#for any party involved (bar getting a kid!)

[randomnameless]

FFS Sharena

Forget the "uwu Momo was said to be an equal to the 10 Dudes" he was part of them, and erased because he was slaughtering people too much and loved to garden a lot

"She imbued this weapon -

that is totally just a normal weapon not a living corpse made with the essence of a being that was created by the goddess and wielded the purest/rawest form of magic that was passed in that being's blood and is basically what you call "Crest"

-with her magic and now can use it as her own"

Watch as the next Mary-Ann alt will reveal that if the relic reacts to her, it's not because of her crest (and the fact that the relic is still someone reacting to their own blood) but because she's just so badass that she can animate this chunk of metal and casted a spell on it to make it more OP than an iron sword.

[sleepyhoon]

THREE WEEKS & THREE DAYS - P.SH

pairing. best friend's ex!sunghoon x reader

genre. best friend's ex au, halloween au, smut, angst (if you squint).

word count. 12.2k+

warnings. alcohol consumption, drug usage, partying, driving under the influence, toxic relationships, themes of divorce, brief mention of physical abuse, smut [car sex, use of handcuffs, oral, praise kink/dirty talk, creampie]

summary. a stressful night at a Halloween party has you seeking comfort from the last person you should be involved with — your best friend's ex.

a/n. HIGHLY HIGHLY inspired by season 2 episode 1 of euphoria! this is a work of pure fiction and is NOT a reflection of how i view the members. despite writing this story, i DO NOT condone the dangerous choices the characters in this fic make and DO NOT encourage others to do so! read at your own discretion.  also, very special thanks to @zreamy for beta-reading this for me!!

When you were six, you spent Halloween night lying on a hospital bed dressed as Hannah Montana.

Everything happened so fast; one moment, you were trick-or-treating with your father and younger sister while scarfing down a Snickers bar for the first time (a king-sized one at that), and the next, your dad was rushing you to the hospital in a panic, tears in his eyes as he encouraged you to stay awake in the backseat.

By the time you’d arrived at the hospital, your body had gone completely limp, and your father struggled to carry both you and your younger sister into the hospital lobby. From what you can remember, it was like a scene from a movie: seeing your dad cry for the first time, being wheeled into an unfamiliar bright room on a mobile bed, all while dressed as your favorite popstar.

The scariest part of the night was shortly after arriving at the hospital and catching a glimpse of your reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at you. The blonde wig and blue eye contacts were to be expected, but the swollen face and half-lidded eyes were another. Had you been able to breathe (let alone talk), you likely would’ve given your sister a classic Halloween jumpscare.

Your mother had arrived only a few minutes after you did, yelling at your father loud enough to have the hospital staff threaten to kick her out. “You forgot she was allergic to peanuts?! Where was her fucking EpiPen?!”

Your dad sighed, running a hand across his face, “I forgot to pick it up. I’ve been busy with…you know.”

She scoffs, “You don’t think I’ve been busy too?! Especially now that we have to meet with the divorce lawyer once a week?!”

Your ears perk up at that, “Divorce?”

You hadn’t known much about the true meaning of divorce, except that it’s something your friend’s parents had gone through, and now he gets two of everything. Two birthdays, two Christmases, two lives. So simple yet so perfect, what child wouldn’t dream of that?

Your parents, who hadn’t even known you were awake, silence themselves immediately. Tears quickly form in your mother’s eyes as she realizes they’d been caught, trying their best to keep the news of their divorce as quiet as possible, waiting for the right moment to explain to you and your sister, Yuna, the real meaning of it, and how different your lives would be.

It dawns on them that there’s no point trying to keep this secret any longer. You were a smart kid, it was probably only a matter of time before you found out on your own, anyway. 

All in one night, you managed to survive a near-death experience, only to be followed by the news of your parents’ divorce. And somehow, at twenty-three years old, watching Lee Heeseung flirt with random girls at a Halloween party is much worse than everything you experienced that cursed night in 2007.

“Can you at least pretend that you’re having a good time?!” You can barely hear Minjeong over how loud the music is, her words fading in and out as you take a sip from your cup.

“I am having a good time, isn’t it obvious?” you reply, showing Minjeong your best fake smile.

Grinning, Minjeong shakes her head at you. “Not at all. Here, need a refill?”

Without waiting for your response, Minjeong hops off the kitchen counter and snatches the red solo cup in your hand. You don’t bother protesting, sighing as you rest your weight against the marble countertop, while she adds a mix of different ingredients to your cup.

When she’s not looking, you tilt your head in the direction of the living room, hoping to get a glance at Heeseung through the sea of drunken college students.

The only word that can be used to describe your relationship with Heeseung is ‘unfortunate’. You were together for six months, and spent most of the time fighting, making up, and having sex. It was a relentless, tiresome cycle you allowed yourself to succumb to just for the sake of not having to be alone.

Most of the arguments would start with you questioning Heeseung’s loyalty, growing suspicious upon seeing his username pop up in the likes section of random girls on social media. In hindsight, it seems like a silly thing to get upset over. The entire purpose of social media was to connect and interact with others anyway, but, why was it always girls? And why would these girls suddenly start watching your stories?

Breaking up with him was harder than you could’ve imagined, and you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it without Minjeong by your side, encouraging you through the entire process. 

The aftermath was embarrassingly excruciating. For two weeks, you locked yourself in your bedroom and fell into a cycle of sleeping and crying, occasionally taking breaks to eat or use the restroom. At one point, your phone spent a full forty-eight hours without being turned on at all, causing your loved ones to panic upon not being able to get ahold of you.

Slowly but surely you managed to build yourself back up, finally starting to feel like your old self when Heeseung suggested the two of you get back together.

You were hesitant, of course, telling Heeseung you were willing to work things out if he can prove to you he’s changed and ready to be the loyal, doting boyfriend he should’ve been from the start.

So no, you’re not together. But you’re also not not together. It’s confusing.

A football player is blocking your view of Heeseung (dressed as a cowboy), you have to stand on your tip-toes to catch a glimpse of him talking to — wait, who is that?

“Patrick would not stand for this.” Minjeong interrupts your thoughts, poking fun at your costume choice of a female Patrick Bateman.

You shrug, pretending to act clueless. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Minjeong rolls her eyes, shoving your cup back into your hand “Sure, you weren’t. Come on, cheers with me.”

“To what?” you ask, suspiciously eyeing the drink she’s just handed you. Minjeong isn’t that great of a cook, so you can imagine she’s not the best bartender either. In fact, it’d be best if she stayed far away from any sort of kitchen appliance.

She thinks for a moment then excitedly extends her cup out to you. “To getting over our shitty ex-boyfriends!”

Minjeong’s ex was Park Sunghoon, they dated on and off for a year and a half before calling it quits over the summer. You don’t remember the exact reason why they broke up, there were many different factors. It didn’t matter, they were bad for each other anyway and the relationship was entirely too toxic for either of their wellbeing. 

You don’t know much about Sunghoon aside from the things Minjeong felt comfortable enough to share with you and the fact that he is on the university’s hockey team with Heeseung. You’ve probably had a handful of conversations and interactions with Sunghoon in the entire time of knowing him, and are more than happy with things staying that way.

Holding your cup up high, you match Minjeong’s smile and tap your cup against hers. “To getting over our ex-boyfriends!”

The drink is disgusting. You quickly turn away so you don’t hurt your best friend’s feelings by gagging at the taste. She manages to down her entire cup while you make quick work of pouring a majority of yours down the sink behind you.

Minjeong stares down at her empty cup with wide eyes, licking the remains off her plump lips. “Holy shit, that was so good. Do you want more? I’m gonna make myself another cup.”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you say, snatching your cup away when she reaches for it. Minjeong raises a brow at you, and you follow up with, “I should wait before having another drink.”

She nods understandingly, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for coming up with that so quickly.

While she’s occupied with making another drink, your eyes trail back over towards Heeseung. The football player from earlier is gone, and now that your view is no longer obstructed, you watch in confusion as Heeseung now has this mystery girl by the waist, leaning his head down close to her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

This really is worse than Halloween 2007.

“Hey.” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She follows your line of sight, scowling when it lands on Heeseung. “YN, don’t make a big deal out of this. You guys technically aren’t even together.”

“Relax, I’m just going to say hi.” You assure her, moving to head towards Heeseung when Minjeong stops you with a hand on your chest. “Think about this, please.”

You sigh, using your free hand to clutch hers and slowly bring it down from your chest. “I’ll be fine. Be back soon so we can dance, okay?”

Minjeong knows she won’t be able to stop you once your mind is made up, all she can do is sigh and wish you the best as you make a beeline for your ex. Maybe not the greatest idea on your part, but you’re too tipsy to think rationally.

Heeseung doesn’t notice you when you first approach, it takes the mystery girl awkwardly gesturing in your direction for him to finally look over at you, immediately dropping his hand from the girl’s waist. “YN!” He shouts, a little too excitedly, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar bedroom with Heeseung on step one of your toxic cycle — arguing.

“You’re overreacting,” Heeseung claims. “We were just talking.”

“About what, Heeseung? Why did you have to hold her by the fucking waist to talk to her?”

“Because! She was drunk! I was holding her up so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself!”

“Who gives a shit if she falls? She’s not your fucking girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you.” 

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do because he’s right; despite trying to work on things, you aren’t his girlfriend. You were the one who said you weren’t ready to get back together, not him. You shouldn’t be upset with him for talking to other girls.

And yet, here you are with tears in your eyes. 

You nod silently, avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. 

Heeseung must realize how much his words have affected you if the way he curses at himself, and shamefully runs a hand across his face is anything to go by. “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Don’t bother.” You stand from the bed, holding back a sob.“Everything about this was a mistake. You’ll never change.”

Heeseung reaches a hand out to grab your arm as you push past him. “YN, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, Heeseung, you did mean it,” you say, pulling the bedroom door open.

There is no point in trying to reason with Heeseung. You know in a matter of time he’ll apologize, you’ll accept it like you always do, have make-up sex, then lecture him about how important it is that he changes before you can consider getting back together. Another endless cycle you’ve fallen into.

Stepping back into the party, you head in the opposite direction of where Minjeong would be, not wanting to run into her in your current state and bump right into someone dressed as Spiderman, causing the little remains of your drink to spill over and knock to the ground. You’re grateful that a crucial part of Patrick Bateman’s costume involved a plastic raincoat, or else your outfit would have suffered a dark blue stain.

“Oh my God, YN! I’m so sorry!” Spider-Man apologizes with a thick Australian accent.

“Jake?” You question, gesturing for him to take the mask off.

He follows your command, face bright red from embarrassment or alcohol. Probably both.

“Yeah, haha, hey. Really sorry about that, I can get you a new drink.” Jake turns in the direction of the kitchen before you stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Jake. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Jake thinks for a moment, scratching at the small amount of stubble that’s graced his chin. He really does make a perfect Spider-Man, and if you weren’t so upset, you probably would’ve stayed and told him that.

“Upstairs, all the way down the hall. Wait! It’s occupied, people are doing coke in there, I think.”

Great.

You sigh. “Do you know if there’s another one I can use?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s one.” Jake turns, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Right there. I saw a few people come in and out.”

Thanking Jake, you follow his direction and head to the door at the end of the hallway.

It’s a garage, not a bathroom. But, as long as you get a moment alone, you don’t really care where you are.

After shutting the door behind you, you sit on top of a washing machine and flinch at the cold metal sending chills down your thighs.

You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you don’t even care about Halloween to begin with. It’s an overrated holiday, you wish you would’ve convinced Minjeong to stay in with you and have a classic horror movie marathon while eating takeout and pausing to hand out (peanut-free) candy to trick-or-treaters.

Though, you’re sure you still would’ve spent the better half of the night obsessively tapping through Heeseung’s Instagram stories or trying to spot him in the background of someone else’s. It was a lose-lose situation no matter what, and you find yourself wondering if there’s an end to this unhealthy cycle.

Despite being so young when it happened, you’re sure your parents’ divorce obstructed your view of love and how a healthy adult relationship should work. Your father went on to have short-lived relationships with younger women who were using him for his money, while your mother remained single and chose to criticize her ex-husband’s current lifestyle choices. They couldn’t even co-parent in peace, always making petty comments to the other during drop-offs and pick-ups, finding any and every little thing to start arguing about.

One time in particular, after spending the weekend at your father’s house, your mother slapped him in a Dairy Queen parking lot upon realizing his new girlfriend had taken you and your sister to get your ears pierced. You didn’t actually see the slap happen, but it was loud enough to echo through the empty parking lot and hard enough to leave a red mark on his face.

The memory has tears forming in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, but before any of them have the chance to trickle down, the garage door swings open.

You turn, and Park Sunghoon (dressed as a police officer) is staring back at you with a confused look on his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before pointing in the direction of the party. “Uh, Jake said this was the bathroom.”

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “No, the bathroom’s upstairs but it’s being used. If you really have to go, I’m pretty sure that door leads to the backyard.” You nod your head in the direction of the other door, and Sunghoon picks up on what you’re implying.

He thanks you before jogging over to the exit, setting his cup down on a metal dog crate before turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Sunghoon stands far enough out of frame that you only see a portion of his backside, and once the sound of him pissing on the grass hits your ears, you wonder why he didn’t bother to close the door in the first place.

Men.

He clears his throat awkwardly, “So, you s–”

You cut him off. “Let’s just wait until you’re done, please.”

Sunghoon nods, mumbling, “Right, right.”

He finishes up a few seconds later, zipping his pants back up and properly adjusting himself before returning to the garage, closing the door behind him and picking his drink back up in the process. “So, I’m guessing you’re…upset because of Heeseung?”

You let out a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. “Lucky guess. He’s just so fucking confusing, I can’t take it.”

“You’ll be alright,” Sunghoon responds, slipping his phone from his pants pocket and unlocking it. “Heeseung’s a douchebag.”

This catches you off guard, and you’re laughing before you even realize it. “Isn’t he your friend?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at his phone as he scrolls. “Not really. We don’t talk much if it isn’t related to hockey or school.”

A beat of silence passes, then you ask, “When Heeseung and I were together, did he mention anything about cheating on me? Or talking to other girls?”

Sunghoon glances up at you for a split second, taking in how sad and hopeful you look before returning his gaze to the weather app he’d been using to distract himself.

He wasn’t sure if Heeseung went as far as physically cheating on you, but he was definitely talking to other girls behind your back; proudly showing the hockey team countless nudes and vulgar photos they would send him, some of them coming from your own friends. 

