#and without that they tend to just sit in their rooms for long stretches

[starrihan]

&TEAM Hyung line reaction to their crush having no choice but to sit on their lap. (Like in the car and there isn’t enough seats or during a movie night, etc.)

Oh what I would do to sit on their laps 😔

-> each members parts are about ~600-800 words long! im sorry this took so long but multiple member reactions tend to take the longest time for me to make😅 but i hope you enjoyed this nonetheless!!

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

༄ ༄ ༄

K:

You were so happy to be volunteering at the annual cherry blossom festival. You needed more opportunities to showcase your instrumental abilities, and the festival hosts needed many people to sing and perform throughout the day. Thanks to the amazing weather recently, the cherry blossoms bloomed faster than projected, ensuring this year’s turn out to be the biggest it's been in years. You were excited but very nervous to say the least. 

You were told that you could do whatever you would like to for your performance, opting to play the piano and sing some traditional songs. You had spent weeks preparing for the festival, wanting to be able to put on the best performance you could. You had met some of the other people who were volunteering as well, especially noticing one of the guys that was going to be doing a dance performance. He told you to call him K, and you met up with him a couple of times in the months leading up to the festival to practice and critique each other at a nearby university’s music room.  

Somewhere over the course of you guys keeping up with these practices, you felt very comfortable with him, finding yourself blushing at any minor compliment or feedback he would give you. He would notice, playing it up just to see the cute smile spread across your face whenever he could. He didn’t hesitate to make you blush, loving the way your face flushed and knowing it was all for him. It would be little touches at first, helping you adjust your sheet music or helping you with your finger placements on the piano, each time you’d grow a little hotter, and your hands a little sweatier. 

About a week before the festival, you found yourself practicing with K yet again, but this time, you were irritated. The seat you normally used when practicing the piano had been taken out and exchanged for a shorter, less stable seat that made playing the piano an inconvenience. You didn’t have much of a choice though, the other rooms on the floor being locked without an authorized staff’s keycard to open it. K watched as you constantly stretched your knees and back, getting up more time than usual to relieve the pain that was building in your muscles and joints. 

After about 4 hours of practicing, you couldn’t take the pain anymore. You stood up, once again stretching your body to try and relieve the pain, but to no avail. You needed to relax with proper back support. K had stopped too, smirking to himself when an idea popped into his head. He quickly made his way over to the seat you were previously sitting in, watching your face morph from that of pain to confusion. 

“C’mere,”

He says. You slowly walk up to him, still confused as he pats his thighs. 

“Sit on my lap. I might have an idea to help your pain.”

Your face is beet red at his suggestion, and he notices the gears turning in your brain at what you think he’s implying. 

“I don’t mean anything weird by it, promise.”

And while that wasn’t his full intention, he wasn’t going to stop you if things took a different turn. You hesitated for a second longer before agreeing, not wanting to look at him anymore to save face and carefully sitting on his lap. He adjusts you accordingly, shifting his legs behind yours before lifting them up and keeping his back straight. You feel yourself slip above his clothes dick, making indirect contact with it through your pants, but letting out a sigh of relief as he helps you stretch your legs out. You can feel his breath on your neck, yelping a little as he leans back, taking you with him as he lowers his legs to help you stretch out your back. The heat radiating off of your clothed core at every little movement from him has you constantly making little sounds.

“Are you feeling relaxed?”

He leans back up, putting you both back in your original positions as his breath seems somehow closer to your ear now.

“Yeah… Thank you.”

You say, keeping yourself seated as you feel his bulge now, not wanting to miss the feeling as you pretend to adjust yourself. His hands tightly grip your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“Yeah, you really are relaxed, huh? Pretending to adjust so you can grind yourself down on me?”

You knew you were caught, but you didn’t really care. You had caught on to his antics too, finally deciding to act on it. 

“I wasn’t pretending, but I can get up if you’d like–”

You say, starting to lift yourself off of him.

“–don’t even think about it.”

༄ ༄ ༄

Fuma:

You were called in to help the boys with their dance practice and even to help some of them in their vocal lessons. You had helped with the choreography for their new song first, helping them perfect the intricacies of the dance as a team, ensuring their uniformity for performances without pushing them too hard. They were all really grateful to you, you were much nicer than their other instructors and a better teacher as well. You would call the members out one by one for vocal training, letting them leave after working with them if they chose to do so. 

The day had gone from bright and sunny to wet and dreary as big rain drops pelted at the windows of the building. You sighed as you called in Fuma, the last member you needed to work with for the day, and warned the boys about the impending storm. You had been working with them for a while now, knowing that they wouldn’t heed your warnings but wanting to let them know anyways. That’s why you were their favorite– you always looked out for them. You started your lessons with Fuma. He didn’t have much difficulty with his parts so the session went by quickly, wrapping up only about 20 minutes later. 

During that time, the weather had picked up severely, raining harder than before and wind blowing gusts so strong that the trees were at risk of falling. You were even more worried now, walking back to the practice room with Fuma and noticing that no one was left in the room. You sighed, not knowing whether or not they had left before the storm got worse, but now worrying if it was safe enough to leave. Fuma searched his pockets, looking for his phone before realizing that he left it in the vocal practicing room. 

“Hey Y/N, can you let me into the vocal room? I left my phone and keycard in there…”

He laughs nervously, following you as you nod and let him back in, letting the door close behind you. He grabs his phone, a look of relief washing over him. 

“The others made it back safely, I guess it's just me here. I’m gonna wait until the storm is over before heading back.”

You nod, happy that the others were safe as a loud thunder clap sounds throughout the building. You jump a little, caught off guard at the sound when the lights go out. You look around in disbelief, scanning your card and trying hard to open the door but to no avail. The thunder must've knocked out the power, and the backup generators would take at least a little while to kick back on. You sigh as Fuma turns his flashlight on, smiling reassuringly that everything will be okay. 

He takes a seat on the only chair in the room as you pace back and forth, legs starting to hurt after helping them dance for so long. But you didn’t want to say anything to Fuma, knowing he was also tired and not wanting him to have to give up his seat. But he noticed the way your legs would slightly buckle at the pain they felt. 

“If it’s okay with you, you can sit on my lap…”

He offers and you’re thankful his flashlight doesn’t catch your blush. You sit on his lap, trying your best to sit as comfortably as you can. But it doesn’t last long when another clap of thunder rumbles, causing you to flinch back into him more, directly over his clothes cock. He chuckles as your flinch effectively has you grind into him. 

“Scared of thunderstorms?”

He asks, hands rubbing up and down your thighs to try to calm you down, but they only work you up more, especially with how aware you were of what you were sitting on. 

“A little…”

“I can help distract you from them if you’d like?”

He suggests, and you know exactly what he’s thinking with the way his fingers rub circles into your hips. Hopefully the generator doesn’t kick on anytime soon. 

༄ ༄ ༄

Nicholas:

You were told that you needed to go with Nicholas, Jo and Maki to their photo shoot because the makeup artist scheduled for today had gotten sick. You quickly got ready, staring at the message that said they would be there in an hour to pick you up. It was pretty short notice, being woken up at 5 in the morning telling you to be ready by 6. You barely had time to wash and dry your hair, hurrying down the stairs of your apartment building.

You’re huffing and puffing by the time you get down there, not realizing how cold it actually was and regretting the decision to put on a skirt. Stepping into the car you noticed that Maki and Jo were sleeping in the 2 seats in the middle row, breathing fogging up the car windows and leaving only the back seat with Nicholas open. You tried to be quiet so as not to disturb the boys, only to realize that the space next to Nicholas had been taken up by the equipment being brought to the photo shoot studio.

Nicholas tried to make space for you, but ultimately you both agreed that sitting on his lap would be the best option, the equipment far too big and wedged into place to move them around quietly. You were nervous to be sitting on Nicholas’s lap, both because you didn’t have a seatbelt on but also because you had the biggest crush on Nicholas. He was holding your waist securely so you didn’t move, warm breath hitting the back of your neck.

At first, it was fine because the roads were smooth and there was no traffic in the way. The site was about an hour away, so you tried your best to relax and get comfortable, as much as you could. The car ride was quiet for the first couple of minutes, Nicholas himself also being very sleepy and relaxed. But when the roads got bumpier, you couldn’t help but let out little noises every time the car jolted, his hips involuntarily jerking up each time. You were directly between his legs too, just barely able to feel his dick through his sweats, but the more bumps the car hit and the sounds you made, the harder it was for him to control how his dick hardened underneath you. His hand moved from your waist to your thigh, gripping it firmly.

“ ‘f you keep moaning like that,”

He murmured lowly, voice rasped with sleep and something heavier,

 “I’m not gonna be able to control myself.”

Your face flushes, heat pooling at your cheeks, clenching around nothing at his words.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Really? Then why do you keep moaning and pushing your hips further onto my dick?”

You hadn’t noticed yourself subtly grinding on him, pleasure hidden between your nerves. You look back at him, a dark look clouding his hooded eyes, fingers slowly trialing up your skirt and above your clit, pressing against the fabric of your panties.

“It’s like you were doing this on purpose? Grinding down on me while wearing a skirt because you know it’d be easy access. And no safety shorts either? You’re a naughty girl.”

You clasp the hand that’s going towards your clit, staring straight into his eyes.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll take care of you here, but you gotta help me once we get to the studio. I can’t take pictures with my dick hard.”

You swallowed, your heart racing wildly as you just barely nodded. A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth, fingers continuing their way up. 

༄ ༄ ༄

Euijoo:

Movie nights were common amongst you and the boys. They were on a short hiatus, being able to spend about 3 days off. They were all so grateful, but since their break was so short, Euijoo and Nicholas didn’t fly home. Of course they were a little bummed, but all the members decided to spend the night together, watching a movie at the dorm.

As K’s little sister, you were friends with all the boys and visited often. Especially with Nicholas and Euijoo, being the same age as them. They invited you to join them, all thinking of you as a sister to them as well, except Euijoo. He never said it out loud, but everyone could tell by the way he would stare at you whenever you walked in, smiling and ears red whenever you’d go up to him to give him food you had brought.

He was especially dense because you had given him numerous hints that you like him. You’d always get dressed up to see him, always giving him his food first, even before K, and even bringing him food separate from the other members because you knew what he liked. You thought that maybe he had gotten the hint by now. But you were also dense for not noticing his feelings for you either.

Upon arriving at their dorm, you were welcomed by Euijoo, who you smiled at and opened your arms to give him a hug. He always accepted them with a blush on his face, sighing as he lingered a little too long to take in your scent. You pulled away first, stepping inside and putting the bags of food on the table. They literally cheered, happy that the food was here so that you could start watching the movie.

You went to the bathroom first, everyone situating themselves either on the sofa or the floor. When you walked out, you noticed that there were no seats left. You looked at them, expressionless.

“Where do I sit?”

Little did you both know the boys had this all planned out. You look over to K who’s looking at Euijoo, a smirk present on his face.

“There’s some room next to Euijoo, if he scooches over.”

He immediately begins to scrunch up to the side of the single couch, trying his best to make some room for you. You glare at K, maneuvering through the tangle of legs on the floor and trying your best to fit in the limited space he had provided. Ultimately, you ended up sitting on his legs, body sprawled horizontally over him as your legs dangled off of the seat.

Of course they picked your least favorite genre, horror. You felt bad, constantly jolting at jump scares, and resulting in Euijoo jolting up into you. He had his hands awkwardly placed on your thighs, and you could tell he was nervous by the way they radiated heat, obviously sweaty. But it’s because his hips bucked into your leg at each jump you made, trying his best to calm his hard-on down. But his efforts fail as you cuddle up to him, hiding your face in his shoulder as you hug his upper body, position shifting to where your ass is directly over his hardening length.

He can tell that you can feel it by the way your grip on his shirt tightens. He rambles nervously in your ear, afraid of what you might say or think.

“I-I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to but I can’t control it you probably think I’m a creep or a weirdo but really I didn’t want for this to happen I’ve just liked you for so long and…”

He cuts himself off when he feels you push your ass down on him, resulting in him biting his lip to suppress a whimper. He squeezes your thigh, thankful for the blanket covering you both so the boys can’t see what’s going on.

“I like you too, Juju. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on sooner.”

You whisper back into his ear, pretending to be scared and occasionally looking back at the screen, but you’re constantly moving on him, making it harder for him to hold back as he trails his fingers towards your spreading heat. What a way to distract you from a horror movie, just have to be quiet not to alert the other members.

༄ ༄ ༄

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

[gentlelovingsiscon]

saturday passes without much further incident. you and your sister spend the whole day in bed, except the usual breaks one needs. you make her get up and do some stretches at one point, which she dismisses with a grumble until you make it clear you're serious (you end up having to tickle her, which gets the message across).

with the exception of bathroom breaks, you spend on average a few seconds at a time separated from your sister, happy to waste the day away cuddled up next to her, or on top of her, or underneath her. that's something that hasn't changed. Lena seems to sleep best when she's laying on top of you.

Sarah brings you dinner, too, along with another question about what you and your sister have been up to. you evade again, a little more convincingly this time (you think).

consciously, you know you can trust her. she knows that you're in love with your sister. you confided in her about it one night when you were drunk. you also suspect that might be why she didn't put up a fuss when you proposed Lena coming to live here. but there's something else, deep deep down. a fear that even Lena's earlier words can't fully dispel. safe with her, but what if she's the one who isn't safe with you?

all that to say that saturday passes without much further incident.

on sunday, around dinner, you manage to coax Lena out of your room for some socializing. sunday is the designated bonfire night during the warm months, so dinner is camp food, more or less. you're in the middle of one of the outdoor couches, with Sarah on your right and Lena on your left. Moss sits on one of the camp chairs. Lacy is standing at the grill tending to some burgers, and both Sarah and Moss have hotdogs on long metal sticks roasting over the bonfire. Sarah is making yours and Lena's, because you both like them burnt and Sarah can't cook a hotdog anywhere except the microwave without burning it, while Moss is cooking Sarah and Lacy's, because they like theirs cooked properly and Moss doesn't have Sarah's freakish ability to destroy food.

(when you say this out loud to the group, Lena guffaws, offended on Sarah's behalf. Sarah ducks her head shamefully and admits that it's true. the only thing she can do with confidence and competence in the kitchen is chop vegetables.)

Moss exclusively eats hamburgers, claiming “ethical concerns.”

“ethical concerns?”

you groan along with Sarah and Lacy.

“here we go,” Lacy grins.

“ethical concerns. it's simply an insane configuration for food to be in. at that point, i may as well eat a taco! plus you can't distribute everything evenly like on a hamburger; you're always doomed to get some lopsided, which means you're gonna get too much topping on one bite and not enough on another. i cannot stand for it.”

by the end of the rant, the housemates are speaking along with her, while Lena watches on, bewildered. you grin and lean into her side, “Moss has very strong opinions on food, and they cannot be swayed. we've tried.”

Moss sends everyone a shit eating grin as she takes the hotdogs off the flame. Sarah startles and looks at her stick, finding all four hotdogs black and charred. “fuck.”

“told you,” you tell Lena.

Lena doesn't react, just looking at the hotdogs with gluttony in her eyes.

>-<

in the end you slam half a dozen hot dogs and two burgers, while Lena struggles to finish her second. nobody says anything, but you see them looking at you and at each other with concern. you resolve to talk to Lena about it later. for now, you have a different idea to get her hungry.

“hey Lacy. wanna help me corrupt my big sister?”

Lena gives you a panicked look, but you grin back at her wickedly.

Lacy gives you a wink and a peace sign, saying “you know it babes. what're we thinking?”

“baby shit. we'll do more later.”

“hell yeah. one joint for babies, coming up," Lacy says with an easy grin.

Lena's panicked look changes, and she grabs you by the hoodie. “you smoke?!”

you imagine her slipping her hands beneath your hoodie, and you drift a little closer. “mhm.”

in hindsight, you're not entirely sure who catches it first. Sarah, when you start to go a little hazy, or Lena, when you start to lean in. you're not sure if Sarah grabs you from your other side first or if Lena pushes you away. you're floating for a second, until Sarah whispers into your ear, “heel,” and you pull up short, your posture stiffening a little bit.

Lena pulls away with an uncertain frown in your direction. you lean back into Sarah with a grateful sigh and let her arms fall around you, looking to Lena and telling her “yes. i smoke. these absolute degenerates got me to start smoking not too long after i moved in with them."

“hrm. fine. at least it's not something worse,” your big sister, the eternal watchdog and worrier, says. she seems to have forgotten why you're on this topic, going by her reaction when Lacy comes back with a joint in her hand. she sits in the camp chair next to Lena's side of the couch, leaning in to show her how it works and what to do.

you start to lean toward Lena, getting possessive and wanting to take control, wanting to be the one who shows her what do. but Sarah keeps you grounded and in place. she growls under her breath into your ear, “heel, puppy. do i need to get your collar?”

you whine quietly and shake your head insistently. Moss notices and smirks at you, blowing you a kiss with a wink. you turn to hide your face in Sarah's shoulder, and she runs her hand through your hair, pressing you into her collar gently. when Lena starts coughing and you try to turn to helpher, Sarah's hand goes firm, keeping you where you are. she murmurs into your ear once again, “she's okay, baby. let Lace take care of it.”

“okay…” you whisper back, whining slightly. your eyes close, and you lose yourself with Sarah's hand running through your hair for a second. when she tugs on your hair she also tugs you back to awareness, guiding you to sit up straight next to her again. you look over at your big sister, and find her frowning, her brow furrowed.

she's holding the joint out to you. coming back to yourself just a little bit, you take it, bringing it to your lips and taking a couple of drags. you lean your head back on the last one, exhaling the smoke into the open air above you and casually handing the joint off to Sarah. your sister gives you a look of wide eyed astonishment.

Lacy takes notice, saying “yeah, Penelope took to it like a duck to water. barely ever coughs.”

you flush and grin with a strange sense of pride. Lena looks like she's going to say something, but then you see it hit her. she stops talking for a second and giggles. the casual conversation between Sarah and Moss goes quiet along with you and Lacy as you all watch with rapt attention.

“feeling good?” Moss asks.

“heh… yeah…” Lena giggles, relaxing into the couch. Sarah nudges you, and you gratefully lean a little further into your sister's side.

“hey babygirl,” your big sister whispers, and you smile.

the joint comes back to you, passed by Sarah. you take a few more hits, then pass it to Lena, whispering “moderation.” Lena nods seriously, taking the joint from you and taking another hit, then passing it off to Lacy again.

after a few more passes, Lena suddenly speaks up.

“i'm hungry!” she announces with a grin. the entire group cheers, and Sarah gleefully goes about burning two more hotdogs for your sister.

the night passes like so many other Sunday nights at your house. the four of you, now five, sit around the fire, talking about what went on last week and what you have planned for next week. the pleasant buzz from smoking keeps you floating, your social battery in a funny kind of stasis. you alternate between sitting up straight and laying back against Sarah, who gladly envelopes you in her arms every time.

(you want to cuddle with your sister, but both her and Sarah have too much control over the situation for your own control to slip.)

you're not entirely sure what time it is when, a couple joints later, Lena excuses herself from the fire, citing that she's sleepy and would like to go to bed. you think it's probably around 10 or 11 at night, but everything's a little hazy. you think a few minutes pass before Sarah nudges you, nodding in the direction of the house. Lacy and Moss are preoccupied. at some point, Moss left her camp chair to pin Lacy to hers and is now making out with her furiously. classic. you push yourself off of the couch, staggering inside and heading towards Lena's room.

the door opens, revealing a dark, empty room. you make a quizzical noise. confused, you head back to your room. you'll grab your phone and text your sister.

your big sister. who is, when you open your door, buried in your bed, deep under the covers and surrounded by pillows. she's making noises, and she's holding something to her face. with the kind of slowness of thought that comes from smoking for several hours straight, it takes you a moment to realize what you're seeing. in the time it takes you to formulate a response, Lena has gone stock still and started blushing.

you kick your door closed with one foot, eyes not leaving your big sister, who you're pretty sure has one hand deep in her pants, while her other hand holds a pair of your panties up to her face. a pair of panties that you discarded into the wash yesterday, after cumming in them while grinding on your big sister's leg.

she panics, tossing the panties away with gusto, but you don't care. still high and a little clumsy, you reach behind you to lock your door. Lena flinches at the sound, but you don't care. you stalk towards her, and her eyes go wide.

“you wanna smell me?” you ask.

your sister nods uncertainly. “it smells… nice… like you used to…”

that brings you up short for a second. “are you saying… you used to sniff my boxers?”

