt to answer was broken and incoherent, your voice a telling sign that you had reached a peak - rough, weak and broken.

"It's okay, you don't have to speak. just breathe. take a sec, while the stage isn't so loud." Yeonjun uttered, voice deep as his volume remained low and calm. his hand brushed the hair back over your forehead to the crown of your head, the firm and soothing motion making you shiver.

since he had entered, the aggressive beast of bass speakers had rested into a distant grumble. laying low, for now.

"can I speak with Binnie first, love?" Yeonjun asked sensitively, checking in with your security first.

you nodded, coughing out tears in one last desperate attempt to form a sentence, before giving in and crumbling back down to the cold floor.

guided by his smile and rock-solid presence, you let the boys speak as you tried to self soothe and ground yourself a little.

Soobin explained in as much detail as possible as to Yeonjun how you had tumbled in; in pure panic, as you told him the music was overwhelming and the outfit was too tight; the makeup artists were too close and the hair team were pulling too hard.

he told him how the fireworks and bass music vibrations had sent you into overdrive; and how you broke down onto the floor in terror.

Yeonjun sighed softly through his nose, finally bringing his other knee down to rest on the floor. he closed his eyes for a moment, with a nod, before he could make a solid decision.

he used his thumb to tap at Soobins jaw, the younger boy looking up at him.

"do you think you'll still be able to go on stage tonight, baby? we've still got roughly an hour left before we're due on - roughly. hopefully, it's long enough for us all to recoup. can you make it, love?"

Soobin's face scrunched with determination, releasing a pitiful noise as Yeonjun softly kissed his temple. his nose brushed Soobin's cheek, soft lips pressing against his ear and temple. Yeonjun didn't rush him for an answer, brushing the hair from his eyes and remaining silent as he watched Soobin fight - for you both.

eventually, Soobin nodded. "yeah, I'm good. I'll go."

"how about you go get some air babe, and I'll stay here and try to calm her down, hmm? how does that sound? take five."

Soobin hesitated, leaving a long pause of silence before he turned to press a kiss to Yeonjun's mouth. it was desperate, lingering, and told the older one everything he needed to know. Yeonjun coursed his fingers through Soobin's scalp as his head dipped to his shoulder, Yeonjun resting his cheek on his hair.

he didn't want to leave you. it was more painful to walk away, while you were still in pain.

"you did good baby," Yeonjun purred against his hair. squeezing him a small amount of reassurance.

"she'll be okay. just a lot to take in, I'm guessing. I've got her, it's alright. go on - go take five. I've got this for a minute."

Soobin lingered a little longer, before pulling away with avoidant eyes and a nod.

Yeonjun let the younger rise to his feet and go get some breathing space; watching him collapse on the couch near the air con. arms behind his head as he tried to process the grief of seeing you so distraught. his eyes closed and his body took deep belly breaths that brought peace once more.

"I'm sorry Yunnie - I'm so sorry - I didn't mean - I'm sorry Yun -"

Yeonjuns ears almost didn't pick up your mumbled and tired apologies, but at his name, he turned to face you. his mind had wandered watching Soobin release his tension, but your voice called him back to the task at hand.

"hey, it's okay. things were just getting too much, right? that's not your fault angel."

you nodded, heaving short and quick breaths as you tilted a little, very very slowly calming yourself down.

"is there anything we can do that will help you calm down, y/n?"

Soobin must have explained you didn't want to be touched, as he waited patiently for you to register and form a response. moving slightly closer if only to hear you better.

after a long few moments of processing his question; you pushed yourself up to your knees. he met you with patience, watching you try to respond non-verbally with care to get the right message.

your palm tapped against the leather corset pulling tight on your ribs, the leather boots laced far too tight on your ankles and calves, and the thick strap of a choker on your neck before looking at him for confirmation.

usually, you would have loved a heavy rock styling - but fate had proven bad timing in the clothing department tonight. the fake pvc leather was hot, sticky and tight.

you couldn't speak - that was too much right now - and only a trained/familiar eye could decipher your tense and strained movements.

Yeonjun nodded softly with a sheepish look, calling over Soobin after confirming your signals by tapping at the same places - you must have taken longer to answer than you thought, as Soobin had resolved himself, his gentle aura back at the driving wheel - before you cut off the newly welling noise above you all by pressing your palms to your ears and dipping your chin.

the moments of silence between choruses and songs, break dances and stage switchovers were the only chance they had at communicating clearly with you.

it was going to be a long night for everybody.

they must have been coordinating behind you, you realised; as Yeonjuns hands wiggled under your own - his larger palms enveloping the hot skin of your cheeks in comfort, finally feeling held.

you opened your eyes to see his, comforted by his determination.

carefully, he guided you to sit up on your knees. he slid forward so that one of his thighs was between your own; allowing you to balance indirectly as you squeezed tightly and centred gravity. it erased any fear of touching your torso more than necessary.

your eyes squeezed shut as gentle lips placed themselves at your forehead and your shoulder; one after the other. then your nose, the nape of your neck. your temple, at the base of your spine. the corner of your mouth, the edge of your shoulder.

new waves of emotions flowed through you - laments of love emerging, before you surrendered into their hold, and released the last of your troubles. two separate bodies, with you acting as the sacred link.

you could hear them talking above you, around you, behind you - but instead, you tried to focus on the lips on your hairline and palms blocking out the noise. instead of the ache in your body and the piercing headache racking your brain. your hands gripped at Yeonjun's jacket sleeves, gripping and squeezing to slowly ground yourself. his breath against your forehead kept you in the world. and the motions behind you pushed you back into the darkness.

the two of them acted as fates equilibrium.

Soobin worked carefully and gently to unstring the unreasonably tight corset, allowing you a pause between each release.

it felt like it took years of tugging, pressing, unwinding of string that tapped on your bare arms. your whines that told them to stop for a moment, and your hands pressing against Yeonjun's chest let them know where you were at without actually distressing you.

once Soobin had released the last loop, you heaved a few large and sudden big breaths, holding on to Yeonjun's wrists, holding his palms to your ears as you keeled over, allowing Soobin to slip the corset quickly out from underneath your belly and ribs.

Yeonjuns hands stayed dutifully on your ears, moving with you, as you crumbled onto his thigh. his black pants becoming slowly soiled by your tears and vibrating chest.

the sudden and intense release caused a shiver to shoot up your spine and sparked the fodder of anxiety once more, if even for a moment.

"just let her breathe for a second." you heard Yeonjun state above you.

Soobin's hands gently massaged the space where your corset had been so tight on your ribs - a technique to soothe your muscle-to-brain communications, to pause the stress instructions in your nervous system. it worked. slowly.

eventually, you calmed down enough for them to remove the leather choker, sniffling as you heaved a few large breaths and rose again.

your eyes remained closed, accepting Yeonjuns reassuring flutter of a kiss against your lips.

they waited patiently as you swayed, but since you couldn't hear their asks of permission you tapped at it anxiously once your brain caught up to the tasks left. once the choking sensation began your fingers danced around your throat roughly, rushing to release the feeling of being choked.

with your eyes still closed, Soobin gently guided your hands away. barely holding your wrists as you allowed him to guide you, swallowing it all for him. your tactile attention went from your neck to Yeonjuns sleeves and blazer front once more.

it was tricky for Soobin to get a grip on the clasp; but eventually, it pinged off with a release of tension, your airway finally opening once more.

the relief from around your neck caused another smaller wave of release, but the repercussions were less intense this time.

.........

you don't even remember when, or how long, you had laid down on the floor, with your head resting on Yeonjun's leg. your palms pressed against the large grounding ones against your skin, checking they were still there as you came back into the room.

it was unlikely you passed out, more like your mind had spaced out as your closed eyes and loving figures gave your mind space to pause and burn out. disassociating to protect your mind from permanent grief.

but you were stirred by the faint noises of your aggravated boys, tones raised, along with new voices.

your forehead rolled slightly as you found the strength in your newly fatigued muscles to roll your body up and identify the sound. but it took a second, and a discreet moan of pain to re-instate your presence.

Yeonjun had almost forgotten you were there - ten minutes had passed since you had gently fallen onto his thigh, body unfurling into a more relaxed position as you mentally checked out. he wasn't sure what was worse; your wails, or your silence. but he knew it meant you felt safe and the boys quietly cared for you and each other while they waited.

Soobin remained there with the two of you, gently running his fingers over the showing skin on your arms and humming when your face scrunched in reaction to unwelcomed noise. speaking with Yeonjun and remaining whole in the silence of love.

Yeonjun tried to let you rest for as long as possible, even with the burn in his thighs - but watched you carefully as you rose to take in the new problem around you. the show had come to a pause - midway break causing people to regroup and mingle where they maybe weren't so welcome.

your brain was slow to process; but the most important thing was that Soobin was standing beside you, Yeonjan knelt in the same place in front.

the rest of the TXT boys had entered, lounging on the couches and on their phones. but they all looked equally anxious - staring at the door with pained expressions.

you blinked to see what everyone was arguing about; completely missing Yeonjun's eyes stuck dutifully to your expressions.

your manager had entered the room - and he was demanding that you performed. even despite your state on the floor, dressed only in a bra, shorts and thick boots. someone - you imagine Soobin - had tied your hair back and away from your face.

it seemed you had 'awoke' mid-conversation, as Soobin was clashing passionately in discourse with your often questionably strict manager.

upon watching you warily for signs of upset, Yeonjun carefully peeled the furthest palm from the door, away from your cheek, in order to speak to you.

you whined softly as the heat sapped away from your cheeks if only a little. the noise poured in, but as the air was silent, it was less abrasive. he chuckled softly, reaching forward to place a kiss on your nose.

"Hey, baby -" he spoke quietly with a lopsided smile, trying not to draw attention from everyone, keeping his attention only on you.

but he quickly failed.

Soobin glanced down at your voice, his demeanour immediately softening (arguing on your behalf defiantly as Yeonjun kept you physically guarded), his knuckles coming to brush against your cheek, almost unconsciously.

the manager paused to watch you all; to see if you were truly as bad as they had made out. so far you just looked like you had fallen asleep from exhaustion; something that could be overcome.

Yeonjun rushed to give you information before your environment overwhelmed you with loud shouts of an argument that was bound to resume over your body and state of being.

your eyes strayed but you were brought back to focus by his voice. you met his eyes once more. he resumed once you settled.

"you don't have to speak y/n, but your set is in less than five minutes, and your team is asking for you to do emergency makeup to go on stage -"

Yeonjun cringed a little as your eyes immediately grew teary and wide in record speed, head shaking so suddenly he released your cheeks in fear of causing pain.

before he could finish, your red teary eyes had blinked at a fast pace, struggled noises in the form of disagreement and words in your mouth sticking together as you rushed to express how much you could not perform in your current state.

he almost felt your anxiety bubble up and explode like an inexperienced geyser, shaking him away to release the tension so suddenly.

he could only watch as you let your emotions show on your sleeve; shutting down your gathered team's inhibitions at letting you rest, and leaving only your manager to argue your position with.

"NO, Yunnie - no, no - I can't - go - out there - NO, please - I can't sing - dance - please - not tonight - can't do it - I can't do it Bin-Yunnie, mmm no -"

and like that, your efforts of settling that big black wave had crumbled away. and the tsunami of grief once again rose to the surface to pour out of your eyes and tremble your skin; body tensing as you fought to stay in control.

Yeonjun tried his best to stop the wave of emotions pouring back, but his panicked voice probably did the opposite to soothe. along with his widening eyes and the glance towards the other rest of your team that had begun to gather at the door at the sound of the suddenly paused argument, anxious to see you.

"Hey hey, you're okay, let me finish, you don't have to go, I just need you to confirm -"

without much need to think, you rushed further forward onto Yeonjuns thigh to wrap your hands under his armpits and press your face firmly to his taller chest. heaving a large, powerful sob as you shook your head and held onto him for dear life.

he let out an exasperated sigh, immediately shushing you, moving your face to hide into his neck.

"Alright alright alright, I got it y/n, I got it, it's alright."

his arms drew around your body in the form of a compression hug - grounding your body by holding you against his torso and swaying gently. his cheek pressed against your hair, pressing kisses to your face and neck in a soothing effort. your sobs were weak, staggered, and painful to everyone around you.

"you don't have to perform tonight - you're alright, I've got you. we've got you, y/n. Binnie wouldn't let you go out, even if you wanted to love."

he tried to make you laugh, an awkward smile breaching as he kissed your cheek, now with the permission of touch he was able to brush the dampness firmly from your cheeks with a tissue gifted by a nearby team member. Soobin's hand graced your hair, affirming you should rest.

but as Yeonjun guessed, the argument resumed over your ears, and in the position of this solid hug, he was unable to block your ears.

your feelings welled in your chest enough for you to peel back, Yeonjun watching as you aggressively tapped, rubbed and kicked at your solid, suffocating and squeaky boots.

unable to process anything as the noise made you cringe, teeth grinding. with you sitting on your ass, back towards him, Yeonjun used this moment to release the tension in his thighs, legs resting either side of you as you stressed at trying to kick the shoes off against the concrete floor.

he had to act quick before you hurt yourself. it was blind anger from frustration and fear; the PVC being grazed by the friction (which made you cringe even more from the noise in an awful cycle), and your nails digging dangerously into the top of the calves, no doubt bruising and damaging yourself in your frenzy.

Yeonjun gripped your wrists, painfully shushing your resistance as Soobin stepped over the two of you - too engrossed in protecting you to see his lovers struggling - to pull the argument away, others pausing to watch your struggled cries.

"y/n - baby - I'm going to take your boots off - but you need to let me -" his voice struggled and grunts sounded as he pulled your hands to your ears and used his legs to stop yours.

it took a minute - a hot minute - but eventually, your anger ebbed and your cries turned into whimpers. Beomgyu had appeared, offering you water as you held yourself and the water bottle desperately.

"I'm sorry baby, I know it's hurting. give me a minute, I'll get them off." Yeonjun permeated this with kisses to your neck, thrown away from him in frustration. your body attempted to roll away, anything to get him off and peel your boots off your hot skin -

Beomgyu gently tapped your arm, distracting you.

his usually sunny smile was present, blowing a raspberry at you and completely contradicting the shouts of your manager and Soobin, who had now gravitated behind the closed door of the dressing room you and the rest of the TXT members (and their team) were waiting in. ten people remained, at max.

"hey, y/n. do you want some food? help with that water? we have chips - well, Kai has chips, but I'll make him share them if you want some."

this allowed Yeonjun enough time to reach down and grip your thigh, bending your knee to get the boot within reach.

you groaned softly, but before you could react, Beomgyu whistled quietly, tapping at the hand that was gripping at the poor plastic bottle of water.

"Hey, come on, I'll help with that. you must be exhausted. and your throat must hurt."

it felt mean, but the disorientation distracted you from the pain and allowed Yeonjun to figure out these disgusting boots. they were zipped all the way up to your calf, with edgy laces in the middle and five buckled straps covering the zip. he performed a small mental curse and prayer before moving his torso to lean past your back and get these damn straps off.

Beomgyu held his hands out, awaiting your acceptance of help. but in fact, you were so brain-fuzzy, he ended up gently taking it from your grip, that you relaxed instantly.

he rested a hand under your jaw as you drank. and although the whole thing was pretty absurd, you finished two-thirds of the bottle without pause.

as you released the bottle and Beomgyu moved to pace it to a team member, the tension in your right foot instantly released, the boot being tugged off and air hitting your skin as you rushed to peel your sock off and massage your feet.

Yeonjun relaxed for a moment as you got your emotions in check, smiling with love as you looked back up behind you, to see his face.

"no tears on this one?" he mumbled, eyes gentle as he prepared for your reaction.

you gently shook your head, flexing your foot as the tension released and the claustrophobia eased. but you still had one foot left.

Beomgyu appeared once more as if on stage queue, tapping the opposite side as he brandished some plain tortilla chips.

you didn't need quite as much conviction as the last boot; but Beomgyu sat beside Yeonjun's leg and your side, sharing the chips with you.

he came in handy though; a caught zip making you cringe as your attention snapped back to your tight and cramped toes, head whipping away from Beomgyu.

but before you could speak, a chip was passed delicately yet firmly between your lips, his hand guiding your face back.

"you looked hungry." he giggled as you smiled at him, hell, the first time at anyone tonight.

eventually, the boot came off, and Yeonjun hugged your torso tightly as you relaxed. all other aggravates other than the venue, finally removed.

"you worn out, y/n?" Yeonjun's voice mumbled against your ear, emitting a chuckle when you nodded.

"got your words back yet?" looking back at him, you slowly shook your head. he laughed kindly, kissing your cheek and crossing his legs beneath yours in one big movement. he really was such a touchy person.

"'m sorry... I'll try and leave - next - next time..." you managed, forcing through a mind-to-mouth stutter with an un-cooperative and sluggish mouth.

Yeonjun hummed softly in response, swaying you slightly in response.

he chose not to respond, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he held you both.

just happy you were okay, for now.

.........

the argument between the staff and your boys deflated shortly after, with an eventual stalemate as you were pulled from the lineup five minutes before showtime - with twenty minutes left for the boys to prepare for the stage.

you had a management team to answer to, and an appearance to make up for, but right now all your boys were allowing you to think about was yourself and them, and how you were safe together. but you already knew that.

you remained relatively attached to Yeonjun for the next twenty minutes as he moved you both to the makeup chair, allowing you to sit on his lap. shorter than him, and surrounded by a familiar team, you relaxed enough to lightly doze some fatigue away. just up until they had to leave for their performance.

your heart pained as they (all 5) left to perform, granting good luck and 'break a leg' to your boys; hugging Soobin so hard he wheezed, to make up for the lost hug given instead to Yeonjun. he happily kissed your cheek in return, just happy to see you slowly coming back to business as usual.

you waited for them in a borrowed hoodie from Soobin and a stolen pair of joggers from wardrobe - clothing lose and soft to touch. the smell on the jumper cocooned your brain and sat in the room alone, you were oddly at peace.

as you waited you hummed along to their set, now not surprised by the loud noises as you fell asleep with the fans breeze against your back and the subtle vibration of the venue, now a less intrusive sound.

they returned after their whole set, around twenty minutes later, to find you curled up at the end of the sofa against the arm.

their hearts ached, and after cleaning up enough to leave, Yeonjun took dibs on scooping you up and against his body.

all five boys, and you, leaving for the comfort of home after a long night.

.........

"mmph-" you grumbled, peeling open your heavy eyes to process where you were. you first noted soft kisses being left against your ears and cheeks, and the secure arms around your torso. the light at the front of the mini-van and the one above your head. the slight rumble of the engine keeping the heaters on, before being cut off.

somehow - you had slept through the boys coming in and changing out of clothes and being generally loud as usual in their group. your makeup had been removed by a kind staff member as per Soobin's request. and you had been carried out to the car, seated on Yeonjun's legs in the middle seats and stayed peacefully unconscious through a twenty-minute road trip to the nearest doughnut bar, until the car pulled to a stop and lips pressed you lovingly awake.

"hey baby - how you feeling?"

Yeonjuns voice fizzled into your brain before you realised he was trying to slowly wake you up - the bus' door left open for the cool breeze to enter and the members quietly eating.

"I've been better... am okay...." you managed, wiping your sleepy eyes and swiping at your hair. you probably looked at a state, and Yeonjun's legs probably killed, but he didn't seem to care.

he chuckled softly, continuing to press soft, open-mouthed kisses against the hot skin of your neck until you lamented some space, his airy laughter replaced with an intrigued hum as Soobin returned to your front three seats with a box - of freshly creamed doughnuts.

he smiled upon seeing you awake and not upset, settling in his seat before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

"hey y/n. how are you doing?"

his eyes were soft, crescenting as you whispered an "okay...", reaching to brush his hair with your fingernails. he smiled gently, exchanging a look with the boy behind you, before reaching to pull out your food - two cream and jam doughnuts.

as you watched him, watched how he laughed and how he cared for the two of you, you saw how hard Soobin's smile had stuck, from seeing you awake - and as you peered back at Yeonjun, you realised his expression had eased too. you were filled with love.

Soobin lifted your legs over him as the bus set off again, with you pawing at him until he relented his teasing and gave you a doughnut, finally. he was just happy you were safe.

and Yeonjun's arms never released from your waist. lips trailing absently against your temple sometimes, as he looked out of the window. one of his hands linked with your own, another with Soobin. and you all shared a hand, in a tumble of love,

and when you checked again; their smiles were still there.

despite the painful days in life; love keeps us going.

and as you tumbled together into a twist of limbs, between a duvet and a mattress; you returned all the blessings and comfort and energy borrowed; keeping you all whole.

two lips told you of mortal heaven; of peace and of the power of healing.

the power; of loves healing.

- love Liv <3

well would you look at that: updated 15/may/2022

[asha-mage]

Missing the Mark: Language, Style, and a Discomfort with Ambiguity

I have a lot of respect for Sanderson as an author, even if his books are decidedly Not For Me, I can appreciate that clearly he has enough skill at his craft to have attained a degree of success as an author that few even dream of. And beyond that, reading his forward of The Gathering Storm has never failed to make me burst into tears, as his clear grief and pain at the passing of Robert Jordan comes through in a way that speaks to my own. I've very rarely felt like a kindred spirit to an author the way I do reading that forward, sharing in the loss of someone who was such a huge and important part of my life because of the books he wrote and the impact they had on me.

That said.

I can respect Sanderson's decision not to try imitating Robert Jordan's signature style of writing for fear of it being a kind of disrespect, while still thinking he did not expend enough effort to adapt his own style to the world and characters of WoT. Some of this is subtle (the way he mentions the 'soil made red by iron' or 'the very carbon of their spears'), which while annoying doesn't fully break with the sense of world. But their are cases where it is far more overt and far more jarring.