Sunghoon can’t tell you this, you’re upset enough as it is.

“I wouldn’t know, I always tuned him out whenever he talked.”

Though he’s not sure what answer you were hoping for, Sunghoon can tell you’re a little disappointed by his response. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like getting involved in anyone else’s drama. If you wanted clarity from Heeseung, you should’ve gone straight to the source.

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling slightly embarrassed that you probably made things awkward, “have you seen Minjeong?”

Your attempt to change the subject seems to work, because Sunghoon scoffs loudly at your question and shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Have I seen the girl that just spent ten minutes yelling at me? Yeah, we may have crossed paths.” He says sarcastically, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Yell at you? For what?”

“She fuckin’…I guess before we broke up she said I should dress up as a cop for Halloween and I must’ve said no, and now she’s saying I only dressed up like this,” he gestures towards himself, “to spite her. Fuckin’ insanity.”

“Well, did you?” You can’t help but ask, Minjeong would always go on for hours about how spiteful of a person Sunghoon was.

He shrugs, mindlessly tracing the rim of the red solo cup with his pointer finger, “Maybe, but this is all that was left in my size at the party store.”

You’re surprised Sunghoon makes you laugh as much as he does, and maybe that’s a bad thing since it’s making you enjoy talking to him. Though he technically isn’t your enemy, he’s definitely not a person you should enjoy having a conversation with. It’s not appropriate, he’s the ex boyfriend of your best friend; all your ties to him were cut the moment Minjeong broke up with him.

You should tell him to leave, that you’re really upset over Heeseung and prefer to be alone, but you don’t. Instead, you keep the conversation going, laughing every joke he makes and completely forgetting why you were upset to begin with.

Halfway through telling Sunghoon about the horrid drink Minjeong had prepared for you, your legs grow numb from having been sat on for so long. You untuck them from underneath your body, not thinking much of it as you continue on with the story, legs dangling against the cold washing machine.

Sunghoon takes notice, though, his eyes quickly darting down to the space between your legs and the white fabric that’s suddenly visible to him due to the short length of your skirt. You miss it the first time he does it, but the second and third time are hard to ignore, especially now that he doesn’t seem to mind being caught.

You really should cross your legs or call him out on his staring. Or maybe even get up and leave entirely.

To no one’s surprise you don’t do either of those things and opt to keep your panties visible enough for Sunghoon to see while you continue to talk his ear off about his ex-girlfriend. There’s something unspoken happening between the two of you, and it’s exciting yet confusing since this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him in the two years you’ve known each other. 

The strangest part of it all is that you’re just now realizing how attractive Sunghoon is, Sure, he’d always been a good looking guy, but you’d always seen him as Minjeong’s property and never paid much attention to his face out of respect for her.

But Minjeong no longer has a claim on him, and now you really notice the perfectly placed moles that graced the side of his nose and under his eye. He really was a sight to behold, you often find yourself stumbling over your words as you speak to him, becoming flustered over the intensity of the eye contact he’d been making with you.

“…my throat is still burning and it’s been, like, twenty minutes.” You say with a laugh, watching as Sunghoon finishes off his own drink.

He sets the empty cup down, licking the remaining alcohol on his lips before smacking them, “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her in a kitchen. I’m not that good either, though. There was this one time I had to make brownies for our hockey team’s bake sale and they turned out awful. It’s like, half of them were watery and the other half were burnt. So weird.”

“That doesn’t even sound possible.”

“I’m serious! Hold on, I probably have a picture.” 

It takes Sunghoon approximately forty-five seconds of scrolling through his Snapchat memories to find a photo of those godforsaken brownies, and sure enough, they really are a watery, burnt mess. Not that you can even focus on the picture to begin with now that he’s sitting next to you on the washing machine, and you’re finally able to see him up close.

Sunghoon’s words go in one ear and out the other, because now you’re close enough to smell the cologne he’s dabbed on the back of his neck, and notice the metal handcuffs hooked in his belt loop, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else. Especially his uninteresting story about those stupid fucking brownies.

When Sunghoon locks his phone, you take it as a sign that he’s finished with his story and let out another laugh, “Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he jokes, slightly slurring his words. 

Maybe it’s the fact that his voice sounds deeper than usual, or that he’s staring right at you with half lidded eyes, or that he's started playing with the handcuffs on his waist, but Sunghoon looks dangerously attractive right now. 

You gulp, looking down at your lap, “Well, at least one of us had a nice drink.”

Sunghoon nods, running his fingernails along your plastic raincoat, “Wanna taste mine?” He asks, eyes darting down to your lips for a split second.

If there was ever a time to get up and leave, it should’ve been now. The rational part of your brain is telling you to push Sunghoon away and return to the party and forget this encounter with him ever happened. But you can’t move, and if you’re being honest, you don’t even want to.

You’re stuck in place, heart beating out of your chest as Sunghoon leans in closer to you. You feel dizzy in the best way possible, and a part of you feels sick for enjoying the moment as much as you do. 

His breath fans your cheek, and the faint scent of alcohol on it should’ve been enough to remind you that you shouldn’t be in this situation with him. Still, you don’t move.

Right before Sunghoon has the chance to kiss you, the door swings open and you jolt away from each other out of shock, clutching your chest as you watch Jake jog into the garage.

“You guys seen my vape?” he asks, a little out of breath.

“I…no, Jake. Why would it be in the garage?” Sunghoon asks, hopping down from the washing machine. He offers a hand to help you down and you ignore it, finally starting to come back to your senses.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know! It was just in my pocket and now it’s gone, it could be anywhere. Help me look!”

Spending your night in a garage helping Jake look for a strawberry-flavored vape doesn’t sound ideal in the slightest; now is the perfect time to leave.

Heading in the direction of the party, you pause when Sunghoon calls out your name, a slight shakiness to his voice. “Keep an eye out for me, yeah?”

Another beat of silence passes, then you nod and say, “Yeah.”

In your defense, there’s nothing to feel guilty over. All you did was have a conversation with Sunghoon, and keeping an eye out for him doesn’t necessarily mean anything else will happen, right?

You try not to think too much about it as you exit the garage, holding in a laugh when Sunghoon says something along the lines of, “You’re a grown ass man, Jake.”

What Minjeong lacks in cooking, she makes up for in dancing.

While you wouldn’t consider yourself to be on her level of dancing, you’d say you’re good enough to keep up with her at a crowded party. If swaying to the music, holding hands, and grinding on each other counts as dancing, that is.

“You’re too stiff; loosen up, babe,” she comments, fingers interlocked with yours.

“Sorry,” you reply, slightly frustrated since you don’t feel like dancing in the first place. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, yeah!” Minjeong turns to face you, moving your arms to drape them around her shoulders. “Then he said I was being crazy, and that he only got the costume because it was all that was left in his size, as if I believe that.”

“Sorry that happened,” you say, and it comes out more sarcastic than you had intended it to. 

Minjeong takes notice of this, raising a brow at you before slipping her arms under your raincoat and pulling you closer to her. “You okay?”

The two of you are pressed so close up against each other that it almost feels romantic, and you’re sure if there was another drink in your system you’d probably lean in and kiss her. 

You nod. “Just thinking about Heeseung.”

Fake offended, Minjeong’s jaw drops. “You’re dancing with the hottest girl at this party, and all you can think about is your ex? I’m hurt, YN.”

Truth be told, her ex was the one you were thinking about, certainly not your own.

Not a whole lot of time has passed since you left Sunghoon in the garage, but you make sure to keep your promise of keeping an eye out for him upon returning to the party. You’re certain that on the outside you probably look panicked and frantic, eyes darting all over the place for any sign of Sunghoon.

“Well,” Minjeong starts, tugging on your tie. “Since you’re thinking about your ex, it’s only fair that I think of mine; and there he is.”

You stop yourself from excitedly shouting, “Where?!” and watch as Minjeong subtly nods towards the staircase.

Sure enough, Sunghoon is leaning against the banister, eyes zeroing in on you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s been watching me for, like, ten minutes. Probably wants to see if you and I will make out, fucking pervert,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Minjeong has it wrong, Sunghoon has been watching you for the past ten minutes. Ever since he finished helping Jake find that stupid vape, he’s had his sights set on you and you only.

That other part was probably true, though.

You swallow the lump in your throat and say, “Such a pervert.” It comes out a tad more robotic than you were going for, but you tried your best. 

Once Sunghoon is sure that Minjeong is distracted, he mouths, “Bathroom,” before immediately turning around and jogging up the steps.

Fuck, are you really about to do this? 

Your eyes dart from Minjeong to the staircase, and you can’t believe you’re even considering going upstairs to meet her ex. Everything about this predicament is sick and twisted and perfectly on brand for Halloween. 

But, somehow, it’s not sick enough to stop you.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get some air; I’m feeling kinda dizzy,” you lie, hoping it’s believable enough.

Minjeong stops dancing immediately, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Here, I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. You keep having fun, I’ll be back soon. Make another drink for me, okay? I’m sure I’ll need it,” you assure her with a smile, taking her hands into yours.

“Fine, I’ll be here. But the only drink I’m making for you is a Ginger Ale.”

Thank God.

After giving Minjeong a kiss on the cheek (feeling guilty as ever), you slip past her and head towards the direction of the backyard. Once Minjeong is fully out of sight, you switch paths and sprint up the staircase, bumping into and angering a few people along the way. 

You keep your head down once you reach the second floor, speed walking to the end of the hallway and avoiding eye contact with everyone you walk by until you reach the bathroom.

The door is closed and locked, of course, and that’s when it dawns on you that this could be one big, elaborate prank from Sunghoon. You could open the door and be met with a camera in your face with Sunghoon recording, laughing maniacally before mentioning something about telling Minjeong everything and that he stayed loyal to her the entire time.

Unfortunately for you, even that possibility doesn’t scare you away from knocking on the door and saying, “It’s me, YN.”

The knob twists before the door is pushed open, barely enough room to slide in discreetly, but you manage anyway.

Using your body weight to press the door shut, Sunghoon reaches behind you to make sure it’s locked. “You really came.”

You hate that he sounds shocked, as if he had some faith that you wouldn’t risk your friendship with Minjeong for a few minutes with him, of all people. He’s not even your type.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

Sunghoon scoffs as if you’ve said the most obvious thing in the world. “Trust me, I won’t.”

You don’t have time to overthink the meaning of his words because before you can even realize it, Sunghoon is pushing you further up against the door, and he’s kissing you, finally kissing you.

This kiss is everything but soft, and it knocks the wind out of you. Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your head sideways to allow himself further into your mouth. It’s wet and sloppy, you’re certain that dancing with Minjeong was far more romantic than this. You kiss back anyway, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and grabbing a fistful of his hair, shivers running down your spine when he groans into your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon reaches down to slip the raincoat off of you, pressing your body closer against him to ease it off. 

He pulls away slowly, his blown-out eyes focused on the string of saliva that connects your mouths to one another. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, moving his mouth to kiss along your jaw.

You let out a moan when you feel his tongue slide against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, tilting your head back against the door. Sunghoon takes notice of this, focusing his attention on that same spot, sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark before teasingly scraping his canines along the area.

Quickly, your fingers move to unbutton your shirt, suddenly feeling warm all over. You’re only halfway done when there’s a sudden banging on the other side of the door, startling you enough to halt your movements.

“Ignore it,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. “They’ll go away.”

They don’t go away, they actually start to bang louder and harder once a few seconds pass.

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated sigh, lifting his head away from you, “Occupied!”

“Sunghoon?” You hear Minjeong’s voice on the other side of the door, causing you and Sunghoon both to freeze.

“M-Minjeong?” He stutters.

“I have to piss,” Minjeong whines, messing with the doorknob. “Hurry up!”

Sunghoon must sense your panic and the fact that you feel like bursting into loud sobs, because he places his hand over your mouth before mouthing for you to stay quiet.

Minjeong doesn’t let up on trying to open the door, and you’re sure that with just enough force, she could probably get it open.

“I’m using it! Can’t you just go outside?”

“I’m a fucking girl, Sunghoon. Just hurry up and finish.”

“Just…just hold on a second, Minnie.”

Minnie? Fuck is that about?

Sunghoon pulls you away from the door, keeping his voice and movements as low as possible. “You’re gonna have to hide in the bathtub, just lay down flat and wait for her to leave.”

“What?! What if she sees me?!” You whisper, silently praying Minjeong can’t hear you over the music.

“She won’t, okay? I’ll pull the shower curtain back. It’s the only option we have right now unless you want to jump out the window.”

You shake your head. “There has to be a better idea.”

On the other side of the door, Minjeong begins to grow impatient, anxiously tapping her foot against the floor. She’s had three full drinks and is on the verge of busting the bathroom door down if Sunghoon doesn’t open it soon. She focuses her gaze downward, raising a brow at a piece of plastic that’s been slightly pushed under the crack of the door. What is it? A shower curtain? It can’t be, why would the shower curtain be on the floor? It looks more like…

“Fuck! The cops!” A drunk voice yells before the entire house panics, sirens and flashing blue and red lights fill the house.

Inside the bathroom, Sunghoon had still been trying to convince you to lay down in the bathtub when even more panic sets in.

Minjeong bangs on the door one last time. “Sunghoon, the cops are here, you need to leave! Fuck, I gotta find YN!” She yells before taking off down the hall.

Police officers are raiding the house, and all Minjeong can focus on is finding you and making sure you're okay, while you were seconds away from hooking up with her ex. What a fucking nightmare.

“We gotta jump out the window,” Sunghoon says, hurrying over to the other side of the bathroom and forcing the window open.

“What?! Why?!”

“People are doing fucking illegal drugs at this party, YN, and now the fucking cops are here. My dad works for the city and if-” He pauses to grunt, struggling to get the window all the way open. “-news spreads that his son was at a house party that was full of people doing fucking cocaine his career will be fucking over. Fuck!”

This doesn’t explain why you have to jump out of the window with him, but you narrow it down to the possibility of Sunghoon just wanting to be around you for a little longer. And as pathetic as it sounds, you find yourself smiling at the possibility.

Sunghoon finally gets the window fully open, quickly hiking one leg over. “It’s not that far of a jump, we’ll be fine. I’ll go first then let you know when to jump.”

“You’ll catch me?” you ask, buttoning your shirt back up. Now that the raincoat is gone, you probably resemble a perverted schoolgirl costume.

Sunghoon sighs. “Yes, YN, I am going to catch you. Just be ready to run, my car’s down the street.”