“yes…”

a shiver runs down your spine, and you start to salivate. you crawl onto the bed, stripping off your pants as you go.

“here, big sis. take as deep of a breath as you want,” you tell her. you haven't showered since yesterday, and you've been cooped up in your warm room for most of the time since then. your sister emerges from the blankets and crawls forward. you place your hand in her hair and gently guide her closer until her nose is pressed to your bush.

she takes a deep, deep breath, and your hand gets tighter in her hair. “Pen… please… can i…”

she trails off, so you pull on her hair gently, making her look up at you. her eyes are a little hazy, and her mouth is open. “yeah, love? what do you want?”

“i want… i want my little sister to… fuck my mouth…”

you groan, delicate control slipping. your grip on her hair gets tighter, and you pull her back from your bush until her mouth is near the tip of your cock. your other hand comes up, gripping it at the base. a string of precum on the tip breaks, falling onto Lena's stomach. you maneuver your cock gently, telling your sister “stick out your tongue.”

she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue excitedly.

“good girl," you grunt. your hand leaves her hair and comes to her cheek, guiding her toward your cock gently. "you wanna taste my pre, love?”

more had already built up, leaving a thick bead at the end. you lower your cock head until it rests on your sister's tongue. it takes a second for it to register, but after a moment Lena's eyes cross, and she shudders. like a good girl, though, she keeps her mouth open for you.

“do you think you can take me, love? if you start to gag, smack my leg with your hand, okay? i'll pull back.”

Lena's tongue retreats for a second so she can say “don't worry, babygirl, i don't have a gag reflex.” you growl and grab her by the hair again to push her head down onto your cock. you almost cum immediately. she's eager, and she's good. you're huge, and you have a lot of cum, even after E. but somehow, she still takes you all.

“fuck, Lena!” you groan, trying to hold back. “fuck, please, i-”

she pulls back, a glimmer of clarity in her eyes, and says “what did i tell you when we woke up yesterday? you can cum for me any time; little sister privilege.”

you growl at her, immediately sticking your cock back in her mouth. she stays upright, but you see the trembling in her shoulders, so you surge forward and pin her against the wall. she relaxes, and you follow her down, bucking your hips and burying your cock in her throat. every time, she takes it all the way to the base, breathing deep and even somehow.

after a moment, you notice that she inhales every time her nose is in your bush. you growl again, grabbing her head with both hands and thrusting one last time, burying her in your bush and burying your cock in her throat. you cum, rope after hot, sticky rope. your big sister gulps it down eagerly, her throat clenching around your cock and sending you into spasms.

eventually you pull your dick from your big sister's throat, and she takes deep, shuddering breaths. there's tears in her eyes, and you rush to wipe them away as gently as you can while shaking like you are. she smiles and leans in to kiss you. she tastes like cum. your big sister's mouth tastes like your cum.

[coqhee]

౨ৎ LOVE ME BACK

✷ rejecting enhypen’s kiss as a joke  ♡   based off this req

day 17 of melodies to memories ― ot7 x f ! r fluff petnames 2108

LEE HEESEUNG

“hi princess,” heeseung greeted as he walked through the entryway of your shared apartment, setting down his bag. you smiled and walked over to hug him, taking off his jacket to put on the coat rack.

he smiled finally being able to come home after a long day, leaning down to press a small peck to your lips, however you.. pulled away?!

heeseung froze mid-lean, his lips pursing awkwardly in the air as you stepped back with a mischievous grin.

“excuse me?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

“hm?” you hummed with mock innocence, walking away back to the kitchen to tend to instant ramen you’d been preparing for when he came home

“oh, so that’s how it is?” heeseung said, his voice lowering into a teasingly dramatic tone. “I work all day, thinking about coming home to you, only to be denied? what a tough life i live,” he pouted, looming behind you as though he were your shadow.

to which you hummed in acknowledgment only. which hurt you to do seeing how his eyes matched his lips that held a very convincing pout

“wow, y/n. i see how it is now. i’m just a hard-working man, underappreciated in his own home.”

“oh, quit being so dramatic,” you teased, setting the spoon down and turning to face him. “the ramen’s almost ready, so if you’re nice, maybe I’ll—”

before you could finish, heeseung suddenly caged you in, his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you in place.

“you’ll what?” he asked, his face now inches from yours, his voice dropping into a low, playful tone.

“um, i-i” you stuttered. when did he get this close?

he smirked and claimed his victory, pressing a feather light kiss to your lips, that lingered.

you blinked up at him, your cheeks warming as he pulled back slightly, his smirk still firmly in place.

“cat got your tongue?” he teased, his voice cocky, yet soft.

“you cheated,” you mumbled, trying to hide your flustered state.

more under the cut!

─── ♡

PARK JONGSEONG

you were sprawled out on the living room floor surrounded by notebooks, pens, and your laptop. jay sat cross-legged next to you, pretending to help with your project but mostly scrolling through his phone and sneaking glances at you.

“are you even listening to me?” you asked, pointing at the half-finished notes in front of him.

“yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, his grin betraying his distracted state.

you rolled your eyes, playfully nudging him with your foot. “you’re useless.”

“harsh,” he teased, leaning closer to you. “and here i was about to give you a kiss for all your hard work pretty”

“oh no, whatever will i do without a kiss from my boyfriend who isn’t being helpful,” you teased placing the backside of your hand to your forehead with a mock pout.

jay rolled his eyes, leaning in to give you your rewarded kiss, however at the last moment you looked the other way, the kiss being assumed by your cheek instead.

“seriously?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up as he pulled back slightly.

“what?” you asked, feigning innocence, your focus back on your notebook.

“you dodged me,” he accused, sitting up straighter.

“no, i didn’t,” you replied smoothly, keeping your pen moving. “just looking out the window,”

jay squinted at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. “oh, so we’re playing games now?”

before you could respond, he grabbed the notebook out of your hands and tossed it onto the couch.

“jay!” you exclaimed, glaring at him, but his mischievous grin only grew wider.

“what now?” he smirked looking between you and your discarded notebook.

“what now? you’re give me my notebook back, or else.” you repeated, narrowing your eyes at him.

jay leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head like he had all the time in the world. “or else what?”

you huffed, leaning forward to reach for it, but jay was quicker, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you closer.

“say please,” he smiled giving a small snort of amusement.

“please,”

“there we go,” he clicked pressing his lips against yours for a short and sweet kiss.

─── ♡

SIM JAEYUN

the two of you were out in the campus park, enjoying your picnic, talking about everything, yet nothing.

taking in the atmosphere around you, with the breeze that was a temperature too low, though you endured regardless.

and in the cold wind, you had an idea. 

as you turned to grab another sandwich from the basket, jake leaned forward, catching your attention. “angel,” he said softly, his tone suddenly warm.

you looked up at him, your brows raising. “yeah?”

he didn’t say anything, just leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips. or at least, that’s what he tried to do.

you leaned back, narrowly dodging him, pretending to reach for the bottle of water behind you.

“hm?” you hummed innocently, as if nothing had happened.

jake was a little flustered, yet when he attempted again, you reached for yet another bottle of water. now he knew this wasn’t just a silly mistake.

he wondered if he had done something wrong, but seeing your cheeky grin for a second before coming back to your calm and relaxed composure he knew something was up.

“does your breath stink that bad you don’t wanna kiss me?” he teased, poking at your cheek stuffed with food.

two can play at that game. 

you almost choked on your food hearing that come out of his mouth.

you swallowed your food quickly, glaring at jake while trying to suppress a laugh. “excuse me? my breath is perfect, thank you very much.”

“guess we’ll have to fact check that,” jake smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before you could pull away a third time.

─── ♡

PARK SUNGHOON

you were always known to be the jokester in your relationship with sunghoon.

so when you were dodging his kisses all week he knew something was up.

at first, he thought maybe you were just being playful—pulling some prank to get him back for something. but the more it went on, the more he started to wonder.

it wasn’t long before he cornered you, the two of you in your usual spot on the couch, watching a movie. he leaned in, trying for a kiss once more, but before his lips could even brush against yours, you shifted, pretending to adjust your hair.

“oh, come on,” he sighed, raising an eyebrow. “you’re really gonna keep doing this?”

you shrugged innocently, flashing him that trademark grin. “what? nothing’s wrong. just not in the mood, that’s all.”

“are you sure you don’t hate me?” he asked, cornering you with the question and his physical presence.

“no,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. one look and you knew your little game was over.

“baby,” he murmured softly. you ignored it and continued watching the tv.

“look at me,” he softly held your jaw in his hand forcing you to look at him, though at this point you weren’t opposed.

he smirked, then finally leaned in to press a warm kiss to your lips.

─── ♡

KIM SUNOO

you were lounging on the couch, flicking through channels, when sunoo plopped down beside you, a mischievous glint in his eye. he leaned in closer, his lips dangerously near your cheek.

“stop it,” you giggled, leaning away, trying to keep your distance. “no kisses right now, i’m busy.”

sunoo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “oh, so now you’re too busy for me?”

you didn’t respond, keeping your attention focused on the tv. you knew he wouldn’t let it slide that easily.

without warning, he leaned in again, this time nuzzling the side of your neck, a soft, teasing kiss pressed right below your ear. “come on, just one kiss. please sunshine?” he whispered, his voice low and coaxing.

you pulled away, dramatically groaning, "ugh, you're so needy today." you grabbed the remote, raising it to block his approach.

"really?" he said, his voice a mix of amusement and mock offense, "so i can't even get a quick kiss from my girlfriend anymore?"

"not today," you teased, holding the remote up like a shield as he tried again, only for you to dodge with expert precision. you could hear him chuckle as you leaned back farther, making a show of trying to stay away.

sunoo tilted his head and smiled, amused by your antics. "you think you're clever, huh?"

"i know i am," you replied, sticking your tongue out playfully.

“guess i’ll just sulk and tell everyone how my girlfriend hates me,” he pouted, looking off to the side.

“okay okay fine,” you rolled your eyes wrapping your arms around his shoulder, as he pulled you closer to press his lips against yours for a sweet kiss, enjoying the moment around the two of you.

─── ♡

YANG JUNGWON

“morning honey,” he said lazily, pulling you in closer, with an arm draped around your side. the light gleaming in from the window as he smiled contently.

you squinted at the sunlight streaming in, the warmth of the blankets and the soft weight of his arm making it hard to fully wake up. still, you managed a small, playful smile as you turned to face him.

“good morning,” you murmured, though you kept your eyes half-closed, pretending to still be asleep.

jungwon smiled amused, clearly not fooled. “you’re not fooling anyone,” he teased, his hand gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, suppressing a yawn. you tried to squirm away slightly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a morning kiss just yet.

“oh, really?” he said with a chuckle. “i think you’re just being shy.”

before you could protest, jungwon leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead, then slowly moving down to your cheek. his lips lingered there for a moment, teasingly close to your mouth.

you quickly turned your head away, avoiding the kiss with a playful smirk. “nice try,” you teased, still keeping your face turned away.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your antics. “oh, so that’s how it is, huh?” he said, pulling back but still holding you close. “you think you can avoid me, huh?”

“yup,” you replied, trying to suppress a grin, still keeping your head turned away as if to be dramatic. “i can.”

“you know you can’t escape me forever,” he murmured, a playful edge to his voice as he gently cupped your cheek.

you laughed, finally giving in a little. “we’ll see about that.”

wanting to finally get out of bed, and bring your morning routine (sleep in) to an end, you leaned to jungwon giving him a small peck.

though, he was dissatisfied and pulled you in for a second, pulling away with a smile.

“see was that so hard?”

─── ♡

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki and you were never the biggest fans of pda before meeting each other, but after you had become an item, he loved showing you off and showering you with loads of it, no matter how embarrassing as you’d laugh about it at the end of the day.

you were dropping him off (walking him) to practice and he didn’t walk far before realizing he’d forgotten to kiss you goodbye.

he ran back shortly after, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, and you smiled into the kiss, but just as his lips were about to meet yours, you quickly stepped back, playfully dodging him.

riki froze, a little confused. he could’ve sworn you were right there just a second ago. looking around in slight disbelief, he raised an eyebrow.

“uh, hello?” he asked, scanning the area. you hadn’t moved much, but for some reason, you were a step or two further away than before.

“hi,” you smiled, giving a grin of satisfaction.

“come on, you can’t just sneak attack a kiss like that,” you laughed, dodging him once again, and your playful dance continued for a few more moments, before riki finally caught you, pulling you into his arms with a quiet chuckle.

“this time, you’re not getting away,” he murmured, his voice low with amusement, before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your lips. this time, you didn’t move. you smiled and let him, finally giving in.

“there,” he said with a satisfied grin after the kiss, stepping back a little. “now we can both go on with our day.”

you playfully nudged him. “you’re lucky i like you,” you muttered with a grin, shaking your head.

riki smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “i’m lucky you like me, too.”

─── ♡

a/n: happy day 17 of melodies to memories! I'm sooo tired from midterms, tmrs fic MIGHT be late since I wanna sleep early but we'll see!! all likes, comments and reblogs appreciated <3

melodies to memories tl (open!): @pshwrldd @hhmnya @wonsdoll @lovuegi

[yummyrevivalfluid]

Since the requests is open. Can I request a StanXeno with a sleepy but also smart fem!reader, that tends to fall asleep at random places but loves to use Stanley or Xeno's lap to sleep. They're childhood friends, and I wonder what Stanley's reaction when she also got kidnapped along with Xeno by the Kingdom of science. Also fluff pls OvO also love your fics they're an absolute masterpiece 😩💕💕 (you can also ignore this request)

Sleeping Beauty

Stanley x Reader x Xeno

A/n: Sorry for the long wait! Hope you like it!

…

Pre-petrification

Since your first meeting with Stanley and Xeno, they knew you tend to fall asleep in the most random places. It was your odd choices that made Stanley and Xeno fall for you. Literally.

For whatever reason, you decided to nap against the lab room door while you waited for your sample to dry. In that moment, Xeno was leading Stanley to the lab to grab equipment for their experiment. In one second, they were walking and talking, and in the next second, they were meeting the floor.

You woke up in a daze, looking around to see what had woken you up. Xeno and Stanley were plastered to the ground beside you.

“Not again…” you groan as you curl around yourself and close your eyes, attempting to go back to sleep.

“Again?!”

What might have been a chance encounter grew into something more when you corrected one of Xeno’s calculations that fell in front of you when he tripped.

Xeno ran multiple experiments to find a cause for your unusual sleep patterns, but they ultimately left him with more questions than answers. No science could determine why you liked to sleep at the most random of times at the most random places. Xeno begrudgedly accepted that he would find you napping at the most random places. Stanley didn’t question it, just accepted that he must watch his steps around you.

The more you hung out with Stanley and Xeno, the more you got comfortable sleeping beside them.

You would still sleep in random places, such as in front of doors, in the nook of space between desks, under tables, and once Stanley caught you sleeping in a tree, your face pressed against the bark and your arms wrapped around the trunk.

But you found yourself inching closer to them. You slowly began to sleep beside them, and eventually, because you were in deep sleep, your head rolled onto their shoulders.

During the early stages, they treated you like a cat. They refused to move and disturb your peace. The one time that Xeno moved when you fell asleep on him, you woke up, gave him a death stare, and curled up to sleep somewhere else.

Stanley would often tease you by calling you ‘kitty’ or ‘sleeping beauty’. It didn’t help that you stretched like a cat when you woke up from your naps.

Your dynamic with Stanley and Xeno changed during a random summer night. Xeno wanted to observe the stars in the sky with his new telescope, which he had built and customized.

While Stanley and Xeno took turns looking at the stars, you became comfy and curled into a ball, and without realizing it, the words slipped from your lips.

“I love you both.”

It was natural how quickly you transitioned from sleeping on their shoulders to curling up asleep on their laps.

They joke that your sleeping habits began to wear off on them. You were often squished between Stanley and Xeno when they joined you on your naps.

...

Post-petrification

“What if they infiltrate through the ground?” You mumble against Xeno’s ear as you sit on his lap. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders while you feel your sleep overtake you. “Like a tunnel.”

You get your best thoughts as you begin drifting to sleep. Your sleepy words often solve many of Xeno’s miscalculations or the missing piece he desperately needs.

“Nah.” You don’t give Xeno a chance to think about the possibility, dismissing the idea as quickly as it came. “That would be crazy.”

While Xeno was communicating with Stanley over the radio, you slept soundly on his lap until Tsukasa burst through the door. You didn’t have a chance to react before you were tied alongside Xeno. Accepting that you were being captured and couldn’t do anything, you decided to continue your nap. You had trust in Stanley.

Stanley was unhappy when he heard their hideout had been ambushed. He knew they would take Xeno as a hostage, but when he heard that you were brought in as well, no doubt in his mind, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time (napping), he was seething.

After accepting the upsetting reality that he was alone and had to fight to bring you both back, he chuckled. Stanley wasn’t your typical prince or knight, but he had to save his sleeping beauty and unhinged scientist.

[odileeclipse]

“Still, the Garden Grows”

Pure Vanilla x Reader  Angst | GN Reader

You always flinched when he smiled too softly.

It wasn’t his fault. And you knew that. Pure Vanilla had a way of looking at the world like it was still worth saving, like even broken things, even people like you, deserved light. That was the problem. You couldn’t stand being looked at like that. As if you were something gentle. Something that wouldn’t shatter in his hands.

He never pushed. Never questioned why you stiffened under kindness, why you never stayed long in the same place. Why you ghosted out of rooms the moment his eyes lingered a second too long.

Instead, he waited.

And you hated him a little for it.

You told yourself he was foolish. That someone like him didn’t understand what it meant to be ruined, to carry memories like splinters under skin. But that wasn’t true, was it? Not really. He knew loss. He knew pain. You just didn’t want to be seen through, didn’t want anyone, especially not him, to know how much you longed to be held anyway.

“Why do you keep running?” he asked you one twilight, voice low and careful, as if he already knew the answer.

You stood with your back to him, watching the moonlight stretch across the garden’s path. The flowers you planted weeks ago had bloomed despite your absence, silly things, stubborn and bright, like you used to be.

“Because I’m afraid,” you admitted. The words fell like a cracked glass, loud in the hush between you.

He didn’t speak. You didn’t look.

You wanted him to chase you, maybe. Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe the idea of being caught terrified you more than being left alone.

So you left.

Not with drama. Not with tears. Just with silence.

You left a note folded into the soil of the garden he tended, and you vanished before dawn.

And Pure Vanilla, true to his nature, didn’t follow.

But he read every word you left behind. Every scratched-out sentence. Every pause where your hand must’ve trembled. He held your letter like a prayer, and he didn’t look for you, not because he didn’t love you, but because he finally understood why you needed him not to.

You grew in places he couldn’t see.

You learned to water yourself. To sit with your fear. To stop confusing kindness with danger. You met people who didn’t need you to be perfect. You wept when no one was watching, and sometimes you laughed too hard in little bookstores and thought of him.

You stopped looking over your shoulder.

And Pure Vanilla? He learned to stop waiting.

He poured his heart into the lives around him, nurturing others not as a way to fill the space you left behind, but because he realized he could love without losing pieces of himself. He learned that being good didn’t mean always giving himself away. That boundaries weren’t the opposite of compassion.

He healed, in his own quiet way.

He still carried the memory of you in the way he spoke to wounded strangers. But he didn’t carry it like a wound anymore.

When you met again it wasn’t magical.

It was two people, older and softer around the edges, standing across from each other in the very garden that once bloomed without you.

He didn’t ask why you left. You didn’t ask if he had waited.

You both smiled. Not because it was easy now, but because it was honest.

“Hello,” you said.

And he replied, “It’s good to see you.”

That was all.

That was enough.

You watched the back of him disappear into the light, and understood.

 Some people don’t leave you. You just lose the version of them that waited.

A/N not my usual writing style, but I'm practicing for when I submit my writing portfolio. No ITPOT update today but perchance tomorrow <3

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

I know you’ve written a lot for yandere shapeshifter (or I suppose Lior now) lately but if I could request more of him I would be forever grateful 🙏🏻 I love shapeshifters, especially the insecurity most of them have so maybe something with that?

Yandere Shapeshifter x Reader (Part 4)

Lior learns silence.

Not the silence of absence—he has known that too well, too long, hiding in empty spaces and discarded identities. No, this is different. This is presence without performance. This is existing without adjusting. It's the hush of being beside you without reaching for your reflection in himself. Of letting the quiet stretch between you like a thread, not a chasm.