For example the use of the phrase 'medical aid' in the prologue, despite the fact that the word 'medical' has never appeared anywhere else in the entirety of the story. Sanderson likely does this to distinguish the aid the characters in question (Seanchan sul'dam) will get from the power-based Healing that the readers are more familiar with (which the sul'dam would find repellent). The desire not risk equating lower-case-h healing with Capital H Healing makes sense, since Sanderson doesn't want to confuse the reader. But it betrays a lack of the trust in the reader to be able to distinguish between the two, and more over a lack of imagination to phrase it in a way that wouldn't begat confusion. Instead Sanderson turns to a very modern phrase that doesn't frankly fit the world of WoT.

This is a broader problem with Sanderson, who I've always said writes like one hell of a scientist. He has an innate desire to categorize, identify, and separate terms, resisting ambiguity and doubt in how he writes. Sanderson's tenor sees the term 'channeling' go into common practice by all characters, and distinctions between saidar and saidin users, even among characters for whom it makes no sense to understand those terms or use them. Jordan has most characters, especially ones without much worldly knowledge, lump all use of the One Power together, and think of all channelers as Aes Sedai whether or not it makes logical sense (Rand ran into this problem especially early on internally and externally). Most people are certainly not even really familiar with the terms saidin and saidar for most of the series, not understanding the difference unless they have cause to know. By contrast, even common farmers understand the difference in Sanderson's run, and can draw a clear distinction between Wilders, Aes Sedai, damane, and Asha'man, without any prior experience with those groups, and moreover comfortably use terms like channeler, saidin, and saidar, despite all the fear, doubt, misinformation and ambiguity about the One Power that exists throughout Randland.

This also leaks over into the way Sanderson depicts characters, who all possess a baseline level of self awareness that shows his lack of comfort with ambiguity and doubt. One of the maximums of Jordan's writing is that people in general know very little about themselves, and are more likely to see themselves and others in distorted or incorrect fashions based on their prejudices and basis. I'll talk more about this when I talk about Perrin and Mat specifically (and more over how Mat's charm and Perrin's central character conflict are wrapped up in the distorted views they have of themselves, and the distorted views others have about them), but what's important for this particular meta is that it shows again Sanderson's lack of comfort with ambiguity. Characters always see themselves and their problems with clarity, and the struggle is not a search for understanding of themselves and others, but rather a means to overcome the obstacles of their problems. They also are far less likely to have distorted views of each other, and when characters do judge each other based on biases and misunderstandings, these are often cleared up with very little strife. Gawyn gets the worst of this, where he manages to basically correct his assumptions and biases about Rand entirely on his own through self reflection, without ever ACTUALLY having to confront or speak to Rand to realize he's wrong. Instead he simply magically realizes his own classism and prejudice are the problem, resolves to get over them, does, and never has to deal with it again.

Sanderson writes as I said, like one hell of a scientist: conflicts and characters are clear cut and well defined, as are the terminologies and language that they use to describe their world and each other. Conflict under him becomes more like a mathematical equation, a matter of getting the right pieces and the right characters into the right place to solve the problem at hand, without any of the messy more human parts to meddle with achieving that solution.

This stands in sharp contrast to the way Jordan writes conflict, which is heavily interlocked with how he built his world. Jordan writes conflict and characters as a tangled web, each thread and action pulling on others, shaping the story and events in ways both obvious and subtle, for good and bad. An often repeated maxim of Egwene's character arc, the law of unintended consequences (where regardless of whether what you do has the effect you want it to or not, it will have at least three you never expected and at least one will usually be unpleasant) is largely forgotten under Sanderson, replaced by a much simpler and more direct law: where each action has cause and effect, each problem has a solution, and the conflict lays in overcoming the obstacles to completing those actions, and arriving at those solutions.

Is that a bad way to write? Not really. It's just different. And yet that difference is fundamental, and it clashes with the nature of the story of WoT in a way that, each time it's made apparent, throws me out of the story, sometimes a little bit, sometimes a whole lot.

[tyonfs]

cat & mouse

❝ rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits, and, y/n, we just pushed that limit. ❞

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, college au, friends with benefits au

WARNINGS ▸ lots of !! sexual tension !! and jaemin acting like a dick, protective big brother!jaehyun, lots of sneaking around, jaemin calls you princess a lot, teasing, fingering, alcohol consumption, hooking up, thigh riding, smut, oral sex, aftercare

SUMMARY ▸ tired of meaningless hookups and dull parties, na jaemin had always been hesitant to indulge himself. that is, of course, until he met you. however, upon realizing you’re none other than jeong jaehyun’s little sister, jaemin has to keep his relationship with you under wraps to make sure his team captain doesn’t find out. 

PLAYLIST ▸ move! by niki • playinwitme by kyle (feat. kehlani)

WORD COUNT ▸ 17713 words

TAG LIST ▸ @chubsluda​ @celestialchans​ @treasurestay​ @luvlyjaemin​ @lanadreamie​ @kylomeyon​ @taehinsano​ @jenotation​ @ovelha-colorida-v​ @hrjflrt​ @to-blessed-2-be-stressed​ @honeyju​ @chanluster​ @sweetjaemss​ @najaemsenthusiastttt​ @neovrse​ @jjikyuu​ @treasurestay​ @ahgastayzen​ @wcnderlandss​ @jaehy9ngs​ @jaemxins​ @syhznanny​ @lilminyoongles​ @bbnana​

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so much for all of your love and support !! it’s beyond me & i hope you guys enjoy this ! part of the dunk shot! series but it can be read separately ♡

NA JAEMIN HATED PARTIES.

In the same vein, he hated basketball to an extent. It wasn’t the sport itself that he despised, it was the commitments that followed it. As a vital player on the team, he was obligated to attend every afterparty despite how much he loathed parties. Yet, what he couldn’t stand was being nagged by his teammates, so Jaemin went to the parties. He went to the parties and drank until he was numb and the party was tolerable.

He didn’t even like drinking that much, but he didn’t have much of a choice when most of the members of the basketball team were his seniors. Jaemin was pretty sure his brain cells depleted one-by-one every time he took a shot, but sometimes he got away with faking his alcohol intake when the others were too drunk to keep track. His best friend, Lee Jeno, on the other hand, lived for parties like this. Jaemin used that to his advantage; Jeno was the perfect target to hand off his unwanted shots to.

“Jaemin!” Jeong Jaehyun, the captain of the basketball team, made his presence known easily. After all, the parties were always hosted at his house. “Let’s do a love shot.”

If it were anyone else, Jaemin would’ve turned them down with some sarcastic, witty comeback. However, Jaehyun was different. Jaemin admired him since they were high schoolers on the basketball team. Jaehyun was two years older but his skills were on another level. Jaemin had always worked to see if he could surpass him but to no avail.

“Sure.” Jaemin got off of the couch, where he was aimlessly scrolling through his social media and observing the party. He followed Jaehyun to the kitchen counter. “You got tequila?”

It was a stupid question. Jaehyun was loaded; his supply of alcohol seemed endless.

“Of course,” Jaehyun replied. He took a red solo cup and measured a shot of tequila. “By the way, why don’t you talk to any of the girls here? You seem tense. You should get laid.”

It wasn’t like Jaemin intentionally avoided the girls. He just had no interest in people who wanted to blindly hook-up and forget about it the next morning. He didn’t completely ignore them either. Jaemin distinctly remembered a pretty blonde passing him her vape pen, which he politely refused. While he didn’t mind destroying his liver, he wanted to keep his lungs intact.

“There’s no one here I want to fuck,” was Jaemin’s impassive response. “Especially not when they’re drunk off their ass.”

“Is that so? How much did you drink tonight?”

“This is my third or fourth shot, I think.”

Jaehyun snorted and held out the red solo cup to him. “Well, here’s to your intact virginity.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Jaemin took the cup and swished its contents around. “Can’t we toast to something more practical? Like basketball?”

A chuckle escaped Jaehyun’s lips, bemused like a father to his son. He eyed Jaemin as he held the red solo cup to his lips. “Ready?”

Jaehyun didn’t wait for Jaemin, though. He tipped his cup up, downing the contents, and Jaemin followed suit as quickly as he could. The tequila was a smooth burn down his throat, but it made Jaemin feel slow and hazy. The fire spread across his chest, spreading to his arms, legs, and then his head. He felt fuzzy and was sure he had hit his limit for the night.

Jaemin took an unstable step forward, and Jaehyun put a firm hand on his shoulder, asking, “You good?” to which Jaemin answered with a dazed nod. With a grin, Jaehyun patted his back firmly. “See you when we’re both conscious again, man.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur. Jaemin found himself at a beer pong table and, in his drunken state, pretended he was practicing his free throws while he relished the crowd cheering him on. He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, cheering wildly at the side until he got a headache. Eventually, the house felt too stuffy and he decided to go out to the backyard to let his buzz fade out.

Outside wasn’t any better. The cheers were louder outside and the music was still blasting. The fog in Jaemin’s head thickened and he was sure he felt hands trying to guide him to the pool, but he brushed them off. He narrowed his eyes onto a lawn chair and willed himself to walk straight towards it.

Sit, he ordered himself. Do not get in the pool and make a fool out of yourself.

After pushing past a few of his teammates and the girls hovering around them, Jaemin’s knees buckled under him as soon as he got to the lawn chair. It was damp when he sat down, but he was too drunk and dazed to care. Jaemin looked up at the sky, unfocused, and was only pulled from his thoughts when his phone went off.

annoying jeno: where tf did u go? this girl wants me to introduce her to u

It was time for another shot.

Jaemin felt heavy. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and spotted a red solo cup on the side table to his right. He reached for it and inspected the contents, sloshing it around sluggishly until he noticed a pair of eyes boring into him.

You were isolating yourself from the rest of the party, just like him. You weren’t giving him the sex eyes like he had expected; you looked more confused. Unlike Jaemin, you looked much more sober and functional. It was painfully obvious by the way Jaemin couldn’t seem to focus on you without seeing double.

He wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol in his system, but Jaemin had no idea who you were, but fuck, he wanted to. He pushed it down, though. Hookups were never fulfilling, and Jaemin wasn’t here to let himself go.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jaemin asked in a low voice, trying to speak coherently without slurring his words. He wasn’t sure if it worked, but you seemed to understand.

To his surprise, you fired a question back at him. “What are you doing?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was obviously drunk off his ass, so what was he supposed to explain when it was clear as day?

“Waiting for this stupid party to be over,” Jaemin replied. He dropped his gaze back to the cup he held on his lap. “Why are you still staring? I’m not interested.”

“You’re holding my drink.”

Jaemin stilled. He looked between you and the cup for a moment before muttering a pathetic “oh.” He flushed and held the cup out to you. “Sorry.”

You took the cup gingerly and downed your shot before advising him, “You know, you shouldn’t be taking random cups and drinking from them at parties. You never know what they could be laced with.”

Jaemin’s head lolled to the side, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t want to join the party, but he didn’t want to sit back and be scolded. He was debating making a run for the fence in Jaehyun’s backyard. His house was only a few blocks away and he was pretty sure he’d be sober enough to make it. Jeno, however, was the obstacle he was worried about. If he ran off without telling Jeno (who was going to disapprove anyway), he was sure to get an earful the next day.

“Also,” you continued, “don’t go around assuming every girl who looks in your general direction wants to fuck you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jaemin grumbled, too drained to argue back. “Shouldn’t you be partying with everyone? It’s depressing over here.”

“This isn’t my party to celebrate,” you said, biting down on the rim of your cup delicately. “I’m just here for the drinks.”

Jaemin didn’t know what to say to that, so he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Na Jaemin, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied. “Pleasure to meet you, Na Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s eyelashes were obscuring his vision as he tried to squint to make you out. He wasn’t sure if it was the drunken stupor, but you were breathtaking. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Jaemin was currently seeing double of you. Jaemin wasn’t sure how he had ever missed you at any of the other parties (if you even showed up to those), but he was glad he snuck away to the backyard now.

Jaemin turned back to look at the scene before him, full of shrieks and shouts from partygoers as they danced off-beat to the blasting music. He almost didn’t notice the ultimate bastard, Yuta Nakamoto, walking over with his eyes set on not Jaemin, but you. Yuta only seemed to see Jaemin when he neared the two and, despite the awkward pause in the air, held his hand up to fistbump him. Jaemin lazily returned it, not really processing until seconds later when Yuta had already passed him.

It wasn’t that Yuta and Jaemin had any bad blood between them. Rather, Jaemin found the older boy quite fun to be around, and on top of that, he was a really supportive and caring teammate. However, when it came to parties, Yuta tended to be a lot more high-energy than Jaemin was.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yuta crooned deviously, standing over you with his hands shoved in his pockets. He crouched down so he was at eye-level with you, holding onto the arm of your chair. “Care to dance with me?”

“Yuta Nakamoto,” you drawled, a smile appearing on your lips. “I’m good over here, but you go have fun.”

Yuta stood up again, a cat-like grin spreading from ear-to-ear across his face as he stepped back toward the pool. “You’re gonna miss out, Y/N. You cool with that?”

The smile never left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him. Yuta turned to dive into the pool, making Jaemin’s nose scrunch as the splash was big enough to get water on his clothes. When Yuta surfaced, he smoothed his hair back and wiped the excess water from his face. He caught your eye again, winking before swimming toward Jungwoo and splashing him, leaving you shaking your head and chuckling.

“You two close?” Jaemin asked in a mumble, not quite sure where he was going with the sudden conversation.

You were shocked momentarily, but smiled when you looked over at Jaemin. “Let’s just say he wants to get in my pants but I find the age gap inappropriate.”

Jaemin snorted. “Really? How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Jaemin rose a brow. He was just a year older than you but not so far off from Yuta. He hadn’t seen many college students be so conscious of a legal age difference of a year or two. After all, nearly everyone was an adult anyway.

“That’s not so far off from Yuta,” he told you.

You hid a smile, nearly going unnoticed under the dim light, but Jaemin had just caught it in time. “He’s like, my brother’s age,” you replied. “It’s just weird.”

Jaemin didn’t really get it, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He was an only child so he didn’t really think his opinion was valid anyway. Yet, he must have been looking at you weird because you bit your lip and shrunk under his gaze. Jaemin swallowed and turned back to look down at his feet, trying to get his head out of the clouds, but the buzz was still too strong.

He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “What if it was me?”

“Huh?”

He wasn’t looking at you but he could feel your gaze boring into him. Jaemin wanted to melt into a puddle then and there. He was never the type to make a move like that, usually expecting girls to approach him, but now that he did, his skin was crawling with shame. Although, he figured it wouldn’t be too bad if he ended the night in bed with you.

Jaemin worked up the courage to turn his gaze to you. “I’m a year older than you. Would you be down if it was me?”

“Yeah,” you admitted bluntly, causing the tips of Jaemin’s ears to go red. “But I don’t know you, so…”

“Do you want to?” he asked, then clarified, “Get to know me, I mean.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, and it was far more deafening than the booming party around them. Jaemin’s gaze dropped from your face to look back at the college students wading around in the pool. Someone must have messed with the pool because it had started to fill up with bubbles, making the crowd cheer louder. Entranced, Jaemin nearly didn’t notice you when you were standing right over him. He arched a brow at you, scooting back a little out of shock.

“Do you want to get out of here then?”

You were smiling coyly and Jaemin didn’t have the willpower to resist anymore. He stood up, looking around for Jeno, before turning to you and nodding. Everyone was so consumed with the pool foaming up that it would be easy for them to escape from the backyard.

“I’m way too drunk to drive, but we can go for a walk,” Jaemin suggested, leading her out through the backyard fence. He had escaped from there countless times, only for Jeno to drag him back, but this time, Jeno was preoccupied.

Yet, something unsettled him about not informing his best friend, so he decided to shoot him a quick text.

jaemin: i’ll see u back home, i’m with a girl lol

annoying jeno: deadass? have fun

Now, at least Jaemin had one thing off his chest.

“So what’s your deal?” Jaemin asked you as he tried to focus on walking in a straight line. “You have guys like Yuta Nakamoto lining up for you and you’re passing up my boy?”

“If he’s your boy then why are you trying to make a pass at me?” you shot back, grabbing his arm to provide leverage when he stumbled.

“Touché,” Jaemin grumbled. “It’s not like he was scoring, so I might as well shoot my shot.”

“Did you score?”

The corner of Jaemin’s mouth twitched. “That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?”

Mutual attraction was such a strange feeling because the sexual tension was there and so loud. Granted, about 90% of it came from Jaemin, but something about the way you were still holding onto his arm and laughing at his stupid jokes made him feel like something was going to happen tonight.

“We should stargaze,” you offered, pointing at a grassy hill behind a park the both of you were passing by. Jaemin nodded in response, so you dragged him by the arm to the chosen location.

Stargazing meant laying down, and laying down meant not having to focus on walking in a straight line anymore, so it sounded absolutely heavenly to Jaemin right now. Somehow, he felt like such an amateur right now. No girl had ever asked him to lay down and stargaze with him; they always just skipped to the bedroom fun.

You let go of Jaemin to lay down on the grass, positioning yourself like a starfish before patting the space next to you and then moving your hands to rest on your stomach. You looked entranced with the stars above you, but the moment Jaemin laid down next to you, you turned to him, catching him off-guard. Jaemin’s eyes flickered from you to the sky above.

“The stars are beautiful,” he said weakly.

He couldn’t even see the fucking stars.

“Damn, I thought you were gonna call me beautiful for a second,” you teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“You wish,” Jaemin said with a light snort, swallowing thickly. “There’s no way I’m calling a girl that over my dead body.”

He was a terrible liar. It was clear when Na Jaemin was feeling lustful. His eyes would turn half-lidded and his voice would drop a few octaves. Right now, all of that was happening along with his fingers twitching at his sides. You were looking back up at the sky when he turned his head to look at you, and god, you were so pretty.

“Girls must come running for you,” you told him, “otherwise I really can’t figure out the ego.”

“That’s the problem when you’re a star basketball player and devilishly handsome.” Jaemin grinned, folding his arms behind his head. “You turn out like me.”

“How mortifying.”

“I know, right?” Jaemin turned onto his side for a brief moment to look at you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before. I’m sure I would’ve remembered…”

“Because I’m beautiful?” you offered.

Jaemin groaned, pink dusting his cheeks. “Why are you so fixed on that?”

You laughed in response while Jaemin just stared at the heartstopping curve of your lips. He felt himself grow hot, anticipation mixed with the weight of the situation. He had never been the type to feel so jittery around a girl, but here he was, a touch anxious because he was afraid of doing something wrong.

“That’s Orion’s Belt there,” you pointed out. “Can you see Betelgeuse?”

You turned to look at Jaemin to see if you had his attention, but did a double-take upon realizing that you, in fact, had his full attention. His eyes were directly on you, not the night sky above. The both of you were so painfully close, and Jaemin couldn’t resist when he reached over to brush a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“I can’t see the stars,” he mumbled, his large hand moving to cup your cheek. When your gazes were locked, he caressed your cheek with his thumb gently and leaned in to kiss you.

Well, he was about to kiss you until he felt your finger pressing against his lips.

“I’m down for whatever,” you told him sweetly, “but I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Jaemin wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sure, he found it a little weird, but he could see the reasoning behind it. You were probably one of those people who saved your kisses for something special—whatever that meant. Honestly, Jaemin didn’t really care about the significance, but he did know it would be amplified if he found “the one.”

“So this is a date now?” he asked, amused.

“Somewhat.”

Jaemin huffed lightly and leaned back, letting his hand retract back to his side. “Down for whatever? Even sex?”

You raised a very attractive eyebrow at him, making Jaemin short-circuit for a split second. “If you play your cards right,” you said airily, your voice all light and fluffy.

“Down for whatever but the offer isn’t extended to anyone over the age of twenty-one.”

You punched his shoulder hard this time. “Bite me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Whatever made Jaemin’s confidence swell was taking over fast. In seconds, Jaemin propped himself up with his elbow, using his free hand to brush your hair to the side and tilting your neck so he could have easier access to it.

To test the waters, Jaemin nipped at your supple skin, earning a hitch in your slowed breathing that encouraged him to do more. Jaemin left open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking harshly with each one. He licked his lips when he pulled away to look at your neck. You were tough to bruise but he loved a challenge. He maneuvered his body over you so he could indulge himself further, holding himself up with his forearms.

Jaemin dipped under your chin again, ravishing the side of your neck that he targeted. He littered the column of your neck with dark hickeys, smirking against your skin upon the sight. You were a squirming mess under him, tugging at his hair and bucking your hips up against his. Jaemin grunted softly, his hands pushing your hips down so you could no longer tempt him.

You wrapped your hands around him, one hand sliding up the nape of his neck to curl your fingers in his hair. Hands weren’t normally something that made Jaemin weak, but yours were driving him crazy with one in his hair and the other bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

He cupped the apex of your jeans, smug as you whined at his touch, yearning for more. Jaemin’s free hand grazed your waist before he lowered it to your hip. He pulled away from your neck to meet your gaze, biting his lip at your lustful expression.

“Can I?” he asked, pressing down slightly against your apex.

You nodded, about to say something but got cut off when Jaemin moved his hand down and palmed your clothed clit. Jaemin smirked once he heard the soft sigh falling from your lips. His breathing got heavier, mixing with yours as he started fumbling to unbutton your jeans.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Jaemin…”

Jaemin swallowed hard and tugged your jeans down your hips a little. He felt like he was losing control with every touch. He just wanted to hold you in his arms and spend the rest of the night with you, and it was impossible to shake off that feeling when you were looking at him like that.

He playfully snapped the waistband of your panties, letting out a chuckle when your face twisted up and you pushed at his chest. Then, you drew him closer again and guided his hand down your pants. Jaemin took a shaky breath when he felt how wet you were. It filled him with pride, of course, but he had suddenly felt so nervous. He had hooked up with girls before, but this felt weird to him. Different, to an extent. They were just going through the motions, but he was struck with some strange feeling that he didn’t want to mess up or do something wrong. It was like his first time all over again when he had no idea what he was doing.

His silent cry for help was answered with rain.

“Jesus, it’s raining now?” Jaemin asked with a disapproving huff, pulling his hand out of your pants. He wondered if the people in Jaehyun’s backyard were going to move back inside or keep partying through rain and storm.