He doesn’t give you any time to protest before hiking his other leg out the window and jumping down; you watch in horror as he lands face down. If it weren’t for your current predicament, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the ick.

It takes Sunghoon a few seconds to get back up, brushing himself off before standing, “Come on! Hurry!”

Despite your hesitancy, you follow Sunghoon’s action and hike a leg out of the window, staring down at him. “Are you sure about this?!”

“If you want me to catch you, you better jump now!”

Halloween fucking sucks.

You swear to yourself as you hike your other leg out of the window, saying a quick prayer as you brace yourself to jump.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly catch you, but he does brace your fall, which is good enough for you. 

He groans in pain from the impact as you stand and dust yourself off, reaching a hand down to help him up. “Sorry!”

Sunghoon stands, feeling a tad bit dizzy and lightheaded. “Just follow me.”

It isn’t too late to turn around and find Minjeong and just leave with her. In fact, it’d be the morally correct thing to do in this situation. Not that you seem to care for morals.

You make a mental note to send Minjeong a text later as you run after Sunghoon.

Sunghoon is not that great of a driver, but this doesn't surprise you.

He's still somewhat tipsy, occasionally swerving along the empty back roads.

What makes it worse is that Minjeong has been calling and texting you nonstop, your phone practically burning a hole in your pocket as you ignore her relentless attempts.

Sunghoon is trying his hardest to stay focused on the road, but your phone ringing every few minutes was really starting to irritate him. "Just fucking answer her," he says, shaking his head.

"And say what? That I'm with you?"

Sunghoon isn't too pleased with your sarcasm and rolls his eyes, "Obviously not, YN; just do something to make her stop panicking."

That's way easier said than done, especially considering that you can barely even think about Minjeong without wanting to burst into tears. The guilt has already started to set in, and it has you questioning yourself and your morals.

You can't talk to Minjeong; it's too risky, but you can call your sister and ask her to cover for you.

Slipping your phone from your pocket, you force your eyes to unfocus and ignore the string of missed calls and messages from Minjeong, dialing your sister's phone number with trembling hands.

As always, Yuna answers on the fourth ring, sighing loudly into the phone before greeting you with a monotonous, "Hello?"

"Hey, um, I need you to help me with something," you keep your voice low, not wanting Sunghoon to hear your conversation despite being right next to him.

Yuna sighs again, "With what, YN?"

"The party I was at got raided by the cops, and we all ran, so if Minjeong calls you, I need you to tell her I'm with you," you say, your eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when Sunghoon makes a sudden sharp turn.

"Sorry," he mutters under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You hate that even now, you find him cute.

"Well, where are you?" Yuna asks, snapping you back to reality.

"I… it's not important, just please do me this favor."

Your sister scoffs, "You expect me to lie for you, and you can't even tell me the full story?"

"The full story isn't important, Yuna."

"Clearly, it is if you're asking me to lie to your best friend."

"Just tell her," Sunghoon groans, sounding slightly annoyed, "but make sure she doesn't tell anyone else."

Yuna doesn't have many friends, and the few she does have wouldn't even care about your drama, so it's not like she'd have anyone to share your business with. You hesitate anyway because of the principle of the situation, how just ten minutes ago you were unbuttoning your shirt for your best friend's ex. Maybe you're starting to come back to your senses because replaying the scene in your head has you cringing from embarrassment.

You lean your head against the window and squeeze your eyes shut, "I'm with Sunghoon."

The line goes silent for a few seconds, and you're worried you may have lost service from driving in such a rural area until Yuna sighs for a third time, "The pretty ones are never that bright."

"I swear it isn't like that," you plead, "just, please, help me out."

"And what will I get out of this?"

Of course, she wants something, classic younger sibling bullshit.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I don't know…a normal older sister?"

"Yuna, I don't have time for this, will you help me or not?"

Bickering with Yuna was starting to give you a headache; you were seconds away from hanging up and coming up with a new plan entirely.

"After tonight, don't involve me in this anymore; I have my own shit to deal with."

You hold back a laugh at that as if Yuna does anything other than stay home and talk to the same two people. "I won't, I swear. I'll text you when I'm close to being home; let me know if Minjeong reaches out to you."

"Whatever, just get home safe and don't do anything else stupid," Yuna says through a yawn before immediately hanging up, not giving you the chance to say goodbye.

As much as you loved your sister, the two of you weren't exactly close. The divide started sometime during high school; your interests and friend groups never really aligned and only led you to stray further away from each other.

You being fairly well-known within your high school didn't help much, either. Countless random students would approach Yuna on the daily, asking if you were seeing anyone, begging her for your number, or even giving her small gifts and treats to pass along to you. 

What annoyed her the most was that they never called her by her name, in their eyes, she was always known as "YN's sister", and nothing more than that.

You're sure Yuna doesn't hate you because of it, but it certainly didn't make her very fond of you.

"What'd she say?" Sunghoon asks, interrupting your thoughts.

"She agreed to cover for me tonight," you respond, gazing out the window, "pretty sure she's pissed, though."

"She'll get over it," Sunghoon taps the navigation system on his dashboard, "type in your address."

Despite making you jump out of a bathroom window, Sunghoon technically doesn't owe you anything. He never claimed he'd bring you back to his place to finish what you started; you quite literally only jumped because he told you to, under the pretense that maybe — just maybe — he'd want to hook up with you. 

Clearly, that wasn't happening, at least not tonight. Having to jump out the window and then proceed to drive while tipsy must've knocked some sense into him, making him realize he'd been making way too many questionable choices all in one night. 

You let out a disappointed sigh, hesitantly reaching out to type your home address into the car's GPS. The system buffers for a few seconds as it calculates the quickest route to your home before displaying an estimated travel time of thirty-eight minutes.

"Forty fucking minutes?!" Sunghoon shouts, causing you to jump. 

He sighs, cursing under his breath before reaching forward and ending the navigation route. You sit up further in the seat, ready to ask Sunghoon what he's plotting before he starts typing "7/11".

You raise a brow at this, "Why're we going there?"

Sunghoon gestures towards the navigation system as if the answer is obvious, "Your house is forty minutes away, and I'm still kinda tipsy; I'm gonna need to pull over and get something other than alcohol in my system if I'm gonna be driving for that long." There's a slight slur to his words that had you weary about him driving, so pulling over to recharge isn't a bad idea.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Sunghoon managed to safely drive the two of you to the nearest 7/11, opting to pay seventeen dollars to park in a parking garage down the street instead of the shop's personal lot.

"This neighborhood isn't that safe; I don't want anyone breaking into my car," he claims, taking up two spots as he parks in the most secluded corner possible.

The neighborhood is fairly safe; he was just being dramatic.

The walk down the street is quick and slightly awkward, with you and Sunghoon stumbling every few steps yet refusing to hold onto the other for stability.

The two of you go your separate ways upon entering the shop, Sunghoon headed straight towards the snack aisle while you make your way to the slurpee machines. The difference in your priorities was humorous, with him wanting to focus on building up energy and you wanting nothing more than a quick sugar fix.

Blue raspberry isn't necessarily your go-to flavor, but it's the only flavor on the Slurpee machine that's currently working, so you fill your plastic cup to the brim before absentmindedly reaching for a straw.

Sunghoon is still prancing around the store by the time you've finished making your drink, and despite not being that hungry, you decide to kill time by strolling through the snack aisles.

The Snickers bars and Reese's Cups look tempting as always, but you refrain, sighing as you look over the selection of peanut-contaminated candy.

"Don't even bother," Sunghoon says from behind you, causing you to gasp in shock. 

He pauses for a moment, staring at the array of snacks before grabbing a pack of Skittles and walking off.

The thought of Sunghoon being aware of your peanut allergy is as comforting as it is strange. You can't imagine this is something Minjeong randomly decided to tell him, and even if that is the case, why would he bother retaining that information? It's not like the two of you are friends.

Whatever, you're probably thinking about it too much.

After deciding on a package of powdered mini donuts and Haribo gummy bears, you proceed to the checkout counter and set your items down, looking over your shoulder at Sunghoon, who was selecting the last of his items.

The man behind the counter smiles at you, typing his employee ID number into the cash register, "How's your night going?"

"Horrible," you say, making the clerk laugh even though you weren't joking.

"Sorry to hear that," he responds, scanning your items, "your total came out to…$6.12. Oh, hello, officer."

Despite not having done anything wrong, you nearly panic before remembering Sunghoon's unfortunate costume choice.

He nods at the man, setting his own items down on the counter, "Add these too. You guys take Apple Pay?" He asks, unlocking his phone.

"Oh, you don't have to pay for mine," you say, a nervous tremble in your voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, "No big deal."

Except it is a big deal. Sunghoon behaving like a boyfriend gentleman by paying for your items only made you like him even more, which is the exact opposite of what you need right now.

You sigh, taking a literal and metaphorical step back as Sunghoon taps his phone on the card reader. 

"A cop and a schoolgirl, huh? These couple's costumes are starting to make less and less sense," the employee comments, eyes darting between you and Sunghoon. 

"We're not a couple," Sunghoon responds, a little too quickly for your liking, but whatever.

The employee apologizes, embarrassed about his implications as he bags your items and wishes the two of you a safe trip home.

On the way back to Sunghoon's car, it dawns on you that Minjeong has stopped trying to get ahold of you, which is slightly worrisome considering that she's a person who wouldn't give up that easily. 

Sunghoon climbs into the backseat this time, mumbling something about needing to rest and stretch out before driving you home. He sets the bag down on the center console, grabbing a few of his items before propping himself up against the door.

You do the same, retrieving your own items from the bag before slumping into your seat. 

When you finally unlock your phone, a new voice memo from Yuna is waiting for you. Hesitantly, you hold your phone against your ear and hit play.

Yuna lets out a loud sigh, "So, you and Minjeong must have some sort of, like,  telepathic connection because she called me as soon as I hung up on you. Anyways, I told her our cousin was also at the party and was able to, uh, give you a ride home once the cops came. Oh, and I told her your phone died and that you'd call her, um,  later or in the morning. I'm not sure if she believed it, but she calmed down.

And, by the way, I meant it when I said I don't want to be involved in whatever this is after tonight. So, for everyone's sake, if something serious is going on, do not tell me about it. Get home safe."

You're not entirely sure if you deserve a sister like Yuna, who'd go against her own morals just to cover for you, but you're grateful you have her.

you [11:54 pm] : *you liked a voice memo*

you [11:54 pm] : thanks so much

you [11:55 pm] : i promise i wont involve u anymore. if minnie calls again u can just ignore it and lmk please

yuna [11:56 pm] : oh and she told me to let you know that she's safe. tho im sure that's not your biggest concern :/

Harsh but true.

You set your phone on your lap and tear open your pack of donuts, wiping away the powdered sugar that falls onto your blouse. Much like the blue raspberry slurpee, mini powdered donuts weren't exactly your go-to snack, but your options were limited, and you weren't in the mood to roam around the store any longer.

Suddenly, Sunghoon groans from the backseat and sits up, "Phone died."

Leaning over the center console, he plugs his phone into the car charger right underneath his navigation system, resting it on the dashboard before returning to his seat. 

The car falls silent, and as much as you want to start a conversation, you're not sure where to begin. There's so much you want to ask, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue so hard you're surprised the taste of blood doesn't fill your mouth.

Sunghoon leans forward again, this time resting his cheek on the side of your seat, "What'd you get?" he asks, staring down at your lap.

You turn your head to look at him, holding up the half-eaten pack of donuts for him to see.

"Can I have one?" he asks, already holding his hand out before you could even say yes.

You hand him one regardless, watching the powder fall from the pastry as he pops it into his mouth.

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you find yourself narrowing your eyes at him as you ask, "Sunghoon, can I ask you something?"

He nods, gesturing towards the remaining donuts in a way that tells you he wants more. You hand him the remaining three, nodding back when he mumbles "Thanks" under his breath.

"How did you know that I'm allergic to peanuts?"

Sunghoon pauses, brows furrowing in utter confusion as he looks up at you, "What do you mean?"

"Earlier in the store, I was looking at the peanut candy, and you told me not to bother. I'm assuming you must've known I'm allergic, right?" You ask, fully turning around in your seat to face him.

"Um…yeah. I know."

"Okay…how?"

"I mean, was it supposed to be a secret or something?"

"What? No, of course not. Allergies are probably the one thing that shouldn't be kept secret," you respond, "I'm just curious about how you know. I don't think I've ever told you, and I can't imagine Minjeong randomly deciding to tell you."

Sunghoon awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he avoids looking at you. It takes the tips of his ears turning pink for you to realize that he's embarrassed, which only confuses you even further.

Sunghoon shrugs, staring down at the snack you've just given him, "Whenever all of us would hang out, and there was, like, food involved, I just noticed you'd pay so much attention to the ingredients of whatever it was you were eating. At first, I thought it was a calorie thing, but you never really asked about the calories, only the ingredients."

"But, how'd you know it was peanuts specifically?" you ask, feeling embarrassed about how curious you were over something as silly as a peanut allergy.

"Remember the hockey team bake sale? The one I made those terrible brownies for?" He asks, continuing when you nod, "You were there, and I remember how excited you were to try the cookies that Jake made, but right before you bought one, you asked him if there were peanuts in them. That's when I knew."

You can't remember the last time someone had paid this much attention to you, and it's dangerous, considering how easily impressed you are by the smallest things. Sunghoon was by no means a friend of yours; you hardly knew anything about each other and often kept your interactions rather short, so his being able to pick up on your peanut allergy just by watching you was … different. Maybe even nice.

You don't even realize you've been staring at him until he stops chewing and stares back, unblinking.

You look away, retrieving your Slurpee from the cup holder and taking a long sip as Sunghoon watches.

"Can I ask you something now?" he asks.

You don't respond, side-eyeing him as you continue to sip your drink.

Sunghoon smirks, amused by your sudden silence, "Why'd you meet me in the bathroom?"

You pull the straw away from your lips, voice barely above a whisper as you respond, "To see what you wanted."

He nods, taking the cup from your hands, "You knew what I wanted," he says, pausing to take a sip of your drink, "and you still came; why?"

When you don't respond, Sunghoon lets out a loud sigh and sets your cup back down in its holder, "It's okay, YN."

"It isn't."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I guess we'll never know, huh?"

This is a test of your morals, and Sunghoon knows this. Every decision you've made tonight has led you to this exact moment. There's still enough time to redeem yourself and make an excuse for your actions. You could easily lie and say that making out with Sunghoon was just a result of being tipsy and vulnerable. But now, with the two of you in his car, sobering up and coming back down to your senses, you won't be able to use those same excuses.