He learns to be still in it.

It’s hard. His body doesn’t understand stillness, not truly. His skin writhes sometimes under your gaze, uncertain if it’s allowed to rest. A mouth might try to open along his ribs. A second heartbeat will pulse briefly in his arm before it remembers it’s not supposed to be there. You always look at him gently when it happens, like you’re not afraid. Like he doesn’t have to smooth those parts away to deserve your nearness.

One morning, you find him in the kitchen, trying to make eggs. He has arms now—two of them, the way he’s learned is “normal”—and fingers that shake when they grip the spatula. He burns them. Twice. The second time, he almost lets go of the form entirely, almost collapses into the safer fluidity of someone more graceful, more competent.

But then you’re there, behind him, murmuring, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Try again.”

So he does.

The eggs are terrible. You eat them anyway. You tell him it’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had.

He doesn’t understand why that makes him want to cry.

Later that week, he dreams.

He doesn’t usually. Shapeshifters don’t dream the way people do—there’s no consistent self to anchor memory, no firm border between past and present. But this dream is different. In it, he is formless, endless, caught in the tide of every life he’s ever worn. He sees flashes of faces like breaking waves. A man with salt-and-pepper hair weeping on a train platform. A woman whose laugh was a lie. A child whose shape he wore for two days just to feel loved.

And then, you.

Steady. Blurred at the edges, as dreams tend to be—but real. Constant. You reach through the shifting, through the noise, and you say his name.

Not Remnant.

Not any of the masks.

Lior.

The dream quiets around it. The name. The sound of you saying it.

When he wakes, he’s crying.

He doesn’t try to hide it.

One evening, rain lashes the windows and the power flickers out. You find him on the living room floor, candles lit around him, casting soft shadows across the walls. He’s sitting cross-legged, his form barely shifting now. You notice the small changes—he’s held this shape longer than any before. Long enough for it to feel familiar. Long enough that you’ve memorized the curves of his jaw, the subtle shimmer in his skin when he’s nervous.

You sit across from him.

He looks up. “Do you want to know what I used to be?”

You nod. “Only if you want to tell me.”

He closes his eyes. When he speaks, the words are slow, like they’ve been waiting in him for lifetimes.

“I was born in a place without language. Without time. Just… instinct. Hunger. I learned shape from others. I learned love by pretending. I wore it like clothing, but it never warmed me. I think I thought if I mimicked it enough, I’d eventually feel it.”

He opens his eyes, meets yours.

“But I didn’t. Not until you.”

You don’t speak. You don’t have to.

He reaches for your hand—not perfect, still wrong around the edges—but it’s real. His real.

“You taught me something,” he says.

“What’s that?”

He tilts his head. The candlelight catches in his many-layered eyes. “That love isn’t something you earn by becoming someone else. It’s something that sees you… and stays anyway.”

Your throat tightens. “I think you taught me that, too.”

Outside, the rain slows.

Inside, Lior leans closer, forehead resting gently against yours. He is trembling, not from fear, but from feeling. From the weight of being known.

Masterlist

[sheepispink]

The Presence of Another

supersoldier!reader x ltghost (+ tf141)

part 9 of Weaponised Series Masterlist

a/n: all relationships are platonic, prolly some ooc who knows

part one previous next

-----------

You sleep surprisingly fine without the stuffed animals, and you wake up around twenty minutes after Ghost does. It’s not much of an issue, since you both get to the mess hall in time to sit opposite the two sergeants, who seem awfully indifferent to the fact you had passed out yesterday. Or perhaps they really didn't know, because they just spent the whole time debriefing you about the mission they went on whilst Ghost would occasionally signal them to cut out parts he didn't want you knowing— more specifically the men who had died in your place.

Thankfully, duties had called them away before they could talk your ear off and now the two of you were headed down to the smaller gym which is always emptier and so far quieter.

 “So, how long do you usually run?”

“Five miles? 20 laps usually.” 

His brows raise for a second before he shrugs it off, writing something down on the clipboard he has. It’s somewhat amusing to you, even for a split second, seeing Ghost holding up a clipboard like that. Maybe you’ve been hanging around the sergeants far too much, but he really does not look like the type of guy to even touch one of them. “Oi, pay attention.” His pen taps the corner of the board, rolling his eyes when he sees that dazed look, and you sheepishly shake your head to snap out of it. “At what point does it start getting painful?”

“Well, my vision gets a little hazy around the fourth, but it’s only painful half a mile after.”

Hearing you talk about your struggles so casually will never be normal to him, but he knows that if he tries to address it now, it’d only cause more problems— right now, he’s on thin ice. 

“Right. We’ll start with just four miles every day now—”

“But I always do five. I’ve done five for months now.” For once, you interrupt, features twisting as he reduces your laps just because you felt a bit off. For you, it didn't matter all that much— the pain was part of this life— so you didn't understand the need for it.

“Well, clearly you’re not in the same state as you were last month when you could do it, hm? Remember those pills you didn't take? The seizure?” His reminder is slightly harsh, but it’s true— you weren't the same person anymore. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he definitely wasn't the same person he was before he met you, nor was he the same person when he started the force. Though, he can understand why it might feel that way for you. The only way you’re supposed to move is forward, never backwards. Thankfully, you seem to have got the memo when you don't argue any further. 

“Good. How about your arm and leg workout then?”

He’d be a liar if he didn't find it somewhat amusing when you’d get a little riled up at each of his decisions. You can't stand changing from routine, that’s clear, but even the slightest change for your own health has your brows furrowing and cheeks puffing. Though, you do end up agreeing to all his plans by the end of it, especially when he promises to only trial it for two weeks. Now you’ll take a break after three miles, run the next mile and, depending on if you get dizzy or not, you’ll run the next half mile too. As for the workouts, he has you on very basic warmups to begin with, stretches are a must since you tend to skip them in your haste; you even promised that you’ll drink at least half a litre between each workout now. 

Part of the reason you agreed was only because he had promised he’d find something to occupy you in exchange for everything he cut out. He didn't want to give you something too slow, since he knows that it’d just allow your mind to easily consume and eat at you again, so he has to think smarter— he has to think in your shoes… This might take a while.

————

You’ve noticed a few changes in your schedule ever since you requested to be in Ghost’s room. 

First of all, the sergeants are pretty adamant in feigning anger at you for not picking either of them, giving you a playful nudge whenever you complain about Ghost not letting you do things and insisting they would. It had horrified you the first time, after Price’s reaction you had thought they were being serious and almost panicked. Ghost had scolded them after that. Now you roll your eyes as Gaz pretends to be hurt by the ‘blatant favouritism’ as he calls it.

Another thing is that post workouts are a lot different. Your schedule has changed massively since you had been the perfect soldier, starting with meals with the team and their doting. Now, instead of eating whatever scraps there are for dinner and scrubbing yourself raw as fast as you can in the communal shower rooms, you take long warm showers in Ghost’s bathroom. Apparently he’s had a budget allocated for you by the higher ups for some time, and it’s racked up to a big amount after the months it wasn't put to use. Not that you would’ve really asked for anything if you knew, but now you get some nice smelling soaps— never lavender though.

Ghost did keep your ‘bedtime’ roughly the same, after he figured out you even set yourself one.

“You get tired awfully early.” He had stated when you yawned during an evening walk with him. It was the fifth day of this new regime, and you didn't really think it was that big of a deal. “I used to always sleep at eight thirty—that was my usual time.” 

“Eight? Why?”

You blink, not really thinking much into your self-proclaimed bedtime because when things worked, things worked. You didn't need to question further, did you?  

“I.. It started after the second week I came here, I think.” Now that he’s got that train of thought running, you can’t help but question how it even came to that early, or maybe it was only because you really had nothing else to do.  “I wasn’t eating all that much, so I relied on sleep for energy instead. At least, that’s how I made the decision I think. Plus, that’s when I'd get startled by nightmares, so I had to give enough time for me to wake up every night and then fall back asleep whilst still getting a good amount of it.”

He stops walking and cocks his head, gesturing for you to sit and the wood creaks when he finally settles too. Nights are still cold, so you have his flimsy hoodie protecting your arms, and he’s bundled in a warm jacket. The both of you are quiet for a little, your eyes focusing on the forest where you had hidden in only a month ago now. Sometimes you still wait, listening for the small yips, a rustle of the bushes or the slightest flash of orange— any sign of that little fox. 

“You know it’s fine, right?” 

“What?”

“Don’t go believin’ every word you’re told. You don't need to push yourself to run five miles. You’re allowed, and should stop when it hurts.”

Ever since that evening you’ve believed his words, in fact you’ve believed everything he’s said to you. It was more than the Captain had ever said to soothe you; it was even more than what that medic had promised you. It wasn’t pity, nor was it even comfort— it was cold hard truth, a command if anything. Weirdly enough, that made your stomach settle, and you didn't doubt it for a second, choosing to just nod and listen. 

So, you stopped arguing, stopped complaining when he gave you a proper breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You definitely didn't complain when he nudged you to bed at eight thirty because, for every day in this strange new regime, you’ve been working just as hard as before and not once have you ever felt that crushing pain.

———————

It’s been a week and a half, and you stumble in at eight o clock as usual. Sometimes Ghost isn't here, and sometimes he is, it really depends on the day. The others have all their differing schedules, and you’re okay with it really— you kind of like the alone time you’ve got now that they’re not coddling you anymore. Price has also kept a fair distance ever since he got angry with you. He did in fact talk to you mildly about it, but after Ghost told him that he’d handle your overexertion he’d dropped the matter quickly. Now you rarely saw him, apart from the occasional uncomfortable breakfast, but the sergeants made sure that the silence never grew too awkward. 

You change into your pajamas, which happens to just be one of Ghost’s old shirts, and then the one pair of joggers you own. One thing you discovered after staying in his room was that you could get away with practically anything just by the excuse of your wellbeing. Maybe Soap was rubbing off on you just a tad.

Now you wear his shirts to bed, because you still haven’t bought me anymore, you say, and he rolls his eyes, begrudgingly letting you take them. Sometimes when he comes to bed he finds you sprawled out like a starfish, taking up as much space as you can just so he grunts, pushing you to the side easily. When he asks about it in the morning, you just shrug, refusing to believe that you even do any of that. He doesn't pay too much mind to your little antics, quickly reminding you that you’re still on punishment for what you pulled and that he can make you sleep on the floor if he so wishes.

You climb onto the bed with a sigh, feeling strange without the usual weight in your arms, nor the softness of your old duvets. Ghost’s weren't bad, no they were comfortable, but you had got too used to your old ones, and now you were regretting pulling your little escapade in the first case. Well, you suppose that was the point of the punishment, to make you regret your actions.

With a soft huff you push your face into the pillow, forcing your eyes shut so you don't think too hard about how quiet this room sounds without him, or how cold the bed is. There are things to do tomorrow— you need to stop caring.

————

Your fingers curl into fists, the sheets rubbing against your skin as you squirm and push your head further forward, trying to push through the haze that seems to attack you with every blink. 

Nothing happens, no light greeting you even with how far you’ve run, and so for once you stop, swallowing sharply. You thought you could handle this, the visions, they never got this bad, and Ghost never noticed anyway— but this was different. Slowly, you take deep breaths, try to concentrate on the whispers swirling around, the flashes of colour that never quite linger for a second longer.

Your hand snaps to the side, grabbing something— or someone— by the neck. You don't dare look, already recognising the cruel voices of the petty soldiers who tried to kill you. Well, they’d be the ones to die this time

Releasing your grip, the body dissipates between your fingers, mere dust as your chest pumps harder, something pushing you further. The deep breaths don't settle the race this time, only tingling your nerves as something looms, towers over you. Not this time. Never again.

Your arm shoots out, the figure right there for you to grab, but you miss, grabbing at the air. Though the figure still overlooks you, threatening as it leans closer and closer. You steady yourself, desperately trying anything and everything to grasp the heavy pressure weighing down on your chest, the monster tearing into your throat. Every night it worked, so why not this one? Why not this time? 

——

So many unanswered questions contaminate your brain, but the second the light finally fills your eyes all you can think of is “What- what’s going on?”

You’re pressed against the floor, pain rumbling through your middle with the heavy lamp rolling away from you on the hard floor. Two hands lock your wrists still, brown eyes staring back at you in the dark of the room. “A nightmare.” Ghost breathes out and, if not for his pale nose huffing out in relief when he lets go, you would’ve thought this was still the dreamscape.

Slowly you push yourself up onto your elbows and then to finally sit upright, nose twitching at the pain in your abdomen before you just swallow hard and finally look around. Now you notice the lampshade has been knocked far away, a small crack also running up the base of the lamp itself. You must’ve fallen off of the bed in your haze and, similar to other experiences, grabbed onto the lamp which landed directly onto your chest. Well, that explains the pressure you were feeling.

He watches you for a few moments, as your breaths heave, and then you eventually steady yourself, eyes locked on your hands like you’re searching for the usual marks left behind. “This the first one you’ve had?” Recently, anyway. He doesn’t say it, but you know it’s lingering as he stares down at you, your eyes tracking every crease as his lips move, every twitch of his brow and bob of his throat. You shake your head, and he nods, understanding, and his eyes roam over your body yet again, watching the way your fingers curl against the hardwood floor. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

Somehow his voice sounds softer, even if it's at the exact same volume, and you slowly shake your head, his brow furrowing just slightly at your words. You know he wants you to tell him; it’s not like you’ve never talked about them before, in fact you have plenty of times. The scientists never allowed you much privacy.

“Can’t tell you. I don't even know what happened myself.”

Your answer is vague, and honestly a little suspicious. Though, he just locks onto your eyes for a few moments, slowly looking over your features before eventually reaching forward and giving his hand out to help you up. You take it, his large hand tightly pulling you upright before he leans down to pick up the lamp and its shade, placing it back on the counter. “I knew my duvets were pretty bad, but I didn't think you’d rather fall off the bed than be in them.” He mutters, acting like he hadn't just tried to joke with you so casually, before kicking some slippers over to you. “C’mon.”

You follow him down the corridor, down towards your room where he slides his key in and opens it. The room isn't how you remembered leaving it, covers thrown on the floor, drawers, and the closet opened wide and even clothes cluttered on the floor. “Price ordered some soldiers to search your room.” He gruffly states, and you just nod, more taken aback that he had willingly given up that information to you.

“Why?”

He shrugs, pulling your duvet off the bed and tucking it beneath his arm as he reaches for your pillows as well. “Must’ve been searching for something. He didn't find anything, at least not that I know.” You nod slowly, and pick up the two stuffed animals, turning them over in your hands. The soft fur warms your cold hands, making you forget about the sweat trickling down your neck as he heads towards your closet, peeking through the mess made. “Huh, you really don't have any clothes. Well, apart from the uniforms I moved over.”

“Told you.” You murmur, eyes still locked onto the stuffed animals before you finally tuck it beneath your arm, turning over to where he looks at the name engraved into one of your old uniforms. “Maybe he thought I got another gun.” It slips out and, for some stupid reason. you snort at the thought of that gift box on your dresser again, the note inside and the gun laying there so pristine. Some part of you does find it wildly amusing thinking about what Price’s reaction would be, especially after everything you now know. Maybe you could play bingo with whatever fake words he’d spew this time.

“Hmm, you’re not shaken up enough that you can't joke, so do you really need those?” He smirks, gesturing to the plushies in your hands.

“What? You’re the one who forced me to buy them.”

“No, that was Price. I was planning to knock you out every night; pretty good technique I'd say.”

You can’t believe his audacity, to openly say he’d punch you to sleep after he had been the cause of so much that had happened recently. It’s such a wild thing to say that you immediately laugh, a smile breaking out on your face. “Guess you’re speaking from experience then.”

“You’d never know, mask hides it all.” He plucks one of the stuffies out your hands, stealing it from you and squashing it beneath his arm with the duvet. “We better get back before you fall asleep standing up.” He strides out of the room before you can retort, making you jog slightly to keep up with his longer steps– almost like he’s trying to escape your wrath.

“I don't even need sleep– I’ve told you like a million times, and you don't believe me.” He looks straight at you and rolls his eyes before pulling the black balaclava off, closing his room door behind you. “I can withstand many hours awake!” He’s replaced his blankets with yours now, your softer pillows rather than his flattened ones. 

“And you still drool all over the pillows.”

Your face scrunches up, unbelieving as he continues to get even more cocky with his words.  Before you can muster up a response, you’re ushered into bed, beneath the covers with the two stuffed animals tucked right beside you. The mattress dips as he slides in, his face just barely visible in the dim light. 

“If you don't sleep, I will lock you in this room for the whole day. Some poor soldiers will have to guard the windows too.”

You swallow, not wanting to be sitting still any longer than you want to be. The insistence to not sleep was nothing more than empty complaints, just to get on his nerves a tad, but you hadn't realised he’d go that far. That is, to threaten you into sleeping. It’s not exactly like you don't deserve the threat either— it’s for a good cause, that being your health.

The adrenaline of the dream has died down now, finally leaving your heart in its usual steady rhythm and the cold sweat disappearing. However, a little bit still lingers, the reason why you’re still awake now. Even as you hold one of the plushies close to your chest, hidden beneath the duvet, you can't help but be a little worried it’ll return. You’ve seen worse, known worse, but there’s something about him witnessing it first hand that gets you.

“Y’alright?” He asks, reaching over to fluff your pillow a little, but you snap out of and nod quickly, turning over to hide your face away. “Yeah.. Getting comfy, that’s all.”

His eyes still linger on your back that now faces him, your behaviour leaving a worrying feeling settling in his gut no matter how hard he tries to push it down. How had he not noticed the nightmares before? How many had you experienced right beside him? 

“Cold? I can warm it up if you want.” He reaches over your arm to gently pinch at the stuffed animal, before leaving his hand to linger on your upper arm, making you turn back slightly to meet his eyes again. 

“It’s okay, the covers are warm enough.” Your voice lowers to a whisper, the quiet worry in your gut controlling you. 

“Alright. Let me know.” He waits for you to nod before finally turning over, his back now facing you. 

For a while you settle into the haze between awake and asleep, listening for his breaths to slowly even out as a sign of sleep. Though, even with his mask off, it’s impossible to read him. Everything about him is so controlled, disciplined and contained, though just slightly ripping at the seams. You were the same, until you burst that is. March is still cold up north, and the window is a crack open. Goosebumps cover your arms, sending a chill down your back and crawling up to your face. Still, even as you toss and turn, the cold settles on your back like the nightmare did, persisting through all your desperate attempts. Your eyes droop, exhausted, and you know for sure that it’s too late to ask him now for that warmth– even pressing your nose into the plushie does no good for you. 

As you blink again, you watch his shoulder twitch, then again, until he rolls over slightly in his sleep. He settles on his back, chest rising quietly before falling once more. But you’re not thinking about that, more so how warm he is from how his leg had accidentally bumped your knee. You soon fall into a deep sleep with your head on the corner of his pillow, your arm conveniently grazing his and your nose brushing dangerously close to his shoulder. What you didn't know was that your little eagle and wolf would end up discarded to the floor, no longer needed when something else kept you far more grounded.

------------------

buy me a kofi!

previous next Series Masterlist

a/n:

lmk if you guys prefer longer chapters bcus this would've been over 7k words but i didnt want you guys to wait even LONGER. so the next one is prewritte, yes, and i will release it after editing which shouldnt take long. urm do i need to announce anything else... oh yeah i did well on my exams so the break did pay off, now to grind fanfics for the whole of summer :p

Taglist:

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Allergies II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: You have another allergic reaction

In all honesty, you didn't really think it was that serious.

Nutrition meetings at Barcelona were a lot more in depth than what you were used to at Arsenal. They took ages and were full of information that would probably be interesting if you actually cared but, alas, nutrition had never been as interesting to you as other subjects so you tended to just zone out.

You were handed a new smoothie with some kind of new protein powder in or something you would have known if you actually listened.

You drank it.

That's when things start to get weird.

The nutritionist continues to drone on and you frown, scratching at your neck.

You stare down at your bottle for a moment as your throat goes all scratchy and intense.

You force yourself to swallow before glancing around.

Your throat gets a bit tighter.

No one else seems to be having such a reaction so you unscrew the top of your bottle to peer inside. You sniff the mixture before standing up.

You can feel people watch as you make your way over to the first aid kit at the front of the room. Your throat has fully closed up now and you know that you're turning alarmingly red and probably breaking out in hives.

Honestly, you feel a little bit shocked how you're even conscious right now but you grab your epipen and stab it into your leg.