“It is?” You frowned and reached a hand over him to catch some raindrops. “You make a nice umbrella, Na Jaemin.”

“How kind of you,” Jaemin replied, a bit distracted by the rain pelting his back. “Should we make a run back to Jaehyun’s or do you want to, like…”

“Do I want to do it outside in the rain?” you asked, quirking a brow at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot.”

Jaemin hauled himself up to his feet, holding a hand out for you so you could stand. You started patting down your clothes and fixing your fly. Jaemin did the same, making sure he looked presentable but he kept quiet about the dark hickey on the side of your neck. He squinted up at the drizzle of rain from the sky.

Cockblock, Jaemin thought bitterly.

Yet another distraction came in the form of a text message. Specifically, a text message from Lee Jeno.

annoying jeno: i’m going back to the apartment and ik ur with a girl but i left the keys at home so pls open the door

“Son of a bitch,” Jaemin grumbled to himself. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked at you when he noticed your questioning stare. Jaemin ran his hands down your arms, then held your waist gently. “I have to go.”

“Go?” you asked him, startled.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied with a sigh, not wanting to divulge how idiotic his roommate was. “Can I get your number?”

This perked you right up, thankfully. Jaemin was satisfied as he watched you enter your phone number in his phone. This almost made him feel better about having to leave you alone to walk back to Jaehyun’s house in the rain.

Scratch that. He still felt like a piece of shit.

Jaemin slept off the party rather well.

He was in a bit of a mood, however, seeming tired and cranky in the morning. He had nearly thrown his phone at Jeno’s face when his best friend tried to shake him awake in the morning. It was a miracle that he showed up on time for his lecture. Around the afternoon, he received a text from you and was far more awake and alert after that. By the time he got to basketball, though, he was in a much better mood.

That is, until Jaehyun called for a team meeting.

The basketball team members were all sitting on the bleachers, waiting for a pissed-off Jaehyun to speak. Jeno picked at his nails next to Jaemin while YangYang in front of them was fiddling with the basketball. Jaehyun was only ever serious during games, but now his anger showed in a subtle and scary way that even Taeyong was a bit shaken by the change in his mood.

“Now, I’m going to say this once and you all better listen up carefully,” Jaehyun said in a low, dangerous voice. “If anyone—and I mean anyone—lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are.”

Taeyong whistled lowly, impressed.

“Yuta,” Jaehyun continued, eyes narrowing at the older boy, “this message was inspired by you.”

“Received, reflecting, and apologizing,” Yuta said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll back off, Captain.”

“Good,” Jaehyun replied curtly as Yuta and Taeyong started to banter playfully over the topic.

Jaemin was unsettled. Jaehyun was upset over someone going after his younger sister? Now, Yuta was a flirt, but he recalled him pining for you last night and there was no way you were Jaehyun’s sister, right?

“Hey, Jeno.” Jaemin nudged the boy with his elbow. “Who exactly is Jaehyun’s sister?”

“Isn’t it Jeong Y/N?” he answered.

Goodbye world, was Jaemin’s first thought.

Yuta was flirting with you last night, but Jaemin straight-up nearly fingered you and—oh god, the hickey. Jaemin was at the end of his line right now, and if you said anything to Jaehyun, he was sure he was going to get his ass beat. He was starting to regret giving up his non-hookup life because of you; the only person Jaemin was flirting with now was Death.

“You good?” Jeno’s brows were knitted in concern.

“Jeno.” Jaemin swallowed down the dry lump in his throat. “Remember how I told you I was with a girl last night?”

“Yeah?” Jeno asked, searching Jaemin’s eyes for an answer. He found it rather quickly, eyes widening and voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh my god.” His gaze flickered from Jaemin to Jaehyun several times. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Jaemin whispered back. “We were both drunk. I’ll just ghost her subtly and she’ll forget about me. Easy.”

Jeno raised a brow at his plan. “Is hooking up with Jaehyun’s little sister worse than breaking her heart?”

“Oh please, it was one night. Give it a day or two. She won’t give a fuck.” Even though I kind of do, he added in his head.

The next time Jaemin saw you was after practice ended a few days later.

It had to be impossible that you could look any better than you did the last time he saw you, but here you were. It was unfair, really. Jaemin was a college student that was amped up with testosterone and hormones, and now he had no place to channel it. He was a second away from dragging you into an empty room and letting himself go with you, but then he remembered your older brother, and the horny thoughts dissolved into fear and shame.

“Ah, Jaemin,” you greeted with a cheerful smile.

Fuck, why did you have to be so cute?

Jaemin opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it and looked away from you. He leaned against the side of the bleachers and sighed while you were puzzled by his behavior. Although he wanted to ignore you, you were right there and the two of you were alone. Jaemin knew that the other guys wouldn’t be out of the locker rooms for another five minutes.

His gaze dropped to your hickey. It was so clear that you didn’t bother trying to cover it up, and the sight made Jaemin feel proud in some twisted way. Instinctively, he reached over and brushed his thumb over the sensitive bruise, smirking when you shivered.

“It looks good on you,” Jaemin complimented.

“Thanks.” You scoffed, then a mischievous glint shone in your eyes. “Maybe you should give me some more then.”

Jaemin stiffened, in a lot more ways than he should’ve. He gritted his teeth, willing the blood not to rush down all at once. He could not get horny at school when Jaehyun could walk out any second. And the older boy did. Jaemin backed away from you instantly, acting as if you were just some stranger passing by.

“I’ll pass,” he muttered under his breath and was sure you heard when he saw your face drop.

Great. Now he felt like an asshole.

“I gotta go,” he mumbled quickly before you could say anything else, moving past you to walk over to Jeno, high-fiving Jaehyun as he did. Jaemin didn’t have time to register your expression, but nevertheless, he felt like shit.

Jeno looked suspicious as Jaemin approached him. “Did you…”

“End it?” Jaemin finished for him. “I think so.”

“Can you just stop being a dick and talk to her?”

Ticked off, Jaemin took a deep breath. “If I talk to her, then one thing will lead to another, and Jaehyun—”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupted. “This isn’t about Jaehyun. This is about you and Y/N.”

Jaemin screamed out something incomprehensible and put his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you, Lee Jeno. Can’t hear you over me getting ready to go to a party and get wasted tonight.”

“Na Jaemin, you’re my best friend but you’re an idiot.”

“I know that.” Jaemin made a face. “But it’s time for me to go and forget that.”

Jaemin never failed to forget how much he hated parties. He was starting to regret showing up in the first place. One of his teammates, Jungwoo, had let him into his frat party. Normally, guys were selectively chosen because the frat boys wanted more girls, but Jaemin was wasting his opportunity of getting in by doing absolutely nothing.

This was why he didn’t like drinking. He wasn’t even fun when he was drunk; Jeno was a social butterfly, Yuta was a flirt, but Jaemin would just wonder if plants existed and think about you.

“You look pissed off,” Jungwoo observed, holding out a red dixie cup to him. “Are you sure you want to party?”

“Yes,” Jaemin grumbled, taking the cup from him and downing it in seconds. “I need to let go.”

“Of?”

“Myself.”

Jaemin patted Jungwoo’s back firmly and moved to the kitchen to pour himself another shot. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He let himself get all worked up over some girl he barely even hooked up with. All he did was kiss your neck and here Jaemin was, looking like some cheap, heartbroken loser.

Oh, Jaemin thought out of the blue. I never told her she was pretty.

Jaemin took another shot, closing his eyes firmly as he thought of laying next to you again under the stars. Your lips looked so soft and kissable, your eyes so curious and alluring. He tried to push it away and focus on the party and getting drunk, but you kept appearing in his head like a mirage.

Let go, Jaemin, he told himself. Indulge yourself.

Jaemin leaned against the counter, bored. He sloshed the contents of his cup around, taking another shot when he felt the buzz start to wear out. A pretty brunette walked past him, flashing a coy smile.

He supposed she was one of the cheerleaders, or maybe she was a sorority girl. Either way, she was attractive and Jaemin could use the physical contact tonight. Part of him felt like it was the wrong thing to do, but all he could think about was how annoying it was to overthink every little thing he did.

Jaemin made his way over to her, tapping people’s shoulders and maneuvering his way through the cramped frat house. Everyone was clustered like schools of fish. Jaemin hated this kind of environment, but nevertheless, he put on a mask and did his best to fit in.

“Hey,” he greeted the girl once he found her. “I’m Na Jaemin.”

She smiled in that pretty way again. “I know you. You’re on the basketball team.” She looked embarrassed for a moment, flushing as she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I bet you don’t know me, though.”

“I don’t,” Jaemin admitted, “but you have a gorgeous smile.”

She beamed at this. “Hey, could you hold my cup for a second?” she asked, holding out her red dixie cup to him.

You want me to hold your cup when you can barely hold a conversation? Jaemin thought distastefully but took the cup anyway.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for her patiently, and when she came back, Jaemin could tell she had left to touch-up her makeup. He could also detect the faintest spritz of perfume, but he wasn’t exactly sure, so he leaned closer to make sure.

Jaemin wasn’t sure how they ended up making out in one of the empty bedrooms upstairs, but by the time she was taking off her bra, he wanted to leave. He did his best not to look as bored as he felt throughout the heavy petting and removal of clothing, but his biggest fuck-up was worse than he had expected.

Even Jaemin himself felt mortified by what had just escaped his lips. By the disgusted look in the girl’s eyes, he was fairly confident this was going to spread around the school. As Jaemin was trying to conjure up some excuse for his actions, the girl stood up and started gathering her clothes.

“I’m not Y/N,” she muttered and left him alone in the room.

“Well, shit,” Jaemin grumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair after she left. “Should’ve told me your name then.”

Jaemin laid back on the bed, putting his hands over his face. He was royally screwed at this point and wondered if he had a shot at redemption. The fact that you were still on his mind was messing with him. Even now, after totally embarrassing himself, he was still stuck on you. To avoid further embarrassment, he pulled out his phone to deflect whatever impulsive action was creeping up his limbs.

jaemin: ok jeno im texting u instead of drunk texting y/n and confessing how badly i wanna kiss her

y/n: hi this is y/n

Jaemin wondered what sin he committed in his past life to get this unlucky.

jaemin: shit

jaemin: don’t talk to me i’m drunk at a party

y/n: jaemin you texted me first

jaemin: ugh i wanna see u so bad

jaemin: wanna make it up to u

y/n: oh my

y/n: you’re a little too drunk for that

y/n: but send me the address. i’ll come over and take you home

Jaemin was 98.75% sure that this was, by far, the stupidest thing he could do. Nevertheless, he shared his address with you and waited for you to come to get him. He hung out with Jungwoo in the meantime, slinging an arm around the older boy’s shoulder and confessing his embarrassing hookup while Jungwoo was high as a kite.

When you texted Jaemin that you were outside the frat house, he opened the door almost instantly. Jaemin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face when you were standing right in front of him. You opened your mouth to say something, but Jaemin cut you off.

“I might have… might have called out your name during a hookup,” he confessed, slurring his words while he tried to speak coherently.

You looked like you were deciding whether to think it was funny or be suspicious over the fact that he tried to hook up with someone and then texted you afterward. Eventually, you ended up laughing at his story, tutting at his actions. Jaemin walked by your side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He closed his eyes in an attempt to come back to his senses, only to be dragged back onto the sidewalk by you because he was apparently straying into the road.

“How much did you drink?” was your first question and one that Jaemin wasn’t sure he had an answer for.

“Six? Seven shots?” Jaemin counted but lost track after he held up five fingers. “I haven’t gotten this hammered in a while.”

“You’ve been flighty,” you told him. “I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you again.”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was the plan.”

“What?”

End it now, Jaemin, the devious half of his mind instructed. Break it off before it’s too late.

“I don’t exactly do hookups anymore, Y/N,” he said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but you happened to break that streak for him. But then came the lie. “I’m not looking for anything serious now either, and I’m sure you aren’t.”

They walked in silence onto the campus grounds, turning into the street where the student apartments were. You looked down at your feet, a little more disappointed than Jaemin had expected. More than that, it looked as though you were embarrassed.

Cue Na Jaemin feeling like a douchebag, which he was.

“Aren’t you the one who asked if I wanted to get to know you?” you asked him, brow arched.

Jaemin panicked, his words trapped in his throat for a second. Well, you got him there. He didn’t have a good excuse that made him sound less of a dick. Although, he was already probably about to be blacklisted from your life pretty soon, so it didn’t really matter.

“I was drunk,” Jaemin said as his brain was trying to throw random words at him. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

They made it to Jaemin’s apartment, which was thankfully on the first floor because he didn’t think he could stand an awkward elevator ride with you. You didn’t look at Jaemin once, but it didn’t seem as though you were angry. Rather, you looked confused, but Jaemin swallowed down his guilt and took a step back once they were at his door.

“Besides,” he continued shamelessly to deliver the final blow, “you always have Yuta.”

You rolled your eyes at him and stormed off at once after those words. Jaemin was left alone, still looking down at his feet. He let out a long, dragged-out sigh, hitting his head back against the solid wood of his door.

“Idiot,” he scolded himself.

It took Jaemin a whole week and a half to get over you.

Even then, he didn’t really get over what happened. He just stopped blaming himself for it in front of Jeno and internalized everything else. Talking to Jeno didn’t really help, anyway, because Jaemin would just be hit with the “I told you so” and then be silently judged by his best friend.

Jeno had gone home for the long weekend, though, so Jaemin could finally mope about his apartment without Jeno smacking him upside the head and calling him a loser. Although Jaemin agreed with that, he was tired of remembering how shitty of a person and it was a constant reminder of how he treated you.

Although, he didn’t expect that reminder to physically manifest when he saw you in the hallway of his apartment on Friday night.

“Y/N?” he blurted out impulsively.

Jaemin had just decided to get something from the vending machine, not expecting to see you when he was standing in front of his doorway in his grey sweatpants and lack of shirt. His hair was bedraggled from staying in bed all day after his morning lecture ended. In short, he wasn’t exactly presentable and this wasn’t the look he wanted you to see.

“Jaemin,” you said softly, looking a bit startled. “I was just leaving my friend’s place.”

“Look—”

“It’s fine, Jaemin.” You managed a small smile for him. “There’s no hard feelings, okay? Water under the bridge.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, biting your lip afterward. “I just hope you’re not one of those guys who ghosts the girl if they don’t get sex out of it.”

Jaemin could feel the ice in your tone but brushed it off. “Honestly, I don’t care about sex that much.”

“Then what do you care about?”

Jaemin fixed his gaze on you, narrowing his eyes. He should have been grateful that you didn’t take it too personally and had forgiven him, but something was off. He didn’t doubt your reasons for being here, but an undercurrent of desire was definitely still there.

His morals were bouncing around his skull, warring with each other. Jaehyun was yelling at him to stop, but you were also there, and so fucking pretty. You wanted him, and he wanted you—it was almost perfect if it weren’t for your overprotective older brother who Jaemin respected too much. Then again, Jaemin had been shouldering too much guilt over the past week. He was sure he could handle some more.

What Jaehyun didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

The hallway was empty, doused with lingering sleep. The world was dark outside but under the dim, flickering hallway light was you. And Jaemin was at his limit; he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, and something inside him snapped.

He grabbed your hands first before pushing you up against the wall and sealing his lips over yours. Your face morphed into a shocked expression, only making Jaemin amused as he pinned your hands up and over your head. Your lips were so warm and soft, molding against Jaemin’s lips perfectly. He felt your hands wrap around his neck to draw him closer, inciting a soft groan from the back of his throat. It was kind of pathetic that he was already hard, and he was sure you were aware of it by how he was pressed up against your lower body.

Jaemin picked you up effortlessly, scooping you into his arms by your thighs. You let out a little shriek and grabbed onto his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his torso at his encouragement. Jaemin took you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot before heading to his room and dropping you on his bed.

He had never actually let a girl into his room, so this was a first. Somehow, seeing you on his own bed was so arousing, and he had half a mind to just take you then and there. Jaemin made you sit at the edge of the bed while he stood between your legs, hands on your thighs. You looked confused for a moment, but let Jaemin run his hands up and down your thighs.

You and Jaemin should not be in bed together. Under no circumstances should the two of you even be acquainted in the slightest. The fact that you two met was all one big, cosmic coincidence, but sometimes the stars loved fucking around with human affairs.

“I told you I had to make it up to you,” Jaemin said in a low voice, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t have to forgive me but I can’t keep being a coward.”

“A coward? More like a douchebag,” you told him, holding his wrist so you could bite the tip of his finger as you looked up at him through your lashes. “But glad you came to your senses.”

“So you forgive me then?”

You smiled, all innocent and pure, unlike your words. “Not unless you make it up to me.”

Jaemin dropped his gaze down to your shorts, eyeing them for a moment before he started tugging them down. You raised your hips to help him take your shorts off, followed by your panties. Jaemin nearly sighed at the sight of you; you were so gorgeous and so ready for him. He wanted to completely blow your mind.

Then, the nerves got to Jaemin again.

“Y/N,” he started, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just cuddle or something.”

“Na Jaemin, if you don’t make me cum, I will scream,” you warned.

“Yeah?” Jaemin chuckled at your reaction. “I think you’re going to scream either way, though.”

“Shut up.”

Jaemin laughed, brushing your hair out of your face. He caressed your cheek, rubbing slow circles with his thumb before he dragged it down to your jawline. A small pout appeared on your lips and he ran his thumb over your bottom lip again as if he could wipe your pout away.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Jaemin said.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Jaemin plunged his finger in you, thumb quickly finding purchase on your clit and rubbing in slow, languid circles. He wasn’t very satisfied by your shell-shocked silence, so he added a second finger to get you moaning and squirming at his actions.

You gasped when Jaemin curled his fingers, and he relished the dazed expression on your face. He watched your eyelashes flutter and eyelids droop as he scissored his fingers in you, earning him blissful moans from your pretty lips. One of your hands was gripping the sheets at your side while the other was gripping Jaemin’s shoulder tightly. He knew he was doing a good job by the way your walls clenched around his fingers, and it made him swell with pride.

“You’re such an asshole,” you whimpered out, moaning again as he curled his fingers in you.

“Then why do you still want me?” Jaemin hissed. “You should have just hated me. I would have been fine if you weren’t so fucking perfect.”

You cried out as he plunged another finger in you. “Shit, you’re just—oh god.” Jaemin could tell you were at your peak, so he pulled his fingers out of you immediately, smirking at how distressed you looked.

Jaemin popped his fingers in his mouth, sucking off your juices. “You taste so good, princess.”

You scowled at him. “F-finish me off, at least,” you pleaded.

Jaemin gripped your thighs. “Oh, trust me, I will.”

Jaemin lowered himself and met your eyes before he leaned forward and sealed his lips over your clit, sucking harshly on the ball of nerves. You were so sweet and so wet, but what made Jaemin go crazy was the way the both of you locked eyes while he was between your legs. He let out a groan that vibrated against you.

He licked a strip along your slit, pleased with his reward of pants and moans from you. Your thighs squirmed around him so he gripped them harder and moved his hands up to your hips so he could eat you out with more vigor.

Jaemin snaked his tongue along your folds and you were gone. Already edged from being fingered, you were at your peak already. Back arching off the bed and hips squirming, Jaemin tongued your clit as he coaxed you into your orgasm. By the sound of your moans and cries, he felt like he was going to cum in his pants any second if you didn’t stop. You released over his tongue so easily, and Jaemin lapped it up as you made an effort to catch your breath.

At first, Jaemin was over the moon. He hooked up with you and wanted more. You were so enticing and Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. Then came the crushing guilt. It registered a bit late, but it was all the more painful. He had just eaten out his friend’s little sister and couldn’t help the fact that he wanted her so badly.

“Not bad, Jaemin,” you breathed out, fixing your hair as your thighs still stiffened and twitched every now and then. “Is this the part where you push me away and ghost me for another week?”

Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, battling frustration and shame. “Look,” he started, “the reason I pushed you away was because you didn’t tell me your brother is Jeong Jaehyun!”

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “Yeah, he’s my brother. Is that a problem?” Jaemin let out a heavy sigh and you raised a brow at him. “You got a crush on him or something?”

Jaemin’s expression soured. “No! He’s my friend and teammate, Y/N. There’s an unspoken bro code between us men.”

You rolled your eyes. “Here we go.”

“Rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits,” Jaemin said. “And, Y/N, we just pushed that limit.”

“You know, in girl code, we ask the friend for permission,” you offered.

“Jaehyun rounded us up at practice and told us that if anyone lays a hand on his little sister, he’s going to kill them,” Jaemin said. “I’m too young to die.”

You stood up to push Jaemin down by his shoulders, sitting him on the edge of the bed. Jaemin’s breath got caught in his throat when you sat on his lap, right where his bulge was painfully tented beneath his sweatpants. You traced his v-cut abs, making Jaemin shiver in response. He held your hips and swallowed thickly. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. If you were about to ride him, he was sure he could die a happy man.

“Jaemin, my brother doesn’t control my life, so he’s not killing you over anything, okay?” you reassured him, then leaned in closer, nibbling on his earlobe. Jaemin shivered at the contact, tightening his grip on you. “But, if you’re so worried about it, then we could sneak around.”

A guttural groan escaped Jaemin when you rolled your hips against his. Were you teasing him? Because it was hard for him to think and this distraction wasn’t helping. Either way, all he could think about was making you cum again and seeing that delicate look on your face as you crumbled in front of him.

“Sneak—sneak around?” Jaemin stammered, mouth going dry when you started taking off your shirt, and fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Huh?”

“Jaemin,” you said slowly, smirking as you traced a finger along his jawline. “If you don’t want Jaehyun to catch us, we can just meet up secretly.”

If this was a game of cat and mouse, there was a clear power difference right now; Jaemin felt more like the mouse while you were the cat.

Jaemin’s eyes darkened a bit. “Fuck yeah,” he mumbled, hand grazing your bare skin. His eyes devoured the way you looked, and you wanted to squirm at the hungry look on his face. It was kind of embarrassing how badly Jaemin wanted to skip this whole conversation and fuck you into oblivion.