Realistically speaking, what are the chances of your ex's finding out? Heeseung probably wouldn't care, but Minjeong was an entirely different story.

In your defense, they've been officially broken up for three weeks and three days, so you wouldn't technically be hooking up with her boyfriend. Right?

Sunghoon must've sensed the gears turning in your head because, after a few seconds of staring at each other in silence, he leaned over the center console and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss is softer this time, nothing like how it was in the bathroom as if he's trying to coax you in and convince you it's okay, that you're doing nothing wrong.

You find yourself slipping under his spell, eyes finally fluttering shut as he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. The faint taste of alcohol is still on his tongue, but he does taste much sweeter now, like the blue raspberry slurpee he'd just had. A part of you wonders if he'd done that on purpose as if tasting better would make you enjoy kissing him like this.

He pulls away, scooting farther back into his seat, "C'mere, climb over."

You do as you're told, slipping off your shoes with Sunghoon guiding you right onto his lap as you climb into the backseat. You can't help but squirm on his lap, and he can still sense a slight hesitancy in your actions, the way you shiver when he touches you, how you initially pulled back when he tried to kiss you again.

"You're nervous," he comments, eye flickering across your face.

You shrug, holding onto his shoulders for support, "I can't help it."

Beneath you, Sunghoon reaches down to unclip the handcuffs from his belt loop, "You're making it hard to focus."

"The fuck am I supposed to do, then?!" You didn't mean to shout, but your patience was starting to run thin. You felt guilty enough as it is, and Sunghoon reminding you of how nervous you are certainly didn't make it any better.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, undoing the handcuffs before grabbing your left hand. He tightens the cuff around your wrist, "Just trust me," he says simply. He sits up further in his seat, grabbing your cuffed wrist as he pulls down on the car's grab handle. He slips the empty cuff through the slot before gesturing for you to give him your free hand.

Fuck.

"Sunghoon…"

"Just trust me," he doesn't wait for a response, grabbing your wrist and bringing it up towards the empty cuff. It locks around your wrist with a click, causing him to smile in satisfaction. 

You're sure that with just the right amount of force, you could easily snap the handcuffs in half, but it's the thought that counts. With your arms and hands restricted towards the ceiling, all you can do is stare down at Sunghooon and await his next movement, his very calculated movement.

He presses his cold lips against your neck, simultaneously using his hands to slowly unbutton your blouse. The mark he'd left on your neck earlier was as prominent as ever, and it pleased him to know you were okay with him marking you up like this. He swipes his tongue against the sensitive spot, hardening in his pants when you squirm on top of him. 

His nails trace along the bare skin of your waist once he's finished unbuttoning your blouse, your bralette — that was a few sizes too small — fully on display for him. He's practically salivating at the site, his tongue sliding across his canines, completely in awe of your breasts spilling out of the flimsy, white material.

Sunghoon can't unclasp and slide off your bra, or else it'd be awkwardly hanging in the air, and trying to slip it through the handcuffs would take too much effort. Instead, he apologizes under his breath before his hands reach the front of your bra.

"Wait, Sunghoon—!"

Without warning, he stretches the fabric until it finally rips, seemingly pleased with himself if the cocky smirk is anything to go by. "Relax," he says, "I'll buy you a new one."

You don't have time to scold him because before you can even process what's happening, Sunghoon's tongue is swirling around your nipple. You swear at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his face. It's almost embarrassing how such a simple act already had your head spinning.

His hands trail downward until they reach the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it upwards until it's bunched around your waist. He traces the tip of his finger across your clothes cunt, pleased with how wet you've already gotten without having done much.

Your hips buck up into his hands on instinct, desperate for the friction, borderline craving it.

Sunghoon releases your perked bud in his mouth, looking up at you as he asks, "You want me to stop?"

"No, please don't." You beg.

"So this is okay then, right?"

If your wrists weren't handcuffed to the grab handle, you're sure you would've reached down and choked him for all the teasing. "Yes, Sunghoon, it's okay! Just hurry up and do something!"

Sunghoon shakes his head at you, mumbling, "So impatient." as he moves to lie flat on his back.

You stare down at him, confused, when he doesn't immediately start undoing his pants but instead positions his head right between your thighs.

It's funny, Minjeong claimed Sunghoon wasn't really into giving head and only gave it to her a handful of times during the course of their relationship, claiming he preferred to save it for special occasions.

But yet, here he is, willingly pushing your thighs further apart before pressing his lips against your clothed cunt.

The action sends shivers down your spine, and the handcuffs around your wrist suddenly feel tighter. He presses his tongue flat against you, groaning at the taste of your slick that's soaked through your panties. You grind down on him instinctively, your body trembling with anticipation as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Fuck." You whisper, tugging at the handcuffs in frustration.

The sound of the metal clinking makes Sunghoon chuckle, pressing a final kiss against your damped underwear before mumbling, "Cute."

He makes quick work of sliding your underwear off your legs, tossing them to the 

front seat with a grunt as you wait for him to continue. Sunghoon settles himself between your thighs again, groaning in annoyance as you hover over him. "Stop fucking hovering," he demands, attempting to pull you down directly onto his face, "it's fine."

It's too intimate; you've never even sat on Heeseung's face before, and you're sure this isn't something he's done with Minjeong.

"But, I don't wanna cru- fuck!"

Sunghoon dismisses your worries, forcing you down onto his face and instantly wrapping his lips around your clit. You barely have any time to process that this is completely new territory for you, being this intimate with a man, sitting right on his face while he drags his tongue along your cunt; gathering your wetness and dragging it up towards your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at that, leaning your head against the cold window as your face heats up. This only encourages Sunghoon even further, and his confidence grows, feeling bold enough to tease the tip of his tongue into your hole.

You jolt up at this, biting back a moan and wishing you could reach down and grab a fistful of his hair and properly ride his face. He licks another stripe up your folds, gripping your thighs and holding your body in place when you try to squirm away. 

"Stop trying to run from me," he groans into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice sending a shiver across your body. 

He presses his face further into your cunt, moaning at how much wetter you've gotten since he's started. For a man who apparently wasn't one to eat a girl out, he sure did seem desperate and eager to have you come on his face. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was doing it for his own pleasure rather than yours, which only turns you on even more.

After a few more slides of his tongue, you finally feel your orgasm approaching, your thighs tensing around Sunghoon's head.

"I know you're close," he whispers, placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, "go ahead, use me. I know you want to."

He's practically begging at this point, big, wet eyes staring up at you in pure adoration as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. That's your breaking point, the knot in your stomach finally untying itself as your orgasm washes over you.

You let out a moan so loud that your throat hurts shortly afterward, your wrists going limp in the handcuffs as you ride out your high.

Sunghoon doesn't let up until you're practically shaking from overstimulation, your body naturally twitching and squirming away from his greedy mouth as he cleans you up. He pulls away finally, his mouth and chin completely coated with your slick as he leaves a trail of kisses on your bare thighs.

You can't help but stare down at him in awe; he looks completely dazed as if he's running off, nothing but pure desperation and lust for you. You.

"Sunghoon," you say, trying to get his attention, "I…do you keep condoms in here?"

He flutters his eyes open, shaking his head, "No, but 7/11's just down the street. I can go-"

You interrupt him with a shake of your head, "I don't wanna wait; we don't need one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill. Just, please, fuck me already."

It's music to his ears, really.

Sunghoon slides himself back up the seat, reaching up to release you from the handcuffs. You groan at this, having gotten used to them and quite frankly enjoyed the temporary feeling of restriction.

"You liked the cuffs?" Sunghoon questions, dropping your wrists from the grab bar.

"Yeah," you admit, "I liked it more than I thought I would."

He nods at this, and you realize now that one of the cuffs is still clasped around your wrist. Sunghoon also notices this and smirks as an idea forms in his head. "Turn around."

You comply with no further questions, groaning when he suddenly pushes your body down into the seat. He brings your arms behind your back, handcuffing you once more as he lets out a sigh of pleasure. "I knew you'd like it."

Sunghoon pushes your skirt back up, straddling himself around your things after pulling his pants and boxers far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He steadies himself with a hand on your shoulder, using the other to teasingly drag his fully-hardened cock across your slick folds.

Sunghoon shivers at this, cursing at the sight as he repeats his movements. He knows he won't last much longer; he was practically seconds away from coming in his boxers just from eating you out, so he really should quit with the teasing for his own sake.

Minjeong had never allowed him to fuck her without a condom, so this type of intimacy was new and overwhelmingly good.

He finally pushes himself into you, his tip alone causing you to bite down on the leather of his seat. You already felt so full, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

"Ah fuck," he groans, "you're so tight, you're so…fuck." He can barely even form a sentence, biting down on his bottom lip as he further inches himself inside of you.

You're not doing any better, feeling as if you're already seconds away from your second orgasm when he's hardly even done anything. It takes a minute before he's fully inside of you, pausing before he leans down and asks, "Can I move?"

"Please, I need you to."

Sunghoon nods at this, pressing a kiss against your ear before sitting himself back up. He angles your hips off the seat but presses your chest further into it, giving you (and himself) the perfect arch to comfortably slide in and out.

The first few thrusts are slow, as expected, but just enough to get you used to his size. Even this was all too much for Sunghoon; he was already dangerously close to his orgasm.

He didn't intend on speeding up his thrusts already, but he really can't help it. Everything about this feels too good. The way your walls perfectly wrap around him, and the way you're moaning and cursing for him to keep going are overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck." He moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses you down further into the backseat. He pulls his cock all the way out before pushing himself back in, which you seem to enjoy. He does it a few more times, mostly to humor himself since it's something he assumed you would've been annoyed by.

"Sunghoon," you pant, "I'm close."

"Already?" He asks, pushing your hips downwards until you're lying flat on your stomach.

He tries to come off as cocky and frustrated, but he really is grateful you're already so close to your orgasm, seeing that he felt like he could burst at any given second.

You nod, "Please, keep going."

He doesn't respond, opting to remain silent as you pull his cock out of you before ramming it back in at a pace much harder and faster than before. His thrusts are sloppy and borderline desperate, the sound of skin slapping and grunts filling the air shortly afterward.

The two of you could hardly keep your eyes open, too lost in the pleasure of your approaching orgasms.

Your's hits first, and Sunghoon's follows shortly after, practically filling you up to the brim with his cum. You've never felt so full and warm, heat spreading through your entire body as you slowly calm down and regulate hour breathing.

Sunghoon doesn't feel like moving, but he does anyway, slipping himself out of you with a wince, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the seat of the car. He curses at the sight, stopping himself from leaning forward and eating it out of you.

He undoes both of the handcuffs this time, helping you sit up as you avoid eye contact with each other. "Hold on," he says, re-adjusting his pants and boxers, "I should have a towel or something in the trunk."

Sunghoon steps out of the car, returning a minute later with a towel in hand. He leans down, prepared to clean you up, until you stop him, "It's okay, I got it."

He shakes his head, "I can do it for you."

"It's fine," you say, buttoning up your shirt, "I'd prefer to do it myself, actually."

Sunghoon finally gives in, handing you the towel before leaning over the center console and retrieving your panties from the passenger seat. He waits patiently for you to finish up, instructing you to just drop the towel on the floor as he hands you your underwear.

"Hey, have you…do you think you've sobered up yet?" He asks, watching as you slip your panties back on.

"Yeah, why?"

"Before I met you in the bathroom, I took a few bites of an edible, and I think it's starting to kick in. I think you should drive."

You sigh, mostly because this was not at all what you'd been hoping he'd say. "Drive where? To your place? Then where would I go?"

"I can pay for your Uber home."

"Sunghoon, it's past midnight, and I'm a girl; taking an Uber this late is too dangerous."

"Then drive back to your place; I'll sleep in the car and drive off in the morning."

You groan, "No, Minjeong might visit me in the morning. What'll she think when she sees your car in my driveway?"

"Dammit, YN, then just spend the night at my place. You can take my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch; just please drive us somewhere, for fuck's sake."

Bickering with Sunghoon somehow doesn't annoy you; in fact, it feels almost domestic. Going back and forth like a real couple.

"Fine." You say, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sunghoon's phone falls off the dashboard in the process, now charged at twenty-eight percent, and apparently, a missed text from Minjeong that was sent a few minutes ago.

The jealousy that fills your chest is downright abnormal; Minjeong is your best friend; there's no real reason for you to feel jealous of her in the first place. 

In fact, you shouldn't feel any sort of guilt at all; it's not like they're still together. They've been broken up for three weeks and three days. 

Three weeks. And Three days.

[chlorinecake]

HURTS, DOESN'T IT? ✦ — 𝐉.𝐒𝐂 👾

▹ PAIRING: Boyfriend Sungchan x F. Reader

▹ SYNOPSIS: While at an arcade party to celebrate Halloween alongside your boyfriend and his friends, one random activity leads to another before you two find yourselves completely wasted and horny as fuck…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, kissing, halloween themes, impact play, spanking kink, face slapping, giggly (but also very emotionally unstable) protected sex, exhibionism (public bathroom), ft. other kpop idols, mentions & consumption of alcohol, jealousy, that's about it

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.7k — DAY 9

T WAS SOMETIME during the second week in October when your boyfriend Sungchan got a text from his old college buddy about wanting to get in touch at some party.

The occasion was a fashionably early Halloween celebration at a local arcade where there’d be tons of food, good conversation, and entertainment.

Needless to say, the location choice was odd at best, but throwing a house party would’ve been much more expensive anyway.

And of course, knowing that the party could be an unfriendly zone for anyone in a relationship, Sungchan decided to take you with him as a date, both to stay out of trouble and because he didn’t want to leave you home alone that night.

“Babe, look at this,” Sungchan offered as you sat on the couch together, scrolling through a few pins from his Halloween costume Pinterest board. “Which one catches your eye?”

“Hmmm, that one,” you chirped with a smile, pointing to the photo that seemed easiest to recreate...

So, Sungchan ended up dressed as a basketball player and you as his cheerleader girlfriend, and everyone at the party absolutely adored your costumes.

It came to a point where you recall somewhere around 8 people asking to take a photo of you two by the time y’all actually got there, but I digress...

Considering this was a grown-ups-only party, there wasn't any candy or tricks involved, but there was a lot of booze and raunchy shenanigans.

Additionally, the arcade was a space strictly for adults, so you didn't have to worry about any little kids wandering the place or making a disturbing fuss, either.