"Banana," You say plainly," I can't eat that."

Even with the adrenaline now pumping through your system, you slide your way down the wall to sit on the floor, breathing in deeply.

The room erupts into chaos the moment you sit down.

The medical staff come in to check your blood pressure and your throat and the expiration date of your epipen. The nutritionist leading the session is going absolutely ballistic yelling at one of her assistants for not checking the allergy sheets before making and handing out the smoothies.

Talia looks close to tears as she forces her way towards you, practically shoving some of the medics away. "Are you okay? Is it bad? Do I need to call your mums?"

"No! Don't call my-"

Talia's already gone out into the hall, phone pressed up against her ear.

You wonder which one of your mothers she has in her contacts.

Surely not Morsa because she's still in that stage where she's pretending to hate your girlfriend but you can't remember your Momma and Talia interacting enough to have swapped numbers and you know for certain that you weren't one to hand out people's numbers without explicit permission.

As the medics fuss and the nutritionist yells, the team also gather around to check that you're alright but you just give them a gallant shrug.

"I'm fine," You say," The epipen did its work."

"I think I'd prefer if you take the day off," The head of the medical team says," Just to be safe. You can come back tomorrow."

You know better than to argue with him so you just nod with a little sigh of annoyance.

"I can take her home," Talia says as she re-enters the room," I've got her."

"I can take a taxi home," You insist.

You and Talia drive in together so only one car is used. If you go home in that car now then she'll have to get a taxi in the middle of rush hour.

"I'll take you home," Talia says," Coach can spare me at training today. Someone's got to make sure you actually follow medical advice."

You roll your eyes. "I swear you've been hanging out with my Momma behind my back." You take the hand she offers to help you stand. "You sound just like her."

You end up back home fairly quickly, curled up on the sofa and practically forced to take a nap.

Prins joins you, curled up in the bend of your knee. Reina settles on the top of the sofa behind your head, completely stretched out and at ease with herself while Kung manages to wiggle himself between your arms to nap there.

You don't know how long you nap for but it must be a while because the sun is setting when you wake up and you can smell Talia cooking up your favourite pasta dish in the world.

You sit up.

You've definitely been sleeping for a while because Reina has migrated to her cat tree, poking her head out of the cave to watch Kung bounce around the floor in outrage at not being allowed up there with her.

Prins has taken Kung's place between your arms and his tongue rolls out of his mouth in a semblance of a dopey smile when he notices you awake, his tail beginning to wag happily.

"Hi, little man," You say, gently scratching between his ears," Did you keep me company?"

Prins' tail wags even more fiercely than before.

"Didn't want to leave your side."

You jolt, shrieking and Prins whines a little.

"Morsa! What are you doing here?!"

"Talia called your Momma," Morsa says, tucking the blanket more firmly around your body," Your allergies acted up."

"I dealt with it," You insist," You didn't have to fly out."

"Yes, we did," Morsa replies," Because if we waited for you to tell us, it would take weeks!"

You puff out your cheeks. "I wouldn't want to worry you over something so silly."

"Are you calling your allergies silly again?" Momma says. She enters with two plates worth of food and you sit up.

Prins leaps down to wander over to his own dog bed. Seeing him lying there, Kung wanders over, jumping up onto Prins' back to finish napping there as Reina ducks her head back into her cave.

"No, Momma," You mumble, accepting your food as Morsa takes a seat on the armchair and Momma to the left of you, leaving an empty space for Talia, who also brings out food for herself and Morsa before taking her own seat.

"Are you feeling better, mi vida?" She asks," You look better."

You nod. "I feel fine. My leg aches a little but that's expected."

"We'll put an icepack on it once we've finished eating. Prins was very worried about you."

Prins raises his head at the mention of his name, tail wagging.

"He's good boy."

Morsa grins from across the room. "I knew getting you a dog was a good idea."

Momma scoffs. "You told me that we should have gotten her a fish."

Morsa coughs to clear her throat and mumbles," Don't lie, Pernille."

"You wanted to get me a fish?" You laugh in disbelief," And you say Rocky is the most disappointing pet in the world."

"Are you really saying your pet rock is more exciting than a fish?"

"Am I?" You pretend to think for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I am."

[dickmedowndc]

Protective - Jaime Reyes/Khaji Da x Reader

Word Count: 3,196

Summary: Some things were easier than others to say – Jaime could tell you any day of the week that he thought your smile was one of his favorite things, or that he looked forward to your good morning texts. Others were not as easy; like telling you that Khaji Da was sentient, that the scarab – though too worried over your reaction to introduce himself – was incredibly fond of you and had a major protective streak. It comes to a head though when you see firsthand just how willing Khaji is to protect both you and Jaime. 

Notes: “100 kisses” Prompt #49: tending to your lover's wound, placing a kiss on top of their head, grateful they're still alive 

Tagging @heckzprince as was asked.

…★…

You had been so lost in your thoughts as you seemed to flit from space to space in the living room of your shared apartment. Jaime had surprised you with some decorations that you had been eyeing but had not been able to justify buying and you seemed more than ecstatic to set them up. 

But it was that same thought that suddenly had his expression darkening. Because Jaime had bought them, sure, but he had not been the one to form the idea – that was credited to Khaji Da, his scarab, who had wanted to surprise you after noticing your dower mood the last few days. There was an electric chirp somewhere in the back of his mind as he thought about it, a soothing gesture from his alien partner. 

“I do not mind, Jaime. They are happy to think the gift is from you.” 

Jaime narrowed his eyes at that, looking away from you and off into space as he began to converse with the scarab under his breath. “You say that, but I can feel that it bothers you.” He glanced at you, thankfully too occupied with trying to move some of the items just right that you had not noticed his behavior. 

“I am willing to accept this feeling, so long as we both get to keep them in our life.” 

“We need to tell them eventually.” 

The scarab was silent for no more than a heartbeat before answering. “One day.” That was all he said before he slipped back from Jaime’s consciousness and walled himself off. The act had become a habit when Khaji Da did not want to confront telling you he was sentient, or when it bothered him that your sweet words and acts excluded him by virtue of not knowing of his existence. It was logical, he knew, but it was a hurt he was unfamiliar with. Just as telling you about his presence was a fear he had never been confronted with until he began to grow into his own will and personality. 

Jaime sighed, noting that it caught your attention, though he tried to wave it off. 

You narrowed your eyes, staring him down with one hand on your hip before setting aside the item in your other and moving to stand in front of him. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing,” he assured, taking one of your hands in his own and running his thumb over the back. 

“Jaime,” you begin, moving to sit beside him so your legs are flush against one another, “you know you can tell me anything.” 

It was a half-hearted smile on his face before he spoke, but no less sincere. “I can tell you that I love the way you smile.” In truth, Jaime knew that you would be okay with Khaji – that you would adore him just as much as you did Jaime himself – but without the scarab's approval, he would not reveal the truth to you yet. He knew it would take some time for you to adjust, maybe, but you wouldn’t leave over it. 

You only sigh in response to his comment, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. “I won't pry it out of you.” You stand, arms above your head as you stretch and feel your joints relax. “But thank you for the compliment anyways, amore.” 

“We’ll be running late if we do not leave for patrol soon.” Khaji Da warned with a chirp in Jaime’s mind. 

“I’ll be back later tonight; I just have some stuff to take care of. Don’t worry about leaving the light on, it’ll be late.” He chimes, moving to stand beside you, pulling your hand once more to his lips to place another kiss. 

You hum, waving him off and already knowing what work will be keeping him from your shared bed once again – he had told you he was Blue Beetle long before the pair of you had moved in together. “You can make it up to me by buying breakfast next time.” you promise for him. “Come back safe, please.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Jaime swears, stepping past you after squeezing your hand once more and heading for the door. 

For now, you could only wait and watch as he left, finishing what decorating you could and heading off to sleep. Unfortunately unaware of the danger Jaime would be in, and later yourself. 

The danger did not come on the patrol itself, that had gone by with little more than petty robbery to stop. No major activity, no movement. It had been an easy night. And while Jaime had been more than happy to call it at that, Khaji Da had stayed silent for far longer than normal. 

“Are you okay, hermano?” Jaime asked, finally breaking the blistering silence. 

A minute ticked on before khaji Da responded, Jaime had almost thought he had not heard him. “Scans of the area near our apartment are... perplexing.”  

Jaime was still at that, slowing on his walk. His scarab was never confused about scans, not enough to be so deep in thought. “Meaning?” 

“The majority of the scans show the area is clear. However, my sensors must be damaged, as scans keep flickering and briefly picking up additional signatures, unknown to us.” 

“There are people around?” 

“Hard to tell – the extra signatures are surrounding our apartment, but they only appear briefly before I lose them once again.” 

“Do you think it’s because of how far away we are?” Jaime was growing tense – despite the calm tone, he could feel the concern beginning to radiate from the scarab. 

“Negative, I have never had an issue similar to this before. I may need to do internal checks once we are secured at home.” 

“Better safe than sorry.” Jaime comments, letting the armor burn hot over his body and re-suit him as he slips into one of the alleys, deciding to take the long way back. He can feel the way Khaji Da prods at the sensors, trying to make those blips reappear once again or find their origin. 

“Jaime, if there are people there, then our partner is likely in trouble.” 

Jaime makes no comment on Khaji Da’s use of “our”, or the tense edge in his voice as he warns him. The scarab is unable to get a reading on the signatures once again, but it provides no peace to either half of the hero. Jaime quickens his pace before even realizing, hurrying forward but careful to keep out of sight. 

It's too late, they find, after they arrive. He has no need to enter, because coming around the back way means that Blue Beetle has a clear line of sight on the open window of their apartment. Something you have not done since you moved in with him. 

Khaji Da is silent, and Jaime almost has to call for him before he can feel a surge in the back of his mind when the scarab kicks on power. “I cannot get a signal off the others, but I have picked up on our partner’s. They have just reached the city limits.” 

That isn’t too far away, Jaime realizes. Living on the outer limits had been a perk that he had sought out to help with leaving in his suit if ever the need arose. 

“We can still reach them if we hurry.” Khaji Da stresses, beginning to push to free the wings of the suit. 

“Don’t need to tell me twice, Khaji.” Jaime wastes no time in taking off into the sky, determined to reach you before anything bad could happen. Or worse than already had – being kidnapped while you slept certainly wasn’t high on the list of good things to go down while dating a hero. 

Jaime was tired, but the moment he was in the skies and scanning ahead of him he could feel the adrenaline rushing through him. And the anger. He knew that he as well was not the only one - he could feel, at the very edges of his consciousness, khaji Da was trying to keep himself under control, that he was itching to get his hands on whoever had taken you. And if he did, it was not going to be a pretty fight. 

Their search did not last long, with how fast they were flying it was in no time that they were right above the two suspicious dark SUVs driving west out of town – the only vehicles on the road, right on top of one another. 

“They are in the second vehicle.” 

Jaime gave no response, descending in front of the first car as fast as he could, bracing for impact when they only barely hit their brakes to try and avoid him. It mattered little to either of the Beetle pair, their sights were set on the tinted windows of the second vehicle that was quicker to react. 

Jaime straightened, feeling Khaji pulling for control, anger still hot in his mind as he scanned for their partner. “Let them go,” he narrowed his eyes, already in position to rush them if he needed, “before this gets ugly for you.” The hiss on the edge of his words, the venom that dripped from them was Khaji, though Jaime understood the anger. But in moments like this the two would bleed together until you could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. 

The back door opened and Khaji Da crooned in the recesses of Jaime’s mind, just for a moment, knowing you could at least walk. But that lasted no more than seconds when they saw the blood from your cut lip and the limp in your step. The wide-eyed look you gave, staring right at him and pointedly trying to ignore the gun just centimeters from your temple. You looked terrified, and rightfully so. All Jaime and Khaji Da want is to grab you, but for the time being nobody moves. 

At least until a moment later when Jaime doubles over, an ear-splitting sound ringing in his head like chalk on a board. Distantly he can make out your own body hitting the ground before the assailants leave your side and move towards him. He’s barely on the verge of consciousness, already losing to the black when he feels Khaji Da surging forward in his mind to take control. It’s a burning hot rage that feels like fire in Jaime’s numb limbs, but he trusts his partner to protect them both. 

Khaji Da is exactly that, full of rage and a deep-seated drive to guard Jaime and yourself. The small black device that likely served as the source of the attack is much closer to the pair, but the man holding it can’t react fast enough before he’s pinned to the car with a staple. It’s automatic for him, even with how few times he had needed to take control of Jaime’s unconscious body. 

The pair spend so long intermingled that it’s just an extension of the physical scarab body. Not that Khaji Da is stopping to appreciate how fluid the fight is. He can see you on the ground, barely moving but still trying – you were further away when the pulse went out, which thankfully seemed to lack a powerful enough range to do permanent damage to you. All he knows is he needs to get rid of these attackers and grab you so you’re both safe. 

It leaves him distracted however, something he’ll later grow agitated with, and one of the men are behind him, sharp metal dug into the joint of his armor and peeling it up. It isn’t much, but it sends alarm bells ringing because these people were too well versed in his defenses for this to be some thrown together kidnapping. An issue for later, when you’re all safe. 

The fastest way to end this, just long enough to escape, is a major sonic pulse, but it risks injuring you further. It’s a decision he tries to weigh when he grabs one of the men who has jumped at his back, swinging him full force through the windshield of the further car, and then making eye contact with you. 

You’ve turned over, watching him with a look that Khaji Da does not recognize. But he does see the cuts, the new gash on your forehead from the ground, and bruises that are still darkening from when you had been taken. Khaji Da didn’t have to wonder if you had put up a fight, he knew that you had, and you had likely paid the price for it more than he could see. 

It’s a thought – one of them hurting you, dragging you out the window, and the chance that they could have been too late to find you in time – that has him reacting without hesitation. 

Anyone smart would turn away and run if they saw the suit charging up – especially if there was nothing to block the blast. But for all their planning, their assailants seem stupidly determined to take in the Blue Beetle. Stupid enough that they rush at him. 

In the corner, on the outskirts of the fight, you put your face to the dirt and cover your head with your hands, bracing for whatever is to come. It pays off moments later when the charge is done and an energy pulse lashes out wildly. 

You don’t even look up until the oddly warm metal is wrapping around your torso and hoisting you up as gently as he can. Blue beetle is acting fast, wasting little time before taking you in his arms and taking flight. 

All you do for the time being is wrap your arms around his neck, staring at him from the corner of your eye as you watch the men below get smaller and smaller. 

The flight back is silent, and you don’t ask questions when you pass by your apartment. Jaime had told you once that there was a safe house if things ever got too bad, and you assumed now that it was your destination until something could be worked out. 

Khaji Da, for his part, did not want to slip up. He did not want to give himself away, and he did not want you to worry too much about Jaime. He was good, a little banged up, but his host would be okay. But this was never how he wanted you to learn. 

It took longer than expected to arrive and land at the safe house – Khaji Da did more than one fly around to ensure there was no living soul on the premises before he even dared to bring you down near it. He ushers you inside as fast as he can, mindful of the limp you still sported. 

“Let me help,” he asked, his voice soft but cracking as he sat you down, already making a b-line for the first aid kit. As he moved the armor fell away to reveal Jaime’s body underneath, with the hope it would put you more at ease. “It’s been a long night.” 

You were still silent when he turned around, fixing him with a sharp look. Khaji Da felt like you could see right through him, and he tensed with the little med kit in his hands, almost scared to walk near you. 

“Come here, you’re hurt.” You motion him over next to you, making a grab for the box when he steps close enough. 

Khaji Da keeps it just out of your reach. “So are you.” 

“Let me do this.” 

He opens his mouth to stop you before you huff. 

“Please, if they come back at least you’ll be ready. Just,” you stop, lowering your hand and fixing him with a pleading look, “just let me do this.” 

He just nods silently, handing over the aid kit before turning his side to face you. There is a wound in the crease of his arm where the joint of the suit had been pierced, but it was nothing compared to the cuts and bruises you wore. He had the armor, but it was of little use to you. It left a sour taste in Khaji Da’s mouth, but he would be able to tend your own soon enough. 

“You’re not him, are you?” You ask, finally willing to break the question as you dab at the cut. You can feel the way that he tenses under your touch, see the flicker of his eyes as he looks for a way out. 

But Khaji Da cannot lie to you – not like this. “No.” 

“The scarab then?” 

He only nods his head yes, diverting his eyes from your own and fixing them on the floor. If it was not for your touch on his arm then he would pull away from you completely, but he doesn’t want to upset you when you are already shaken. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Khaji Da.” 

You smooth the bandage out over his cut. He doesn’t need it, but it's an excuse for a little more contact. The action seems to sooth him, and with a small confidence you reach for his hands. “I like that name.” 

He looks at you, like he’s searching for something specific, but he can’t find it. “You knew?” 

“I had my suspicions for a long time. But in that fight? That isn’t how he moves. But you do. I've seen it sometimes, when it’s late or you two think I won’t notice. I just thought it was a trick of the mind for a while.” You clasp his hand tighter, pulling it into your lap. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” An echo of earlier that has Khaji Da almost melting. 

“I didn’t want to scare you. Or for you to leave because of me – I did not want us to lose you.” 

“I’m just grateful you’re here. I won't go anywhere, as long as you stop hiding from me.” You assure, leaning forward to place a kiss on his forehead. The act makes him shy away, but he tightens his grasp on your hand.  

“Never again,” he promises. 

“Good. Is Jaime okay too?” 

“Unconscious, but I can heal the physical damage while we wait for the others to arrive.” 

You cock your head to the side at that. “The others? Are those guys coming back?” 

Khaji calms you before you can spiral, bringing your hand towards him and placing his lips against it as he had wanted to do so many times before. “No, no, not them. I put in a call for backup to this place as soon as we landed. They’ll search for the cars and then come here.” 

You can relax at that, nodding along before you shift so you can sit curled against his side. 

You’re tired, Khaji Da can see that – the bags under your eyes and the tremor that wracks your body from fatigue. “Sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake.” 

You give a hum that you hear him, thankful for his guard before you finally close your eyes to rest. You’ll have time tomorrow to speak more and let him tend to your injuries.

[steamingstewchunks]

Don't leave Sari with Ultra Magnus.

It's a feeling to him, not a thought. Not as he can see the way his Magnus, his commander, his leader, stretch out a palm in such a way the seemed so final but so....

Foreboding. Like she was being taken away, instead of being held gently by someone who cares.

(he does... He should care about her.)

Sari was sitting in her little corner, a new one, now that they didn't have to stay in the Ark anymore, being tended too by prowl and bulkhead, sunlight beaming down into them from the window they built it next to, who In turn do stare between him and Ultra Magnus.

For once in his functioning, he couldn't decide if what his leader said was an order.

"I would like to hold the Sparkling, Optimus."

"bwuh- uh, yes sir, you will be able to hold her, sir, but human infants," lying is easy, lying is easy, say something, "they have a lot of rules to follow when handling them."

A white lie works too.

"Surely not, all I would need would be the pillows and mesh contraption," he points his head towards prowl, who wasn't in holoform like Bulkhead, who had the dipped mesh contraption they've had since the beginning. "I know organic young have rules to follow when handling, but it is not nearly as rigid as you imagine. I won't have her long."

The old mechs smile doesn't reach his eyes, it's spread a little too wide.

prowl, I need a distraction. The mentioned starts to sniff around just a little just after the private comm, and cringes. Almost perfectly.

"bulkhead," he stands, letting his vents clear the "smell" from his olfactories," she needs a diaper change."

"oh, sorry Ultra Magnus, maybe some other time?" Optimus smiles at his commander, keenly examining him for any sort of reason, again, why he felt the need to say no. Why it was so scary to see his servo reach towards Prowl.

Almost like magic, Sari starts to cry, with the toy in her hand dropping to the floor.

"and it's almost nap time too!" Bulkhead cradles her, heading into the changing room connected to the baby corner. Unaware of the ruse the other two where putting up.

"oh well, heh. Maybe some other time." Ultra Magnus let his servo fall, but seemed to search the two. "I have business to get back to on the Steelhaven, and you," he stares pointedly at Optimus, "still need to fill out those incident reports about the decepticon attacks."

"aah, yup, yes sir, Magnus sir...!" He saluted, a toothy smile making it's way across his faceplates, dermas splitting so awkwardly he could feel prowls despair without needing to dig into his field.

"at ease soldier." The Magnus says, almost stalking out of the room.

"Optimus." He turns to look at Prowl, "what. Was that."