“Jaemin,” you called again, noting how his eyes flitted from your lips to your eyes.

He gave up. “I’ll be honest. I have no idea what we’re talking about but if we’re keeping this going between us, I’m all for it.”

“Good answer,” you hummed and pressed your lips to his.

You were a damn good kisser, Jaemin observed. He didn’t notice it before, but you had on some sort of fruity chapstick on that was making his head go fuzzy. The taste was addicting, and thank god you bit down on his lower lip because he wasn’t sure if he could handle another second without his tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away for a moment so he could push you down onto the bed, getting over you. Jaemin sighed deeply as you skimmed your hands down his bare chest, fingers tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You know, I lied that night,” you told Jaemin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m not usually down for whatever, but I wanted to try my chance with you.”

Jaemin tutted at you, circling a finger around your nipple. “You shouldn’t have lied, Y/N,” he said, making you whimper when he pinched your hard nipple. “Could’ve stroked my ego a little more.”

“Sorry, but I’m not here to stroke your ego, Jaemin,” you simpered, choking over your words when Jaemin pressed open-mouthed kisses to your chest, eventually snaking his hot tongue across your nipple.

“You already are,” Jaemin murmured against your skin, littering hickeys as he kissed your chest. “Your reactions are so cute.”

Jaemin sucked on his fingers for a brief moment to provide some extra lubrication, not that you really needed it. He used his pointer and middle finger to rub against your slit, your whines growing needier as you became more and more aroused. After one more needy mewl from your lips, Jaemin had enough. He tugged his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, his hard cock slapping against his stomach once it was free.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned brokenly, eyeing the length of his cock.

“Such a good girl,” he crooned down at you, teasing his cock against your slit until you were a gasping, moaning mess under him. Then, Jaemin pulled away, clicking his tongue and grinning while you narrowed your eyes at him. “Condom,” he remembered.

Jaemin got off the bed to retrieve the silver packet from his nightstand, tearing it open with his teeth in one go. He caught you staring at how incredibly hung he was, smirking proudly as he slid the condom onto his shaft. He pumped it once for good measure and moved back onto the bed with you.

He stayed on his knees, angling your hips up so that they were positioned with his cock. You looked confused by the awkward position, but Jaemin melted away your worries with a powerful thrust into you. He groaned at how tight you were with your warm, wet walls clenching around him rhythmically.

Jaemin could tell he was hitting all the right spots by the broken moans that were escaping you when he pounded in you. His own growls were low and grating, relishing the way you felt around him. You were clutching his sheets so tight and bucking your hips so often that Jaemin had to use a hand to push your lower abdomen down, smirking as he felt his cock move in and out of you.

“You’re so big,” you gasped out, looking visibly frustrated at how you couldn’t hold onto him.

“Princess, I regret not doing this earlier,” Jaemin admitted with another rough thrust into you, making you sob out some distorted version of his name. “You feel so fucking good.”

“I’m close,” you choked out, and Jaemin kindly aided you by rubbing your clit as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

You tucked your head into your shoulder, biting back your cries, so Jaemin grabbed your hair in a fistful and tilted it back so he could see your face. A shudder ran down his spine. Your expression was so perfect, so fucked in and glazed over.

“Shit,” he growled, voice raspy from arousal as you came undone in front of him.

His nimble fingers continued to work on your clit as you fell apart, moans ringing in his ears like a song. He followed you into your bliss, unable to hold back. He leaned over you and continued fucking you through your orgasm, holding you and groaning as he, too, released.

Jaemin stopped when he was done and spent. His arms buckled as they struggled to keep himself over you, and he could only pull out and collapse by your side. He muttered out a few curses, struggling to find the right words to say as he stared up at the ceiling. That felt good? No, too dry. I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like that? No, too possessive.

He settled with “you’re amazing” as his chest rose and fell in tune with yours.

“Likewise,” you breathed out and looked over at him. “I have to go home soon.”

Jaemin didn’t know what came over him, but he rolled over and wrapped his arms around you tightly. Normally, he wasn’t one for cuddling or aftercare, but he didn’t want you to go so soon. You relaxed under his touch as Jaemin drew you closer to his body, pulling the sheets over you both.

“Don’t go,” Jaemin whispered, tucking some hair behind your ear.

You turned to look at him, running your finger along his cheek tenderly. “Jaehyun’s gonna ask.”

Jaemin threw the sheets off of you and stood up quickly. “Have a safe trip back.”

It was the very next day when Jaemin hooked up with you again.

You had sent him a rather suggestive text, stating that you found it strenuous to walk after the previous night. In some sick and twisted way, Jaemin found this extremely hot and invited you over that night. Needless to say, you found it even more difficult to walk afterward.

The next day was the last day of the long weekend, so you spent nearly the entire day at Jaemin’s place before Jeno came home. Sure, you had sex once or twice then, but Jaemin really liked having you around. Even when you both weren’t exactly doing anything, your mere presence was comforting to him. In past hookups with other girls, he would always just get up and leave after the deed was done. However, with you, he was suddenly a sucker for aftercare.

Jaemin still felt like shit for going behind Jaehyun’s back and he was starting to question his stealth when Jeno came back home and discovered your bra on the couch.

“Oh, that’s where it was,” Jaemin said blankly, taking the bra from Jeno. “By the way, how was visiting your family?”

Jeno was still stuck on the bra, however. “Hold on,” he started, “whose bra is that?”

“Mine.”

“You wear bras?”

“What? No.” Jaemin made a face. “The fuck?”

“Na Jaemin, did you sleep with a random girl on our couch?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a random girl. It was Y/N,” Jaemin defended. “And secondly, we did it against the wall, actually. The couch was just a poor observer.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or disgusted,” Jeno replied, pondering over his best friend’s words. He glanced back at the wall and inched away from it. “Did you figure out what you’re going to do about Jaehyun?”

Jaemin grinned sheepishly. “I mean, what Jaehyun doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

“What happened to the Jaemin who was trying to ghost his sister?”

“He got laid.”

“This is so gonna backfire on you,” Jeno replied, shaking his head. “But I kind of want to watch it happen.”

“Dude,” Jaemin whined, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I broke the bro code so hard, but honestly, the sex is too good.”

“Jaemin, I don’t want to hear about your sexcapades, thanks.”

The next time Jaemin hooked up with you was almost an absolute disaster.

Keyword: almost.

“Jeno,” Jaemin warbled in a desperate cry, “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.”

“What’s up?” came the disinterested voice of his best friend who was sprawled out on the couch, flipping listlessly through a textbook.

“I need you to help me out,” Jaemin begged. “Y/N wants me to go over to her place but Jaehyun’s home.”

That was how Jaemin ended up behind your house, trying to hoist himself up onto a tree that was close to your window. Jeno was on the phone, keeping a lookout from his car that was parked on the street. This was, quite honestly, probably one of the stupidest things Jaemin had ever done because not only did he have a fear of heights, but he was risking his life just for his friend not to see him walking in the house.

There was something about hanging onto the branch of a tree for dear life that made a man question his pride.

“All this for some pussy,” Jeno tutted through his AirPods.

“Shut up, Jeno,” Jaemin muttered, a flush of heat rising to his cheeks. Truth be told, he just really wanted to see you, not that he would admit that.

He hauled himself onto one of the thicker branches that led to your window and inched his way along it to reach the windowsill. A frown crossed his lips as he reached out to knock on the glass. You told him you’d keep the window open for him, so why was it closed?

The answer was obvious, but it didn’t sink in until Jaehyun opened the window to see Jaemin dangling from a tree branch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, was all that was running through his mind. His head felt like it was going a thousand miles per second but the rest of his body was short-circuiting.

“Jaemin, what are you doing outside my window?” Jaehyun asked, looking absolutely perturbed.

“I’m, uh…” Jaemin paused to think while he could hear Jeno laughing at him through his AirPods. “Jeno and I wanted to prank you.”

“Jeno? Prank?” Jaehyun questioned. “Are you not here for a study session with Y/N?”

Jaemin stilled. He wasn’t sure he had any classes with you, but surely you must have made up this excuse to Jaehyun so that Jaemin could be in your house freely. Jeno’s laughing intensified as Jaemin blinked at his team captain.

“Right, well—”

“Jaemin, what are you doing there?” your sweet, innocent voice rang from Jaehyun’s door.

There was a mischievous glint in your eyes despite how concerned you tried to look. Jaemin saw right through you, though, and grimaced.

“Just… hanging out,” Jaemin grunted out as he tried to crawl in through Jaehyun’s window.

Jaehyun reached his hand out to help Jaemin and dragged him through the window with ease, so smooth that Jaemin pretended he didn’t hit his head against the side of the frame of the window as he was pulled inside. The tree branch bounced back to its original position, its leaves rustling wildly once Jaemin’s weight was off of them. Jaehyun helped Jaemin dust himself off and grabbed one of his shoulders firmly, using his free hand to pat his back.

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun said slowly, “use the door next time.”

“Got it,” Jaemin croaked out.

“We can go to my room and study, Jaemin,” you piped up, turning on your heel to head back to your room as soon as you were sure you had his attention.

“Right, um… see you, man,” Jaemin told Jaehyun, awkwardly following after you after Jaehyun returned the goodbye.

Jaemin had been to Jaehyun’s house for parties, but being there in the daytime was unnerving. He ended the call with Jeno, quickly texting him that he was safe before stuffing his phone and AirPods in his pockets. Jaemin turned the corner to see you sitting cross-legged on the floor of your room. A loud sigh escaped his lips before he made his way in, closing the door behind him.

“You’re paying for that,” he warned.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, a laugh falling from your lips just before Jaemin strode over, pushing you down onto the floor and hovering over you. You parted your lips to speak but whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as Jaemin swooped in and kissed you.

This is a terrible place to be doing this, the rational side of Jaemin’s brain provided, but then he was kissing you and it didn’t matter anymore.

Jaemin lost himself in the kiss as soon as he was tasting your fruity chapstick. He cupped your jaw, intoxicated by the way your lips felt against his. He was so dazed that he hardly noticed you unzipping his pants, tugging them down by his belt loops.

“Aren’t we studying?” Jaemin teased, brushing his nose against yours. He glanced over at the mess of books and papers at your table.

“Mm, do you want to study instead?” you asked, drawing him closer to you. “Pass up on this and read up on some cell division?”

“Fuck no.” Jaemin scoffed, dragging his nails up your thigh. “Spread those legs for me, angel.”

A mewl escaped your lips when you spread your legs because Jaemin immediately started palming your apex without missing a beat. The burst of pride that followed made him a little braver, a little less worrisome over your older brother.

“Take off your pants,” you breathed out, tugging once more at his waistband.

“No.” Jaemin moved off of you and hauled himself up to sit on your bed. “I want you to ride my thigh.” His eyes practically devoured the way you looked. “And keep the skirt on.”

You stood up, biting your lip as you moved to straddle his right thigh. Jaemin’s hands ran up and down your thighs, moving up to your hips eventually to rub slow circles with his thumb. His lips were attached to your neck almost immediately, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column.

You let a whimper slip from your lips and Jaemin started bouncing his leg steadily, his muscular thigh rubbing against your clit. He guided your movements with his hands as you rolled your hips against him. Jaemin flexed his thigh every once in a while and made sure to pull you down on him whenever he could make use of the friction.

Another moan from you and Jaemin sneered. “You’re getting off so well on my thigh, Y/N. Such a fucking tease but you react so easily.” You whined again and Jaemin shushed you. “Be quiet, princess. We don’t want to be walked in on, right?”

And, because the world hated Jaemin, Jaehyun decided to walk in.

“Y/N, can I come in for a second?” he called from outside the door.

In an instant, you practically flew off of Jaemin’s lap, scrambling back to your table and burying your nose in your biology textbook. There were a few long seconds of Jaemin silently communicating with you out of frustration. You had escaped just fine, but Jaemin just had to get a hard-on, and now that you were off his lap, it was far too obvious through his pants.

But you already told Jaehyun he could come in, so Jaemin put both hands over his crotch in a valiant (but stupid) effort to hide his boner while the door opened.

“I’m going to the store,” Jaehyun said, looking between you and Jaemin from the doorway. “Want anything?”

“No, we’re good,” you replied, but Jaehyun’s eyes were fixed on Jaemin, narrowing slightly.

“I’ll get going then, but are you good?” Jaehyun asked, gesturing at the awkward position Jaemin was in. “The bathroom’s across the hall if you need to go.”

Jaemin’s eyes flitted to yours to see an amused look on your face, and he could practically hear your voice bouncing in his skull: This is fun.

This wasn’t exactly Jaemin’s textbook dictionary definition of fun, however.

“Thanks,” Jaemin croaked out, looking down at his lap in shame. A flush of red crossed his cheeks and you barked out a laugh as soon as Jaehyun was gone. “Not funny,” he grumbled out.

An impish grin crossed your face as you asked, “Need me to take care of your problem?”

“Please,” Jaemin almost begged.

The moment you stood up, Jaemin was quickly trying to tug his pants down, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his boxers to take them off with his pants. This was awful in the absolutely best way possible because Jaemin’s hands felt clammy but then you were kneeling down in front of him, helping him take his pants off. You looked up at Jaemin when his hard cock curved up against his stomach. A breath escaped his lips like it had been punched out of him and he wondered if his eyes were as comically wide as they felt.

When the sound of Jaehyun closing the front door echoed, you grasped Jaemin’s painfully hard cock in your soft hands. Jaemin’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He couldn’t even ask you to do anything with all his bravado from earlier suddenly vanishing. So, he curled a hand in your hair, more for his own leverage.

Jaemin’s stomach rearranged itself to feel like some crazed etch-a-sketch rather than the human anatomy when he felt your lips wrap around his cock.

“Shit, that’s it,” he growled when you went down on him. He flushed all over, clear in the way his cock twitched in your mouth, and it made him feel like some silly, lovesick teenager. “Oh god, you feel so good with your mouth wrapped around my cock, princess.”

A sound of approval came from your throat, vibrating against the throbbing vein along Jaemin’s shaft and making him go crazy. You bobbed your head up and down, teasing him by going so slow to the point that it was nearly unbearable for Jaemin. He felt like a coil of fire was tightly woven inside him, ready to snap at any given moment.

“Fuck… don’t tease me—wait, are you asleep?”

Jaemin looked down to see you half-asleep on his cock, lips brushing against the vein along the side. Your eyes weren’t hooded but fluttered shut, head lolling to the side and your tongue grazing the underside of his head. A hiss escaped Jaemin’s lips at your teasing, but he felt more incredulous than turned on.

“I’m tired,” you said, “and you didn’t finish me off, so why should I finish you off?”

“Well, this is just unfair,” Jaemin replied with a frustrated huff as you pulled off of him. His gaze softened when he saw you rub your eyes, though. He fumbled for a moment, pulling his boxers and pants back up and tucking away the frustration of not getting his release. “You’re actually tired?”

“Kind of,” you admitted. “I’ve been studying my ass off all week for midterms.”

“Okay, well…” Jaemin faltered before scooting back on your bed until he was against the wall. “Let’s take a nap then.”

“Nap? Oh, so we—oh, okay,” you mumbled and Jaemin’s heart skipped a few beats when he saw you suck in your lower lip nervously.

You crawled into your bed and laid down, pulling the covers over them after Jaemin moved so he was right next to you. Jaemin had never exactly slept with a girl like this, but with you, his chest felt warm. It felt right. Without a word, he pulled you to his chest so you wouldn’t have to see how nervous you were making him feel, praying you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled to him.

And, because Jaemin was a loser who feared rejection and the reality that he was an actual human who felt real emotions, he pressed his lips to your head and whispered into your hair, “I like you.”

If you heard him or noticed, Jaemin wouldn’t have known because falling asleep was so much easier with you in his arms.

“You slept with her? Like, without sex?” Jeno asked Jaemin that night, to which he nodded. “You didn’t hook up with her at all?”

“Jaehyun walked in the first time and the second time… let’s not get into that,” Jaemin replied. “The point is, we fucking cuddled, Jeno.”

“That’s kinda weird.”

“Right?” Jaemin tugged a hand through his hair, letting out an aggravated groan. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to Jaehyun’s place on Friday.”

Parties were one thing, but at least once a month, the basketball team would hold bonding events for everyone to unwind and chill. Jaemin usually attended every event since he was close with all of the members, but Jaehyun’s house became dangerous territory now because of you. However, Jaemin was expected to take the place of team captain when Jaehyun graduated, so he knew it would be bad if he didn’t attend all the socials the basketball team held.

“Why? Can’t keep it in your pants?” Jeno teased.

Jaemin threw a pillow at him. “Fuck off.”

“It’s been postponed to the end of the month, anyway,” Jeno assured. “Jaehyun said he had a date this Friday or something.”

“Then I’m safe for now.”

It got silent for a moment before Jeno asked, “Are you catching feelings?”

Silence.

Did Jaemin like you? Sure, he mumbled it for himself to hear when he was holding you, which was pretty suspicious of him to do that if he didn’t actually have any feelings toward you. He perfectly understood the feeling at an intellectual level, but absorbing it emotionally was beyond his realm of understanding. Plus, there was no point in having feelings for someone if they didn’t reciprocate.

Right?

Jaemin only had a few crushes before, and the feelings were so surface-level that he started to wonder how many aspects of life he had missed out on because of his inability to grow close to people. That was why he had confined himself to the hookup culture because the “no strings attached” aspect was so appealing to him, but now it was backfiring because of you. It was so fucked up because Jaemin didn’t even want to fuck around with you anymore. Scratch that. He did, but he also wanted to hold your hand, go on dates, and kiss you until your fruity chapstick made him dizzy again.

You were great in bed, but what got Jaemin’s heart racing was the way you laughed when he made a lame joke and you couldn’t get over how terrible it was; the way you told stories with your hands, and your face would light up because you would get so excited; the way the food you made looked absolutely nauseating but, for whatever reason, it tasted amazing, and Jaemin could go on, but he was afraid he’d start melting in front of Jeno.

“No way,” Jaemin lied. “It’s just for the sex, that’s all.”

It wasn’t fair that you always showed up at the one place Jaemin was most vulnerable: basketball practice.

Truth be told, you were causing Jaemin problems well before you even arrived. Hell, you had been causing problems for the past three weeks. Not that Jaemin hated it, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants every time you dragged him to a blind spot or invited him to your place. There were also times where Jaemin would just simply walk with you, or talk about your day in bed, or just hold your hand and stroke your hair until you fell asleep.

Pretty weird for fuckbuddies.

Earlier in the day, Jaemin had run into you while he was walking to his biology lecture, and after some light conversation, he had you pinned up against the back of a building. He ended up getting a very noticeable hickey on his neck from you that he didn’t know existed until Jaehyun pointed it out during practice.

“Jaemin.” Jaehyun let out a low whistle and gestured to his neck. “Finally got over your weird celibacy phase?”

“What are you—”

“Nice hickey,” Yuta complimented while he was passing by, “finally got laid, huh?”

Only then did Jaemin realize that you had marked up his neck, and did so proudly. You knew people would see but you still went ahead and did it. Jaemin would’ve been mad but somehow, the thought of showing off something you caused turned him on.

Thankfully, you showed up when practice had ended and the others were heading into the locker room, all sweaty and tired. Absorbed in their own conversations, the rest of Jaemin’s teammates were focused on talking about their last play and looking forward to a cold shower. Jaemin, however, did a double-take when he saw you, nudging Jeno to keep going while he stayed back.

You really had no good reason coming to the basketball courts. It wasn’t like you or your big brother actually wanted to walk home together.

“I’m starting to think you come here to see me,” Jaemin said smugly, making his way over to you.

“Not even,” you replied, although your fazed look said otherwise. “But I appreciate the eye candy.”

Jaemin reached out to take your hands in his and pulled you toward him. You looked down at your feet, right foot circling around one of the stray basketballs that had been left behind during practice. Jaemin, however, had his eyes focused on you. He couldn’t get tired of looking at you, especially when you were wearing that cozy purple sweater that made him want to pull you into his arms.

Jaemin noticed your foot on the basketball and held your hands a little tighter as you put your weight on it to get your other foot on. You were shakily balancing on it, grabbing Jaemin’s hands tightly as a grin slowly spread across your face.

You’re too cute, was what Jaemin wanted to say.

“You’re still shorter than me even when you’re standing on a basketball,” he teased instead, one hand slipping around your waist to keep you steady.

You pouted. “I’m basically the same height as you now.”

“Really?” Jaemin smirked at your expression, moving closer so that his lips were at your forehead. He moved his hands so they were both holding your waist, keeping you planted on the basketball. “I think I still have an inch or two on you.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, but Jaemin was tilting your chin up and smiling at how you were visibly growing shy. “Jaemin, my brother might walk out any second.”

“Fuck your brother,” Jaemin murmured and kissed you.

People threw around the term “time slowed down” so casually, that Jaemin believed it was a silly hoax; however, he was starting to understand it. Each kiss he shared with you before felt so rushed, but now, everything around him didn’t matter anymore. It was like every fear, every concern he had was lost as he was lost in the taste of your lips.

Your hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss and making Jaemin nearly forget that you were barely balancing on a basketball. He tightened his hold around you when you pulled a hand away to run through his hair and god, he relished that feeling. When he desperately needed air again, Jaemin pulled away, nipping at your bottom lip cheekily as he did so.

He didn’t want to see your reaction, though, so he pulled you down from the basketball and hugged you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You were visually overwhelming, anyway, and Jaemin wasn’t too keen on seeing your reaction to his tenderness. Jaemin felt like such a melt for being this affected over a simple kiss, but all he wanted at the moment was to be closer to you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, shocked by his sudden intimacy.

“Shut up,” he murmured into your neck, “I just want to hold you right now.”

“Bruh.”

Jaemin didn’t process the fact that a third person was in the gym until it registered that the masculine voice couldn’t have been coming from you. On the bright side, the voice came from the one person who knew about whatever was going on between you and Jaemin. He then wondered why he was starting to become an optimist.