“Ohhh, look what the cat dragged in,” your boyfriend’s clearly drunk friend remarked upon seeing you, who was ironically dressed as a tipsy-looking Jack Sparrow.

“This is my lovely girlfriend, _____.” Sungchan smiled awkwardly now, “____, Seonghwa... It’s time you two finally meet each other.”

“Nice to meet you, Seonghwa,” you offered as confidently as you could, shaking his hand while saying, “Thanks for having me, by the way.”

“Ahh, don’t mention it... You two lovebugs have fun now though,” Seonghwa slurred, all before stumbling away into the distance.

That’s when you felt Sungchan’s hand slip around your waist, pulling you close to him before whispering, “Is it just me, or are we currently too sober to enjoy this party?”

“No, it’s both of us,” you agreed with a painfully honest nod, making your boyfriend chuckle a bit as you both promptly made your way over to the drinks bar.

But since you step foot in the arcade, you feel like there is a second pair of eyes watching you aside from Sungchan’s, and you could bet on your grave that it is the barista running the bar.

“Hey guys! What can I get for the sexy player and his ditsy fangirl today?” She started sarcastically while annoyingly chewing on a wad of gum with her dark red lips, might I add?

“We’re actually a couple,” Sungchan answered before you could even get a word out, and fortunately so because you certainly didn’t have anything good to say to her.

“We’ll take whatever specials you guys are having tonight,” you began to say while glancing at the drink menu, but she had already helped herself to chatting things up with your boyfriend.

Right.

In.

Front of you…

Just from glancing at her name tag, you knew the skank went by “Samantha G” to most people, which only irritated even more once Sungchan nicknamed her “Sam.”

“You have such a bright smile,” she said, reaching a hand out to touch his arm. “God, and you’re strong,” she chuckled slightly before humming as if someone had just stuck a vibrator in her ass.

“Miss G, don’t forget that you’re hired to serve, not to swoon,” an employee from the back called out to her, and it was easy to hold back the laugh in your throat once Sam replied with:

“Oh, give me a break, Eunseok... Besides, with the outfit I’m wearing, I could easily get away with doing both.”

Gag me with a fucking spoon, you thought to yourself, feeling relieved to see Sungchan peeling that vipers grip away from his arm by her wrist.

“Serving and swooning?” Eunseok repeated with a look of cringe on his face, “You must be mistaking this job with Hooters.”

But nonetheless, Samantha lifted her chin proudly, ignoring his words as if her behavior right now was something to be proud of.

Eventually though, Eunseok got started on making your drinks while Samantha pretended to look busy.

Not wanting to cause any further confusion, you simply ignored her frequent glances towards you two, letting Sungchan pay the bill before walking off to enjoy yourselves.

And as the night continued, you and Sungchan helped yourselves to some pizza next, shooting hoops for a few rounds at the basketball game before eventually delighting yourselves to a Pac-Man tournament.

You obviously lost more than half of the rounds y’all played together, but only because you really needed to stop by the bathroom after all those drinks.

Sungchan cut the game off, returning it back to its default home screen before taking your hand and walking you to the ladies bathroom.

“I’ll be out in a bit,” you told him as you lazily kissed the apple of his cheek before waltzing inside, and he rested his back on the outside of the door, planning to wait until you were finished.

Though, you were starting to take a lot longer than promised, causing Sungchan to grow a bit suspicious...

So, being the rule-breaker that he often was whenever he drank too much, he walked inside the women’s bathroom, knocking on the stall door to see if you were okay.

And surprisingly, you weren’t in there throwing up your entire digestive system, so that concluded you fine for the most part...

The only issue was that your pussy wouldn't stop throbbing and leaking arousal all into your underwear, and even after trying to calm yourself down a few times, nothing was working—

“Baby, just let me in before some chick sees me standing here and assumes I’m harassing you,” Sungchan pleaded despite the calmness of his voice, impatient hands finding the pockets on his track pants.

“Fine, but I’m only letting you in if you promise to help me,” you pouted as if he could see you, and he let himself giggle at the whiny tone of your voice right now.

“Help you with what? Wiping yourself?” Sungchan teased, but all of that stopped once you opened the door to pull him inside.

“No, asshole… I seriously need you right now,” you whined again, and he kissed you, cupping your face in one hand and supporting the small of your back with another.

“I only did that to shut you up, by the way,” Sungchan muttered upon breaking from the kiss, turning back to open the door and leave. “Now let’s go back...”

“Channie, please…” You tugged on his arm.

“I’m not staying here in a women’s bathroom stall with you, ____,” he whisper-scolded.

“But I want you to be in here,” you went on, clinging to his arm like a koala in distress...

Sungchan sighed, finally closing the door back so you could stop whining. “Okay, baby, what’s all this really about... hm?”

You stayed quiet, only reaching inside the cup of your bra to pull out a condom packed in shiny blue foil.

“Baby,” Sungchan breathed out with a soft smile, finally realizing the true motive for your sudden change in behavior: “Why’re you letting that barista girl get to you?”

“I dunno, why’re you bringing her up?” You retorted, closing your hand around the condom you held, but Sungchan found your hand anyway, opening it back up and taking the condom himself.

“Because you’re obviously still bothered about how she was acting with me,” he returned, undoing his track pants while keeping eye contact with you, “and that’s okay... Even I get jealous sometimes.”

“I wasn’t jealous of that skank,” you correct him.

“Then what were you, baby?… Tell me…”

“I was... upset,” you admitted through a gulp once he freed his cock from his pants, and he was surprisingly somewhat hard already just from talking to you, “There’s a difference, y’know?”

“Sure... but what upset you?”

“That... that you just let her touch you and... and talk to you as if I wasn’t standing right fucking there,” you said with a frustrated tone, feeling your skin shiver at the sudden sound of him tearing the foil packaging before sliding the rubber over his tip and down his shaft.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way, then." Sungchan apologized, and either being too drunk to notice or even care that he was being sarcastic, you closed the space between you two, looking him straight in the eye with your own lust-filled ones.

And before you knew it, he had your back against the wall, fucking his thickness into your sopping cunt as you clung to his shoulders, eyes shut with overwhelming pleasure.

Given the crammed space in the stall, it wasn't very easy to move around in there, let alone with two fully grown people. Though, at least one benefit was that the arcade restrooms weren’t like the cheesy ones with zero privacy...

The stalls were fully sealed all around, almost like a closet with a toilet in it, and judging from the thick wooden walls, they were pretty soundproof too for the most part.

His hands gripped at your ass as pretty little grunts fell from his lips, and all you could hear in the back of your mind was Samantha’s irritating voice.

“K-kiss me,” you breathed out suddenly, and Sungchan did just that, finding your lips in his own as you kissed him passionately, trembling at the sensation of his hands spreading your cheeks as he held you tighter.

That’s when you took his lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck,” he swore as quietly as he could, and you released his lip, only because you wanted to see the pained look on his face as he kept fucking you.

“Why the hell did you bite me so hard, ____?”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” You returned with a whisper, and he only hung his head, snickering to himself before looking back up to meet your eyes.

“You’re fucking crazy, y’know tha—ahhh...” His voice trailed off, but only because your walls kept clenching around him, your slick coating his entire pelvis now given how wet you were... though, your physical arousal didn't match your visible pleasure...

“Why're you holding your sounds in, huh?” Your boyfriend huffed, only to chuckle slightly at the docile look of sexual desperation overtaking your face now, “still trying to stay mad at me for no reason?”

“Even if I was, you're literally laughing at everything right now, so it'd be pointless,” you said with a surprisingly stable voice, only to tighten your jaw at how slow he was dragging his cock against your walls now, making you focus on every last inch of his length as he slid in and out of you, slow and steady...

“Stop that,” your voice came out strained, and you turned your face from him to hide how effected you truly were, but when his hands fiercely gripped at the sensitive flesh of your hips, you couldn't stop yourself from wincing.

“So bossy today,” he replied with a smirk, biting his own lip at the sight of your tough girl act crumbling before him.

“Go faster already, Sungchan,” you sighed with desperation, hating how he was delaying your release by going so slowly

“I'm sure Samantha wouldn't mind me fucking her at this speed,” he snickered, ghosting his hot breath right below your ear.

“The closest that bitch is ever getting to you again is in... in a dream,” you stammered out incoherently, but only because he was sucking on your neck now, surely leaving a mark as his hips finally picked up the pace.

“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you,” Sungchan mumbles through grunts in between kissing your flesh, making your eyes go in and out of focus the faster he pistoled his cock into you. “She’s probably waiting for me in the stall beside us... touching herself while she listens to us fuck... wishing it was her—”

Smack!

You slapped him clean across the face, cutting off his words with your bitter force, and you’re not sure if that’s what makes his eyes appear watery at first...

Though, maybe, it was the feeling of your snug walls sucking him back in that made him tear up a bit, and it didn’t help how you subconsciously rolled your hips against his, desperate for more friction.

“Feel better after doing that, angel?” Sungchan asked in a wobbly voice now, and you could tell he was getting close just from how pronounced his veins looked now, coupled with the additional saliva pooling in his mouth.

Before you could even answer, he was back to kissing you, and his skilled tongue, despite all the drama it had caused thus far, was making you feel so good right now...

The contact was so sloppy, and primal even, with his powerful hips pushing through their own stuttering as he chased his high, spanking the swell of your ass to get your attention.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I, baby?” He offered through his adorably labored breaths, still trying to get that reply out of you before y’all left the stall.

Smack.

His large hand hit your ass again, making you jump against the wall as the painful sting traveled throughout your entire body, part of it turning you on somewhat.

“Sungchan,” you panted, tracing the swollen part of his lower lip that you had bit earlier, and now you were starting to feel your eyes tear up, too, “I’m sorry, I... I don’t know what made me do that.”

“It’s okay, angel, we’re both drunk out of our minds right now,” his voice began with a weak giggle, just as his arms were starting to feel numb for holding you for so long.

Fusing your back with the wall, you were shocked to feel that Sungchan could possibly reach even deeper inside you, and it was only with a few more thrusts while coupled with the pleasured whimpers you finally let out for him that your boyfriend reached his climax.

“Fuck, baby... ahh... nghh... fuckkk,” a string of curse words spilled from your lips, but Sungchan covered your mouth almost instantly once he heard someone open the bathroom entry door.

“Mmm,” you hummed again, but he shushed you with a finger, hearing a stall open and close just a few feet away from you before their footsteps stopped.

And you couldn’t be more lucky that there was faint music playing from the speakers, provoking you and Sungchan to get back dressed as fast as y’all could while you still had a chance at doing so undetected.

Your feet hit the ground with a gentle thud once he released you from his grasp, and you both smiled at how ridiculous you both felt in this moment.

Slipping off his soiled condom, he discarded it down the toilet, pinning you against the wall to find your lips in yet another harsh kiss as he hummed softly, “We’re never going to a party like this again, right?”

“Agreed,” you said back, readjusting your cheer skirt and panties as your boyfriend slid his pants up, ruffling his hair a few times before finally opening the stall door to leave...

Both of your emotions were always like a rollercoaster whenever you got drunk. One second you were both a bunch of moody lug nuts, and then the next, you two were practically inseparable...

With your arm hooked in Sungchan’s, you rested your head on his stature as he led you out of the bathroom stall, and you weren’t all that surprised to spot Samantha there, wide-eyed and confused as you and him casually walked out together.

“Did you guys... Why were you both?... Wait…"   Samantha’s voice trailed off as she tried her hardest to get a coherent sentence out but failed nonetheless once Sungchan and you started giggling to each other before walking out the restroom.

And you’re certain the stall you two had just left reeked of body warmth and sex, but being too drunk to spare a care, you both waved everyone off before heading home, only to flat out crash on your shared mattress and sleep the night away while still wearing your costumes...

⋆♱✮ Thanks to everyone who made it to the end of DAY 9's fic entry for my Kinktober Event !! This is a bit shitty tbh, but nonetheless, if you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links :3

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

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⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

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@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

[training4theapocalypse]

Never Been Kissed (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: SMUT, Second chance romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: You're a PI who joins the 11th Street Kids after a chance meeting with John Economos on the dark web. Unfortunately for you, your ex-friend-with-benefits Vigilante is here too. (Based on this ask by anon)

A/N: This took a hot minute. The M&Ms were originally cigarettes but these days I'm a healthy queen free of nicotine -purr.

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982, @pretendfan, @lolitstiana, @countlambula, @chiaraanatra, @stainedpomegranatelips, @navs-bhat, @ohnoitsrosie, @daisydark, @angrydragon90, @intense-sneezing

Chapter text:

The dim fire exit sign outside the back of the abandoned video store flickers as you suck a peanut M&M between your tongue and the roof of your mouth anxiously. You hope your contact hurries the fuck up - if he makes you wait any longer you’ll finish an entire party bag from nervousness.

It was stupid, really, even reckless, to meet a stranger from the dark web. But when some guy called TechConomos_11 had responded to you in a chat room where you were discussing the intel you had on some sinister goings-on in Evergreen, you knew you had to meet him and his team.

Because you’ll be damned if anyone catches the escaped gorilla before you.

There’s a clink of a padlock and chain falling to the floor, the sound of a heavy emergency exit bar being pushed down and when the door opens you’re face to face with a large, bearded man wearing glasses. 

“Are you the PI?”

If you had to draw a sketch of what you thought a guy you met on the dark web would look like, he would be it. Not a neckbeard, exactly, just someone with the distinct aura of having too much time spent in front of a screen.

You nod. “TechConomos?”

“Call me John. Come inside - the team’s all here.”

You shove the half-empty pack of M&Ms into your bag and he leads you through to the back office. 

“This is Murn, Harcourt and Adebayo.” He gestures to his three associates sitting in the office who each acknowledge you in turn. “And these guys-”

“Fuck it! Fuck, fuck fuck!”

The yelling draws your attention to the window separating the office from the rest of the video store and it’s like a knife in your gut when you see him.

Vigilante.

“Ugh, fuck! It hurts to walk!” Vigilante whines as he limps around. He turns to pace some more but stops in his tracks in alarm when he sees you. He immediately dives to the floor, launching himself behind a desk in a futile attempt to hide.

Vigilante is the last person you expected to - or wanted to - see here. It’s not his usual MO - normally he’d be out hunting thugs and drug dealers. What was he doing caught up in this operation with some tech guy and a team who you suspected were either current or former soldiers?

There’s a roaring laugh and your eyes find Peacemaker, doubled over in his chair, laughing like an idiot at Vigilante sprawled on the ground. 