[soarelesiluna-ao3]

hihii!! Saw that you write for katarsis, may I request a poly!katarsis x gn!reader?? You can decide the plot :)) thank you so much in advance !! 💚💚

Oh I love how this one sounds! I already have the idea in mind, I've had it since this ask came into the box, so I'll take some time to tend to it 💙

It's my first time writing about Katarsis as a whole only based off what one of my followers told me abt them, some interviews and videos, I hope I do a good job at characterizing them!

Content under the cut!

"Where the hell is Jokubas?"

Alanas paced impatiently around the room. Lukas grabbed his phone for who knows what time, and looked for new messages, without any luck. In the middle of the room, Emilija sat on a lotus position as she took in a sniff of a incense stick she had lit up, surrounded by pink quartz.

"Do you really have to have that lit up, Em?" Alanas frowned at her. "It's the second stick you've lit."

"Well, I want to make sure the vibes are perfectly aligned when Jokubas and our guest come here, hence the pink quartz", she gestured with a hand. "They are supposed to help with love affairs."

"That's fitting", Lukas gave her a half smile. "It worked out for us, didn't it?"

"I'd say it did", she leant in to kiss the singer's cheek.

"Hey, don't leave me out..." Alanas sat down beside her to get his own kiss. "Do you think this will work out?"

"I mean... We are a polycule and they know it", Emilija stretched a hand to caress Lukas' hair. "They understand it. So it's now a thing of knowing if they want to be a part of it or if they want to date only one of us."

"I hope Jokubas isn't planning on hogging them all for himself", the guitarist joked. "He should've been here fifteen minutes ago."

"Getting places on time is really not his strong suit", the bassist laughed.

In the meantime, Jokubas had just picked you up to go go to the rehearsal room. You didn't speak much in the way there, your heart was pounding. Today wasn't a rehearsal day, so why did everyone want to meet like this? Was it because they realized the lingering stares, the touches, the small flirts thrown to one another in passing? Was it going to be a deal breaker? You hoped not - the outfit you had put on today (makeup included, if you wore some) had too much thought into it to go to waste.

The scent of jasmine incense hit as soon as you were in the hallway. Emilija must have lit some in preparation of something, you know how she is about all that. When you opened the door, all of them greeted you with waves, handshakes and even a hug.

"Take a seat, please", Lukas guided you towards a chair. "So, we have something to tell you. It's kinda important. Who wants to go first?"

Alanas raised his hand.

"So, uh, you know how all of us here have been dating for a while now, yes?" He gestured towards the band. "Okay, so... What if we told you we are thinking of adding someone new to the mix?"

You start thinking about it. Were they bringing someone new to the band? Adding a producer or a manager? Curiosity was strong in this moment, but you remained calm. You told them that whoever it was, you'd make a big effort to meet them and know them better.

"Oh, that's cool", the guitarist nodded. "What if I told you it's someone you know, though?"

How much did you know them?

"Quite a lot", Lukas shrugged. "I think you'd get along well. But we need your help. So, uh... We kinda need to figure out how to tell them that we want them to date us."

Huh, okay, you were up to the challenge, yes. You started thinking, and began saying that they should say how long they've come together, and how much you liked them, that they wanted to add a new person to their big share of hearts because love is a beautiful thing to be shared. You could see Emilija smile from her spot, from where she raised to sit beside you and hold your hand.

"Those are beautiful words", she nodded. "So, what if we told you... All those things you said are meant for you?"

There's a moment where realization sets in, and you can see all of them looking at you, slowly coming to surround you. Lukas held your forearm, Alanas knelt in front of you, and so did Jokubas.

"Want to add your heart to ours, dear?"

[writtenwhalien]

a lover's redemption | chapter 4

chapter 4. through the cracks

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 11.5k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings). please be warned this chapter has a fair amount of descriptive violence.

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox any questions, let me know (maybe i should make a post for all the characters and who they are since there’s a lot now..?)

The morning light streams through your bedroom window, golden and soft as it filters through the curtains, painting the walls in hues of warmth. It coaxes you from sleep gently, the weight of the night slipping away. As you stir, blinking against the sunlight, fragments of your conversation with Jimin float to the surface of your mind. His voice, calm and steady. His quiet honesty, disarming in a way you hadn’t expected, and the softness in his gaze.

You turn onto your side, clutching the blanket a little tighter. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel lighter, at ease -- you don’t feel like you’re bracing for something to go wrong.

After a few minutes of indulging in the warmth, you sit up, stretching to chase away the last remnants of sleep. Your body feels sluggish, a dull ache in your leg reminding you of the wound that still needs tending. It feels more manageable but as you move the covers back, you're sure the bandages need changing.

You rise carefully and move to the en-suite, splashing your face with cool water. You take your time getting ready, brushing your hair and choosing something comfortable to wear. What is normally a quick job has turned into a few minutes of you painfully wincing to get your shorts up but eventually you're dressed and ready to go down, just in time as your tummy lets out a low growl.

As you leave the room, the faint sounds of life in the house reach your ears — muffled conversation, the clinking of dishes. You realise it’s a sound you haven’t heard in a very long time. Not since you left Namwon many years ago, and even then, the household residing there was much smaller. Hearing it now, you realise you missed it. You let that thought linger as you make your way toward the staircase.

Without Yoongi or Jin to help, the stairs suddenly feel like a mammoth task, requiring extra care as you descend. You brace your hand lightly on the banister, and take the first step, then another, and another. Halfway down the first flight, you hesitate for a moment to gather your strength as there's still another staircase to go after this. Just as you step forward, a movement in the hall below catches your eye. Jimin is there, standing near the base of the staircase.

He looks up, his gaze immediately meeting yours. “Heading down?”

You nod, gripping the railing as you continue your descent.

Jimin steps closer, his hands slipping casually into his pockets as he watches you carefully. “Want some help?” he offers, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m okay,” you reply with a small smile, keeping your movements steady. The stairs creak faintly under your weight, the sound a quiet reminder of your vulnerability which you positively hate. 

You focus on each step, but out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jimin hasn’t moved away. He lingers nearby, his presence an unspoken reassurance, ready to step in if needed.

“How’s the leg healing?” he asks, breaking the silence as you reach the landing.

As you walk down the hall to the ground floor staircase, he walks with you.

You glance at him briefly, appreciating the way he’s keeping pace with you without hovering too closely. “It feels okay. Jin said it’ll take a few weeks.”

Jimin nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he agrees. Then, just as you stand ahead of the first step, a teasing smirk softens the edges of his expression, and he adds, “Though your refusal to use the lift probably isn’t helping.”

You pause mid-step, smiling as you catch your breath. He’s not wrong, but you can’t help defending yourself. “I need to stay moving. It’s good for me.”

“You’re right,” he says, inclining his head. “Far be it from me to argue with that logic.”

Unable to help yourself, you laugh. "Don't get smart with me. You're the same boy who would fall over and rub dirt on the wound to try to heal it."

Jimin laughs and the sound resonates more deeply than you’d expected. "Hey, in my defense, it really felt like it was doing something."

“I’m sure it did,” you say, giving him a playful look as you take the final few steps.

Finally reaching the bottom, you feel a small sense of accomplishment, though your leg aches faintly in protest. 

Jimin gestures toward the dining room, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back to guide you.  “Come on,” he says. “The others are already eating.”

As you enter the dining room, the familiar hum of conversation fills the air. The boys are seated at the long table, their laughter and chatter pausing briefly as they notice you.

“Morning,” Jungkook greets with a grin, his tone light.

Namjoon nods at you, while Hoseok offers a cheerful “Good to see you up.”

Jin’s eyes dart to your leg, assessing. “You okay?” he asks, his tone softer but still tinged with his usual care.

You nod. “I’m good, thanks.”

Jimin, walking beside you, pulls out a chair for you. Surprised by the small but thoughtful gesture, you smile. “Thank you.”

He returns the smile, gentle and understated, before taking his own seat at the head of the table. 

“What does everyone think of these pastries?” Jungkook asks, leaning forward slightly as he gestures to the tray of golden-brown treats at the center of the table, despite having two on his plate. “I think they’re part of a seasonal recipe.”

Hoseok raises a brow at him. “And how would you know that, Jungkook?”

Jungkook shrugs, unapologetic. “I asked Iseul about it yesterday.”

Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course you have. Who else but you would interrogate the chef about pastries?”

The group laughs, and Jungkook grins boyishly, unbothered by the teasing. The lightheartedness is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing into the atmosphere, the morning starting to feel like a brief reprieve.

“Speaking of seasonal changes,” Jin says, absentmindedly looking out toward the window, “is anyone else noticing how much colder it feels already? August isn’t even over yet!"

Taehyung rolls his eyes dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “You’re such a drama queen, hyung. There’s only a few days left of the month and it’s barely a breeze.”

Jin shrugs, uncaring. “I’m just saying, it’s chilly now."

The banter carries on, laughter bubbling around the table, however, you notice that despite the endless conversation from everyone, Jimin remains quiet, only laughing or smiling at whatever else is being said. You're sure he's preoccupied with all the bigger matters at hand.

Once almost everyone's plate is cleared, Yoongi clears his throat softly, drawing your attention. “I had some of your things brought over from your house. But the  damage was pretty extensive, so it’ll probably take a few weeks before it’s liveable again.”

You nod, unsurprised but grateful for the update. “Thank you.”

Yoongi gives a small nod, his expression unreadable but his words steady. “The paintings you asked for have been placed into a safe storrbge unit but let me know if there’s anything else you need from there in the meantime.”

The table falls quiet for a beat, a subtle shift in mood as everyone digests the reality of your situation. 

From across the table, Jimin is looking your way, but when you catch his eye, his expression shifts to a smile, but there’s no hiding the sombre behind it. 

Then Seokjin speaks up, undoubtedly attempting to steer the conversation back toward lighter topics. “I was thinking of helping to create the Christmas dinner menu this year, actually.”

Still looking at Jimin, you smile back but you’re unable to hide the same sombreness behind it. You feel  the same heaviness he no doubt feels, though you know for him, it’s worse. Seeing you smile, he softens a little more, the knot in his brows unwinding.

 “Hyung, it’s literally August.” Hoseok notes, drawing your attention back to the rest of the table.“Almost September. Besides, I already have some ideas, and I know once you taste it, you’ll be begging for seconds,” Seokjin responds, pointing his fork at Hoseok. 

“I actually agree with Jin,” Namjoon backs him up through a mouthful of food. 

“Same.” Jungkook looks at Hoseok and shrugs. 

Another chorus of agreement goes around the table, prompting Hoseok to attempt to defend himself, and soon the laughter resumes, brightening the room once more. 

After breakfast, the group begins to disperse. Jimin exchanges a quiet word with Yoongi and Hoseok before excusing himself, the three heading toward the east wing. You watch them leave, their conversation low but purposeful. Before you can wonder too much about their plans, Namjoon steps beside you, his demeanor calm but with a hint of purpose.

“Come with me,” he says, gesturing toward the lounge.

Curious, you follow him into the cosy room. Sunlight streams through the large windows, casting warm patches of light on the plush armchairs and neatly arranged bookshelves. Namjoon picks up his laptop from a side table and places it in front of you on the coffee table, sliding it your way with a small smile.

You glance at him, confused. “What’s this?”

Namjoon chuckles, settling into the armchair across from you. “Like we mentioned at breakfast, it’s not safe for you to go back home just yet. So, whatever you need -- clothes, toiletries, anything else, just go ahead and order it. Consider it a housewarming gift.”

You blink at him, the request catching you off guard. “You’re asking me to… go shopping?”

He nods seriously. “Exactly.”

A laugh escapes you as you glance down at your outfit — an old pair of basketball shorts and a borrowed t-shirt. “Well, yeah, I guess these won’t cut it for long.”

Namjoon smiles, leaning back comfortably. “Don’t hold back. Get what you need.”

You hesitate for a moment before sitting down on the couch and opening the laptop. Namjoon watches you for a moment longer, ensuring you’re settled, before standing. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” you reply, already pulling up a browser.

As the door clicks shut behind him, you settle into the task, scrolling through websites and adding essentials to your cart. What starts as a practical endeavour — clothes, toiletries, and a few necessities — soon becomes something more indulgent as you add cosy socks, candles, and even a few books to the list. You can’t help but smile at yourself as the cart grows. By the end of the hour, you’ve got multiple tabs open from multiple stores and enough to make anyone question if you were stocking up for an entire year.

Not long after you finish placing your order, the sound of footsteps in the hallway draws your attention. Taehyung and Jungkook appear in the doorway, their expressions bright and eager. Jungkook waves enthusiastically while Taehyung leans casually against the frame, his signature boxy grin in full effect.

“Hey,” Taehyung says smoothly, “we were thinking, it’s time for a tour of the house.”

Jungkook nods quickly. “Yeah, it’s big, and we figured you'd want to go for a walk anyway.”

Their energy is infectious, and you can’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. “I appreciate the thought,” you say, standing and brushing your hands on your borrowed shorts. For a moment, you hesitate — their enthusiasm is sweet but you feel like you'd be wasting their time in going along with them since you already know the house, and honestly, you trust them enough to tell them the simple truth. 

“There’s really no need though.” You pause, smiling awkwardly. “I’ve been here before.”

That brings them up short. Taehyung tilts his head, his brows drawing together. “You have?”

Jungkook looks equally puzzled. “When?”

“As a kid, I came here a few times.”

Their confusion remains. 

“My dad was Han Sehun.”

Recognition flashes in their eyes immediately. “Ah,” they say in unison, voices laced with understanding. For a moment, you see they seem somewhat apologetic too and you reckon they must know about what happened to your dad and your family. But they quickly return to their usual selves.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Taehyung says, exchanging a look with Jungkook.

You smile at their reaction. They seem so genuine, so easy to be around that it’s hard not to relax.

“So, you’ve seen everything?” Taehyung asks, his curiosity piqued.

You nod. “Pretty much.”

“Even the east wing?” he presses.

You hum, nodding again.

Jungkook folds his arms, his expression teasing. “What about the basement?”

That stops you. You blink at him, a little thrown. “Basement?”

Taehyung’s face lights up like a child with a secret. “Oh, you’ll love it.”

Jungkook nods, matching his energy. "It’s the best part."

 “Alright, lead the way.”

They each take a side and help you up, steadying you as you walk. "Come on, you’ll get full access to everything, just as Jimin instructed," Jungkook says as they guide you toward the kitchen.

“Full access?” 

“Yep,” Taehyung nods. “To all the equipment and stuff.” He raises his head, thoughtfully. “To be honest, I was a bit confused when he first said that, I didn’t know why he trusted you so much.” He glances at you with a smile. “Now I know.”

“Mhm,” you nod, only partially paying attention as you focus on walking. Truthfully, with each of the boys supporting either side of you, they’re actually making it harder for you to walk, but you don’t have the heart to say anything. 

The kitchen is alive with quiet activity. Staff members work efficiently, seemingly unbothered by your group passing through. Two of the housemaids you saw earlier at breakfast glance up with warm smiles.

"Already getting to see the basement?" one of them, a woman Taehyung calls Iseul, asks.

Jungkook nods with mock seriousness. "She’s special, Iseul. VIP access and all."

Iseul laughs lightly. "She is special," she agrees, her voice warm.

The other maid, Ju-ri, adds with a teasing smile, "Pretty too."

Caught off guard, you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. Laughing softly, you reply, "Thanks."

"Don’t scare her off now," Iseul quips, giving you a wink.

You laugh again, shaking your head. "No, it’s okay."

The casual, friendly banter leaves you feeling more at ease, and soon the boys lead you to the back of the kitchen, stopping in front of the pantry doors.

Taehyung gestures grandly. "There are three entrances to the basement. One is in the east wing, one is through a hidden door near the main west wing corridor, and this—" he points at the pantry, "—is the third."

Jungkook open the pantry doors and it seems like nothing out of the ordinary. Stocked with usual pantry items inside. Then, he reaches above the doorframe, pressing his thumb to a scanner you hadn’t even noticed. A soft beep sounds, and the back shelves click and slide away. 

You’re staring in awe. Sure, you’ve seen a lot of high tech stuff, naturally, but a secret entrance is never not cool to you. 

He glances back at you with a grin. "We’ll get your fingerprint added once we’re down there."

The stairs are narrow and steep, but the space opens up dramatically at the bottom. Your jaw drops as you take in the massive underground expanse, a space that looks like it belongs in a high-budget spy film.

To your left is a double door leading somewhere you can’t yet see. Beside it, a full-sized boxing ring dominates the area. Opposite the ring, punching bags line the wall, and behind them is an impressive array of gym equipment. The center of the basement boasts a large, padded training floor where two men are sparring hand-to-hand, their movements fluid and precise. A small group stands nearby, watching and analyzing the fight.

But it’s the far-right side that truly catches your attention. An indoor shooting range, sleek and modern, takes up a significant portion of the wall. Beyond that, you notice a glass-encased room filled with an impressive collection of weapons. 

Jungkook notices your wide-eyed expression. "Not bad, huh?" he asks, a touch of pride in his tone.

"It’s... incredible," you manage, still taking it all in.

Taehyung gestures expansively. "Alright, where do you want to start?"

You point toward the shooting range without hesitation.

"Good choice," Jungkook says with a grin. "You’d be pretty useless hand-to-hand with that leg anyway."

You laugh, playing along. "Hey, I could probably still land a punch — if the other guy stood still long enough."

Taehyung smirks. "We’ll put that to the test later."

As the three of you make your way toward the range, a few people glance your way, acknowledging you with nods before resuming their activities. 

You’ve reached the room with the weapons, and up close to the glass doors, the details of the arsenal are even more striking. Beyond the firearms, you notice other equipment neatly arranged within.

Taehyung steps forward and unlocks the room with his thumbprint on the scanner. The double doors open with a quiet hiss, revealing the full extent of the armory. You glance at Taehyung and Jungkook. They simply nod and smile, gesturing for you to enter.

As you step in, a thrill runs through you. It feels a little like stepping into a treasure trove. The room is pristine and organized, the collection mounted with care that borders on reverence. The range is extensive -- everything from pistols to snipers to submachines. The walls, initially appearing solid, catch your eye as you notice subtle grooves. “Sliding drawers?” you murmur. Taehyung nods, confirming your suspicion.

“Everything you see here,” Jungkook says, motioning to the wall-mounted firearms, “has more behind it. This is just the accessible stuff.”

Walking deeper into the room, your attention is pulled to the massive island in the center. Encased beneath glass, one half displays knives in precise rows, gleaming under the lights. Fighting knives dominate, including Gerber Mark II’s that naturally draw your eye. Among them, a few throwing knives are neatly arranged, compact and deadly.

The other half showcases an array of equipment. Some pieces are familiar — lock picks, small surveillance bugs — while others remain mysterious.

Leaning casually against the doorframe, Taehyung tilts his head. “Like what you see?”

“It’s impressive,” you admit, unable to hide your appreciation.

Jungkook steps inside, his hands in his pockets. “Take your pick.”

You glance between them, surprised. Jungkook notices your hesitation and answers your unspoken question. “It’s a matter of safety,” he explains. “Better to be prepared than caught off guard. You never know what might happen.”

“Makes sense,” you reply, scanning the selection. Finally, your eyes settle on a sleek semi-automatic handgun, similar to your trusty FNS Longslide.

Taehyung hums in approval as you pick it up, turning it over in your hands to get a feel for the weight.

“Good choice,” Jungkook says. “Let’s see how you do.”

The three of you step out to the shooting range. You grip the handgun tightly, familiarising yourself with its balance. The first shot surprises you with its recoil, a jolt of pain running through your bandaged wrist. Ignoring it, you adjust your grip and fire again. With each pull of the trigger, your aim sharpens, and soon you’re hitting the target with consistent precision.

Taehyung lets out a low whistle. “Impressive. Especially with that leg slowing you down.”

You smile faintly, catching your breath. “It’s a good thing I can shoot then..”

They let you stay longer, and as you continue, the act of shooting begins to feel oddly therapeutic. It’s strange, almost surreal, but as the tension in your body eases, you realise how much you’ve missed this sense of control and independence it brings.

Taehyung and Jungkook have joined in, turning the practice session into something of a friendly competition. At Jungkook’s suggestion, you try out a few unfamiliar weapons. One particularly sleek rifle catches your attention, and they guide you through its mechanics.

“You’re a fast learner,” Jungkook remarks, nodding in approval.

Taehyung steps to the side, retrieving a set of knives. “But can you do this?” he teases, lining up his target. With a flick of his wrist, the knife sails through the air, embedding itself in the bullseye of a distant dummy.