You and Jaemin both pulled away quickly like repelling magnets. There was a flicker of panic in your eyes, seeming to cool down when you noticed that Jaemin wasn’t freaking out. It was quite devastating for Jaemin to come to realize that he was the standard for what to worry over.

Jaemin, not sparing you a glance, walked over to where his best friend was standing and shoved him, not straying from his direct route to the locker room.

“You have some explaining to do,” Jeno muttered before Jaemin passed him.

“Fuck off, Jeno.”

Jeno flashed a sheepish grin at you before turning back to follow Jaemin, patting him firmly on the back to tease him. Jaemin, however, was unsettled. Whatever he felt for you was moving past sexual attraction to something much deeper, and he wasn’t sure if he could suppress it any longer.

You truly were the cat, and although Jaemin refused to believe it, you had already caught him.

Jeno somehow managed to stay quiet about what had happened between you and Jaemin until after they reached their apartment. Jaemin almost believed he was going to pretend like he didn’t see anything, but it would be laughable to think that Lee Jeno wouldn’t mock him about it.

“That’s the thing with fuckbuddies,” Jeno explained as he shrugged off his coat, “someone’s gonna catch feelings eventually.”

“Thanks, Jeno,” Jaemin spat, tone laced with sarcasm. “You never cease to make me feel like shit.”

“So you admit that you caught feelings?”

It was like an arrow through a bullseye, not that Jaemin was going to admit to that, but the thought of him potentially catching feelings for you was terrifying. It was even more frightening because he probably already did. This was supposed to be the time where Jaemin blanched and would become shockingly avoidant around you, but he was waiting for those instincts to kick in rather than the desperate urge to run over and kiss you.

But, moreover, screw Lee Jeno for majoring in neuroscience. His best friend studying the human brain and its cognition was the worst thing that could have ever happened to Jaemin.

Jaemin paused, hesitating before he spoke, “No… I’m just worried that one of us will.”

Jeno raised a brow at him. “Whatever you two were doing was not normal for fuckbuddies.”

“It’s called hugging, Jeno. It’s not my fault you have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Jaemin moved to sit on the couch, turning his back to Jeno and hugging a pillow as he shrunk back into the cushion. But Jeno knew that Jaemin always listened to what he had to say. It was a natural instinct by now. Although Jaemin would rather die than say it aloud, his best friend always gave the best advice even though it was probably not what Jaemin wanted to hear.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked instead.

Jaemin froze. He was never any good at expressing himself. He presented himself as a simple man on the outside, but he was really just layers of multitudes. But, sometimes, your mere attention was like uncut cocaine to him, and then Jaemin would wonder if he really was simple.

“I’m fine,” Jaemin muttered back.

“You’re good at being fine, aren’t you?”

Jeno fastidiously fixed his hair before he retreated to his room. Jaemin was surprised by how he cut the advice session this time and left Jaemin to his own thoughts.

Exhausted, Jaemin stared at his lock screen. It was a picture of you and him at a park. Ducks in the pond. You caught off-guard with hair in your mouth. Jaemin with a smile brighter than the sun. Who the fuck took selfies with girls they fucked on the down-low? And who the fuck set them as their wallpapers? Apparently, Jaemin did.

He was sick.

Maybe Jeno was right, but Jaemin refused to accept that possibility because that would make him even more disgusted with himself.

He could only think of one thing and it was how he was in love with you.

Sex was one thing, but love? The number one rule of best friendship was probably don’t fucking fall in love with your best friend’s sister.

Furthermore, Jaemin didn’t know how to act around you now. In the conspectus of Things That Could Go Wrong in his brain, he hadn’t anticipated actually falling for you. He should’ve taken your godsent looks and heavenly laugh as a red flag that first night because now he was addicted.

It wasn’t like Jaemin had absolutely zero experience with girls, but usually, he just went with it. Being the one chasing after you was mentally taxing and the thought of you possibly not wanting him back was unthinkable. Then again, it was pretty clear that it was mutual between the two of you, but Jaemin was confident that you were a breath away from snapping at him for his inconsistency.

He was the one that pushed you away, after all. A sudden transition from resisting to wanting you completely was sure to freak you out, so Jaemin was stuck at a crossroads.

After a few Google searches of asking the internet if he caught feelings and an episode of self-denial and self-loathing, Jaemin decided it was high time for him to call you and tell you how he felt. That, or he was going to panic and break things off before he got emotionally invested.

Before he could do either, Jeno walked back to the living room, putting his coat back on. He looked dressed up as if he was going out somewhere, and Jaemin’s suspicions were confirmed when he went to get his shoes.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” Jaemin asked, sitting up straight again.

“Jaehyun’s house.” Jeno raised a brow at him. “It’s Friday.”

God, if you’re out there, Jaemin thought, defeated. Screw you and your son. Amen.

Jaemin had to psych himself into the proper state of mind for tonight.

That all went to shit, however, when he saw you sitting in the living room, laughing at something Yuta had said.

“Oh my god,” Jeno said in a low voice when he saw Jaemin frozen in the doorway. “Tell me you’re not jealous right now.”

“Piss off,” Jaemin spat, kicking off his shoes at the entrance. “It’s nothing like that.”

Except that it was exactly like that. Jaemin wasn’t the jealous type, but right now, his blood was roiling in his gut. Deep inside, he knew it was probably nothing to worry about, but the way you smiled around Yuta was pissing him off. Then, he realized that he had no relationship with you that gave him any right to stop Yuta from flirting with you.

And then, you turned to see Jaemin in the doorway and smiled at him.

Oh no, Jaemin thought in complete devastation. She’s pretty.

“Y/N, tonight’s for the basketball team,” Jaehyun told you from the living room, making a motion with his hands to signal you to leave. “Go to your room.”

“You’re such a nosy older brother,” YangYang chimed in, nudging a chuckle out of Jaehyun. “But yeah, Y/N, Friday nights are for the boys.”

“I know, I know,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll go now. I was just grabbing some water.”

Jaemin was still frozen stiff at the doorway as you grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from the kitchen counter (despite Jeno’s several attempts to get him to move) and then walked to the staircase to Jaemin’s left. But then you grabbed Jaemin by the front of his shirt and started dragging him upstairs with you. He barely registered it all happening in the span of a few seconds, but he was able to catch Jeno saying he’d tell the others that Jaemin was running late.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Jaemin whispered harshly, although he still followed you into your room and let you lock the door.

This was far too risky. Not only was Jaehyun home, but the entire basketball team was downstairs.

You started tying your hair up and Jaemin gulped, realizing where this was going. “Do you want me to suck you off or not?” you asked, smiling.

“Say no more,” Jaemin breathed out, unzipping his pants hastily.

He sat down on your bed, letting you tug his boxers down, your eyes full of mirth. Jaemin felt so pathetic when his cock twitched as soon as you wrapped a hand around its girth, but he was ready to put his pride to the side for once.

Jaemin was about to rasp out something but then you took his head in your mouth and a sudden wave of heat punched him in the gut. But then you pulled away, lips against the underside of his head, and Jaemin was a second away from just crying.

“You have nice hands,” you complimented with a mischievous smile as Jaemin held the back of your head eagerly. He felt like he was going crazy with the way you were mouthing your words against his cock.

“You have nice lips,” he returned through gritted teeth. “But please shut the fuck up and get to it already.”

Your lips curled slowly. “So impatient,” you cooed, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. Jaemin bucked his hips forward, trying to chase the sensation, but you were teasing him.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.”

You smirked up at him, moving your head to lick against the slit before taking his cock in your mouth again. A few laborious seconds passed with Jaemin biting his lip so that he didn’t make any noise, and then you finally started sucking him off. He fought the urge not to groan when your tongue rolled along the vein down his shaft.

You showed Jaemin no mercy, however. It was almost like you wanted everyone downstairs to hear. He gritted his teeth when your teeth grazed his cock, and he wanted more. He gripped your hair for anchorage and fucked into your mouth. The smallest whimper escaped you when Jaemin’s cock hit the back of your throat.

Jaemin let out a strangled groan. “I’m close.”

You took this as your cue to suck him off even harsher, and Jaemin was on the brink of sweet release. A tear escaped your eyes as he fucked into your throat, and Jaemin wiped it with his thumb, drinking in the wrecked sight of you that was bringing him over the edge. You let a broken moan vibrate against Jaemin’s shaft, and he was done for.

Jaemin couldn’t recall being able to cum this fast because of someone’s mouth before, but here he was, groaning as his hot seed shot down your throat. You obediently swallowed it, eyes hazy and tear-soaked from the size of him.

A few moments of silence passed before Jaemin leaned down and pecked your lips, heart fluttering a bit in his chest as he did so. “Good girl.”

He swore he saw you lifting a finger to scratch your cheek lightly, which was a nervous quirk of yours that Jaemin had picked up on, but you turned away quickly to fix your hair while Jaemin was pulling his pants back up. The tension that followed made Jaemin unsure of whether to leave or take you against the wall. He decided against the latter, knowing that Jeno couldn’t stall forever.

“Leaving already?” you asked, reaching for Jaemin’s hand, which he gladly entwined with yours.

“I’m already on thin ice,” Jaemin explained. “I have to go back down there and hope they don’t question me.” You moved closer to him, hands moving down to graze past his waistband. Jaemin hissed slightly under his breath and diverted by rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, so you and Yuta…”

“You’re still on that?” you asked, pulling your hands back. “I can’t laugh around another guy now?”

“No, no!” Jaemin groaned, tugging a hand through his hair out of frustration. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

“Is it not obvious, Jaemin?” you asked him, an edge of desperation to your voice. “You really can’t tell how I feel?”

Jaemin sighed, looking down at his feet. “You can’t tell how I feel either?”

“You—what?”

“We’ll talk later. I have to go.”

He turned to go back downstairs, but you grabbed his wrist, saying, “Jaemin, remember that you’re the one who didn’t want anything more out of this.”

Jaemin gave you a puzzled look but before he could ask for clarification, you had pulled away from him and gestured for him to leave. He mumbled a pathetic excuse, spitting out a string of words for a moment before he gave up and snuck downstairs as quietly as he could.

He hated that you were right. Even though you had suggested sneaking around, Jaemin was the one who tried to draw the boundary. He did this to himself.

“Yo, Jaemin,” Yuta called, “when did you get here?”

“Just now,” Jaemin answered, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked into the living room where all the basketball team members were sprawled over the couch. “What’re we watching?”

“Pulp Fiction,” Taeyong answered. “Can you get the ice cream from the kitchen?”

“Sure.” Jaemin opened Jaehyun’s freezer to see two tubs of ice cream nestled in the corner. While he was pondering over whether to grab chocolate or vanilla, he felt a presence behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Did you need—oh my god, go to your room,” he whispered harshly at the sight of you.

“Are you my mom?” You raised a brow at him and reached for an ice cream tub. “Let me help you open them.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, voice fracturing at the end. He watched you move to the kitchen’s island and, carefully eyeing his teammates in the living room, letting his hand graze your thigh and whispering, “Hey, I’m sorry for earlier.”

You stiffened at his touch. “It’s fine,” you whispered back, opening the tubs of ice cream. “You’ve just been acting weird lately.”

“Weird?” Jaemin asked as he opened his tub. The ice cream dripped off the lid and onto Jaemin’s finger. “Ugh. Do you have napkins?”

“You’re so messy, Jaemin.”

“Shut up.”

“Let me help,” you insisted, grabbing his wrist and taking his fingers in your mouth.

Jaemin’s eyes widened by a fraction as your hot tongue circled around his fingers. He fought down the urge to take it further and bit his lip as he watched you. Before he could do anything, however, an awkward laugh and wolf-whistle from the living room made him freeze.

Jaemin’s head shot up to see his teammates staring at him, shell-shocked. Some looked absolutely confused while others looked more proud and impressed. Jaemin wondered if you had no shame because, despite all the eyes on them, you didn’t let go of his hand, your pretty lips still wrapped around his fingers.

“I don’t know why she’s doing that,” Jaemin rambled quickly, and his tone was so frazzled that Jeno had to hide his laugh behind his fist. “Come on, Y/N,” he urged, voice dropping for you to hear. “Let go of my hand.”

It would have been sexy if Jaemin wasn’t absolutely terrified.

Only when Jaemin caught sight of Jaehyun’s expression did you let go, saying, “Thanks for the ice cream.” With a playful smile, you looked up at Jaemin expectantly.

“What the fuck did we just witness?” Jungwoo asked, lit up silly like he had just witnessed the biggest scandal.

“We’re friends,” Jaemin croaked out. “Right, Y/N? Jaehyun? Jeno?”

Jeno ducked his head and Jaemin could tell what exactly he was thinking: I can’t help you out of this one, Jaem.

Jaemin couldn’t exactly read Jaehyun’s expression. It was a mix of emotions so varied that they didn’t make sense to him. He couldn’t even pick out any distinguishable one, but maybe it was better he didn’t know what the captain was feeling.

“I swear, it's not what it looks like,” Jaemin defended.

“So Y/N wasn’t sucking on your fingers?” Taeyong asked, a ghost of a laugh on his lips.

“Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like,” Jaemin muttered and pursed his lips together. “But it’s—it’s nothing,” he reasoned, and at this point, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than them.

Either way, it wasn’t working.

Who was he kidding, anyway? They weren’t stupid, and it was clear as day that Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. For heaven's sake, he even got jealous over Yuta making you laugh. Before, one would have to pry open the cold, hard jaws of his corpse to get a word out about how he felt, but now Jaemin felt like you had broken down his last line of defense.

Jaemin could already see the consequences that would follow, but he still blurted out, “Fine. You got me. Jaehyun, I’m in love with your sister.”

Jaemin’s neurons were tearing themselves over the fact that Jaemin had just professed his love to you and was now experiencing a state of total humiliation. He was confident he wouldn’t ever live this moment down.

The room went silent. Not only were the boys shocked, but you were, too. Jaemin himself couldn’t believe he let that slip, but there was no going back now. Jeno sat there with his jaw hung open and Jaemin couldn’t blame him. He didn’t even know he was going to drop the love bomb like that out of nowhere. Taeyong looked like he had just witnessed a murder as his eyes kept darting between Jaemin and Jaehyun, Jungwoo looked a little too proud, and Yuta was just washed over with realization.

“Oh.” Jaehyun blinked. “Cool, I guess. Does that mean you’re not joining us for movie night then?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how obvious the shock showed on his face, but this felt too easy. For a little over a month, Jaemin had been skirting around his relationship with you because of your big brother, and now he was acting scarily nonchalant.

“You’re not mad?” Jaemin asked, wide-eyed.

Jaehyun laughed. “I mean, it’s kinda weird that you’re dating my little sister, but why would I be mad?”

“Maybe it’s because you said ‘if anyone lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are,’” Yuta reminded him with Jaemin nodding along at his words. “And that was verbatim.”

“That’s for people hitting on my sister to get laid, not people dating my sister,” Jaehyun corrected. “I don’t control her decisions.”

Jaemin smiled through the internal pain of realizing he did exactly that. If Jaehyun found out he wasn’t dating you, then Jaemin was in for an earful. Thankfully, you were too dazed over Jaemin’s earlier confession to decide to start shit.

“Plus,” Jaehyun continued, “I knew you guys had a thing.”

“What?” Jaemin spluttered, blinking wildly. His tongue was performing acrobatics to formulate words but it wasn’t working.

“I had a suspicion when you climbed up my tree to get into the house,” Jaehyun said. “When I walked into the room later, that just confirmed my suspicions because, you know…”

Jaemin’s cheeks went hot when he realized that Jaehyun had probably caught onto the fact that he had a boner back then. Without a word, you rushed out of the kitchen, gaze averted which was what Jaemin supposed was embarrassment. Jaemin heard the front door open and close. He turned to follow after you, but swallowed thickly and froze in place.

“Go, Jaemin,” Jeno urged him, a tone of seriousness taking over.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” YangYang said cooly. “It’s just movie night.”

Jaemin clenched his jaw and nodded, thinking about how shitty it would be if he did all of that just to be rejected. Jaehyun’s house was a warzone and he knew better than to come tonight, but he still did, and he still fucked everything up. If things went wrong with you—

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun cut into his thoughts, “just so you know, I’m cool with you dating my sister.”

It was funny how a few words could make someone’s day, but Jaemin was surprised at the weight those words took off of his shoulders. He contained the joy to a half-smile and left the kitchen and walked out of your house to find you.

You hadn’t gone far at all. You were pacing along the sidewalk looking frazzled, hands lacing together and eyes cast down. Jaemin walked over to you and tried to take your hand but you pulled away.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked, overcome with raw emotion.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know I’m the one who didn’t want to start anything, and I lied about not wanting anything, but… this is how I feel, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I’m not exactly expressive if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” you replied incredulously, lower lip starting to quiver. “I just—I don’t know—I thought I was just going to be an afterthought to you.”

Jaemin froze when he saw tears start to gloss your eyes. He never knew how to deal with people crying, especially when they were girls. He took your face in his hands and wiped your stray tears away with his thumbs, sighing softly.

“Let’s go to my place.”

“What? Why?”

“I need to show you how much I love you,” he replied firmly, taking your hand in his and walking in the direction of his apartment. “It’s kind of funny that you thought that because you’ve been all I could think about for the past month.”

More tears were starting to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them away.

Stay calm, Jaemin’s brain instructed him. Cupid can sense your fear.

“I love you,” he continued. “Should I say it again? I love you, I love you, I love—”

“Alright, Jaemin!” Your face beamed like a Christmas tree but you were still a flustered mess. “God, stop looking at me like that.”

“No,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I’m going to keep saying it because I don’t think you get it.”

“Jaemin, we’re in the middle of the sidewalk,” you squeaked out as he kissed your cheek.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss.

“J-Jaemin, I get it,” you whined out, scrunching your nose up at his affection. Jaemin continued, though, and you happened to reach your limit. You gripped his shoulders and held him away from you. “God, Jaemin, I love you, okay? You have to give me a chance to say it back at least.”

This time, Jaemin was the one to get shy. “Huh? You like me back?”

“Jaemin, you idiot, you’re so slow,” you mused, “I’ve liked you this entire time.”

He took your hand, his gaze never leaving yours, and rubbed your palm in circles with his thumb. “I know I’ve been a dick… on multiple occasions,” he admitted, “but I want to be with you.”

“Jaemin—”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

Jaemin wondered how many seconds passed after, but it felt like centuries to him. He didn’t budge, however, because he wanted you more than ever.

“Yes,” you finally confessed, which, in essence, was a fever dream in itself.

Jaemin expected his reaction to be different, but instead, his eyes wandered off, lost in thought. He looked toward the moon overlooking that hill where he nearly hooked up with you on the night of the party. That felt like eons ago despite being not that long ago, but it carried a comforting wave of nostalgia.

“You know, on second thought, we’re gonna stargaze.”

You looked at Jaemin like he was some undiscovered specimen, but you still followed him. He laid on his back, scrunching up his nose when the grass tickled his face, and he held his hand out to you. You took it, crouching down to lay down next to him. This time, Jaemin spread his arm out so that you could lay against his chest.

You cuddled up against his chest and Jaemin thought he could die a happy man.

He looked over at you, heart hammering against his ribcage like he was hopped up on ten energy drinks. The glow of the moon illuminated the gentle curves of your face and Jaemin didn’t realize he was kissing you until he realized he had tilted your face toward him and cupped your soft cheek. His whole body felt fuzzy when your hands rested on his chest, when he could taste your fruity chapstick.

It was kind of embarrassing how nervous Jaemin was getting. His hands were starting to sweat and he was feeling kiss-dazed, smiling like an idiot because your soft lips were everything. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips one last time, his eyes unable to leave your face.

He threw his pride to the wind and confessed, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your expression was priceless. Jaemin indulged in watching you become a stuttering, faltering mess in front of him, struggling for words that could come out coherently.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t call anyone beautiful over your dead body,” you managed.

“Well, you’re not anyone, are you?” Jaemin raised a brow “You’re Y/N.”

“You’re such a smooth talker sometimes,” you acknowledged, “you know, when you’re not completely malfunctioning.”

“Shh.” Jaemin pulled you closer. “Let me enjoy this.”

“Fine, but you’re making it up to me later for playing cat and mouse for a month.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Please, I was the mouse most of the time.”

A bubble of a laugh escaped your lips and you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. “I’m really happy, you know?” you mumbled into his chest.

Jaemin kissed the top of your head, whispering a “yeah” into your hair. Maybe one day he’d admit that he was just as over-the-moon as you were, and maybe it would be coerced out of him hours later, but right now, under the starry night sky, he could only think about how lucky he was. It was funny, though, because now he could see the stars.

And they were so beautiful.

[snackhobi]

min yoongi is the best shot in the business. you’re the best gunsmith in the city and the only person he trusts to programme his tech; to make his gear. 

he likes your work. it’s a shame, then, that he doesn’t like you.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader / word count: 14.3k / genre + rating: NSFW (18+), cyberpunk!au, smut, frenemies (?) to lovers

warnings/etc: hitman!yoongi. black market dealer/gunsmith!reader. cursing/explicit language. whole lotta tension, sexual and otherwise. mentions of injury/violence. minor character death (no one important, don’t worry, this isn’t an angst fic). brief hurt/comfort. reader has tattoos. sexually explicit content. oral; fingering; multiple orgasms; overstimulation (f). unprotected sex (please take the necessary precautions irl). rough sex?. choking. creampie. brief mention of aftercare. I think that’s everything but please lmk if I missed any!

a/n: thank you SO MUCH to both @hobi-gif​ and @morndas​ for beta reading this and being so supportive, ily both so much and I owe you my life 🤧💕 as always what was meant to be a short fic turned into a huge one. also this is technically for my 1.1k milestone but it’s a billion years late, oops!​

Yoongi really doesn’t like you.