That explains Vigilante’s involvement. Looks like his idol, Peacemaker, is finally out of prison and the first thing he does is rope Vigilante into whatever this is. The whole thing stinks. Why is there an entire team with two capes looking for an escaped zoo animal? Any why did one of those capes have to be Vigilante? 

You close your eyes and groan. “You didn’t tell me you were working with them.”

“You know each other?” asks Harcourt.

“Just Vigilante.” You sigh and follow them into the video store.

“Hey, asshole,” you say, peering over the desk Vigilante is hidden behind. He looks up at you and props his masked head up on his arm casually as if you didn’t just see him throw himself there a second ago.

“Oh, hey!” he says, feigning pleasant surprise.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I hurt my pinky toe.”

“Yeah? Which one?” You walk around the desk and stand at his feet to get a better look.

“Nononono! Wait!”

You clock the way his visor-covered eyes dart down to his right foot in panic. 

“Woah, did you think I was gonna kick you or something?” Sure, you have beef but you’re kind of offended he’d think that you’d harm him on purpose.

“No…” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Asshole.” You roll your eyes and sit on the hard wooden surface, turning away from him to face the team.

“Who the fuck is this?” Peacemaker asks Murn before looking between you and Vigilante. “Do you two know each other or something?”

You don’t deign to reply.

There’s a squeak of a chair being dragged on linoleum as Vigilante pulls himself up onto a seat next to Peacemaker with a wince.

“Economos says you want to join the team,” says Murn. 

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I know everything that goes on in Evergreen.”

“And?”

“I have information and skills that I want money for. Obviously.”

“How much?”

You were talking about splitting the reward for the gorilla but Murn’s expectant look makes it clear this is a contract. What’s that saying again? A contract in the hand is worth a gorilla in the bush? … Something like that.

“Well, what are you paying him?” You cast your eyes at Vigilante who shrugs. Unbelievable. “They’re not paying you? Idiot.”

Murn and Harcourt glance at each other awkwardly. “This is strictly off the books,” says Murn.

“So you were just going to take advantage of him? No way. I want my pay backdated for all the intell I’ve found for you. And his too for whatever it is he’s doing for you.”

“How do you guys know each other?” asks John, pulling up a chair behind his laptop.

You look at Vigilante warningly and answer before he can open his fat mouth. “I’ve sent some work his way once or twice. And compensated him fairly for it,” you add pointedly.

“Oh, they’ve definitely fucked,” laughs Peacemaker.

“Shouldn’t you be in Belle Reve?” You glare at him.

Peacemaker ignores the question. “Did he keep the mask on with you too?” He pouts faux-sympathetically.

This catches you off-guard. Not Vigilante and Peacemaker fucking - Vigilante is so obsessed with him that you guessed it was only a matter of time.

But he did keep his mask on.

Vigilante groans and leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and staring determinedly at his injured foot.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Enough!” Murn gives Peacemaker a severe look before turning his attention back to you. “John says you know the location of what we’re looking for.”

“I’m not telling you until you get me up to speed with what you’ve got so far. John wouldn’t tell me shit online. Call it a show of good faith.”

“And we’re supposed to just take your word that you actually have useful information?” asks Adebayo.

John opens his mouth to reply but Vigilante beats him to the punch.

“She knows,” says Vigilante, finally looking up. “She’s… she’s a good PI. If she says she knows, she knows.”

“Well, we can’t divulge state secrets just because Vigilante vouches for you. Tell us the ‘where’ and if it checks out - you’re in,” says Harcourt.

You look around at this unlikely group. If you want to catch the gorilla you need their help. You need their weapons. You need their money.

“It’s at the Glan Tai bottling plant. You heard of it?”

“Pulling it up now…” John types on his keyboard. “It makes sense, Murn. They’ve got the production, the distribution channels… This is probably it.”

Distribution channels? What’s the gorilla at Glan Tai got to do with distribution? 

You keep your face neutral - if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this job, it’s when to sit back, shut up and listen.

You try to piece things together as Murn talks about ‘butterflies’ and their ‘food source’. Economos checks highway CCTV footage and confirms that your intel is correct. This is extremely lucky for you because you’re clearly talking about two entirely different things. You wonder if these ‘butterflies’ are some kind of parasite-induced sleeper agent. And maybe the food source is a drug to release them from their fugue state?

“...And the gorilla?” you ask eventually.

“What about the gorilla?” asks Harcourt.

“The gorilla is at Glan Tai.”

“There’s a Butterfly gorilla?” asks Vigilante excitedly. “That is so cool!”

“Is that even possible?” Harcourt asks Murn who nods.

You’ve seen some shit but a gorilla sleeper agent takes the fucking cake. They all seem totally unfazed so you pretend to be too.

“So, what’s our next move? When do we start killing these aliens?” asks Peacemaker.

Aliens.

You discreetly scan the others. Nobody else bats an eyelid at Peacemaker’s use of that word. 

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

“You two get some rest, come back tonight,” says Murn to Peacemaker and Vigilante. “And you - you’ve got evidence of what we’re doing here?” There’s no point in lying so you nod. “Bring it back here so we can destroy it. All of it.”

You, Peacemaker and Vigilante, leave the video store. You cross the street to get to your car but Vigilante calls your name. You turn around to see him hurriedly limping over while Peacemaker climbs into the Vigilantemobile.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re part of the team now.”

“I can’t return the sentiment.” You scowl at him. Peacemaker beeps the horn of Vigilante’s car. “You’d better hurry up - you don’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.”

“We’re not in a relationship. You know I only wanted to be with-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“C’mon, can’t you at least tell me why you stopped answering my calls?”

“I already told you - I’m not going to wait around my entire life for a guy who won’t even show me his face. Or tell me his real name.”

“I can’t -”

“Save your excuses for someone who gives a shit.” Peacemaker blasts the horn again. “At least I know you keep the mask on when you fuck him too. It’s not like he’s seen your face.”

Vigilante’s visor-covered eyes avoid contact with yours. His hesitation is like a punch in the gut. 

“He’s seen your face?” You don’t mean to whisper it. The words just spill from your lips like you’ve been winded.

“Not like that. That was just a meaningless threesome-”

“But he’s seen it?”

He nods.

You push him aside to throw your car door open and get in. “Fuck you, V.” You slam it shut and drive away, not even bothering to glance at him standing haplessly in your rearview mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, you and John cross-check your intel. It’s becoming clear that this is way out of your fucking league. But if Vigilante can do it, you can too.

Right?

“You want some peanut M&Ms?”.

He accepts a handful gladly. “Why is so much of this about the fucking gorilla?” John asks with his mouth full, looking over your shoulder at your laptop screen.

The necessity of any quick thinking on your part is interrupted when you hear Murn’s voice ringing from the back office.

“You told Vigilante to kill Peacemaker's father?!” 

You and John drop what you’re doing and peer tentatively around the door of the office where Murn is berating Adebayo.

“I didn't tell him to… I just kinda put the idea in his head,” she explains.

“That Peacemaker would be better off without his father?”

Oh no.

“Where’s Vigilante?” you ask suspiciously, joining Murn as he stands with his arms crossed. He looks furious.

“He’s in jail,” mumbles Adebayo. “I might have suggested that if someone were to go in and kill Peacemaker’s dad, all our problems would go away.”

You run your hands through your hair.

“How could you manipulate him like that?” Your combat boots squeak on the floor as you pace across it, catastrophising aloud. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Vigilante is very fucking easy to manipulate. And he has a record. What if he kills someone in prison and gets locked up for life? Or what if he gets himself killed trying?”

“Peacemaker’s gonna see right through this. He’ll know exactly what you tried to do,” says Murn to Adebyo sternly.

They’re fucking crazy. 

“Who gives a shit about Peacemaker? Vigilante is locked in jail with the White Dragon!” You plead urgently. Vigilante is in real danger and all they care about is Peacemaker’s feelings.

“Economos, can you get Vigilante out of the system before he screws us worse than we're already screwed?”

John sighs. “I don’t even know this guy’s name.”

The four of them look at you.

You cross your arms. “I can’t tell you his name.”

“Guess he’s gonna die in prison then -”

“Last name Chase. First name Adrian.” You blurt out his secret that you’ve been holding deep in your chest. “But you can’t tell him I told you. He doesn’t know I know.”

You crowd around John’s laptop as he pulls up Adrian’s file. 

“We shouldn’t be looking at this,” you say as you stare intently at his mugshot - the mugshot you’re so well acquainted with. You’d rather die than admit how many hours you’ve spent sitting at your desk late at night, looking at his police record on your laptop.

And suddenly, it’s like you’re back in bed with him, as he stares breathlessly at the ceiling and you lie there naked on top of his bare chest, looking into his masked face, picturing that very same mugshot underneath it.

“Guess again,” Vigilante says. You can tell even under the mask that he’s grinning, enjoying your questioning.

“Hmm… are you a doctor? You’ve stitched yourself up a lot.”

“You think I’m a doctor and live here?”

Vigilante watches as you make a show of pursing your lips thoughtfully. The warm afternoon sun streaks through the gaps in his blinds onto his bed. It makes it look like there’s a golden halo around your messy bed hair. He tucks a small strand behind your ear as you walk your index and middle fingers along his chest and down his shoulder. 

“Maybe a fireman with these big strong arms?”

He likes you when you let your walls down like this. You’re almost downright playful when he’s satisfied you - a personality trait he still hasn’t extricated from you outside these four walls.

“Man, I am so good at this secret identity thing if I can keep it a secret from a PI.”

You laugh. “I guess so.”

He didn’t know that you had long known his real job. And his real name. Or that you’d trace your fingers over his face on your laptop screen as you tried to reconcile it with the masked killer who was content to let you into his bed but never his real life.

“Wasn’t he our busboy at Fennel Fields?” Adebayo’s question snaps you back to the present. 

“Can you pull him out?” You ask John.

“It’s… done.” He says, with a final click of his keyboard. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. Yet.” 

Harcourt shrugs her leather jacket on. “I’ll pick him up.”

Great - first he reveals to Peacemaker who he is and now Harcourt who he’s known for a hot minute is about to see his face too. 

You frown. “He’s gonna be really upset we know his identity.” 

“You wanna come and soften the blow?”

“I’ll drive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harcourt sits in the passenger seat of your car outside of the Evergreen Police Department. You’ve been sitting here quietly in the dark, staring at the front doors for almost an hour.

“So what’s your deal with Vigilante?” She asks, finally breaking the silence.

“I told you - I threw some contract work his way. Used him as a bodyguard from time to time when I needed the extra muscle.”

“And then what? Why did you call him an asshole?”

“Because he can be an asshole.” 

“That doesn’t sound right. A psychopath maybe. But an asshole? I don’t buy it.”

You keep your eyes focused on the police station door to hide your face. “He doesn’t mean to be an asshole.” You swallow with difficulty. “He just has a code. Lots of quirky little rules he has to follow that makes it difficult for someone ordinary like me to be - I mean, to work with him.”

“Like not revealing his secret identity.”

It’s not a question but you nod all the same.

“So this is your first time seeing him without his mask?”

“That he knows of.” Your forehead touches the cool glass window. It’s like if you stare hard enough at the door he’ll appear in one piece. “I had to do my background checks.”

The doors open and you see Adrian Chase in his cardigan and jeans walking out into the dark night, illuminated by the fluorescent streetlights.

He’s alive.

You roll down your window and he stops dead. He stares at you in shock with his lips parted slightly - unsure whether you recognise him or not.

Harcourt stretches across your seat and calls to Adrian. “We’re here to take you home. Get in.”

When he climbs into the back seat of your car you both turn in your seats. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing him up close - physically he’s unscathed.

“He’s still alive…” He says. “I’m Adrian.”

“Okay,” Harcourt says simply.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” you tell him.

He looks up at both of you sadly over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I think I might have made things worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After you drop Harcourt off at her motel, Adrian gets into the passenger seat. You let him give directions to his apartment, even though you already know where he lives.

“This is me,” he says when you pull up to his building and park in the spot you’ve parked in on countless occasions.

“I know.”

“Right. Yeah, you’ve been here.”

“A couple of times, yeah…”

His stupid code. You could know where he lives but never see his face. And now you can’t stop yourself from drinking him in - his slightly stubbly chin from his day spent in prison, the way his curly hair is all messed up. He groans heavily and leans his head back against the headrest. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“The guys know how you ended up in jail - they don’t blame you.” He doesn’t say anything. You search his face as he stares gloomily ahead. “What happened in there, V?” you ask.

“I tried to provoke Peacemaker’s dad into a fight. It worked at first - the Aryans took the bait but his dad saw right through it. I think I’ve fucked up the whole mission.”

So Vigilante went into a viper pit unarmed and provoked a bunch of nazis into fighting him.

Deep down, you know it’s fucked up to be attracted to someone capable of such violence but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s what drew you to him in the first place. You knew about the headlines before you met him. And the idea of him taking on a dangerous prison gang really shouldn’t make your heart pound the way it is right now.

You take a deep, steadying breath. “You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

You’ve never touched his hair before but you want to stroke it and comfort him. Tell him that it wasn’t his fault and it’ll all be okay. But he interrupts your train of thought before you can reach your hand out. 

“I meant I’m sorry about us.”

Why is your first instinct to tell him that it’s no big deal that he broke your heart? Stupidly, you want to protect him from it - from the hurt he caused you. Comfort him, put his feelings before your own just because you can tell that right now he needs it.

But it is a big deal. 

As soon as you remind yourself he couldn’t trust you enough to let you in, it feels like your heart is shattering all over again, mourning what you could have had.

Trust.

“I told the team your name so they could bail you out,” you admit, desperate to get the fact that you betrayed him off your chest. “I was worried about you locked up in there.”

He turns his head to look at you properly for the first time all night. The streetlights are reflected in his dorky little glasses.

“You knew my name?” He doesn’t look betrayed - he just looks surprised. “How…?”

You lift your finger from the steering wheel to point at his apartment. “Anyone with your address could find out who you are. And your full name appears on my checking account when you cash the checks I write you.”

“So you know… everything?”

“Yup.”

His eyebrows knit together in a plea. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to want me to know.”

“Knowing my secret identity would put you at risk.”

“That bullshit and you know it, V. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Yeah you do - that’s why you had me come with you on jobs.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Then why did you hire me?”

“I was curious about the man behind the headlines, I guess. Then I nearly went broke trying to spend time with you. Do you honestly think I wanted to give you a cut of my contracts for months? ”

He presses his palms into his eyes, pushing his glasses up out of the way and trying to make sense of it all.