“Show off,” Jungkook mutters, smirking.

“Go on,” Taehyung encourages, handing you a knife.

You give it a try, and though your aim isn’t perfect, it’s respectable enough to earn a nod from Taehyung.

“You’ve got potential,” he says. “But it’s all about precision.” He demonstrates another throw, the knife hitting its mark effortlessly. “Forty yards, no problem.”

“Noted,” you say, watching his technique closely.

Before you can take another turn, a familiar voice interrupts. “You’ve got an injured leg and wrist, yet here you are.”

Turning, you see Seokjn walking toward you, his expression part amused, part exasperated.

You flash him a mischievous grin. “No rest for the wicked?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “That’s true enough. But don’t overdo it. It’s easy to get carried away with these two,” he adds, nodding toward Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Hey,” Jungkook protests, sending a knife flying across the range. It lands just off-center. He frowns, picking up another one. “We learn from our elders.”

Jin smirks. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously,” he turns to you, his gaze softening, “we should check your bandages. Come with me?”

“Sure,” you say, stepping off the range. As you walk with him, you glance back at Taehyung and Jungkook, who are already turning their session into a full-blown contest.

“Competitive, aren’t they?” you remark.

“You have no idea,” Jin replies, smiling.

“You seen this part yet?” He nods in the direction of the double doors.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

“Ah, it’s not hugely exciting.” He opens the double doors, and you enter into a wide corridor. It leads off somewhere, but to the left is another set of double doors.

As you get closer, Jin opens the doors, and you see it opens up to what you can only describe as a doctor’s clinic. Your family home had something similar, but it wasn’t anywhere near as big.

“This place has everything you could need in case you get injured. Of course, Jimin has links with a few doctors stationed at different hospitals in Seoul, but we prefer to stay off the radar.”

Approaching a locked shelf, your eyes skim through the names of many medicines. “This is a pretty extensive collection.”

“Much needed too.”

Turning around, you glance at him.

“Like you said, no rest for the wicked.”

You smile faintly, acknowledging his humorous response. Though, really, it only has a dark meaning in this context.

There’s a small examination couch opposite the room. As you limp over, Seokjin meets you there and adjusts the back higher for you to rest.

Swinging your legs, you lean back comfortably and drag the hem of your shorts up.

Seokjin makes quick work removing the bandages. He cleans the wound and places a fresh dressing.

“It’s healing well.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Sitting forward, you glance down at your leg, grimacing when you see the gash.

“It looks worse than it is,” he says, placing a new dressing on it.

Slowly, you squeeze your muscles, only to inevitably wince when you feel a spark of pain.

“Well, you still need to take it pretty easy,” Seokjin says, placing a hand on your shoulder to lay you back before he starts on your wrist. “But it’s doing well.”

“How long do you think it’ll be until it’s fully healed?”

“If you look after it properly, enough rest, eat well, sleep well, I’d say three weeks, maybe four.”

Four weeks. That’s not bad. You nod, accepting your current fate. “Can I at least come down here occasionally?”

Seokjin shrugs, slowly unwrapping the bandage on your wrist. “For the sake of your sanity, to shoot only, and to see me of course.”

Your lips turn into a smile. “Thanks.”

Just as you sink back into the cushion, you hear a soft beep, and the doors slide open.

Jimin enters, his eyes immediately finding yours. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, still smiling from your prognosis.

“Jimin,” Seokjin says, glancing over his shoulder and nodding toward you. “Sit. I’m almost done with Y/N.”

Though Jimin commands everyone else around here, he takes that as an order and nods, walking toward the middle of the room. He looks your way again as he pulls his jacket off, placing it neatly over a chair. He wears a shoulder holster over his shirt, the black leather housing a gun you can’t see from where you’re sitting. He removes this too. “Is everything all good, Y/N?” Despite his usual calm, steel-edged demeanour, the concern in his tone is evident.

“Great,” you smile, glancing at Seokjin for reassurance.

As Jimin approaches, he begins unfastening a few buttons at the top of his shirt, standing beside Seokjin. You try not to stare curiously at the skin he’s just revealed, but you can’t help wondering why he’s here. Is he hurt too?

“Yes, she’s healing well,” Seokjin confirms. “However, we need to make sure she takes it easy.” He throws you a pointed look. “I saw you eyeing up the training floor.”

“Hey, I was just looking,” you reply defensively, though a small smile breaks through.

Jimin’s lips quirk upward as well. “I’m not surprised. I figured you’d like the basement.”

“It’s impressive. Do you spend much time down here?”

“I probably should come down to train more.”

Seokjin scoffs lightly. “You train enough, Jimin.” Despite his humorous tone, there’s an undertone of concern, a subtle weight that shows his elder brotherly care.

Jimin doesn’t respond, his gaze falling instead to Seokjin’s hands as they finish bandaging your wrist.

“Come on, sit,” Seokjin gestures to the space next to you as he stands to disinfect his hands at the sink.

Jimin obeys, unbuttoning his shirt further but not entirely. As he pulls the fabric off one shoulder, your eyes land on the bandage underneath.

It’s stained with dark red, almost brown – a clear sign of blood that has dried and seeped through.

“You’re hurt?” Your voice mirrors his earlier concern, soft and tinged with worry, as you lean forward to get a better look. Seokjin reappears with fresh gloves, moving efficiently to tend to Jimin’s wound.

Jimin’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, something unreadable flickers across his expression. Then he smiles – a small, quiet curve of his lips, soft but sure.

It makes you pause, the way he’s looking at you. “What?”

As though caught in a moment of reverie, Jimin shakes his head. “Sorry. You just reminded me of—” He stops, shaking his head again, brushing it off. His gaze drops to his injury. “I’m fine. It’s only a scratch.”

His eyes linger on you a moment too long, and you feel yourself growing self-conscious under his steady attention.

Breaking eye contact, you look down at the wound. It’s not as severe as the one on your thigh, but you know it still stings. “That looks a bit bigger than a scratch.”

Your gaze shifts slightly, catching sight of another scar on his arm, just below the fresh bandage. Partially hidden beneath his shirt sleeve, it’s far more prominent and the significant scarring that you can see gives away the severity of what it once was.

Jimin glances down at his shoulder. “Well, it doesn’t hurt any more than a scratch, at least,” he counters lightly.

“When did it happen?” you ask, thoughts flashing back to the night in your home. You distinctly remember him injuring Minjun, but not himself. Then it clicks — he must have been hurt yesterday when he left to meet the Takahashis. “Yesterday?”

Jimin hesitates, just briefly, before nodding. “Yeah.”

“The Takahashis?”

His brows lift, surprised.

“I saw you leaving,” you explain. “Yoongi told me where you were going.”

“Ah.” Jimin exhales softly, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Yeah. It wasn’t anything planned. One of the Cheongs’ men who was in charge of the shipment  didn’t realize who we were.”

“It’s a mistake he won’t make again,” Seokjin interjects, his tone clipped as he cleans the wound with saline.

Jimin doesn’t flinch despite the pain, though you catch the way his knuckles tighten against the chair and his jaw sets. He inhales slowly, evenly, letting out a measured breath as Seokjin finishes.

You glance back at Jimin. “Did you kill him?”

He shakes his head. “No. He learned his lesson,” Jimin replies, his voice low and solemn.

Before you can ask more, Jimin’s phone buzzes sharply.

One look at the screen, and he picks up. "Yes," he answers.

You can make out the faint sound of someone speaking on the other end, but you’re too far to discern the words.

“Okay,” he says simply, ending the call and setting the phone aside.

Seokjin glances at Jimin, understanding passing silently between them. “I’ll greet them,” Seokjin says, already moving to wash his hands.

Jimin nods. “Thank you.”

Without another word, Seokjin leaves, the quiet sound of the door closing behind him.

Left alone, you watch as Jimin buttons up his shirt once more, his movements deliberate, though he doesn’t seem in a hurry.

“Did you get to pick out a weapon?” Jimin’s voice is soft, breaking the quiet hum of the room.

“Yeah.” You nod toward the table on the opposite side where your choice rests, placed with care.

He follows your gaze, his lips curving slightly. “Nice choice.”

“What about you?”

Jimin shifts, reaching down to pull a gun from the holster at his side. The semi-automatic pistol sits in his hand like it belongs there — perfectly balanced, steady, and natural, as though it’s an extension of him rather than just a tool.

“Nice choice,” you echo, your tone light but genuine.

He chuckles softly as he replaces the gun, securing the strap with a practiced pull. You take the moment to ease yourself off the examination couch carefully before standing.

“Do you always carry that around?” you ask, curiosity slipping into your tone.

Jimin adjusts the holster against his chest, his movements deliberate, precise. His gaze finds yours, and there’s a quiet intensity in his expression that makes the air feel heavier. “I feel like I have to.”

You nod slowly. Turning, you reach for your phone on the counter, the brief moment of stillness settling over the space between you.

He lingers, watching you in silence, before asking, “Did you ever feel the need to stay armed?”

The question catches you off guard, and you glance back at him. There’s something in his gaze — an honest curiosity that feels disarming. It mirrors the questions you’ve often wanted to ask him but never have.

“Yes.” You let the word sit for a moment, then add, “I had far less reason to, but yes.”

He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I get it.”

You begin to walk, and he falls into step beside you. He stays close, his posture subtly protective, just as he had this morning.

“Did you ever have to use it?” he asks quietly, his voice barely above a murmur.

You shake your head. “No. You?”

“A few times.”

Your eyes turn to him, searching his expression, but his features remain unreadable. There’s a faint smile at the corner of his lips, masking the meaning of his answer, before he looks forward again. You don’t press him further.

As you approach the door, Jimin slows his steps. “Are you okay to head back to Taehyung and Jungkook?”

“Yeah,” you say, offering a small smile. 

“I’m sure they’ve still got a lot they want to show you.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you chuckle softly. “I just can’t wait until this is all healed so I can do more.”

He stops at the door, turning to face you fully. “I remember you being pretty good at hand-to-hand combat,” he says, his tone soft with nostalgia. “Even when you were young, you’d knock me down with a solid roundhouse every time we played.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the memories surfacing. “Yeah, until you figured out how to block and floor me.”

Jimin chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, your smile lingering. Your gaze falls behind him to the far end of the corridor that you saw as you enetered earlier, and your curiosity gets the better of you,

“What’s down there?”

He glances over his shoulder, and when he looks back at you, the smile on his face is gone, replaced by something more guarded. “I can show you,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost cautious.

​​“Don’t you have a meeting?” you ask, glancing at him.

“They can wait.”

“Sure.”

Jimin hesitates, his expression shifting. “I have to warn you, though — it’s not pretty.”

You look at him, confused.

“Minjun is in there,” he says quietly.

Immediately, understanding dawns. It must be where they’re keeping him. You recall Jimin’s chilling words after Minjun killed Seojun. I’m going to cut you apart, and then piece you back together. And I’ll do it over and over.

“Oh.” The word falls softly from your lips.

Jimin nods, watching you carefully.

You think back to how merciless Minjun had been, how he killed Seojun without hesitation. It likely wasn’t the first time. He’s probably killed so many of Jimin’s loved ones, and part of you feels certain he’s getting what he deserves.

But another part of you is aware that this is something you're not familiar with. Your father had always shielded you from this side of your world, keeping the darkness at bay. Even after he died and you moved to Namwon, you only saw death once, and upon returning to Seoul and choosing to work quietly as you had with Yoongi definitely changed things — you’ve hurt and killed others in pursuit of vengeance — but this... keeping someone alive solely for revenge, dragging it out... It feels different.

The thought makes your stomach twist, and from the way Jimin studies you, you know he can sense it. He’s seen far worse than you ever have.

You remember the raw look in his eyes as he knelt beside Seojun’s body. The memory stirs something in you, a a flare of indignation takes away your hesitation.

Sure of your decision, you meet his gaze. “I want to see.”

Jimin’s eyes soften, his jaw relaxing slightly. “Okay.”

He extends his arm without a word, offering his support. You take it, leaning into his steadiness as you both move down the dim corridor.

At the end of the hall, Jimin unlocks the door with his thumbprint, and it slides open to reveal a larger room. The space is dark, with three heavy doors on the opposite wall, each one resembling a prison cell.

The room’s air feels colder. Two tables flank the sides, and as your eyes fall on their contents, your stomach churns. Knives, pliers, and other devices you wouldn’t even be able to imagine the function of.

“Y/N?” Jimin’s voice pulls you back. His hand gently covers yours where it rests on his arm.

You look at him and find his eyes round with concern.

“It’s a lot, I know,” he murmurs. “We can leave.”

You shake your head firmly. “No, it’s okay.” Your gaze drifts to a bucket beneath the table filled with something murky and white. “What’s that?”

Jimin follows your line of sight and hesitates before answering, “Salt water.”

“Salt to wound,” you say faintly.

He nods once, his expression unreadable.

Your attention shifts to the doors, noting the small window latches on each one. “Which one?”

“The middle,” Jimin replies.

Together, you move toward it. He stays close, steadying you when needed, until you reach the door. At the latch, he opens it for you, stepping aside to let you look inside.

You rise on your tiptoes, peering through the narrow glass pane. Minjun lies on his side, arms bound separately by chains that stretch to the walls. He’s been stripped to his underwear, his body covered in cuts, bruises, and welts. Little of his skin remains untouched. In the corner, a bowl of bread and water sits untouched on the floor. .

“Has he said anything?” you ask, your voice low. “About that day? Or anything else?”

Jimin nods. He watches your face carefully, his observant eyes catching the change in your expression. You want to know more.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he says softly as you lower yourself back to the ground and he closes the latch. “Anything you want to know. Soon.”

You frown, confused, meeting his gaze.

Jimin pauses, the weight of his thoughts flickering in his eyes. “I just need a little time to finalize a few things.” His voice is quiet, but steady, and the sincerity in his tone reassures you.

You nod, trusting him. “Okay.”

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before gesturing back toward the hall. “Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s go back up.”

“I’ve already paid more than half the price and given the recent units I supplied you with, I think you ought to let the rest go.” 

Jimin sighs heavily, jaw shifting as he tries to stay calm and not snap at the infuriating man in front of him. 

“Akira, I’ve already told you, the units you supplied me with were faulty, and I made that deal out of goodwill since I had no real need for them and you needed a buyer to help pay off your earlier debts with the Tanaka’s.”

“So?” Akira says, aloof. “I didn’t insist you buy from me, that was your choice, and I can assure you any damage to the guns occurred in your run, not mine.” 

“No, the guns were checked at the port and the whole shipment damaged upon arrival,” Jimin says through gritted teeth. “Not to forget the issues your men caused at the site. I’m not negotiating with you here Akira, you’re going to pay for the rest of the drugs you bought, otherwise the Takahashi’s will be cut off and your debt with us will triple.”

“Ooh, now that’s mean,” Yasuko quips, almost mockingly, turning around from admiring the glass ornaments on the shelf. 

Jimin ignores her, keeping his eyes fixed on Akira who stares right back at him, daringly. 

“Then I suppose we would have to cut you off as well,” Akira challenges, raising his head. 

From the corner of his eye, Jimin catches how Yasuko perks up at this, clearly only interested in the possible confrontation that might occur between the two. 

“The Jericho 941’s?” Jimin asks. 

Akira nods smugly, leaning back in his seat. 

But Jimin just shrugs. “That won’t be a problem.” 

Visibly angered by Jimin’s nonchalance, Akira stiffens up. “What?! Who else might supply you with them? I have precedence over the rarest materials in all of Japan and South Korea!”

“Clearly not,” Yasuko snorts, striding across Jimin’s office in her high heels to stand beside the chair her older husband is seated in, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Get off me woman,” he hisses, oblivious to the way Yasuko rolls her eyes tiredly as he looks back at Jimin. “Tell me,” he demands. 

“Well he won’t tell you if you don’t ask nicely,” Yasuko gibes, taking a seat in the large arm chair, kicking her legs up onto the mahogany table and she remains staring at Jimin, a coy smile on her face. “But I am interested,” she says smoothly, “the Jericho 941’s are more than difficult to obtain and incredibly valuable, and they’ve been indispensable to you over the years so why would you so easily cut us off… if not for another seller?”

Jimin looks at her wordlessly. He understands why Akira keeps her around. She’s almost 30 years younger than the old man and when they first married four years ago, the marriage was clearly not one of love. Jimin assumed she was only interested in money but she comes from a wealthy family herself, and there’s nothing kind between her and Akira given they both cheat on each other all the time, so the only other reason she might’ve stayed would be power. 

She’s smarter than Akira, and much more sly too. This is evident since the reputation of the Takahashi’s has grown, making them one of the most well known families of Japan, though not the top. 

However despite Yasuko’s sharp skill, Jimin finds her incredibly intolerable. Maybe because she’s always trying to get him into bed with her. 

“I simply have no need for them anymore,” Jimin shrugs. “I’ve found better replacements that my men prefer to the Jericho’s, and so—” he turns to Akira sharply “—I have little need for you now, but I’ll gladly keep paying for the shipments of tac gear if you wish.” 

Nostrils flaring, Akira slams his hand onto the table. “That’s fucking bullshit. You’re full of bullshit just like your father was! Neither of you know how to keep up your end of a goddamn deal!”

The silence in the room is deafening, and Hoseok and Namjoon watch carefully between Jimin and Akira for any sudden movements. Even Yasuko takes her legs off the table, brows raised slightly as she observes Jimin, knowing her husband is too cowardly to do anything himself. 

Jimin scoffs lightly, his lack of emotion seeming dangerous to everyone else in the room. Pushing his seat back, he stands up tall behind his desk and glares down at the old man in his seat. 

“My father is no longer here, so to mention him is irrelevant,” Jimin says calmly. “You’re dealing with me, and if you’re not happy, I’ve already made it clear that I have no qualms cutting ties with you.”

Akira’s eyes narrow, the muscles in his jaw twitching involuntarily as he grits his teeth, his face flushing a deep shade of red.

Jimin notices, but pays no mind. Instead, he speaks slower, ensuring the threat in every word comes across loud and clear. “Should you still have a problem, I have an untouched supply of M249’s in one of my warehouses… I’m sure my men are dying to use them.”

Yasuko smirks, rising to step closer to Akira. “What d’you have to say to that, Takahashi?” she says, patronisingly. 

Even between these two families, Akira knows that the influence of the Park’s far exceeds that of the Takahashi’s. Without any real force behind him, Akira would be a fool to lose Jimin. 

Akira scowls at Yasuko, before shooting a look at Jimin. “The Lee’s might have more need for me then, and with their established trafficking organisation, one might find them to be more valuable than you,” he spits. 

Yasuko rolls her eyes. 

Gaze sharpening, Jimin fights back his urge to pull out his gun and shoot the old man in the balls. It’s not like he hasn’t already suspected Akira of working alongside the Lee’s. 

“Akira,” Jimin says coldly, clenching his jaw and doing little to hide his anger at the old man’s words. “As someone who has entertained your company for two years as a formality, I must tell you, your abhorrent disposition has a way of showing on your face and it’s most uninviting for those you wish to deal with… you ought to keep that in mind when you visit your new partner, Mr Lee.”

Akira’s face drops. 

“Oh come now,” Yasuko tuts, “let’s not be hasty—“

“Shut up woman,” Akira seethes, “the Lee’s have alre—“

“The Lee’s are corrupt and vile!” she interrupts sharply.

“We’re all corrupt!” Akira snaps back at his wife, the veins in his forehead looking as though they might pop. 

Yasuko pays no more attention to him and begins walking slowly to Jimin. 

“That’s true, but the Lee’s have less capital and their motivations are misplaced. Besides, we would be stupid to let go of someone as influential as Mr Park...” she walks behind his desk and trails her hand across his upper back, stopping right behind him to speak low in his ear, but loud enough for everyone to still hear. “...After all, he is the most powerful man in all of South Korea, mighty handsome too, and I imagine we’d be helpless without him.”

Jimin tenses, uncomfortable with the guileful woman standing so close to him. The overbearing stench of her perfume fills his nostrils, making him feel somewhat nauseous. 

Hoseok and Namjoon exchange glances, giving Yasuko a look of disgust. 

Pulling away from her, Jimin walks over to one of the cabinets in his office, and after a moment, he pulls out a file for his contracts with the Takahashi’s and throws it on the desk. 

Yasuko frowns and walks around to pick it up. Seeing what it is, she sighs loudly. “Jimin, I assure you there’s no need for this. Akira is being reckless and he’s just having a bad day—“ 

“Don’t talk for me wo—“

“I will talk for you since you’re fucking incapable of keeping your stupid mouth shut!”