You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You needle him all the time, dig your fingernails in and squeeze, revelling in the way he sets his jaw, the muted spark of irritation in his eyes. You bat your eyelashes and tilt your head, throw it back whenever you laugh and reveal the easing column of your throat, dragging each interaction out with a kind of sadistic pleasure that has him gritting his teeth. Because you love annoying him, getting under his skin, tapping your fingers against the soft swell of your bottom lip as you eye him up, taking your time before you speak.

Infuriating. You’re infuriating and you know it.

It’s unfortunate, really, because you’re unavoidable. 

Jungkook had asked, once, why Yoongi doesn’t just go elsewhere. They’re more than familiar with the underbelly of this heaving city, underneath all the neon lights and shimmering holograms and towering skyscrapers and legal tech; the scuttling seams of back alley traders and illegal goods, tech or otherwise. There are plenty of black market dealers, after all, plenty of other vendors he could go to to get the equipment he wants. Plenty of other skilled crafters, artificers, artisans, people who would be more than happy to create the things that Yoongi asks for, that he needs. People who can get their hands on anything you want. For a price.

Yoongi’s answer had been short and succinct.

“She’s the best there is,” he’d said, and that had been that.

Because it’s true. You might be exasperating, maddening, laughing in Yoongi’s face where others might cower or genuflect, but no one is as good as you. All of Yoongi’s gear has been crafted by you; each and every single one of his weapons, his tech, the headpiece that fits so perfectly around the back of his skull that Yoongi often forgets that it’s there, hidden in his hair, unfolding across his eyes whenever he lines up a shot to make the kill—there’s evidence of your work across every inch of his body, hidden away under his clothes, day in, day out. Even when he’s not on a contract Yoongi never leaves anything to chance. 

(A walking armoury, Namjoon had called him once.)

(You’d phrased it differently.

You’re always packing, hmm? you’d hummed, rapping your fingernails in a steady beat as you’d leaned back in your chair, smiling with teeth. There was laughter in your words and your gaze, no attempt made to hide your amusement, but after your goading you’d made him a collapsible sword anyway. It’s a beautiful thing, this folding blade, bristling with plasma and energy if Yoongi needs it, lethal and deadly. One of his most prized possessions, something that’s gotten him out of multiple corners, and he owes it—you—his life.)

There’s no one on par with you. You’re a Renaissance woman, a fiercely talented polymath who doesn’t need to rely on anyone else to create the things you create. Low-tech, high-tech, no tech—you make everything from scratch, programme things yourself, hunched over each project in your own workshop with nothing but your mind and your own two hands.

It’s the only reason he puts up with you and your antics, the sharp jibes, the shameless flirting; you’re the most infuriating person he knows, but there’s no one else he would trust with the work that you do.

Unfortunately.

Which is why Yoongi finds himself here, again and again, as familiar with this studio as you are—he watches you work, sometimes, watches you sketch up blueprints and drag your fingers across your array of displays, your world cast in shifting shades of cyan and electric blue from all the tech in here, humming and alive. He likes to see how his equipment is made, after all. It can mean the difference between life and death. He takes this seriously.

It’s the one time you might be quiet. Might be quiet, because you still talk even when you work; flick your gaze between Yoongi and whatever’s set in front of you, that ever present smile spread across your lips, smug and amused. You’re only silent during the hardest jobs. Like right now, you’re intense and focused, a furrow dug between your brows as you survey his sniper rifle—almost shorn in two. (It had been the only thing to hand when he’d had to block a blow from a guard he’d somehow overlooked, no time to draw any other weapons before they’d started to brawl.)

You’d been unimpressed. You’d raised your eyebrows with all the severity of a disappointed mother, bitten words out at him with molten snideness, dripping heat and snark.

“It’s a gun, Yoongi. A gun. You know, something you shoot with? Pew pew? Blammo? I’m not sure what sort of shields and body armour you’ve seen in the past but this isn’t either of those things. Do you want me to sketch some diagrams up for you? Or maybe I could write you a book. Baby’s First Arsenal, Chapter One: The Difference Between Things That Are Guns And Things That Aren’t. Would that be helpful?”

No one else talks to Yoongi like that. No one else would dare. It’s only a rare few that know his birth name and it’s not often that he hears it, more used to the sound of Agust D falling off people’s lips. But that had been part of your price, part of the agreement when he’d first met you and asked for your services: his real name.

Yoongi had let it wash over him, had endured your tongue-lashing before putting the gun down with a heavy finality and thrust it over at you, tired of all your talk.

“Just fix it,” he’d demanded.

You’d laughed in his face.

“As always, your bedside manner leaves something to be desired,” you’d said, taking the rifle from him.

The D-2 Shadow isn’t just a weapon. It’s a piece of art, clean edges and slick lines, and Yoongi is grateful to have it back in his hands. There’s no other sniper rifle like it, made of super lightweight alloy and easy to handle; thermal scope, enhanced stabilisers for accuracy; superior kinetic coils for better shot penetration. Yoongi had asked for the best and you’d delivered. Gone above and beyond, crafted a weapon the likes of which no one else possesses, modified in ways other people can’t even fathom.

And you’d fixed it when he'd almost let it get destroyed. Made it better than new, even, layered it in more alloy to make it stronger without making it heavier, a new material of your own design. If he hadn’t known you as well as he does he’d have worried that it was beyond repair, knows that other gunsmiths would have taken one look at its crumpled body and shaken their heads, but you hadn’t. 

Of course you hadn’t. You never do.

You charge him a pretty penny for your work, make him pay through the nose for everything he asks of you, but Yoongi is more than willing to do so. More than capable of paying, coffers lined with more money than he might need, one of the best contract killers there is—the real price he pays is with his sanity, worn away each time you open your mouth. He can’t help but rise to your bait, as derisive as you are; it’s only the smallest things, a sharpness to his otherwise even tone, an angry spark in his eyes, but you pick up on it all.

He’s not your only customer. You don’t extend your services to many, only to the people you want to—Yoongi’s not sure what set of harebrained criteria you have that lets you choose who you’ll sell to and who you won’t but he can’t make heads nor tails of it. He knows he’s not part of your clientele because he’s got the credits to pay, nor is it because he’s one of the most highly regarded hitmen in his line of business. 

You don’t just choose people who can afford to pay or people who have a level of power and influence in this dark underworld you inhabit. You really don’t care about those things. You just pick and choose on a whim.

(Once, back when he’d first met you, Yoongi had discovered that you’d concocted an entirely new security system—practically incapable of being hacked, crawling with tech, a level of complexity even the richest elites could barely afford—for some small artist who’d worried that their paintings might get stolen. He was an unknown at the time, this V, squirrelled away in one of the dark corners in the lowest levels of the city, and you’d all but given him some of the best work you’d ever done, undercharged him something chronic.

You’d shrugged when Yoongi had asked why.

“He makes me laugh,” you’d replied.)

Yoongi isn’t your only customer but he’s certainly the only one you seem to treat the way you do. There’s a level of irreverence in everything you do, self-confidence settled across every inch of you like the obnoxious stench of a teenage boy’s body spray, but you seem to take particular pleasure in Yoongi’s displeasure. He’d brought Namjoon along, once, inquiring after an imitation greenhouse, how someone might set up the tech to raise tropical plants that wouldn’t survive otherwise (mostly above board, even; Namjoon might grow illicit plants, poisonous and prohibited, but he likes pretty flowers, too). And there had been none of the mocking that Yoongi receives. None of the wind ups. You’d been pleasant, despite your incessant snark, agreeing to take the job with a smile on your face that Yoongi never gets given.

(It had been infuriating, to know that you’re capable of not being an ass, but you just choose not to be. For fun.)

Yoongi really, really doesn’t like you, but he respects your work. Respects you, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

You keep your word. You don’t supply his competitors, although you claim it’s not loyalty to him and it’s only because they can’t pay as well as he does—winnings go to the highest bidder, you’d said sagely, as obtuse and irritating as always. 

But Yoongi knows other sellers will provide anyone who’s willing to pay, freelancers who peddle their wares regardless of affiliation or alliances. You’re beholden to no one and yet Yoongi knows you would never double cross him. Never supply anyone who challenges his work, even if they have the money, even if he’s on good terms with them (it’s not personal, it’s business; Yoongi has no issue with other hired killers as long as they stay out of his way). He knows he can rely on you, which is something to be treasured in these back-crossing back-stabbing backstreets.

So when he makes his way to your door, the details of a new contract still fresh in his mind, he instantly comes to a stop.

There’s something off. He can tell immediately, years of instinct causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, every part of him on edge. Everything looks normal, is normal, but there’s a burning in his gut that has Yoongi’s finger itching for the trigger even though there’s nothing to shoot. 

You’ve granted him the privilege of access to your workshop, to the other rooms, entered the scans of his hand and eye and voice into the security systems, keep him updated on the varying passwords you cycle through, so he can enter whenever he needs to. 

(He’s woken you up on more than one occasion, roused you from sleep for last minute supplies before he leaves for another contract, appearing in the dead of night like a spectre of death, clothing dark and eyes darker, overflowing with weaponry. A looming silhouette edged in strokes of cyan and magenta from the ever present, low-level neon light in your room, so much darker than the bright lights of your workshop. Intimidating. 

And you always just roll your eyes and sigh and tell him to keep a better eye on his cache of equipment and climb out of bed for him. You’re so at odds to him in your sleep rumpled clothing and mussed hair, still unafraid even when he’s fully geared and ready to kill; shirt slipping off your shoulder, swathes of bare skin in the place of Yoongi's all-encompassing outfit, shimmering black light tattoos visible on your legs and arms and bare skin of your collarbones, geometric lines in the palest of blues and greens. You hand over whatever he needs and tell him the creds he owes you.

“I’ve already given you a key to my apartment and you haven’t even taken me for dinner once,” you sigh—dramatic and melodramatic—even as you hand over a bundle of crossbow bolts. The synthesised toxin inside the darts is your own concoction, of course, courtesy of the plant matter provided from Namjoon’s greenhouse.

“I’d literally rather be shot in the head than willingly spend time with you,” he replies.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” you say, and just laugh in the face of his unimpressed deadpan. As insufferable as always.)

So he doesn’t need your permission to enter. He’s silent, light-footed as he makes his way inside, scanning each inch of this familiar interior; nothing’s wrong, not yet, but Yoongi can sense something in the air. Something heavy, settled bitter on his tongue, coating the back of his throat.

And then he walks into your workshop.

You’re meticulous. Even when you’re overrun with gear, with parts that have yet to be used, everything has its place. You prefer paper over datapads, too, tack sheets of designs and notes up on the wall, have clipboards and stacks of sheets set neatly in their place, a throwback to a time before tech ruled everything. Yoongi knows the layout of this room as well as he knows his own home, a mental map of straight lines and unwavering coordinates with you in the centre of it all.

Upheaval. Those neat lines of organised cartography have been pulled apart. Ham-handed work, to be sure, more of a statement than anything else; intent to instil fear rather than to destroy (although, Yoongi sees now that one of the monitors has been smashed, display sparking white and blue as it bleeds out electricity.). Even in the darkness of the room—overhead lights off and only emergency lighting on, painting things in shades of dark crimson and pink—Yoongi can tell that whichever interlopers have done this are already gone. The room is empty.

Then the sound of a clatter breaks the silence and Yoongi’s already got his pistol out, drawn without a thought as he approaches the sound that comes from the back room, fleet-footed and silent as he raises the gun and rounds the corner—

And sees you at the end of the barrel.

There’s a first aid kit on the floor. Packs of medi-gel and rolls of bandages and other supplies scattered around your feet. You haven’t even spotted Yoongi yet, in despair at the mess in front of you; he’s never seen you like this, never seen anything other than your veneer of enraging smugness and never-ending energy.

“Y/n?” 

You flinch even as your head snaps around, eyes wide—but the second you see Yoongi you visibly relax, even though he’s still holding a gun in your direction.

There’s a bruise blossoming across your left cheek.

“Ah, Yoongi.” The smile that paints itself across your lips is almost convincing despite the dark flower that’s unfolding on your skin, blood rising to the surface and painting it in hues of pain; you wince, a little, when the smile makes your wound ache. Soldier onwards as you act as though nothing is wrong. “I know you’re always desperate for my attention but do you mind giving me a second? I’m kind of indisposed at the moment.”

Yoongi’s lips are set in a thin line. He only has one question on his mind.

“Who did this to you?”

Your gaze flickers before you break eye contact, staring at the first aid supplies on the floor. “What, this? Have you never dropped something before?”

Yoongi ignores your deflection. It only takes a few moments to reholster the pistol, to step over to you, to grasp your chin and tilt your face towards him.

“Who did this to you?”

Yoongi’s tone is quiet and low, firm and undeniable. For the first time since he’s met you it seems as though you’re lost for words, lips parted around a silent sound of surprise as you’re subjected to the full force of Yoongi’s gaze, cutting through you; past every layer of self-inflated narcissism you put on, past every deflection you might make.

There's a beat of silence.

And then you slowly but irrevocably fold underneath the weight of his stare.

You let him lead you, sit you down, bowing to his hands and his directions. You’re silent throughout, lips an unfamiliar shape as they’re pulled down into the slightest of frowns. He’s only ever seen you smile, seen you laugh, self-assured. Never like this.

You seem surprised, startled when he sits across from you and cracks open a pack of medi-gel. Yoongi’s surprised too, although he doesn’t show it, lets his instincts take over and settles into auto-pilot as he reaches for your face. He’s never seen your eyes so round, so wide, watching the hand that descends on your cheek with all the single-minded intent of a man about to fillet a fish—careful and practiced but menacing, maybe. (He doesn’t like you but you don’t deserve to have been hurt and Yoongi can’t just stand by and not help.)

And you don’t shy away. You stare at him as he stares at his fingers, layers the gel evenly across the pain of your bruise, cool and soothing.

It’s only when he’s reached for more medi-gel and touched your cheek for the second time that you finally speak.

“It was one of the Tang cousins.”

Yoongi goes still, fingers resting across your skin, slick with purple gel. 

“One of the cousins?”

Yoongi doesn’t like you. But—and God knows what he did wrong in a previous life for this to be true—you’re one of his inner circle, one of the very, very few people he trusts. You’re not friends and he doesn’t like you, but he owes you, owes you a hundred times over, owes you for every successful kill, every silent infiltration, every averted detection. All thanks to your tech and the work you put into it for him. He’s indebted to you.

Yoongi always pays his debts.

“I didn’t even catch his name.” You sound dismissive. Normally you’d laugh, deride the person you’re speaking about, but instead you just sound tired. “One of the low down ones. New kid on the block; someone I didn’t recognise, with some lackeys or similar. Trying to make a name for himself, I think. He demanded that I build weapons for him. I said no.”

The Tang family is a big one, a criminal empire that has its tendrils dug in everywhere. You don’t deal with them, have no interest throwing your lot in with them intentionally or not; it’s a big, formidable family, but it’s not the only one around. You’d be dumb to get involved in that mess of generational, cross-family conflict. You’ll sell things to the highest bidder, shift illicit high-tech stock, build generic modifications that people can buy—but you don’t make bespoke weaponry for just anyone.

You don’t even sell to the heads of the Tang family directly, let alone to some back-alley sewer rat who probably barely has the faintest ties to the family, a single vein of Tang blood in his body, just enough to give him an in.

Whoever this cousin was he must be really fucking stupid to not know that. Stupid to think he could demand anything from you. Stupid to think he could hurt you when you laughed in his face and said no. Anyone with half a brain-cell should know not to fuck with you, know that it’s an honour to even be allowed inside your workshop, that to be told ‘no’ by you is a privilege.

Stupid to think that he wasn’t going to pay for that stupidity.

The pack of medi-gel is empty, the deflated pouch forgotten on Yoongi’s knee as he stares at you. The flecks of biomatter in the gel catch the light, sparkling like glitter in the lavender that’s seeping into your skin; all the surprise is gone from your eyes and instead you’re just watching him, stolid and steady. Analytical.

(You’re smart. Yoongi knows you are. For all that you talk shit and play foolish, he never forgets about that fierce intelligence. Never underestimates you or how perceptive you are. He only wonders what’s on your mind right now; what it is that you see in front of you.)

“Next time don’t let someone in unless you’re certain you’re going to sell to them.”

You scoff in his face. “Alright, Dad. Do you want to update my curfew while you’re at it? Make it ten p.m. instead of eleven?”

Yoongi blinks slowly. You’ve got both eyebrows raised, surveying him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief that he’s trying to tell you what to do (because no one tells you what to do; they wouldn't dare). But you don’t pull away, your knees still touching his, body bowed towards him from when he’d coaxed you closer so he could reach your face—so he knows you don’t mind. Not really.

(Knows you don’t care about anyone’s opinions or rules, only sticking to your own. The fact you’d been shaken from that place of confidence by some thug—even for a moment—doesn’t sit right in Yoongi’s belly. That bitter taste is back in his throat and it’s ice cold, icicles prickling through his blood.)

(He doesn’t like you but you’re one of his people and no one fucks with Yoongi’s people.)

The bruise is still there days later, after you’ve rearranged your workshop back to the way it was, sourced a new monitor to replace the one that was broken. You’re back to smirking, already ready for his request, more bullets for his weapons and super-charged plasma to recharge his sword, but the bruise is a stark reminder of what you’ve been through. So is, too, the new blueprint he spies half finished on your open displays: an automated security system that scans thermal signatures, guns unfolding from the ceiling whenever aggressive movement is detected from an unfamiliar person. Anyone who’s not listed as familiar in the security logs. 

(Yoongi used to wonder about that. Why you didn’t have security mechs set in place, programming their AI to protect you, but you don’t like to use mechs. Don’t like to use them, even if you could afford to build them, because you compare it to forced servitude. You’ve never needed them before now, anyway. Safe in your reputation, knowing that you’re in a position of power, that people come here because they know you’re the best of the best.)

(But it seems like you don’t trust that any more. Don’t feel safe.)

Yoongi keeps as silent as always, bites his tongue when you cut him off mid-sentence with nothing more than a raised finger.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, wagging the finger back and forth like the slow pendulum of a grandfather clock. “No more crafting requests. I’m still working on the concentration mod you asked for and I’ll let you know when it’s ready. I don't rush for anyone. Patience is a virtue, baby. Did no one ever tell you that?”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Okay, handsome.” Your reply is instant, unruffled, and Yoongi grits his teeth. 

But still. For all that you’re acting like normal, workshop set back into place, white lighting shining overhead, as neat and presentable as always—Yoongi can read uncertainty in the way you move. Discomfort. You don’t feel safe in your own space and it’s obvious, even if you don’t realise it.

“Come back any time,” you say coyly, and Yoongi, as always, ignores you. Transfers the creds he owes you in silence before he takes one last look at the bruise that’s still painted across your skin, dark eyes touching yours for the briefest moment before he turns and leaves.

For the first time since you met, Yoongi buys from someone who isn’t you.

It’s not bad. Well made, decent tech, Predator pistol sitting easy in his hands when he brings it to the light and watches it unfold from its holstered state, the way plasma bursts to life in the barrel; weaker than bullets but easier to reload in the field. It’s no surprise that the Yeom family gets their stuff sourced from here. The body armour, too, isn’t bad, engraved with the family crest and cast in their colours.

It’s not bad, but it’s not as good as it could be. Not as good as Yoongi needs his tech to be, demands it to be—but quality doesn’t matter. Not today. He has a job to do.

It’s easy to find his mark. Scum gathers in stagnant water, in the dirtiest and dankest places, and this is where Yoongi finds Tang Lee. Finds him spilling beer and money in the backroom of some grimy strip club where the holograms flicker from age and the strippers are tired, trying their best to scrape a living from the seething riverbed of filth that runs underneath the bright neon lights of the skyscrapers in the levels above.

Lee isn’t alone but it’s so easy to take them out it’s laughable, men drunk from cheap alcohol; Yoongi catches one in a chokehold, smashes another’s face into the glass table with enough force it shatters, faces Lee once they’re the only two standing. The music outside is too loud and the room is sound proofed for privacy and so Yoongi isn’t interrupted as he brings Lee to his knees, thrusting his face into a smear of blood that drips from his now-broken nose, courtesy of a quick jab of Yoongi’s right fist.

It’s not a quick kill. It could be. Yoongi could have ended this in moments, caught Lee off guard and ended his miserable life almost effortlessly—but he doesn’t. He takes his time, makes it count, teaches him a lesson, has Lee on his hands and knees as he sobs out apologies and snivels for mercy before he takes the pistol and blows his brains out. Yoongi doesn’t feel sorry for the man, eyes the body impassively, not even worth his disgust—he only feels sorry for whoever finds the chaos of the room and the bodies inside, the distinct plasma burns he purposefully leaves in the wall with the Predator pistol, the entire scene he’s created here: a scuffle gone wrong, fast.

You’re not the only person Tang Lee has crossed but you’ll be the last. Yoongi checks the pulses of the other two men, finds one dead and the other still alive, barely, just like he’d planned—and his work is done. It’s the Yeom family’s problem now, any fall out from Lee’s death pointed at them, a repayment of a slight Lee had made to a Yeom supplier only a few weeks ago. (Yoongi wagers that neither family will care, will draw a veil over this moment and let this settle without raising arms, no one important enough to go to war over.)

He discards the pistol and armour once he’s done, incinerates it all, no interest in keeping subpar equipment. It’s not even worth dismantling for parts. Hoseok finds him in their basement, eyeing the blue flames that lick their way around the discarded armaments; he just watches Yoongi, inscrutable and calm as he eyes the blood on the clothing before it bursts into flames.

“Not a contract,” Hoseok says. (It’s not a question.)

“A job.” Yoongi replies, watches the cloth turn to ash through the thrumming display of the incinerator. “Something that needed to be done.”

He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s done. There’s no point in it. Yoongi decides something needs to be done and he’ll do it, whether that’s building a new chair for Jungkook after he broke his old one or killing a man who hurt you.

The next time he sees you your bruise is practically gone, faded into your skin. You’re intent on something on a monitor but when you notice him you turn, swivelling in your chair in one smooth motion as you lean back and put your hands behind your head, cross one leg over the other, dripping self-satisfaction, your smile sharp and full of teeth.