“So those jobs were just you finding a reason to hang out?” He drags his hands down his face.

“Well, not at first. But then we started sleeping together after jobs and I wanted to keep doing that.”

“I would’ve wanted to be with you even without those jobs.”

“Oh yeah? You’d have taken me out on a date as Vigilante?” He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again - as if reconsidering whatever he was about to say. “After all that time you still didn’t trust me enough to take off your mask. The last time we saw each other I practically begged you to show me who you are. Then Peacemaker comes back in town and you - what? Just rip off your mask and spill the beans without a second thought?”

“I was being tortured by Goff-”

“The senator tortured you?”

“Well, the Butterfly who had taken over his body. But yeah. He - I mean she - ripped off my mask and tried to cut off my pinky toe. Peacemaker was just there.”

You feel sick thinking about him being tortured. Then you feel sick about feeling sick. It’s not just normal empathy. You want revenge. But you know you shouldn’t care this much. Not when you’ve been broken up for so long.

“Shit, V. That’s horrible.” 

“Besides, if I was gonna show someone my face it would have been you. Not Peacemaker.” He looks at you sadly. “I wish you hadn’t left.” 

“And I wish you had given me a reason to stay, V. I deserved someone who could trust me. And you… you deserved someone you could be yourself with. We couldn’t be that for each other.”

The hurt on your face is plain for him to see - there’s no point trying to hide it. 

“I do trust you. It’s just…” He hesitates. “You’re the only person I know who thought I was cool.”

“Adrian… that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Adrian.

It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that and it makes Adrian’s heart leap. Like the two sides of him have finally met you. After all this time.

“It’s not. Everyone else who knows me as Adrian knows I’m a loser. And I thought if I told you I was a busboy with no friends, you’d think that too.”

“You have friends.”

“Yeah, right.”

“The guys in the video store? They were so worried about you in jail. They like you a lot.” He allows himself a small smile like he doesn’t really believe it. “And I…” You pause. How do you feel about Adrian? “I still think you’re cool.”

“You do?”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you’re actually saying the words he was afraid you’d never say.

“Of course I do. You’re still the masked Vigilante of Evergreen. And I’m just… ordinary.”

He scoffs in amazement. “You’re not ordinary - you’re like the smartest person I know. And you don’t need to hide behind a mask to do your job. 

“I’m not that smart.”

“I mean, you found out more about the butterflies than the US government.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. “Can I tell you something? And you won’t tell the rest of the team?”

“You can tell me anything.” 

“I didn’t know what butterflies were until today.” He looks extremely confused so you press on. “I met John in a dark web chatroom when I was researching the missing gorilla. And I thought you guys were looking for it too.”

He laughs. A merciless side-splitting laugh that doesn’t take your embarrassment into consideration at all. But it shows off his beautiful smile. And when you see it you can’t stop yourself from joining in too. It’s so ridiculous. You wanted to find the gorilla, and maybe get your PI business mentioned again in the local paper. Now you’ve been roped into saving the world with a black ops team and Vigilante.

You both try to regain your composure and stare at each other, catching your breath. He shakes his head, grinning.

Christ, look at him.

“I sometimes wondered if you wouldn’t remove your mask because you were just a bad kisser. I mean, I saw your mugshot so I already knew you were pretty.” You can’t help but tell him. You know the grainy photo on his record like the back of your hand but in person, he’s frankly gorgeous. 

“Thanks, I know.”

You laugh again. “And modest.”

“You think I fund being Vigilante on a busboy salary? I get a lot of tips.”

“It all makes sense now. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Because she didn’t want to wait around for an idiot who wouldn’t even kiss her.”

You stare at each other in the shadowy silence for a few moments. 

“It’s late, we should both get some rest.”

“Wait, don’t go.” His hand touches your thigh and it feels like there’s an electric current buzzing between his hand and the fabric of your jeans. The atmosphere almost crackles, like lighting about to strike in the middle of a storm. It’s the first time he’s touched you since you walked out on him six months ago and never went back. “It’s super late, you should crash at mine.”

“If I come upstairs we both know what’s going to happen.”

He tilts his head and you watch dimples form as the corners of his mouth turn into a mischievous smile. “That’s kind of the idea.”

“A bad one. We need to work together.”

“When has fucking ever stopped us from completing a job?”

“It hasn’t. But when we stopped seeing each other… I was really cut up. I couldn’t concentrate on work for a while. It’s why I needed the reward for the gorilla so badly.”

“Then we just won’t stop this time.”

“Adrian… I’ve only just pulled myself together again. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do.”

He removes his hand from your leg to unclip his seatbelt. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Adrian gives you an apologetic look. 

You stare at his lips. They’re just there. His whole face is out in the open. And now his lips, and the rest of him, are about to leave your car and you never know when you’ll see him unmasked again. He opens the car door.

“Wait -”

He turns back around in his seat.

“Let me find out if you’re a bad kisser. At least I can tell myself I’m not missing out on anything if you are.”

“You’re gonna be so mad…” He cups your face and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m a really good kisser.”

You smile and his lips meet yours. 

It’s nothing like you imagined.

When you had sex it always felt urgent, even dangerous, getting into bed with a masked cape who was wanted for murder. More often than not he fucked you from behind, tugged fistfuls of your hair and slapped your ass. 

But his kisses… his kisses are soft and slow. And good.

You’re totally screwed.

He sucks your lip gently and then his tongue traces across yours. You urge yourself forward in the driver’s seat closer to him, bringing your hand up to cradle the nape of his neck and lace your hand in his soft hair.

Warmth spreads in your chest when he deepens the kiss. You secretly hoped he’d be like this when he was unmasked. Your hot and rough encounters were always fun but in your heart you always wanted him to want you like this. Deeply. Reverently. 

You break apart and press your forehead against his with your eyes closed, feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks.

You open your eyes to see his green ones searching yours from behind his glasses. He lets out a long, happy exhale when he hears your seatbelt unclick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrian’s bedroom is neat, clean, with framed vintage comic books on his walls and illuminated by a lava lamp on his bedside table. Details you remember from previous visits but barely register this time as you both burst through his bedroom door while he kisses you. Refusing to take his hands from your body, he kicks the door shut behind him forgetting about his injured foot. He regrets it immediately.

“Fuck!” He pulls away and winces.

“Careful,” you soothe, shrugging your jacket off onto the floor and he lifts your shirt off. As soon as your skin is uncovered his mouth finds it. He drags his tongue across your collarbones and between your breasts, nudging the cup of your bra aside so he can find your nipple.

His warm mouth feels almost too good to be true as he sucks on the hard, pebbled skin and moves on to taste every inch of your exposed chest, his deft hands unhooking your bra and tossing it aside quickly. 

The entire day could have been a crazy fever dream. You’ve gone from your heart sinking at the very sight of him to it fluttering like crazy as you lie back on his mattress so he can pull your jeans and underwear off.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, sinking to his knees between your legs at the edge of the bed.

Even though you’re completely naked on his bed while he’s still dressed, you somehow feel less on display than he is right now without his mask. It feels taboo watching his jaw muscles tighten as he works his mouth all over your inner thighs. There’s something so controlled about the way he meticulously kisses the sensitive skin at the crux of your thigh that makes your lip quiver. 

You’ve spent enough time around his quick reflexes to know Vigilante is going to be skilled at eating you out but sometimes, especially in the depths of your despair during your breakup, there was a niggling inkling at the back of your mind that the mask might just be a convenient excuse not to. 

You had suspected, or maybe even hoped, when you hooked up that he had come really, really close to rolling up the bottom half of his mask and tasting you. More than once, you had caught a fleeting glimpse of him at odds with himself, his eyes behind his visor staring at your pussy and his neck muscles contracting as he swallowed thickly, strengthening his resolve and deciding to protect his own identity instead.

But tonight - finally - his tongue slides between your folds and you let out a low whine when the furnace-hot heat of his mouth besets itself over your clit.

Adrian groans when he tastes your arousal flooding his mouth. His hands cup under your ass as he pulls himself closer. You dare yourself to run your hand through his hair again, your fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. It still feels like it shouldn’t be allowed but he doesn’t seem to mind at all as his lips suck on your swollen clit.

“Fuck, Adrian…” His real name still sounds foreign on your lips, like you have to make a conscious effort to say it. 

Adrian looks up at you over his glasses, his pupils wide in the dim violet light of the lava-lamp-lit room. He takes in your glowing face and chest as you lie propped up on your elbows, enjoying the sight of him on the floor between your legs.

His fingers knead the soft, pillowy flesh of your ass like he doesn’t want to let you go anywhere ever again. And you don’t want to. Fuck the mission. Can’t you just stay here forever? In Adrian’s bedroom, panting while his tongue runs firm circles over your clit.

When you roll your hips in encouragement, he lets out a soft little moan sending vibrations over the bundle of nerves - it almost makes you dissolve right there and then. 

“I can’t believe I let you… fuck - let you get away with not doing this before,” you whimper. “So - s’fucking good, V.”

“Adrian,” he says and the tiniest absence of friction when his tongue leaves your clit makes your fingers tighten in his hair, urging him to return to your aching pussy.

“Adrianadrianadrian,” you babble, scared that his lips will leave you again. No more V. No more Vigilante. Just Adrian. Here. Eating your pussy like it’s you who’d been depriving him of this for months on end. Pleasure rises deep in your core like the tide getting ready to crash against the cliff face.

Your brain becomes fuzzy as increasingly desperate noises escape your throat - something strangled between a whine and his name. You squirm against his tongue as he relentlessly continues, determined to draw from you the orgasm that you’ve been desperate for since he kissed you in the car and you realised his mouth would feel like heaven.

The pressure of his tongue against your soaking wet pussy makes you writhe in exhilaration. You barely notice his fingers digging harder into your skin as you arch your spine and throw your head back.

Your thigh muscles tense and relax, trembling on either side of his face. “Adrian, I’m gonna - gonna cum…”

Instead of responding, he sinks two fingers deep inside your cunt, giving you something to squeeze around as every muscle in your pelvis tightens. He curls his fingers slightly and it’s just enough to push you over the fucking edge.

The purplish glow of the room turns blinding white as waves, hot and wet, break over you and your body floods with ecstasy. Your whole lower body stiffens as your walls clench around his fingers and you grind your pussy against his mouth.

Fuck, you’ve been missing out. You haven’t been with anyone else the entire time you’ve been apart and it’s like your body has been crying for exactly this moment without you realising how much you needed it. Needed his mouth on you.

The room comes into focus again gradually as Adrian gives you a last few slow, gentle kisses before sliding his fingers out of your still-twitching centre.

You breathe heavily and look at him kneeling on the floor.

He looks stupidly pleased with himself, the corner of his wet, glistening mouth upturned in a self-congratulatory smile at the way he’s taken you apart piece by piece. You can’t help but giggle from endorphins buzzing through your body. It makes your abdomen hurt from all the tensing you were doing. 

Adrian slaps the side of your ass and gets to his feet, undoing his belt buckle. “C’mon, bend over,” he grins.

You sit up, shake your head and smile. “Nuh-uh, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He blinks a couple of times dazedly. “Did you forget about your mask for a second?”

Adrian clears his throat. “Uh...No?”

He so did.

“C’mere.” You hook your fingers through his belt loops and pull him closer. You kiss the light trail of hair covering his hard abdomen while your fingers work to undo his jeans and pull them down to release him from the confines of his boxers.

God, you missed it. He has a pretty face alright but his cock is fucking perfect.

Your cheeks grow hot feeling him so close. You grip his hard length and draw your tongue across the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum. 

“Take your top off,” you say, looking up at him before running your tongue along his shaft, keeping eye contact.

He grips the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off over his head. Seeing him in the purple glow, every contour of his sculpted abdomen illuminated sends burning heat to your pelvis. You never thought you were into muscular guys, not until you saw Vigilante take his suit off for the first time. Now you’re not sure if you could go back to anything else. Anyone else. 

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock but he interrupts you.

“I need to fuck you. Please.”

At this point, you’re so turned on it’s an offer you can’t refuse. You release him and scoot back on the bed. He goes to crawl on top of you but flinches when his injured foot meets the mattress.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to - ah fuck.”

“It’s okay. Here, lie down. Let me go on top.”

He does so with relief and you swing your leg over his thighs.

“Better?” 

“Fuck yeah,” he says, looking at your naked figure sitting on top of him.

You reach into his bedside drawer where you know he keeps his condoms. Your fingers skirt over what you suspect are bags of candy until you find the corrugated square shape you’re looking for. You take it out and roll the condom on him.

“Okay, easy,” you say, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. He throbs under the grip of your hand in anticipation. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“You were totally cool with me over-exerting myself on the floor a second ago.”

“I was talking to myself,” you smirk. “It’s been a while.”

You ease yourself down onto his cock, feeling the beautiful stretch as you adjust to his size. 

“Shit…” he breathes, clamping his hands down hard on your hips, forcing you to bottom out. His eyebrows knit together and he sighs through parted lips, feeling the way your walls stretch around him. He looks so beautiful - you can’t stop looking at his lips.

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head so you can lean down and kiss him. The taste of your juices registers on your tongue as his enters your mouth. You deepen the kiss and Adrian responds by jerking his hips up needily, pressing into your g-spot.

You moan and suck on his bottom lip, gently rolling it between your teeth as he pushes into the most sensitive part of your centre. Searing heat burns low in your belly, spreading to your thighs. You push yourself back up to ride him and grab his wrists, dragging them from your waist to grope at your chest.

“Fuck, you look so hot riding my dick.”

“Yeah? Rose-tinted visor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

You’re teasing him but it seems to spur him on, as he squeezes your tits and jerks up into your bouncing hips. Every wet slap that meets your ears only increases your neediness for him. It burns brightly in your core, making you wetter and even more desperate for your next orgasm.

Every roll of your body sends his cock plunging into you, pushing against you at the perfect angle. God, he feels incredible. Your walls start to convulse around him, clamping down and gripping his cock as your second climax rears its head.

“Adrian, fuck, I’m close…” you plead, frantically chasing your high, wildly gyrating and bouncing in time with his thrusts.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“No, say my name,” he says, through gritted teeth, his neck muscles tightening in the soft light. 

His neck.

“Fuck, Adrian.” You lunge forward and bite on his neck. He grabs handfuls of your ass, anchoring himself into you as he thrusts savagely upwards sending pleasure rocketing through you. Fuck he’s deep. So fucking deep.