Akira glares at her before mumbling under his breath and looking away resignedly. 

Jimin sighs, his patience running short with the Takahashi’s. He’s been witness to the husband and wife arguing many times before, and each time he wonders why he still deals with them until he remembers he needs to do everything he can to keep the Lee’s from gaining power and a stronghold in Japan; that’s something the Park’s have over them, and it’s proven most beneficial, especially in helping him get closer to his new goal. 

“Jimin, you’ll get the payment within two months, and I’ll get Hachiro to draft a new contract fo—“

“No need,” Jimin cuts in, taking a seat at his desk. “I’ll get Namjoon to draft the contract and I’ll be sending it over to you.”

Yasuko pauses, but eventually nods. “Very well, and since we’re here, we might as well discuss the terms in person.”

Jimin nods curtly, giving Namjoon a weary look as his friend approaches him. “You can discuss the terms with Namjoon,” he says to the disparate couple in front of him. 

Yasuko watches Jimin with sharp eyes for a few seconds but he remains uninterested, looking down at the desk while listening to Namjoon, and eventually she rolls her eyes, stalking over to the window as she too, listens to Namjoon. 

He reads out their current contract, and Jimin’s mind wanders off, recalling Akira’s comment on the Lee’s established trafficking organization. It infuriates him to still deal with Akira knowing he would consider cutting ties with him to go to the Lee’s, while knowing exactly what they’re involved in. Jimin knows that there’s little good in most of his businesses, but the Lee’s crossed a line that Jimin would never cross. . 

“Excuse me,” Yasuko interrupts carelessly, turning on her heel from the window and walking across the room, “I need to use the restroom but please carry on.”

Jimin frowns. “I’ll have Hoseok escort y—“

“No need,” she cuts him off airily, waving her hand. “I’m a very capable lady Jimin — of many things — and you might discover that one day if you wouldn’t be so uptight.”

Akira grimaces, giving his wife a detestful look, knowing what she was alluding to. “Licentious woman,” he mutters, though she pays no attention to him and exits the room, flicking her hair over her shoulder. 

Jimin ignores her comment and turns back to Namjoon to continue. 

The east wing feels different than you remember from years ago. The halls, once brooding and heavy, now seem lighter, more modernised. The subtle upgrades — better lighting, fresh paint, and the absence of a few foreboding portraits — make it feel less like a haunted memory and more like a polished and comfortable space.

Jungkook and Taehyung lead you through with casual ease, pointing out their respective offices.

“This one’s mine,” Taehyung gestures to a door with a clean, minimalist plaque bearing his name. Inside, you glimpse a space that is an effortless mix of his sophistication and eccentricity.

“And this is where I spend too much time,” Jungkook adds, showing his office just across the hall. His is sleek and efficient, a reflection of his meticulous nature.

Stepping across the hall, you look at some of the other open offices. “You make it sound boring.”

“Well, it can be, except when we’re out on jobs,” Taehyung replies with a smirk. “But Jimin doesn’t let us slack off.”

“He doesn’t let anyone slack off,” Jungkook quips as you continue walking.

As you round a corner, the sharp click of heels against marble draws your attention. A woman appears, striking in her elegance and deliberate in her movements. Her eyes sweep over you with interest, lingering a moment too long before a knowing smile curves her lips.

From your right, you notice Jungkook and Taehyung exchanging a subtle look.

“Well, this is a surprise,” she says, her voice smooth and laced with intrigue. “And who might you be?”

You meet her gaze. “I could ask the same about you.”

Her smile widens, as if she appreciates the response. “Fair enough. You’re certainly… unexpected.” She tilts her head, her gaze sharp as she studies you. “Quite pretty, too. What brings you to the Park Estate?”

You shrug lightly, keeping your tone as casual as your posture. “A visit. What about you?”

Her smile tightens slightly, her sharpness met with your calm deflection. “Oh, I’ve business here. Akira and I are discussing some arrangements with Jimin.”

Her eyes flick briefly to your leg where the bandage is peeking out below your shorts just enough to see.. “That injury,” she says, her voice faux-sympathetic. “What a pity. I do hope it hasn’t been too much trouble for you.”

You feel the weight of Jungkook and Taehyung’s gazes on you, both of them slightly tense. Her comment makes you wonder — could she have had something to do with the attack? Her general demeanour tells you she knows more than she’s letting on. It occurs to you that when Yoongi mentioned the Takahashis, he also named Akira. She must be one of them.

Still, you don’t let your thoughts show. Instead, you reply smoothly, mirroring her tone. “Not at all. Sometimes the most inconvenient things turn out to be the least important.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but before she can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps pulls her attention.

From another corridor, Jimin and Akira appear. Jimin’s gaze immediately finds yours, and for a moment, concern flickers across his face. Akira, on the other hand, stops beside Yasuko and studies you openly, his curiosity evident. He says nothing, letting the scene play out.

Yasuko turns her attention back to you, her interest seemingly renewed. “You’re quite composed, aren’t you?” she remarks. “I imagine it takes a certain… calibre of person to fit in here.”

“Perhaps,” you reply with an easy shrug. “Or perhaps it’s just about knowing when not to overstep.”

Jimin’s concern vanishes as quickly as it came when he hears your response, a flicker of pride crossing his expression.

Yasuko’s eyes flash briefly with something close to irritation, but she quickly masks it with a chuckle. “Well, Akira, I think it’s time we take our leave.” She glances back at you one last time, her smile sharp and unreadable. “A pleasure meeting you. I hope we’ll speak again.”

“Likewise,” you say evenly, watching as she and Akira turn and walk away.

Jimin nods at Hoseok, who moves to escort them out.

Once they’re gone, your gaze meets Jimin’s, and he’s already sporting a small, amused smile before Namjoon arrives with a tablet in hand. Without another word, Jimin follows Namjoon down a corridor, his focus shifting to business.

Jungkook and Taehyung exchange glances before Taehyung speaks. “You handled that well.”

Jungkook nods. “She’s sharp, and she knows how to get under people’s skin. Not many keep their cool around her.”

“Who is she?” you ask, your tone light but curious.

“Takahashi Yasuko,” Taehyung replies.

“Oh.”

They watch you for a moment, but when you don’t ask anything else, Jungkook claps his hands together. “Alright, I’m starving. Shall we get some lunch?”

You nod, only now realizing just how hungry you are as a soft rumble from your stomach makes you smile lightly. It’s definitely time to eat.

Taehyung grins, gesturing for you to follow. “Agreed. Let’s go.”

A few days later 

You’re tired tonight, having wandered the estate gardens for longer than you should’ve. The familiar paths brought back memories, and when you found Jimin’s mother’s garden again, it felt like you’d stepped back in time. The door had been unlocked this time, unlike when you were a child, and you couldn’t help but linger there, memories returning and you found yourself thinking of Jimin often. You’ve barely seen him in the past few days, and his absence at meals hasn’t gone unnoticed. It’s left you wondering if he’s eating well.

As you approach your room, you spot Ara stepping out.

“Good evening, Miss L/N,” she greets, her voice warm but professional.

“Good evening, Ara,” you reply with a smile.

“I just had some housekeeping to do,” she explains.

“That’s okay.”

Her lips curl into a small smile. “I also added some of the items you requested — the fluffy socks.” There’s a playful gleam in her eyes. “I’m glad to see some things never change.”

You chuckle, a little caught off guard but also comforted by her familiarity — she definitely remembers you. “Well, I find comfort in the small things.”

“I’m glad,” she says gently. “We could all do with some comfort.”

“I agree. Speaking of, I was wondering if I could help you in the kitchen sometime?”

Ara tilts her head, a flicker of confusion passing over her face.

“Before I came here, I owned a bakery,” you explain. “I didn’t realise how much I’d made a hobby of it, but I’ve actually been missing it.”

Her expression softens as understanding dawns. “Ah. Of course. It’s Iseul who does most of the baking but you can join us whenever you like.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a pause before she adds, “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” you say again, unsure of how else to respond.

Ara hesitates, then steps closer and places a hand on your shoulder. Her voice is quieter now, more personal. “I was very sorry to hear what happened to your family.”

The words hit with a bittersweet ache. All you can do is smile faintly.

“But I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” she says with a gentle squeeze to your shoulder. Her kind eyes linger on you for a moment before she steps back, nodding slightly before continuing down the corridor.

Left alone, you exhale slowly, her words echoing softly in your mind. A faint smile touches your lips as you turn into your room, the quiet stillness wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

Maybe, just maybe, you might find the comforts of home here.

4th February 2015

Jimin stood, sweat slicking his skin, his fists pounding against the punching bag. The rhythmic thud of leather meeting fabric was a welcome distraction, allowing him to release the built-up tension in his muscles. He’d been working hard, trying to tune out the growing noise in his head, but the weight of his father’s expectations never quite left him.

His phone went off on the bench across the training floor, pulling him from his thoughts. Pulling off his glove, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand and went to get it, squinting at the screen. It was his father.

Jihoon.

He answered the call with a deep breath, trying to steady his pulse.

“Jimin.” His father’s voice was curt, as usual. “Come to my office. I need to see you," he said, never awaiting an answer before cutting down.

Jimin pocketed the phone, cleaning himself off a little before he headed toward the East Wing, his footsteps echoing down the long, dimly lit corridor leading to his father’s office. 

As he passed, his eyes landed on Kwan and Duri, the two brutish men who had long been fixtures of his father’s inner circle. They were leaving the office, their hulking figures filling the narrow hallway.

They sneered at him, and though Jimin didn’t flinch, he felt a small unease he couldn’t explain. Normally, they’d just ignore him. This time, their gaze lingered.

Jihoon sat behind his desk, one arm resting on the chair’s armrest, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He didn’t bother looking up as Jimin stepped inside.

Jimin wasted no time with pleasantries. He stepped forward and asked, “Where are they going?” referring to Kwan and Duri.

Jihoon glanced up at him, the same cold expression on his face. “I have some work to be done.”

“What work?” Jimin asked, voice steady, but with a sharper edge than before. His years in the family had hardened him, and now, he was no longer the soft boy who had once been shielded from the grim realities of their world.

Jihoon’s eyes flickered for a brief moment, but his expression was impassive, betraying no hint of emotion. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” Jimin spoke curtly, meeting his father’s gaze head-on.

Jihoon leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his glass with his gaze unwavering. “You’ll find out soon enough."

Jimin studied him, his father’s mask never faltering. Any work his dad needs done is usually tasked to Jimin. This secrecy is something new and it plants a seed of suspicion in Jimin. 

“Why not tell me now?”

“I give the orders, Jimin,” he said, his tone final, “My men obey them. Don’t probe further.”

Jimin clenched his jaw, his expression neutral as always, but with a hint of defiance beneath. “So what order do you have for me?”

“You’re to come to Suwon with me, tonight. We leave at nine.”

Jimin’s face betrayed nothing as he absorbed the information. No questions, no further probing. His father had given him his orders, and he had learned long ago not to ask too much.

He turned to leave, but just as he reached the door, Jihoon’s voice stopped him.

“Bring your gun,” Jihoon ordered.

Jimin nodded once, his jaw tight, and left without another word.

The casino in Suwon was old, the neon lights flickering weakly. The walls were worn, the carpet stained, and the sense of decay was palpable. But the men inside didn’t care. Corruption seeped into every corner, like the thick, bitter smell of whiskey in the air.

Jimin knew this wasn’t just a place for gambling — there were worse things happening in the back rooms and he’d seen enough to know — but he also knew of his fathers plans to close down this place, so he wasn't surprised at its state.

He followed his father down the corridor, passing the few men who looked up briefly before realizing who it was and retreating back into the haze of smoke and bad deals. Jihoon moved like a shadow, and Jimin mirrored him, his gaze darting around, taking in everything. The walls were lined with old pictures and cheap wallpaper, but they didn’t care. None of them did.

They descended into the basement, the air growing heavier, thicker with the scent of money, sweat, and sex. The basement was modestly sized, but cluttered with tables and money-counting machines. Men sat around, counting stacks of cash with bags of white everywhere, while two girls leaned against the wall, their eyes distant, as though this scene was nothing new.

Jimin’s eyes flicked over the men, but he didn’t speak, he just stood there, waiting for his father’s next move. Jihoon was calm, but there was something in his eyes — something colder than Jimin had ever seen before.

At the far left, Kwan and Duri stood over a man in bloodstained clothes kneeling on the floor, his hands bound behind his back, a sack over his head.

Jihoon had entered without a word, his presence enough to silence the room. He nodded subtly, and everyone else in the room filed out — except Jimin, Kwan, and Duri.

Jihoon took a seat at a table, his eyes flicking to the bottle of whiskey in front of him. He uncorked it with a quick motion and took a long, deliberate swig. The silence in the room was deafening. He lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag as he looked at his son.

Jimin stood motionless, his gaze flicking between his father and the bound man, a sickening sense of anticipation churning in his gut.

Jihoon nodded at Duri, who stepped forward. With one swift motion, Duri yanked the sack off the man’s head. The man’s face was a mess of bruises, but his expression was eerily blank. He stared ahead, too weak to respond, too beaten to show emotion.

Jimin’s stomach coiled at the sight, but he didn’t look away.

Still, his father remained silent, content to let the tension hang in the air. Jihoon’s gaze flickered to Kwan and Duri again. Another nod. And the beatings began.

Jimin felt the bile rise in his throat as the sound of fists landing on flesh filled the room. It was never easy, no matter how many times he’d witnessed this. 

Kwan and Duri relished the violence, drawing it out — drawing pain out. Jimin knew the difference. He’d seen these men kill with their bare hands in seconds, so the fact they were prolonging this torture meant something far worse.

He didn’t know what though. He’d seen man’s life end in this way more than a few times, but he’d never been dragged out of Seoul for this purpose. 

Jimin didn’t watch the brothers. Instead, he stood still, fists clenched at his sides, his face a mask of detachment as the man’s weak cries echoed through the room.

Jimin looked at his father, eyes cold but filled with a quiet fury. “What’s the point of this?”

Jihoon didn’t even flinch at the question. He exhaled smoke slowly and looked at Jimin, his face impassive. “Stop them if you want.”

Jimin’s gaze flickered to Kwan and Duri. For a split second, he wondered if this was some kind of trap. But he didn’t care. He’d had enough.

In a fluid movement, Jimin strode forward and grabbed Kwan by the arm, yanking him away from the man on the floor. Kwan stumbled back, disoriented, and before he could regain his balance, Jimin delivered a solid punch to his face, knocking him back.

Duri reacted immediately, swinging a wild punch, but Jimin was quicker. He blocked it and countered with a brutal hit of his own. Duri stumbled back, and before he could retaliate, Jimin slid under Kwan's returning guard, delivering a series of strikes to Kwan’s midsection before locking him in a chokehold.

Kwan struggled, trying to headbutt Jimin, but Jimin drove his knee into Kwan’s leg, knocking him off balance.

Duri growled, eyes full of fury, but before he could launch himself at Jimin, Jihoon’s voice cut through the air. “Wait.”

Duri froze, glancing from Jimin, still holding Kwan in a chokehold, to Jihoon, who was watching the scene with a mix of amusement and a flicker of something darker.

Kwan’s resistance faded, and Jimin released him just before he passed out, leaving him crumpled on the floor, gasping for air.

Jihoon looked back at Duri. With a single gesture, he gave his permission for him to continue.

Jimin snarled, having had enough. In a swift motion, he pulled his gun out  and aimed at Duri's head.

Jihoon raised a brow, his expression unchanged.

“You think I won’t do it?” Jimin said, cocking the gun.

Jihoon shrugged. “I have my doubts.”

Jimin shook his head, his voice detached. “Do you forget you raised me?” He shot Duri in the knee with only a sideways glance, the bullet meeting its mark.

Duri shouted out in pain, his body slumping against the wall behind him, his face twisted in agony, while his brother moved to lunge at Jimin.

"Stop." Jihoon levelled Jimin's gaze and held up a hand to stop Kwan.

Kwan stopped short, pleading on his brother's behalf. “Sir, please.”

But Jihoon didn’t acknowledge the plea. “Leave. Back to Seoul, now,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Kwan glared at Jimin but said nothing as he obeyed and took his leeave.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken anger as father and son glared at each other. Jimin's rage was palpable, his jaw clenched, tight, while Jihoon stood unmoving, his face as cold and calculating as ever. Jimin could feel the weight of the situation — there was more to this than he'd been told.

Jihoon stepped up to Jimin, his face unreadable. “Do it,” he muttered, almost too softly. “I know you want to.”

Jimin lowered the gun, his gaze fixed on his father. “No.”

Jihoon laughed darkly, stepping back. “Then kill the other one.”

He turned toward the bound man, who was shaking now, tears streaming down his beaten face. “I said no,” Jimin repeated, his voice steady, his resolve hardening.

“He betrayed us, Jimin. Kill him.”

“I don’t know him.”

“You’re right. You don’t.” Jihoon's voice went quiet. He stared at Jimin, unblinking.  “But your mother did.”

Jimin froze. His mind went blank, but his eyes stayed locked on the battered man. His gut twisted as he felt a flicker of realisation.

Jihoon watched him carefully as he took a step closer to the man. “Oh, she knew him very well,” Jihoon murmured, before pulling out a gun and shooting the man between the eyes. The body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Jimin’s blood ran cold. “Where is she?” he demanded, voice trembling slightly.

“Ask Duri.”

Without thinking, Jimin raised the gun, aiming it at his father. “Where is mom?!”

Jihoon took a step forward, his gaze intense. His hand slowly pushed the barrel of the gun away, directing it toward Duri, who was still slumped against the wall. “I told you. You should’ve killed him.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. He was in disbelief, his body trembling with barely contained fury. He glanced at Duri, then back to his father. The realisation hit him hard.

Jihoon leaned in, his voice low, almost a whisper in Jimin’s ear. “He killed her.”

Jimin stood there, numb for a moment, the weight of his father’s words sinking in. His sharp, heavy breaths were the only sound in the room as his mind spun. His mother was dead. Duri killed her.

One glance at Duri told Jimin everything he needed to know  — for the first time, Jimin saw Duri cowering, afraid. But he didn't care. He killed her.

Jimin lunged at Duri, slamming the butt of the gun into his face with a sickening crack. Duri staggered back, his body reeling from the blow, but Jimin didn’t stop. 

His fists smashed into Duri’s face, his chest, his stomach. Jimin didn’t care that Duri tried to shield himself — his fists pounded down on Duri’s arms, his legs, every part of him that Jimin could reach. The sound of his fists colliding with flesh, the thud of Duri’s body hitting the ground, filled Jimin’s ears, drowning out all thoughts except for the burning, consuming need for vengeance.

Duri struggled, weakly trying to fight back, but Jimin was too fast. As Duri threw a wild punch, Jimin dodged it effortlessly, countering with a brutal knee to his midsection. Duri gasped for breath, his face twisted in pain, but Jimin carried on.

He grabbed Duri by the throat, lifting him off the ground for a split second before slamming him down again, his skull cracking against the concrete with a sickening thud. Duri’s body jerked, gasping for air, but the fight had already left him. 

Jimin’s heart pounded in his chest, his own blood thrumming in his ears, but the anger wouldn’t abate. It kept him moving, kept him hitting, until Duri’s limbs fell limp, his body crumpling into an unmoving heap on the floor.

Jimin stood over Duri, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, his hands trembling from the violence that still pulsed through him.

His heart pounded in his throat, and for a moment, the weight of what he had just done pressed down on him. But it didn’t matter. The anger still burned inside him, filling the hollow space where any satisfaction should have been.

It didn’t come. His body still shook with rage, but as he knelt there, staring at the aftermath, something else surfaced. 

Tears slid down his face, hot and unwelcome. He wiped them away quickly, gritting his teeth, but they kept coming. 

Jihoon, watching silently, finally spoke, his voice cold. “You’re still weak.”

Jimin didn’t acknowledge him, the words cutting into him like a knife, but he didn’t care. He rose to his feet, refusing to let his father see through him. Without a word, he turned and walked away.

note. thank you so much for reading! please don’t be a silent reader, your feedback is what keeps me motivated to write, literally 🥹 have a happy new year too! 🫶🏼✨

also, I hope the fic doesn’t seem slow/boring, I appreciate that it might be right now, but it’s a big series and to make it as wholesome and entertaining as possible for you guys, I really need to lay the foundations… there is of course lots more action and exciting stuff coming for these characters ;) <3 xoxo

[jazeswhbhaven]

Okay sooo I'm an agares & belephegor Stan so I would absolutely love an fic with them (either one of them or both but separately) where they praise the hell out of you and even adore your chubbier body while going at it, if its possible, wishing you an nice day and thanks in advance for your response🐇🤍

Thank you so much for sending in this request 🤍 I'm unsure if your anon emoji is this little guy 🐇 but I'll refer to as such until you correct me otherwise. Also I appreciate you for waiting!