“Ah, Yoongi.” You look so smug that Yoongi has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Welcome, once again, to my laboratory. Is this visit for business or pleasure? Either way, you know I'm happy to oblige.”

“I’m here for the mod you promised me,” he says bluntly, and you just keep smiling, even as you hold out a hand for the sniper rifle, handling the D-2 Shadow with as much reverence as Yoongi does as you affix the mod.

It’s perfect, of course. All that Yoongi asked for and more. The software links with his eyepiece, biometric sensors that help him find his target, software to adjust to his pulse and breathing.

“You can even change the colour of the HUD,” you say, as if it’s some sort of buy-one-get-one-free offer, some fun little feature, rather than another helpful piece of software that you’ve created. Dismissive. An afterthought.

(You act like you take nothing seriously. Yoongi is your stark opposite, weighing everything in his hands and treating it with the level of attention it deserves, intent and focused.)

He’s staring down the scope when you speak once more. Light and easy, for once, rather than loud with your usual exaggerated exuberance or silken with unnecessary suggestiveness.

“I hear that they found a Tang family member dead.”

Yoongi just hums in response. Keeps his eye on the scope, wills the colour from dark green to white using the affinity link he has synced with his headpiece, watches the lines of the heads up display of the scope repaint themselves without even a single flicker, transition smooth and effortless. (Perfection.)

“It seems like the Yeom family did it,” you say, tone still conversational.

“Is that so.” Yoongi sounds disinterested, face impassive as he draws the gun away from his face, eye piece automatically folding away from his eyes. “Can I ask about other mods now that this one is finished?”

One of your brows rises, a perfect curve of discontent. “Say thank you first, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s eyes cut into yours but you don’t back down, watch his blank face as he eventually says: “Thank you. Now I need more mods.”

You throw your head back as you laugh. “You’re insatiable,” you say, but you don’t say no. “What do you want now?”

(It’s not that you never say no to Yoongi. Because you have, and you do, and you will. But never because you can’t make what he asks for—and only because you refuse to make things that might endanger his safety, illicit bio-mods that other hired hitmen use, things that degrade the body from the inside out.)

Yoongi’s just holstered the Shadow, ready to go, when you speak one final time.

“Yoongi?”

He’s never heard you say his name like that, soft and quiet.

“Thanks.” You’re staring at him, regarding him steadily, solemn in a way that he’s never seen. You’re smiling, as always, but the expression is lightyears away from what Yoongi is used to—just the barest hint of an upturn to your lips.

Yoongi stares back at you. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”

Your smile grows, a warm thing, unfurling like a flower. Almost affectionate. “Sure,” you say. “Of course. Silly me. Slip of the tongue.” And then, as if your brain’s only just caught up with what you just said, the smile turns salacious. “On the note of slipping the tongue—”

“Bye.”

Your cascading laughter follows him on his way out, cutting and shining with amusement. 

Yoongi’s been getting more contracts. He’s finally buckled under Jungkook’s insistent whining and has agreed to get gear for him, too, to train him how to shoot. Hoseok has more than enough contacts in the underworld to get jobs for them both—he’s the most powerful information broker around, after all, sitting in the centre of a web he’s woven after years of work, all that sharpness and darkness hidden behind his deceptively bright smile.

(Yoongi’s lucky to consider him a friend and not an enemy.)

So that’s why he’s here with increasing frequency. That’s why he finds himself at your door more often than not. To get those orders in place, to make sure they’re progressing as fast as they need to.

You never react when Yoongi steps into your workshop. Well, you do, you lean into your hand and smirk at him, pursing your lips around each snide remark, each suggestive comment—but you never question his appearance. You just go with the flow, unbothered by his presence, even when there are other people there—other customers who eye him with unveiled curiosity and confusion (some Yoongi recognises, some he doesn’t, well-known faces and unknowns alike; none of them know who he is, though, unrecognisable as Agust D without his battle gear on). Yoongi keeps a close eye on their stances, any unchecked aggression or hostility towards you. Keeps a watch on the tension of your shoulders and spine, because of… habit. Battle instinct. Nothing else.

“You know my policy, Yoongi.” You’re analysing something in your hand. It looks like an antique spyglass, something from the decades before technology overtook the world, but it’s jammed full of tech; it doesn’t just magnify to a terrifying degree, it also amplifies sound, connected to an earpiece that’s sleek and easy to overlook. ‘A small project’, you’d called it, as if it isn’t something that people would pay a fortune to own. “If I’m making something for someone I have to meet them first. If you want me to make anything for this ‘JK’ then it’s not happening until you bring him here. Just like with your friend RM.”

Yoongi is lolling by your monitors, half-asleep in your chair (which had moulded to the shape of his body the second he sat in it, designed to be too comfortable for its own good). 

“I know you can’t pull yourself away from me,” you continue, glancing up from the scope. “But you have to spend time with your friends sometimes. I know they’re not as pleasing to look at as me—”

“Stop.”

You shift the spyglass to one hand and lean your chin on the other, regarding him with sharp eyes and an amused quirk to your lips. “I love that you think you can tell me what to do.”

Yoongi resists the urge to make a noise at the back of his throat, opting to keep mum instead.

He’s too tired to argue with you. He’d come straight after a contract, blood still on the edge of his sleeves (not his), watched the way your eyebrows had risen when you’d casually taken in the state of him before offering to wash his jacket. You know the reality of this world you both inhabit, operating in the shadows, survival paid for in blood; you might not be on the high ground, lining the shot up to take the kill, but you craft the trigger that Yoongi pulls.

(You might be aware of this reality but you’re far removed from it, shaken by violence on your own door. You never should have been faced with it. You’re an inventor; a creator. Not a killer. Not like Yoongi is. He’s not going to let that happen again. He doesn’t like you but you shouldn’t have been subject to pain—shouldn’t still have your motions edged with a held breath, as if you’re waiting for it to repeat itself. 

No matter how well you hide it, Yoongi knows that there's a part of you that's still scared.)

“I know you think you’re too important to need to remember things, but we’ve worked together for long enough that you know that I’d ask to meet JK first, Yoongi,” you say. “Did you really have to come straight after murking someone just to be reminded about that? Not complaining—you know I love seeing that pretty scowl of yours—but I just figured you’d rather be resting right now. Don't tell me the infamous Agust D missed me and decided to come here instead.”

“You were on the way.”

(He’d circled around, taken a longer route, descended into the familiar maze of the lower city. To throw off the scent of any potential pursuers. You just happened to be nearby, pure coincidence and convenience.)

You retract the spyglass, collapsing it in your hands. “Either you leave right now and go to your own place to sleep, or you’re going to sleep in my bed. Your choice.”

(If Yoongi took the time to think about it, really think about it, he’d notice that the words aren’t shrouded in suggestion or insinuation. Your brows are raised and you’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to decide what he’s going to do—unimpressed at how tired he is, how he’s come here instead of sliding into his own bed for the rest he so clearly needs.)

Of course, Yoongi leaves. He returns home without his jacket, strips his shirt off as soon as he’s in this safe place, this base, sheds pieces of his body armour as easy as anything (you’d designed it to be lightweight and easy to don and doff, the perfect defence for someone who relied on stealth and speed); he’s just removing the last greave when Hoseok appears, rapping his knuckles against the open door.

“You’re finally back.”

Yoongi looks up. Hoseok is dressed for work, Hope Broker persona in place, tailored suit that sits perfectly with the lines of his body, handsome and stylish and entirely put together. He oozes poise and power. Elegance.

“Yeah.” Yoongi lets the greave drop, silent as it falls to the floor. “Job’s done.”

Hoseok smiles. It’s a genuine one because it’s for Yoongi. “I know,” he says, even though scarcely any time has passed since Yoongi put a bullet in the back of the target’s skull. Nothing happens in this world of theirs without Hoseok finding out about it, always sooner rather than later. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

“All good.” 

“Good.” Hoseok is used to Yoongi’s blunt nature, his short responses when he’s tired. “Get some sleep.”

Hoseok’s elegant even as he adjusts his cufflinks. It’s just the briefest of moments, the crisp edge of his perfectly white sleeve contrasting with the shining silver, the design inlaid in them—but Yoongi recognises that design immediately.

Because it’s yours.

It’s the same emblem on each piece of his gear, small and understated, hidden away, easy to miss—but Yoongi knows it intimately. He doesn’t say anything. Lets Hoseok leave without a word. Each one of the men that Yoongi considers family, the tiny collection of people that stay in this same home as him, know that he only gets equipment sourced from you—but Hoseok had never mentioned that he’s been in contact with you, too. 

It’s not important. Hoseok might be his friend and a staunch ally but there’s plenty that he gets up to that none of the others are privy to, trading information to the highest bidders, head of a huge network that Yoongi can use to his advantage but isn’t technically a part of. The people Hoseok deals with—buys his information and resources from, keeps perfectly balanced in comparison to his own power—is his own business and not Yoongi’s.

Yoongi moves to gather his armour, the hardsuit he wears like a second skin, and spots that insignia that he knows so well branded into it. To have Hoseok wearing it at his wrist—the Hope Broker, renowned trader of secrets—is a statement. You could have made the cufflinks plain and unadorned. But you hadn’t.

When Yoongi climbs into bed that night, he finds that his sleep is restless.

The smile on your face fades. “You know I don’t talk about business with other customers.”

Yoongi’s staring at you across your workbench, the light from its surface going dim as you take your hands off it, disassembled stun mine forgotten.

No one knows about his genuine friendship with Hoseok, but they do know that Agust D and the Hope Broker have an agreement; a professional working relationship. “I know the Hope Broker,” Yoongi says. 

Your eyebrows rise so far they seem to threaten to ascend into your hairline, you’re so incredulous. “Everyone does. What’s your point? Do you expect me to give you information about everyone you ask about? I get paid to keep people’s privacy, Yoongi. Do you think I sell the information of your equipment, how to dissemble every defence you have? Do you think I give your name out to everyone who asks?”

There’s no touch of amusement to the line of your lips, no sparkling irreverence in your eyes. You’re genuinely displeased.

“He’s wearing your symbol.”

You scoff. “You wear my symbol too. Why, are you jealous? Your armour has exactly the same technology. Better, even, because I can fit more tech in there.”

The cufflinks generate a kinetic barrier, then, a layer of invisible shielding that lays just atop Hoseok’s skin. But no one sees Yoongi’s armour; no one sees the workmanship of your weapons, no one except him. Your insignia isn’t emblazoned on his wrist for all to see.

Yoongi isn’t jealous.

“Hope is a powerful man,” you continue. “Everyone knows that. Even people who haven’t met him know that. Even people who aren’t sure he exists know that. If I want to sell to him then that’s my business.”

Everyone who’s anyone recognises your logo, no matter how rare it is to spot it (you only craft for a select few, after all). And Hoseok’s influence is far reaching and powerful; no one would dare cross him, dare to cross anyone who’s associated with him. 

“I’m looking for a new workshop.” You rise, moving away from your workbench to your monitors, touching a display with your fingers to bring it to life. Ignoring Yoongi’s presence, not even looking at him. “I haven’t got the space to modify the systems in this one as much as I want to. The walls are already full enough as it is. Do you know how hard it is to find somewhere with the specifications I need?”

Yoongi realises, then, why you’re doing this. The bruise is long gone and your skin is unmarred but you still don’t feel safe. You’ve always worked alone. Until now. Now you’re making moves to settle down, settle in, make a statement of allegiance to someone who can offer you a level of protection with their influence.

Someone who can offer you somewhere new, away from this inadequate place you’ve outgrown.

Hoseok laughs lightly when Yoongi asks about it, mentions it in passing as the two of them drink soju side by side, Hoseok in his suit and Yoongi girded in the armour under his unassuming clothes, both in the upper city for work; they stare down at the myriads of tall buildings and huge holo-boards and rainbow array of neon lights, far above the place they call home.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, utterly relaxed (and faintly amused). “I know you respect her work so I thought I’d reach out. I’m surprised she can make the things she does in that tiny workshop. You’re right; she’s very good.”

You are. The next time you meet, you give Yoongi his usual shipment and more besides, more than he’d ordered, reflected in the amount of creds he has to pay—because he won’t be able to just drop in for a while, your workshop dismantled and scraped empty in preparation for the move. Where to, he doesn’t know, but you say you’ll pass on the information once everything is up and running again.

“If you break any of your gear while I’m gone then you’re on your own,” you say. “I’m not shipping anything before my new workshop is finished.”

Two days later, Yoongi spies a new watch on Hoseok’s wrist. It looks low-tech, old style, metal strap and round clock face—but he sees the silhouette of your logo under those ticking hands and knows there’s more tech in there that meets the eye.

He looks away.

It takes a week for the message to appear, encrypted: your new location. Levels above your former workshop, one of the higher strata of the lower city—still hidden and out of the way but away from the dirt and darkness. 

Yoongi goes. He finds the door panel, scans his palm, leans forward for the light to flit across his eye, murmurs a word, watches the door slide open. He’s already programmed in. New workshop, new security system, but he’s still allowed in, still one of the people you consider familiar, trustworthy. 

(He doesn’t know of anyone else who fits that category. Has only ever seen you manually allow people inside, granting your permission each time, rather than giving them free run of the place. No one has as many complex orders as he does, he’s certain. It’s for ease and practicality’s sake.)

He’s unfamiliar with the layout of this new building, first corridor already longer than he’s used to; he pauses for a moment but then hears something, faint—your laughter. Follows that sound, makes his way forward, through polished corridors with lines of light underfoot, leading him down some stairs and towards the sound of you.

Your new workshop is beautiful. There’s enough room in here for everything, no need for a backroom: a central worktable, benches lining the walls, tech displays built in, everything edged with lighting, dark surfaces shining bright, large floor panels underfoot emitting a low glow. Your former home had been that underground workshop and a locked door to a ladder to your micro apartment up top, tiny kitchen and single bed in a small room with a shower cubicle in the corner. Yoongi already knows that this building is far, far bigger, and you have more space than you’ve ever had before; you’d never been discontent with your smaller home, comfort from familiarity, until that comfort had been stripped from you.

You’re smiling. The snark woven into your words that Yoongi is used to is muted, light comment falling from your lips as you sit on that central table, perched on its edge. And Hoseok, he laughs, grinning so widely his teeth are on show—he’s wearing a suit but his jacket is resting on his shoulders, tie undone and cast around his neck. A stance of relaxation, one Yoongi’s never seen from him, not when he’s working. Not when he’s The Hope Broker and not Hoseok.

He’s still smiling when he notices Yoongi, the two of you looking over when the hitman speaks.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Hoseok.”

That ever-present smirk freezes on your face for a split second, eyes widening at the sound of Hope’s real name. Hoseok just takes it in stride, his smile not dimming even for a second.

“Hey, Yoongi.” His greeting is as warm as it always is. “Just checking in. Have to make sure everything is up to scratch. What’s the verdict?”

You’ve hidden your surprise, wiped it off your face, eyes on Hoseok as you answer him. “It’s perfect.” A pause. “I take it you two know each other?”

“Sure. Yoongi is an old friend of mine.” Hoseok is still smiling, looking at Yoongi with creased eyes. Unafraid of revealing this information to you, still at ease despite the tension that’s bubbling in the air, Yoongi’s impassive face. Hoseok is always an unshaken pillar of positivity. “I didn’t realise he was coming. Am I interrupting an appointment?”

You stare at Yoongi. “No, you’re not. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

(You’d sent the message less than an hour ago. Yoongi had taken one look at the address, memorised it, pulled on his jacket and headed out; clearly you hadn’t anticipated how fast his arrival would be.)

“A happy coincidence, then.” Hoseok sounds like he genuinely means it, is pleased to see Yoongi here, his smile unwavering. There’s a languid set to his body, the easing line of his spine, hands in his pockets. A glittering in his eyes. (No one ever gets the drop on Hoseok, never surprises him, catches him off guard, no matter what they do.) “But I’ll let you conduct your business and we can catch up another time.”

He takes a hand out of his pocket as he walks past Yoongi, pats his shoulder amicably. His palm is relaxed against the tense set of Yoongi’s shoulders before he ascends the stairs and disappears out of sight, the sound of his polished shoes fading until he’s gone, one of the monitors on the wall flickering to indicate the front door is shut once more.

You’re still staring at Yoongi. The atmosphere had been heavy, even with Hoseok there—and now that he’s gone there’s nothing to alleviate that pressure, nothing to dissolve the strange twist to the air.

“Who,” you start, measured but sharp, “do you think you are?”

Yoongi returns your stare, looks back at you with his dark eyes. Doesn’t respond to your question; an unnecessary, unprompted thing, razor-edged for a reason he can’t discern. 

“Can’t you hear me?” You slide off the table, stalk towards him. “I said—” you raise a hand— “who? Do? You? Think? You? Are?”

You emphasise each word with a sharp jab to Yoongi’s chest, driving your finger forward with so much force it must hurt. You keep it in place, keep it dug into the centre of his ribcage. There’s no laughter hidden in the corner of your lips. He’s annoyed you again, somehow, a familiar guest turned unwelcome interloper.

“You say that you know Hope and yet I just watched you treat him like dirt.” Your eyes are piercing, cutting through the soft frame of your curled lashes, boring straight into him. “You come into my workshop as if you’re meant to be here; like there’s something you’re owed. Do you want me to treat you like a child, send you to your room? Not let you back in here? Because I will.”

“You sent me your address,” Yoongi points out.

You let out a bark of laughter. “Please.” Your hand drops back to your side and you turn, stepping away. “I’ve sent this address to all my business associates. I can’t sell or buy unless people can find me. You’re the only one who’s taken this as an invitation to just turn up and waltz in. At least when Hope turns up he warns me beforehand. Oh, and he doesn’t say stuff like he’d rather blow his own brains out than be forced to see me. I know you just love being contrary but has it ever occurred to you to be more polite to people? You’d make a terrible waiter. You’d get fired on your first day.”

You’re in front of one of your cabinets. You reach inside for something, hefting it in your hands before returning, handling it in a way that’s completely unceremonious, dropping it to the bench at his side like you want to be rid of it. Like you don’t even want to hand it directly to him, to interact with him. “There. Nothing but a pleasure doing business with you, Yoongi, even if your customer service still needs improving.”

It looks like a flat, hexagonal panel, the same colour and material as his armour. Something to be locked into it, wired in, trailing veins of unattached tech spilling from it. He’s seen you working on this for a while, seen you draw up blueprints with a bruise fresh on your cheek, seen it turned in your hands as that mark had faded and left your skin. 

It’s not something he ordered.

“What is this?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “Auto medi-gel distributor. It syncs with your armour and senses when you’ve been hurt and disperses gel in the affected area. Your armour’s always been too lightweight to have extra mods on but I’ve been working on this for a while.”

It’s an astonishing piece of tech. Usually one that’s reserved for heavier armour, restricting and hard to move in but easier to mod—but this thing is slim, compact, the same technology crammed into a smaller package without losing any of its punch. He doesn’t know what materials you’ve had to use to circumvent this, the level of tech you’ve layered into this, the amount of time and thought you’ve put into this.

“How much is it?”

The wrong thing to say. The smile that spreads itself across your lips is an echo of its usual curve, brittle and flaking around the edges, a baring of teeth.

“It’s a gift, Yoongi. Usually when someone does something for you, you return the favour.” Your lips are still upturned but your eyes are unsmiling even when your tone seems whimsical and light. You’ve got on your usual flippant façade, but there’s a pointed undercurrent to it. “You know, I don’t understand you at all. You remind me that you don’t like me but then you always hang around. You kill someone who threatened me and pretend that you didn’t do it. You say you don’t like me, but I thought you at least respected me, and yet here you are. Lying to me and treating me like I'm a fool.”

“I do respect you,” Yoongi says. 

(Because he does, and as much as he would hate to inflate your ego, he doesn’t shy away from telling the truth.)

“Sure you do.” An unimpressed eye-roll, cutting under his words, knocking his feet out from underneath him. You don’t care to believe him. “This is my fault for not treating you the same as all my other business associates.  Next time you come in you’ll have to have an appointment, just like everyone else. It’ll minimise the amount of time we have to spend together.”

Yoongi doesn’t like you. He finds, though, that he likes the sound of this even less; finds it pulling at his brows, his mouth, impassive expression turned to one of disapproval.

And his mouth opens. The word falls from his lips before he has a chance to think—years of battle intuition, years of following instinct, moving as he needs to in the moment.

“No.”

A raise of the brows. A purse of the lips. Incredulous. “No?” you parrot it back, mocking. “Oh, okay, sure. Never mind. You’re welcome to come in whenever you want and act like you have free rein of the place. There’s nothing I enjoy more than your scowling presence.”

Sharp tongued, sharp eyed, narrowed at him: a confrontation. For all that you needle him you never mean it, really (even if it’s still infuriating, aggravating). But right now? Right now each of your words is barbed, your sarcasm a defence, an offence. You’re running your mouth not just to rile him, but to ward him away. 

“You’re really not as smart as you think you are, Min Yoongi.” You wield his name like a weapon. “You tell me right now why I should listen to you. What do you come here for? And don’t say it’s for my work because it stopped being just that a long time ago. And if it is just for my work then take it and go. Then I’ll take you off the security system and we’ll only see each other as much as is strictly necessary. In fact, you could pass your orders along via Hope—then we won’t have to even see each other at all. ”

“And then he’ll be the only one allowed free rein?”

It comes out before he’s even really thought about what he’s saying, which isn’t like him at all. Yoongi is two parts: pure, honed instinct, and careful, wary vigilance. He’s not like you, saying the first thing that comes to mind—not normally, anyway—but the words jump from his lips, from some near-silent part of him that balks at the idea. Of Hoseok stepping into your space the way that Yoongi does, appearing without warning, to be greeted with a curled smirk and glittering eyes.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think that you’re not the only person with security clearance. My God. You’re infuriating. Seriously? I didn’t realise you were genuinely this dense. You’re the only one I’ve ever allowed in without prior agreement.” You emphasise this statement with another jab to his chest, your finger a sharp knife that cuts into him as you stab it forwards.