I decided to do little ficlet/drabbles for both of them, since I was sitting here like, uhhhh would either of them praise you for anything omg 😭 but here we goooo

"That's it...keep goin'...don't you stop now."

As you shift your knees on the conveniently placed pillow that Vassago set down earlier, you can't help but look up at Agares with tears forming in your eyes. He had your hair in his hand, mouth stretched out with his cock about halfway down your throat while you struggled to keep yourself gagging on it's size.

Every day you've been helping Vassago tend to this devil's needs around the clock. Cooking for him, checking his food if it had been poisoned, getting correct and direct instructions from Beleth for any missions, the list was endless. It was all gearing up to this moment alone with him, as he finally trusted you with his body, to service him in any shape or form. It didn't matter how long it took, the look of pleasure in his eyes enough for you to know you were fulfilling your role.

"Just look at 'cha. Lips softer and prettier than a peach. Them cheeks look nice too." He stops you mid-suck, his thumb tracing your facial features with care. "You like tastin' me?"

You can't answer, mouth still full of his swollen cock as spit dribbles down your chin. Instead you blink, and attempt to hum positively to let him know you did. It must have been the amount of oranges he consumed, the sweet, acidic flavor filling your mouth as pre leaked from the tip of him. He smirks with closed eyes, taking your hair back into his palm as he slowly thrusts.

You watch him tilt his head back, gasping and biting his lips until both of his large yet delicate hands were on the back of your head. He urged you to take in more of him, and you did with little to no effort as your lips met the base of his groin. Everything about this man was to perfection, even with how well groomed and trimmed his pubic hair was, silky and soft as it brushed against your nose.

For a few moments you close your eyes to take in his light musky scent. Next, you feel his hips pull back, anticipating that he'd snap them forward. The moment didn't come, but instead, your body lifts into the air, as he places you on the table nearest to the both of you. Before you could ask him what was happening, he dips into a squat, eyes gazing at you with a flushed face of desire and hunger.

"My turn, now..."

You tremble as he nuzzles his face against your thighs, his lips planting soft kisses on your supple skin. His fingers squeeze your full hips, as if he were checking you like he does his ripened oranges.

"Your body, your scent, I reckon a man could die happy from ya." Agares says slowly, taking a small amount of thigh into his mouth and biting down just enough to make you whimper. "Soft, invitin', like I picked ya from the best garden..." He continued to plant kisses up your thigh, reaching your center, his tongue dragging across it deliberately slow. His reaction surprises you, his moan echoing throughout the room as he goes back for another taste. His tongue explores even more of you, dipping into your entrance as he moans between slurps. You could feel his saliva, coating your thighs combined with your arousal while the table beneath you stayed dry. Not one drop of you was wasted, Agares moaning and making a meal out of you without shame. He stops, his gaze meeting yours as he loudly licks his lips.

"I need more, and you ain't 'bout to stop me 'til I'm satisfied."

Another morning, and long afternoon running files and other random office supplies around the palace of Niflheim. You had only been a volunteer for two days, as one of the other devils had to take emergency sick leave. After a viral infection was ruled out, you were allowed to take their place, Beleth showing you the ropes of the role and leaving himself open in case you needed help. Though you didn't need it, the tasks simple enough for you to remember and follow to the finest detail.

Though your hard work blended in with your coworkers, you stood out amongst the rest for how the uniform you wore seemed to fit you more snug than usual, as if on purpose. You didn't mind it, because it wasn't as if you couldn't move about. It was just a little more tedious to pull your shirt down, or rebutton yourself to avoid flashing everyone in the workplace. What you didn't mind were how your pants fit perfectly around your full hips and waist.

And it wasn't just you who noticed.

"Oi, newbie. Get over here."

The King of Niflheim, Belphegor lazily blinked, leaning against the wall as he fixed his eyes on you. Beleth did warn you that he might request things that only you as a human could do for him, but you weren't exactly sure what could include. As you stop in front of him ready and alert he smirks, slowly looking at you up and down before meeting your confused expression.

"Uh huh. I reckon you'll do fine as my new body pillow."

Just like that, you were in his room, standing around waiting for instruction as the slothful devil king clicked his tongue in annoyance. He seemed to be fiddling with his sheets, messing them up more than they were before he sat down and patted the mattress.

"I ain't got all day." The stern tone in his voice had you on edge, of course you knew he was like this already, but impressions were everything. All you had to do was be a pillow, right? You could even sleep with him as a break. You could do this.

While positioning yourself on the bed as Belphegor ordered, it doesn't matter as he flops back into the mattress, pulling you into his embrace as he sniffs your hair and the nape of your neck. Your body temperature rises, and to his delight it's exactly what he wanted. The room was silent for a while, only his deep breaths filling your ears, and his cock rubbing against you through his underwear.

"Soft, fluffy, warm...yer body is damn good for this." He mumbles while twisting his hips and locking his legs around yours. "Not movin' too much too. Just like I want."

His fingers traced your folds and curves, either delicately or with a firm grab of flesh in his palm. He left kisses on your back and shoulders, as you try your best to hold still and fulfill your role as his body pillow. But everything he was doing felt so good, the way he whispers these praises about your body being perfect for him made you feel relaxed and appreciated. Mistakenly, a soft moan left your lips igniting the fire that was slowly building in him.

"The best part 'bout ya, I ain't gotta make a hole." You feel his smirk against your skin, his hand finding purchase on the outside of your pants while effortlessly tugging at the waistband. Wanting to help you undo your zipper and shimmy your hips to allow your pants to roll down your hips the best you could, but surprisingly, he does the rest for you by tearing the fabric like paper. His fingers rub against the wetness that's formed on your underwear, making you squirm a little against his touch.

That's when you feel a breeze hit the sensitive area of your entrance, the garment pulled aside and the tip of his pierced cock rubbing against you. Each time he teased on entering, he'd pull back but slow and deliberate as if to make you go crazy. Finally, he slips in, only an inch before using his arms to pull you closer so he fits inside you completely without having to move his hips.

"Fuck, so warm...makin' me sleepy..." Belphegor mumbles as he keeps you there, falling asleep as you cockwarm him.

note: thank you anon for waiting, everyone for interacting/reading! reminder that i'm currently not taking requests but you're welcome to pop in the inbox with any other comments and blurbs!

[wormm-mom]

Halloweekend

Summary: When a traveling interactive haunted house pops up near your hometown, your best friend Alex knows this will be the perfect way to get you into the Halloween spirit. Unfortunately for you, she left out a few key details. Word Count: 1k Disclaimer: This is not about the men behind the masks. I’m basing this solely off of their on-stage personas.

Alex: still on for the sleepover Y/N: obviously!!! Alex: perfect, I’ll be over in 20

It’s officially the day before Halloween weekend, and your annual horror movie marathon sleepover is underway. While many in your hometown see Halloween as just another holiday, you’ve always taken it very seriously. It’s the one time of the year when dressing up and having weird interests are celebrated instead of looked down upon. Pocketing your phone, you turn your attention back to setting up.

The apartment you’ve rented isn’t too spacious, but it’s enough for you, and the cozy decor you’ve thrifted over the years only adds to the ambiance. Throwing on a spooky playlist, you set off to light some candles and turn off the overhead light that always tends to give you a headache. Yeah, the amount of lamps and flames you have around probably isn’t the safest in this rickety old building, but what matters right now is that the vibe is set for a night of slasher flicks and chit chat.

You’ve compiled a list of tonight’s horror films and some blankets that lie in a heap on your living room floor. The thought of lying down in them until Alex gets here is tempting, but you still have to pop a pizza in the oven, and watching a bunch of movies without some sort of snack just sounds like torture. So that’s what you do, setting a timer and walking back to the living room, you finally pick up the tv remote and open up your streaming service of choice. You have a general list of movies you want to get through, but you’re open to those changing throughout the night as well.

An incessant knock at your door jolts you awake from your impromptu nap. 

Wait shit, how long have I been sitting here?

Rolling your eyes at the continuous noise, you stretch and finally get up from the couch to let Alex in. She’s always been the type to pull at car door handles before it's even unlocked, and as annoying as it can be, you can’t help but smile. Being childhood best friends, it only makes sense that these sleepovers have become a sort of ritual for the two of you. Yanking open the door mid-knock, you’re greeted with your best friend’s infectious smile and a bag that seemingly carries everything she’s ever owned in it.

Alex pushes past you and stumbles into the living room with a “God, it’s so good to finally see you again!” Without another word, she’s plopping her bag down and fishing out some snacks, drinks, and even more blankets she brought with her, seemingly dead set on getting the night started as soon as possible. You close the door and head into your kitchen to get the pizza out of the oven as you both chatter on about what you’ve been up to these past couple of weeks.

You were finally able to get into the groove of your new bartending position, and with it being in the city, the money’s good, so you can’t really complain about working long nights. Turning back to the living room, Alex has already started laying out the blankets and pillows, making sure there’s enough padding and space for you both to comfortably lounge on the floor. Looking up at you, she smiles again, “I’m so glad this one’s a good fit for you. I know how much you love being a part of nightlife. I still can’t believe I’m in my last year of med school. It’s honestly a bit jarring.”

You head back into the living room, plated pizza slices in both hands, and set them down on the coffee table before plopping down next to her. “I know you’ll be in the throes of work in no time. I mean hell, you psychoanalyze me any chance you get. You’re a natural at it!” Alex playfully punches you before reaching for a slice of pizza. You always know how to calm her anxieties, and she can’t help but agree with you on that last part.

Settling into your spot on the floor, you decide to start the night off with a classic. Friday the 13th. It’s probably not the best idea to be eating while watching slasher films, with the gore and all, but the campiness is too good to pass up. Soon enough, the banter has started back up, and you both have somehow turned watching horror movies into a comedy show. Alex insists she could survive the killer, while you point out how she can’t even walk without falling over thin air.

The gruesome nature of the film falls flat and turns to background noise as you ramble on about how obvious the special effects are and claim you could “do them so much better.” The credits roll, and you get up to put your dishes in the sink, asking Alex to pick the next movie. Her choice was Terrifier, and you can’t help but smile at how well she knows your tastes.

“Obviously, you’d pick that one.” You say with an eyeroll, and it’s quickly countered with “Oh please, I know how much you love clowns. You’re a proud monsterfucker, said it yourself only like, a million times.” Now it’s your turn to act offended, gasping and clutching your nonexistent pearls. This earns you a boisterous laugh as you enter back into the living room, returning to your spot.

~

Your final movie of the night ends, and both you and Alex find yourselves lying down. The room turns quiet except for the faint hum of your dishwasher going and the occasional car passing from the street below. Checking your phone, you find it’s only 2am, not too bad. You got through most of the films you wanted, but mostly just enjoyed the time catching up and gossiping.

Before you can make any moves to turn the tv off, Alex’s sleepy voice pipes, “Oh also, I need you awake by noonish. We’re going on an adventure and have to leave the house at 4.” Turning to her with your face scrunched in confusion, she just smiles and yawns, adding on “I’m not gonna tell you what we’re doing either, just trust me dude. It’ll be fun!” There’s a glint of mischief in her eye, as she successfully caught you before you started asking about any specifics.

Even if you were to ask now, you wouldn’t get a response as Alex had quickly fallen asleep. With a lighthearted headshake, you turn the tv off, set an alarm on your phone, and lie back down. Trying to fall asleep, you can’t help but run through all your past adventures with Alex, trying to puzzle piece together what exactly she has in mind. Thankfully, exhaustion kicks in before you can preemptively decide not to go, your body slumping as you fall into a peaceful sleep. Or at least as peaceful as it can be, being on the floor and not your bed.

Author Note: Our eepy boys will show up soon, but I wanted the first chapter to kinda set the scene. Please let me know if y'all have any constructive criticism, as I'm still new to fanfic writing <3

[formerlympp]

Unhappy Hour

Lily was starting to detest happy hours.

Inaptly named things they were, she’d privately started calling them misery hours. She’d have to make it her New Year’s resolution to grow a backbone and start declining the invitations. That, or stop drinking, which might be easier than saying no to kindly Muriel, her generally reserved coworker who turned into a sailor after a couple of G&Ts. After all, her inability to say no to Muriel was precisely what landed her in her current predicament.

“Why don’t you just beg off?” Mary, her roommate, called from the corner of their cramped kitchen. Lily had long thought that her backbone had been imparted to Mary, who had no qualms about shutting people down over the slightest menial transgression.

“Can’t,” Lily called back, the best she could manage without toothpaste slipping down her chin.

“Can’t or won’t? No, don’t bother answering that.” A threatening pause came next, quickly followed by the crinkling sound of paper that Lily knew meant Mary was stuffing a sweet into her mouth. “Oo’ zit, gin?”

“Muriel’s sister-in-law’s cousin’s best friend’s son. Jeff something-or-other.”

“’O no-un.”

“He’s someone surely.”

“No one to you,” Mary clarified in a slightly less muffled voice. “He’s probably no keener to meet than you are.”

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence, Mare.”

Mary appeared in the doorway just as Lily slipped her toothbrush back in its holder. The pair of friends caught each other’s eye in the mirror as Lily started unpinning the rollers from her hair.

“C’mon, since when does anyone look forward to a blind date? Speaking of, you’ve put in a fair bit of effort for this Muriel’s… sister’s… er… whoever’s son. More effort than I’d expect for someone apparently dreading her evening.”

Lily merely shrugged as a reply, uninterested in justifying her pre-date ritual. It was a good ritual, and besides, she deserved to feel like the best version of herself whenever she wanted to.

“Shit,” she exhaled, after catching a look at her watch, “I’m going to be late.”

**

Shockingly, Lily arrived at The Shack, a hip, low-lit bar—“frequented by the young people,” Muriel had told her—ten minutes earlier than the agreed-upon time. She couldn’t stop herself from studying her reflection in the dark glass windows; she brushed her fingers through the mess of curls her hair had become in transit. Breathing deeply and squaring her shoulders, she pushed her way into the bar.

Clusters of people stood every few feet, making the pathway between the tables and chairs into a labyrinth. She wove her way through, an odd determination in her step that clashed with her internal desire to walk right back out the front door. She was supposed to meet Jeff at the bar for drinks and starters and hopefully riveting conversation (Lily wasn’t holding her breath). The semi-circle bartop stretched along a large expanse of the room, barely inhabited at this time of a Friday evening, and Lily couldn’t help herself from admiring the rather nice-looking man tending the bar at the far end.

Eventually, she rounded the bar in search of Jeff, who had been described to her as: tall and handsome. (She didn’t mind a cliché now and again.) Scholarly, and a sharp dresser, if not a bit disheveled. (Whatever that meant.) Dark hair and framed glasses. (She did not mind a nice set of specs to be sure.)

Then she spotted him, sitting across from a stretch of beer taps, shoulders bowed slightly as he studied his phone. As Lily drew closer she watched him press his glasses back up his nose. Even from the admittedly shrinking distance, she could tell he would give the bartender a run for his money. For a moment, a brief, unrelenting irrational moment, excitement flooded her system; it burned in her veins, sent bubbles straight to the logical part of her brain, then—

“Hi, you must be J—” A set of hazel eyes locked with hers and her jaw dipped lower, all the buzz of excitement leaving her. “You’re not…” Jeff.

Oh no.

Oh—but, wait had it been Jeff? Maybe she had heard the wrong name—

“Oh Christ, you are the Lily that Auntie Mabel… I had no idea, Evans, I assure you.”

Of that she was fairly certain he was telling the truth. He was many things, but a liar was not among them. Besides, only an evil force in the universe could explain why out of the billions of people on this planet, Lily had been set up on a blind date with her ex-boyfriend, James Potter.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Saw alotta dis so uhh.. Is aether an option by any chance?

The creator had:

Twin blonds

WC: 900~

I actually really like aether, I tend to characterize him as rather wholesome, at least in his traveler form.

I'm sure that traveler aether would be so much shier about his attraction that you would have to start any intimate interaction while abyss aether is more forward with his attraction.

“Thanks for the help traveler, without your help we wouldn't be able to hold the celebration” Aether is famously known across teyvat for how helpful he is, always so eager to take the load off of anyone's shoulders.

“let me give you a reward"

“Hm? Ningguang already gave me the reward” looks at you curiously, maybe there was a mistake while arranging this? After all, the commission was a last second thing.

“I know that, I meant a more personal reward, only if you wanted” finally noticing the innuendo he swallows hard, swiftly looking over at paimon to find her swallowing canapes and desserts but seemingly the time he spent thinking about it made you think it was a refusal “oh, well, nevermind, let's enjoy the party” you pass bye him towards the entrance but he stops you, a firm hand around your arm.

“I didn't mean it like I don't want, I just… Didn't expect it, I guess” seeing him so cute you can't help yourself and lean forward, your lips half open, an invitation that he soon takes.

A while later you both appear in the party, alibis pointing to each other being somewhere different.

“didnt expect you to come here so soon” as you open the door you see the prince standing in the middle of your room, an almost indistinguishable shape amongst the shadows.

“I would say the same. I would have expected you to stay in the party for a while longer, your grace”

Your hands signal a burgundy splatter on the top “drunkard's accidents. I came to clean myself” you walk the the wardrobe, pulling another tunic from there “I also saw a hydro mage in the garden from one of the second floor windows and guessed your would be here or arrive soon”

He sighs sitting down on your bed “I held some hope they would be more careful with this mission but seems I was wrong. I hoped I would be able to talk with you when you came after the party”

“almost everyone is drunk and I greeted everyone important, I can spare some minutes"

“I will make sure to use them wisely then”

“Won't you even tell me where your lover is from?” Nahida is sitting criss-cross playing stacking cubes with the blond children, a set of twins.

“I’m sorry but I won't” you see her shoulders slouch while she builds a block tower with the twins, almost disappointed.

“Could it be kaveh? They are blond like him” she pops up an idea, seeing how fixated the girl twin was with building the tallest column and how the boy was focus.

“Fine, will tell you he isn't from Sumeru” even if she seemed bummed out about it at least she sighed and stretched her legs.

“Well… technically his mom is fontanian now so maybe...”

“It's not kaveh.”

“Finee”

“Such energetic toddlers” Raiden watches from the top of the stairs, two eleven month olds trying to learn how to walk and repetitively failing and rising to try again.

“Yes, I had to get a nanny for each if them, whenever I left them in their playpen at least one would sneak out and start crawling around, I was worried they would try to go up the stairs and hurt themselves”

“Ah!” The boy yelps as he manages to stand up for a second but falls down after attempting his first step. Before he starts wailing his sister pats his back.

“ I will miss him” Nahida pouts, her eyes almost glassing over. The twins had reunited at last and left, not without giving all a hug, yours being particularly long and specially melancholic.

“You know” you say as you put your hand on her head, the archons standing alongside you “we will have something to remind us of him” she looks up at you curiously with her wet eyes.

“indeed, the changes they produced in our nations won't be easily forgotten and we will be able to remember him because of it”

“That might be true, zhongli, but I meant something else, something that will grow alongside us” nobody said a word, the meaning totally understood by all of them. Nahida hugs your leg and zhongli rests a hand on your shoulder blade.

“Prince did you manage to make the purest grace to agre with our plan and make the nations surrender?” a cryo mage speaks the next morning, rubbing his hands together.

“I didn't manage to cramp that in, when their grace wasn't present people started looking for them”

“I understand…” even if he wanted to doubt him what he did in that while he knew that wouldn't end nicely for him.

“Aetherrr”paimon whines over his shoulder, tugging the loose hairs behind his ears “we spent 20 minutes looking at toys”

“I want to give nice and thoughtful gifts to their grace's children” aether ignores her, still wondering if buying more furniture for their dollhouse or a Natlan sport ball. Both of them play doll house and football but which would be best?

“Just give them whatever, I doubt anyone would spend so much thinking about their gift. Just because they are twins and you are a twin doesn't mean you share any special link”

“yeah, you are right” it's not because of that reason that he is so focused but at least it works as a common excuse of seeing himself and his lost sister in them.

“Now will you hurry?”

“Haha, no”