He catches your wrist. His grasp is firm but there’s no pressure to it; doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t tighten his fingers, just holds you in place. You’re staring at him with a challenge in your eyes, one that he finds himself rising to match, never one to back down.

“Is that so?”

Your hand unfurls, fingers splayed across his chest; he’s still holding your wrist, shifting with your movement. “Don’t be obtuse.” An irritated exhale. “Normally you complain whenever I talk and now you’re trying to get me to repeat myself. Again with the inconsistency, Yoongi. Make up your mind.”

He could do what you do whenever you’re feeling particularly aggravating. Play dumb, ask more questions, drag out the interaction until you’re bordering on snapping—but he doesn’t. He looks at the set of your jaw, the way you’re staring at him. Unflinching. You’ve never been scared of him, and you aren’t now, not with how he’s got a hold of you, how close he is to you.

He toes the line. Shifts closer. Notes the way your pupils dilate, how the tips of your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt; how the air grows heavier, a frisson of electricity crackling through it. Yoongi doesn’t like you, but he likes that feeling—how the tension in the air shivers from indignation into something different.

Because you’re still staring at him, and there’s still that hard set to your jaw, but there’s not just anger in your eyes. There’s that warm thing he’s grown used to seeing, smouldering in near silence until he’d coaxed it to full flame, thrown gasoline onto the coals when he’d shot plasma into the back of Tang Lee’s skull. He’d protected you even though he hadn’t needed to, doesn’t need to, but does anyway—because he trusts you and there’s no one else he trusts to keep you safe.

And there’s no one else you trust, either.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi says, like he so often does—but there’s no irritation in it, touched instead with a simmering heat, the faintest edge of a bite.

You tilt your head. There’s a provocation etched into the twist of your mouth, the way your lips lift. Because no matter how much you needle him, dig your fingernails into every crack of his armour and twist—no matter how annoying you are, how angry you make him—you know that he’s not mad. Not really. Not in a way that makes you afraid, but in a way that thrills you, makes you want to see him snap, to wipe away that level facade he maintains.

“Maybe you should shut me up, then,” you reply, a murmur. A challenge.

A beat. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around your wrist. A warning.

And in response?

You just smile.

The way your eyes widen just seconds later is delicious, though, when Yoongi lets go of your wrist—because he’s moving faster than you expected. Your surprise melts into delight, a spark of glee that says you’ve gotten exactly what you want when Yoongi threads his fingers in your hair, tilting your head back to bare the column of your throat. He holds you firmly in place, crowds you back against the workbench so hard its edge must be digging almost painfully into your back but not once does that glee dim, written over every line of your smile, eyes bright and teeth sharp.

Yoongi likes to take things slow. There’s the part of him that never steps into a situation without knowing every angle, every escape route, each one of his kills planned meticulously. But, he thinks, the two of you have been waiting long enough, and he’s never been patient around you—has found his composure worn thin faster than anywhere else, by anyone else. It’s this part of him, frayed into non-existence by you, that rises to the surface now, makes him move as quick as he does.

And you respond just the way he knew you would. When he presses his mouth to yours you kiss him back like you have a point to make (you always do), fast and almost reckless, all lips and teeth and tongue. There’s no finesse to it. When he presses his tongue into your mouth you part your lips so prettily, let him take his fill, slide your tongue against his and tilt your head to get even deeper—and just like always, you're vocal, letting out small noises that are caught and muffled in the kiss, lust filled. But when you try to nip at his lip with the edge of your teeth Yoongi tightens his grip in your hair and swallows down your gasp before he pulls away, holding you in place so you can’t chase after his mouth. Your lips are kiss swollen and under the bright lights above they shine, slightly parted, pupils blown as you stare at him. 

(You look good like this.)

Your eyes slide shut when Yoongi lowers his lips to your neck, across your throat. There’s nothing gentle about it. He moves with single-minded intent, lips and teeth harsh against your sensitive skin—and you take it all, little sounds falling from your lips as Yoongi drags his teeth towards the hollow of your neck. And when he takes his hand from your hair, takes both hands and digs his fingers into your waist and lifts you, you go so easily; a mimicry of your earlier position when he’d stepped in, perched on the edge of the table. Legs spread so Yoongi can stand between them. He’d be surprised at how pliant you are if it wasn’t so obvious that this is exactly what you want: lifting your hips so he can strip your lower half bare. 

Your bare thighs press against the surface of the workbench, tech displays coming alive under your body heat. You’ve shrugged your cropped jacket off and you’re just reaching for your top when Yoongi stops you; splays a hand in the centre of your chest and presses you back, slow but undeniable. You’re not the one setting the pace. He is. He’s the one in control, with you spread out in front of him, only a thin layer of fabric keeping you from being completely bare—thin cotton underwear, dark and damp between your legs, betraying your arousal.

“Wet,” Yoongi murmurs.

Your retort stutters on your lips when he drags his fingers upwards over your slit, barely dulled by the material in the way. “No shit,” you say, and then suck in a breath when he presses the pad of his thumb across your clit.

It’s no good, the fact you’re still talking. But that’s okay. Yoongi’s planning on changing that.

It’s lewd, the way your legs are spread, parting further at the urging of his hands. Your hands slide across the bench, papers scattering, palms flat on the work surface and white light shimmering on dark blue in reaction to your touch; an unnecessary distraction that you both ignore. There’s nothing graceful about this, the peel of underwear away from your core, already slick even with the barest of attentions; he drags his fingers down the inside of your thighs, all that soft skin, and then under, urging your hips up and towards his mouth. No foreplay to this foreplay, no dragging out this moment—he bites at that soft skin of your inner thigh, sinks his teeth into it and listens to the way you gasp in surprise—and before you have a moment to ground yourself, he presses his mouth to your cunt.

You’re wet and warm under his tongue and the smell of you surrounds him, musky and heavy, and he feels how your entire body goes tense as you arch your back. He’d normally take his time with this, have you strung out and begging, but he has different plans today—knows exactly what he wants from this, sucking your clit between his lips and feeling your thighs tighten around his head, legs slung over his shoulders as he listens to the way you moan. Each sound shudders out from your mouth like you tried so desperately to keep it in but couldn’t help it. Yoongi loves eating pussy anyway but this is even better, the way all your witty ripostes die in your throat before you can shape them on your lips, turned into breathy gasps instead. 

The taste of you fills his mouth and it’s so fucking good. You’ve been watching him, how his head moves between your legs, but he can tell you’re close; you’ve given up, eyes shut as you lean into the sensation building up in you, and Yoongi thinks he likes you better like this. Forced into speechlessness under his hands and tongue. Your pretty mouth softened from sharpness into urging noises of pleasure. He slides one arm across your stomach and holds you in place, a hard line that you can’t overpower and you’re left squirming in place, hips trying to kick up each time he draws his tongue over your slit, every part of you sloppy with your own arousal and Yoongi’s spit, flushed and lovely. One of your hands is in his hair and you’re pulling, pulling hard, unaware of how tight your grip is as you try to buck your hips and sob. 

You’re so sensitive, and it only takes one, two fingers pressing into you and curling just right as Yoongi slides his tongue over your clit before you’re cumming, hot around his fingers as you come apart all wet and messy. He’s never seen you so undone, back arched as you ride out your orgasm, hair swept away from your forehead as you throw your head back. Keeps his mouth open on you, feels you under his tongue, until you’re flopped on your back and your chest is heaving, legs untensed and loose over his shoulders.

You shift an arm. Your fingers barely brush the medi-gel mod you’d made him, a loose sheet of paper sliding away and joining the others on the floor.

“Just moved in and it’s already a mess,” Yoongi says, and he doesn’t just mean the paper; fingers and chin and mouth covered in your slick, your core soaked. He’s still knuckle deep and when he curls his fingers again your entire body jolts, your mouth parting almost wantonly before you seem to struggle back to reality, surfacing from a haze of arousal and post orgasmic bliss.

“That’s your fault,” you say, voice weaker than usual. “I’ll send you the cleaning bill.”

“Mm. Not my fault you’re a messy girl.”

“Fuck you.” The blunt words are softened by your breathlessness, your bonelessness; the way your breath catches in your throat when he calls you a messy girl, even if you try to hide it. Trying not to let him in on exactly how much power he holds in this moment. 

“I was planning on it,” Yoongi says, as calm as ever, even if arousal is simmering through his veins and gathering in his gut—has been this entire time, the taste of you on his tongue and the heat of you under his lips and the sound of you in his ears. “Want to make your workshop even messier?”

You dig your balls of your feet into his back, legs still over his shoulders. His fingers shift inside you and you shiver. “I don’t think so,” you say. “Bedroom.”

“So you’re giving me a tour, then?”

You don’t dignify him with a response, although the noise you make when he finally pulls his fingers out of you is more than enough to satisfy him. He’s still fully dressed and you’re only half so, and it would be comical if the sight of your bare legs and slick on your inner thighs wasn’t so hot, barefoot on the glowing and pristine (papers notwithstanding) floors as you reach for his hand and lift it to your lips, sucking his fingers into your mouth and licking your arousal off his fingers with your tongue, warm and wet, before you grab his wrist and pull. 

He watches the movement of your hips as you lead him, your bare ass. Shameless as ever. Confident in yourself, even now. It’s not until you’ve stepped over the threshold and into your new bedroom that your tattoos become visible, as bright as the low lights in the room, those geometric lines and stylised circuitry on your legs shifting as you step forwards.

Even with the relative darkness Yoongi immediately notices something. Cast over the back of a chair near the bed, there’s his jacket, blood stains at the edge of the sleeves gone. Cleaned. Yoongi shifts his hand so you don’t have your fingers wrapped around his wrist any more. Instead he’s the one shackling you, holding you in place as you look over your shoulder.

“Were you ever going to return that to me?” He tilts his head at the chair. 

You pause. Glance over. Look back at him, all amusement and provocation, recovered from your earlier breathlessness. “But Yoongi, I get so cold.”

There’s something about the idea of you in his clothes, clothes that you know he’s worn when he’s been getting his hands dirty—he ignores the curl to your lips and moves you towards the bed, ignoring the sound of your self satisfied laughter when he reaches for your shirt and pulls, with you lifting your arms to help him, grinning at him the whole time. Even when he’s thrown your bra aside and kicked his boots off and pushed you onto the mattress, trapped you underneath him, completely naked against his completely clothed body you’re still smiling, like the cat who got the cream.

You’re stunning. There’s no doubt about it. You always have been, annoyingly so, even when Yoongi’s wanted to wring your neck; not just because you’re pretty but because you’re intelligent and confident and in control, staring up at him without a lick of fear or concern, even now. Never with him, never. He can see your tattoos in all their glory, nothing hidden away from his gaze; he sees one he hasn’t been able to see before, a sunflower bursting across your ribcage, curved under the swell of your breast, glowing red and orange in the midst of all your other cyan and teal lines, glowing in the black light. He’s pressing you down, trapped under his body, and you’re just waiting. Waiting and still smiling, smirking, letting him take you in, preening under his attention.

He wants to eat you alive.

So he does just that. Shifts back down the mattress on his knees, keeping his hands on you, pulling his hands down the easing lines of your ribs and waist and hips, before a firm tug has you lifting up—your smug facade shakes when you’re left with only your shoulders and head against the bed, the rest of your body pulled towards Yoongi’s waiting mouth once more, held in place with fingers that dig into your hips, thighs soft against his ears, your hands scrabbling at the linen underneath you when Yoongi’s lips press into the crease of your thigh, off balance.

“Safeword?” He murmurs into your skin, and you pause.

“Hoseok,” you answer, and Yoongi responds by biting into your thigh again, soothing it with his tongue when you squeal.

“Shameless.”

You’re still wet from before, slick with cum, and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate before he dives back in. He can hear more than he can see the way your fingers curl into your sheets and rumple them in your hands, anchored helplessly into place by Yoongi’s mouth and the fingers cupped under your ass, digging into the soft skin, undignified and at his mercy. 

“Yoongi!” You gasp, almost a whimper as a breath gets caught in your throat. “Y-Yoongi—”

You’re so helpless like this. It’s a little hard for Yoongi to breathe, your legs tightening around him, but it’s worth it for the way he can see you shaking apart. He presses his tongue as deep into you as he can, sucks your swollen pearl between his lips and circles it with his tongue, notices the way you jolt at those wet kisses, still sensitive from before, and he doesn’t let up. Keeps going and going and going until you’re gasping for air, sensations rippling through your body as you buck and writhe; you’re trying to keep yourself together, he can tell, but you’re unravelling, smirk wiped off your face and your mouth in a pretty little circle whenever you choke out oh, oh.

You cum faster than he expects, shoulders lifting away from the mattress as you arch your back so far it must hurt and tighten your legs and he feels the way your pussy throbs under his tongue, practically gushing when you reach your peak. Your eyes are unfocused when they flutter back open but you’re reaching for him, for the waistband of his trousers, trying to touch the hard length of his cock—he’s been ignoring it, how he’s leaked so much precum he can feel how wet it is in his boxer-briefs.

He keeps ignoring it now. He catches your hands, stops you in place, stares you down with an unimpressed tilt to his brows.

“What,” he says levelly, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Want you in my mouth,” you say. You seem almost desperate for it, fingers flexing in his hold, letting your tongue linger against your lips longer than necessary. “I want your cock in my mouth, Yoongi.”

He tightens his grip around your wrists. And then, for the first time all night, he smiles.

“No.”

You look stunned. Just for a moment. Then you’re squirming in his hold, but you’re trapped, nowhere to go. “What do you mean, no?”

Yoongi’s still smiling, mirroring the self satisfaction that had been written all over your face earlier. “I mean no. You don’t get what you want. You get what you’re given.”

There’s nothing he’d like more than to sink into that wet heat, to see your smart mouth put to good use, lips spread over his cock, but this is better. Seeing the genuine frustration and disbelief written across your features. 

He doesn’t give you time to line up another angered retort on your tongue. Doesn’t give you time to breathe before he’s flipping you over, the wings of your shoulder blades and curve of your spine emphasised by the lines that are traced symmetrically and shining across your skin. They shift when you move, hips lifted from the mattress by Yoongi’s hands, on your hands and knees as he fumbles his waistband and zipper and pulls his cock free. He’s painfully hard, flushed head with precum that beads at the tip, and when he tugs you back he watches the way the head drags across the curve of your ass, leaving a shining line of wetness on your skin.

And when he sinks into you he barely gives you time to adjust, barely has time to adjust himself, to all this hot tight wetness after his cock’s gotten no attention at all—you let out a moan that almost sounds like you’re singing, long and high with pleasure, the slide eased from all your cum.

 You take it so well, always so good to him no matter how irritating you are, so lost in the sensations that you don’t say anything about the hard edges of Yoongi’s clothes whenever he drives his hips forward and it presses into the soft skin of your thighs. It’s messy and choppy and fast and you slump onto your elbows, entire body shaking as you take everything Yoongi is giving you. Caged underneath him when he follows you forwards, presses his front to your back, feels the way the sweat on your skin is caught against the fabric of his clothes. Grinds his hips deep and feels the way you gasp, sucking in a shaking breath, your entire body lost in it. He bites his lip and keeps his own sounds caught behind his teeth, not letting you know how you’re pulling him towards his own edge.

He’s not done with you yet.

Your clit is slick under his touch when he lifts his fingers to touch you, to layer another sensation on top of the cock inside you, and you’re sobbing. You don’t ask him to stop, never know when to quit, face every challenge thrown at you—and Yoongi can tell that you love it even if your body is crying out, that you love this oversensitivity, pulled taut and strung out. You’re beyond speech, words slurred, barely recognisable as his name and pleas of more, please, more. He can feel when you’ve crested the wave of too much sensation and fallen back into that rippling sea of pleasure, and when you cum it’s with a soundless moan, mouth wide open but no noise escaping. No more sharp retorts, no smart words, fucked into incoherency, trembling and quivering as you go tight around him and Yoongi struggles not to lose himself then and there, in your scorching, wet cunt, fluttering around him.

The noise when he pulls out is slick and lewd, just like all the other noises that have been filling the room, the slap of skin on skin temporarily halted when Yoongi rolls you onto your back. There’s sweat beading on your skin, shimmering, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and glistening like tiny jewels in the multi-coloured low light of this room. Your lips are parted and your gaze is bleary and you’re everything Yoongi has never seen from you before, fuzzy and quiet, entirely pliant. When he reaches for you again, runs his hands over the rise of your hipbones and down the side of your thighs, you whimper.

“One more,” Yoongi says. “One more, you can give me one more.”

You’ve never known when to quit, and now is no different, even if you’re on the verge of being entirely fucked dumb. Those tears pool in your eyes and stream down towards your hairline, but you let Yoongi move you, try to help by lifting your hips but almost too gone to move at all. Yoongi almost cums when he sinks into you, your willing body; he thinks you’ve never looked better than you do now, smelling like sweat and sex and so soft under his hands, taking his cock like you were made for it, and you’re so gorgeous when you’re falling apart. 

The attitude you wear normally—the one that chafes at Yoongi’s nerve-endings—has been entirely wiped away, forced out of you by mindless pleasure. But still, you know what you want, even now, even when you’re barely coherent—Yoongi feels your hand slide across his and pull weakly, guiding it across your chest and up, circling his fingers around your neck.

He swears. Snaps his hips forward hard, watches the way your eyes roll back when he gives an experimental squeeze around your throat. Yoongi’s choked people before, knows exactly how much pressure to give, how much it takes to cut someone’s airways completely or how to just leave them reeling; he lets you linger on the edge of breathlessness, feels the way you go tight around him. When you orgasm it rips through you, your thighs tightening around Yoongi’s hips as you hit your peak and cum hard, and the feeling of it has Yoongi cursing and bending forwards to shove his face in your neck and kiss the salt-sweat taste he finds there as he falls off the edge. He cums wet inside you, keeps rolling his hips through it all, lets his cum mix with yours and watches the way you just keep taking it, even when your whole body is trembling from how much it is.

And when Yoongi calls you a good girl, you don’t snap back like you normally would, don’t deride his praise. You bask in it, as tired as you are, letting out a soft noise when he pulls his softening cock out of you, unbothered by the wet patches on your sheets and how the whole room stinks of sex. When he moves to lift you, to get you clean, you go easily and without argument, every one of your honed edges dulled, and you make no move to sharpen them again, to drag them over Yoongi in the way he’s so familiar with by now. Even when you’ve lifted out of your haze and you’re back in the moment, the way you watch Yoongi is no less calm than normal, but still different.

“Stay.”

He’s in the middle of reaching for his boots, discarded on the floor, a discordant note on the clear floor. You’re wearing clean underwear and a loose t-shirt and you’re looking at him with something verging on surprise, like you hadn’t expected to see him moving to pull his shoes back on to leave.

He hadn’t been planning to.

“Just moving them out of the way,” says Yoongi, putting them upright by the base of your chair, and then he makes his way back to you. You don’t attempt to hide your pleasure that he’s listened to you,  pulling him onto the bed despite the fact he’s still dressed.

“I don’t cuddle,” he says, even as you tuck yourself into the crook of his arm, and he shifts to make it more comfortable for you.

You press your face into the hollow of his neck, touch your nose against his throat, breathing in the smell of sweat that still lingers—because you’re shower soft and fresh but he isn’t, and weirdly enough, you seem to enjoy it. Seem to enjoy that contrast, the one that’s always existed between you, Yoongi immersed in blood and sweat and tears while you’re away from it, one degree of separation from it all. “You know, I like it when you do things for me.”

Normally he’d protest, say that he doesn’t do things for you, but the truth is that he does, even if he’s only just admitting it to himself. 

“Like that time you killed someone for me,” you say, and Yoongi’s fingers tighten, soft skin of your waist yielding under his touch.

“I kill a lot of people.”

You let out a laugh against his skin, quietly amused. “Just admit it. You like me, Min Yoongi.”

A pause. 

Then: “Against my better judgement, I do.”

And he does. Even if you’re irritating and maddening, he does like you, and not just because of the work you do for him. He thinks that even if you weren’t so good at your job that he’d find himself here anyway, caught in this push and pull you have, magnetised.

“No need to sound so begrudging,” you say, but there’s no real annoyance behind your words. 

Yoongi finds that he likes that note in your voice, like you’re indulging him and his stubbornness and you’re unmoved by it. He hums in response. Feels the way you shift back, lean on your elbows to look down at him, lips curled up at the corners.

“Kiss me.”

Not a question. A demand. Yoongi stares you down, just for a second, before he lifts a hand and weaves a hand back into your hair, tilting your mouth against his. He can feel your self satisfied smile against his lips and he doesn’t mind it at all, sees it spread across your face when you eventually pull back, all flushed lips and warm eyes.

You’re still sharp, a weapon in your own right, but you willingly hand yourself over to be held in his skilled hands, let yourself be worn smooth by his touch. He weaves his fingers between your own, your palm soft and warm against his, and he likes this. That you’re unafraid of what he is, that the fact he’s a killer isn’t something that scares you or thrills you.

Yoongi likes your work. He likes that he knows he can trust you. He likes that he knows of your loyalty, to the people you choose and to yourself, your unwavering principles, as unpredictable as they might seem. He likes that you’re unashamed to be yourself and to be confident, no matter how people react to that cockiness. 

What he likes even better than all that is this, though: the way you’re pressed against his side, evidence of his touch written into your skin. The feeling of your hand in his. Despite all the odds, all the months of drawn out and simmering exasperation and tension coming to a head like this, Yoongi likes you.

“I’m not going to give you a discount, you know,” you say suddenly, and for the first time since you met, Yoongi allows himself to laugh at you.

“I’d be offended if you did.”

(You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You love to irritate him just for the hell of it, because you think it’s funny and you love knowing that you can rile him up—but he can rile you up too, and you both know it.

Yeah. Yoongi likes you.)

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