His name leaves your lips over and over, broken and ragged as every jerk of his hip knocks the air out of your lungs. Bliss ignites and your cry of pleasure is muffled as you moan and run your tongue over his neck, smelling his aftershave mixed with his musky sweat. An explosion, more fierce than any grenade blast bursts through your centre as he pummels his cock with unparalleled force and precision, even as you squirm and shake, unable to keep moving your own hips in time with his.

With every ounce of strength you have you lean up on your arms to look at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and his facial muscles contort as he sucks through his teeth.

“Cum for me, Adrian,” you murmur sweetly in his ear and he opens his eyes, giving you a terminally helpless look as he slams his hips into your hot, wet cunt and you squeeze around him as tight as you can. With a final thrust, you feel his thighs tighten and his cock pulsing inside you as he cums.

You flatten your body back on top of his - the warm, damp sweat between your chests feels strangely pleasant. His fingers trace circles up your spine, gently tickling your back. Adrian turns his head to kiss you and you both lie for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours.

After what feels like a long time of lying in quiet elation, you make yourself climb carefully off of him and roll over, resting back on his pillows.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he says and you lie back watching him dispose of the condom, taking care not to put any pressure on his bandaged toe. He launches himself back on the bed with a thud making you bounce on the mattress. “Good, you’re still here,” he says, leaning on his elbow and looking down at you.

“Where else would I be?” you laugh.

“Well… you usually leave right after. Except that one time I accidentally bought peanut M&Ms.”

You look at him apologetically. In fairness, the mask was hardly an invitation to spend the night - what was he going to do? Sleep in it? “Do you have peanut M&Ms?”

He nods to his bedside drawer and you open it to see that it’s stuffed with the little yellow bags.

“You like peanut M&Ms now?”

He pulls a face. “No way dude, they’re so gross.”

“Then why…?”

“I guess I always hoped you might change your mind and come back. So I bought them whenever I thought about you.”

You look at the drawer - there’s practically enough that Adrian could have made a trail of peanut M&Ms from your apartment across town to his. “You would have made a really sweet boyfriend,” you sigh.

“Well, I mean… I still could,” he says in a would-be nonchalant type of way, pushing up his glasses with his finger and avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah?” You weren’t sure if he’d be open to picking up where you left off. But it feels right when it didn’t before. Now you know him. Really know him. 

He pulls his eyes up and meets your gaze with a smile. “If you want me to?”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“Sweet,” he says with a wide smile, not bothering to hide how giddy he is.

You open the packet. “For the record, I’m not just staying because of the M&Ms this time.”

“I know.”

“And I’m glad you’re on the team.”

He nods happily, watching you pop a few into your mouth. “Hashtag me too.”

[roanofarcc]

MIDSUMMERS FIGHT CLUB

PAIRING: JJ Maybank X fem!reader

SUMMARY: In what may be considered a lapse in judgment, you help JJ out in an unfair fight that breaks out during Midsummers.  

WARNINGS: Doesn’t follow the scene to a T. Canon violence, kook!reader, a curse or two. 

master list | requests are open!

A/n: Every time I plan a short & sweet fic, it ends up being over 1k words. I, apparently, do not know how to be brief.

Midsummers was supposed to be the party of the summer. You attended every year and often looked forward to it, but you were incredibly bored. The bar was guarded by the country club owner to prevent underage kids from getting drunk and puking in the pool, again. That meant the only way to get drinks was by sweet-talking Rafe or Topper, and you’d rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do that. 

You were sober, the weather was too humid, the venue smelled like overpriced perfume, and all of your friends were too busy macking on their dates to spare you a glance. In a desperate attempt to entertain yourself and not get roped into another conversation with your mother, father, and their boring friends, you wandered inside the club in search of some form of entertainment. 

Much to your surprise, you didn’t have to look long. You were only inside for a couple of minutes, debating if you could sneak some champagne from the kitchen, when someone barreled into you, sending you both crashing against the ground. 

An impressive string of curse words came from the person who ran you over. It took you a moment to regain your barrings, but when you did, a somewhat familiar face was standing above you. JJ Maybank, a well-known Pouge for not many great reasons. Yet, he looked frantic and apologetic as he held out his hand. 

“Sorry,” he said in a rushed breath before his head snapped behind him. The sound of footsteps echoed from down the hall. “Shit,” JJ hissed under his breath as he looked past you and down the rest of the hallway corridor as he helped you up.

Topper, Rafe, and the rest of their buddies came into view, faces pinched in anger. JJ’s eyes widened as he dropped your hand and took off as the boys followed. 

You contemplated getting involved, knowing it was none of your business. But you were equal parts bored, curious, and a little concerned as to what those boys were going to do to each other. You had no reason to care about any of them, but from what little you knew about JJ’s reputation along with Rafe and his friends’ temper, you felt that walking away was a little cowardly. The thought of a fight made you nervous, even if it didn’t concern you whatsoever. 

So, you followed them, albeit a bit regrettably, into the boys’ locker room. When you arrived, though it had to have been less than a minute since they had passed you, JJ was in a headlock, Topper’s arm hooked around his throat while JJ struggled. 

Maybe you were a bit sheltered, having never witnessed a fight up close before. You’d been at parties where they’d broken out, but they were either in another room or you and your friends fled before the cops were called. You stood wide-eyed for a moment until they saw you introducing. 

“Beat it, princess,” Rafe spat, his tone mocking in the same way it always was. 

You rolled your eyes. “What are you doing?” you asked. Kooks and Pouges didn’t get along, but by the look on their faces, they were engaged in something larger than mere dislike.��

“None of your business,” Topper replied, squeezing his arm tighter around JJ. The boy was nearly turning blue. You surged forward, not exactly sure what you planned to do. 

Rafe stopped you, blocking your path before he mustered a fake smile. “This is sort of personal business between us and this Pouge, okay? You don’t wanna get involved.” It almost sounded like a threat, but while Rafe was the problem child of the Camerons, you weren’t particularly intimated by him in his polo and khaki shorts. He looked like every other douchey teen at the country club. 

JJ managed to wriggle free from Topper, stumbling backward with ragged breaths. You sidestepped Rafe and managed to get in between JJ and Topper before the latter could lurch forward. “Serious, Topper, what is your problem? Since when do you pick fights?” 

“Since Sarah started hanging out John B.,” one of the other boys answered, looking a little amused at the whole situation, but he shrugged when Topper sent him a glare. Unlike Rafe, Topper was more well-rounded, less likely to fly off the handle from what you'd seen and heard.

“It’s none of your business,” Topper said, his face showing how hard he was trying to quell his anger. “Get out of my way.” 

You pursed your lips as if you were in deep thought. “Or what?”

Topper said nothing; he pressed his lips in a thin line, unsure of what exactly his next move was. Rafe, however, was not as contemplative when it came to his actions, he was rash and grabbed your shoulders roughly before shoving you to the side. You stumbled, nearly toppling over but you caught yourself on one of the benches that lined the middle of the locker room. 

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” JJ’s voice filled the air as he caught his breath. He stepped up to Rafe, his face littered with cuts and bruises. They didn’t look like fresh wounds, but you wondered if they were gained in another fight with Rafe and Topper, which prompted the outburst in the locker room. “Come on, guys. We don’t need to get the lady involved.” 

You wanted to laugh at being called a lady, and maybe if Rafe didn’t look ready to try to choke the life out of JJ, you would have. He caught JJ by the fabric of his white button-down and threw him up against a wall of lockers, pinning him there while Topper got close beside Rafe, in JJ’s face. 

“Those are some nasty cuts on your face,” Rafe said, almost tauntingly. You stood upright, eyes flickered back and forth between the boys on one side of the room doing nothing to help or call off their friends, and the trio up against the lockers. “You’re starting to look more and more like your old man.” 

You were buzzing with adrenaline, pissed off that Rafe had the gull to shove you. In a quick motion, you pulled off your heavy wedged heel before bringing it down against the back of Rafe’s head. It was hard enough to get him off of JJ, but not enough to send him to the floor. Topper backed up as you raised your heel at him in a warning. 

A laugh fell from JJ’s lips looking a little bewildered. “Holy shit,” he said. 

Rafe’s face was red hot with anger. Topper placed a hand on his shoulder in a lame attempt to get him to back off and return to the party before things escalated, but Rafe lurched forward towards you. You had a feeling he held more than just the intention to shove you out of the way. 

You were unbalanced in one shoe but raised your heel in meek defensive against what you thought would be direct assault, but JJ moved in front of you, earning himself another blow from Rafe that nearly knocked both of them to the ground. Rafe raised his fist to punch, you tightened your grip on the shoe to hit him again, and JJ braced himself, but all of it was quickly put to a stop.

A voice bellowed from the entrance of the locker room. “What is going on in here?!” A security guard asked, jaw tight and stern. You recognized him from other country club events. 

Rafe backed off, as did JJ. Everyone tried their best to make themselves look like nothing that would get them kicked out of the party was occurring. 

JJ started talking, some boisterous declaration that he was the one not supposed to be there and needed to be escorted out. It was a smart move. 

The security guard started to lead him out, and you followed close behind, not wanting to be left with Rafe, Topper, and their useless friends. 

JJ turned around with a smug look on his face. “You Powerpuff girls have a great rest of your night!” 

Topper glared harshly. “Tell Kie she looks pretty hot for a Pouge.” 

Despite the security guard’s grip on JJ’s arm, he yanked himself free and looked ready to throw another punch. But he was caught before he could, the security guard grunting under his breath about ‘goddamn kids.’ You set your jaw and threw your wedge as hard as you could at Topper. He ducked and the shoe hit one of his friends. 

The security guard took a deep breath, and instead of the annoyance he seemed to have for JJ, he must have recognized you from your previous visits. He looked more disappointed than anything but said and did nothing. He tugged JJ along and led the way out of the locker room. 

“For a Kook, you fight like a Pouge,” JJ said. You weren’t sure if that was a compliment, but you decided to take it as one. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to throw something at Rafe.” 

He laughed lightly, catching your eye with a shake of his head. His blond hair fell against his forehead, covering up the cut above his brow. There was a light red mark around his neck, but it didn’t seem like Topper held him with enough force to leave too bad of a bruise in the coming days. It still looked like it hurt, though. 

“Remind me to call you next time I get into a fight.” The security guard side-eyed JJ, who offered him a terribly fake innocent smile. “Hypothetically, sir.” The man huffed and continued along the hall. 

“What was their deal anyway? I know they can be assholes but, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like that.” 

“I’m afraid that’s confidential information,” JJ said with a playful smile. “I can’t discuss it; I’m on a top-secret mission tonight. And my job is done. That’s why this good man’s dragging me out of here.” He patted the security guard on the shoulder, and you were worried for a moment the man was going to break it by the glare in his eyes. 

Midsumers were always so serious, people mingling with fear of being judged by each other while they were judging each other. You usually got some break in the company of friends, but they were occupied. You worried that this year’s party would be painfully boring, but you were proven wrong in a matter of minutes. Despite the threat and act of violence, JJ had an infectious upbeat, mischievous attitude. While it felt a little silly, you itched for more. 

The three of you neared the crowd of people outside and JJ slowed his pace just slightly. “Well, I’m almost done. But I am about to make a scene in front of all of these people,” he said. “If I were you, I’d hang back.” His voice but a whisper, but you were pretty sure the security guard heard him because his grip tightened around JJ’s upper arm. 

“Noted,” you replied. “See you around?” It came out as more of a question. 

“Yeah, you will.” 

With that, JJ stumbled out into the crowd of people, loudly talking and stealing drinks from waiters. Guests looked confused while some looked mortified. Three people from the crowd that JJ must’ve known joined him, practically running out from under the pavilion and into the dark night. The teens were all laughing with each other, an endearing sight that probably very few felt beside you. 

Despite your loneliness the rest of the night, your mind of fully occupied by JJ Maybank. 

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: gen cw: drinking (not underage, they're all old enough, it's the future) tags: it's probably the 90s, the older crew, karaoke, holidays, pining eddie munson, steve harrington is full of surprises word count: 967

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "sing"

-

One of the hardest parts about harboring a crush on your best friend was the BEST FRIEND part. Eddie had plenty of crushes in his time. He fell for people easily and hard. There’d even been a long, long list of guys like Steve but they were always more enemies than anything. It was easy to squash the stupid crush when the only thing they did was make Eddie’s life hell. Not in the fun way either.

Steve, on the other hand, was always around. He’d spent months by Eddie’s side as he recovered. Before that, they’d fought actual monsters together. Now they spent most nights together, Eddie had memorized his phone number, and even group hangouts involved Steve nearly every time.

Eddie spent more time with Steve than anyone else in his life and that was actively trying not to. Which meant this stupid fucking crush only got worse. Eddie was one slumber party away from writing Mr. Eddie Harrington all over his notebook or some shit.

Naturally, he did the only thing he could and enlisted his friends to ruin this for him. The boys in Corroded Coffin had been mocking Eddie for his crushes since some of them found out what crushes were. Exactly like good friends should. So it was time to use that to his benefit.

After Gareth got it out of his system that if he had to spend any time with Steve he’d probably have a massive crush on him too, they all agreed. By the new year, Eddie would be over this, they’d ruin the crush and Eddie and Steve could peacefully live their lives as friends. It was perfect.

Gareth and Freak did a great job of mocking everything about Steve. Eddie wasn’t sure what side Jeff was playing though. He’d point out stuff knowing damn well Eddie was already obsessing over it. His jokes almost seemed to encourage Eddie but then he’d mock Eddie for being into the very things he pointed out.

It was starting to work, though. There was this internal monologue running constantly in his friend’s voice. Steve eats his sandwiches weirdly. What kind of idiot trips over nothing? Why’s he always fighting with Dustin?

There had to be a name for this, some kind of psychological trick that Eddie was putting too much stock in. Whatever worked, though. It didn’t need a name, it needed success.

Everything was going great so when the gang wanted to go out and have a few drinks, blow off some steam, and recover from the holidays, Eddie didn’t think anything of it. He was over Steve so what'd it matter?

Jeff was the only Corroded Coffin member able to make it but that was even better. Then Eddie wasn’t dependent upon Steve for entertainment. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Robin, Vickie, Steve, it was a who’s who of old-enough-to-drink members of the crew.

The bar ended up a little too packed with college kids home on break, taking over spots that weren’t theirs. So everyone walked down the street to another. Almost everyone. Jonathan and Argyle opted to go home but getting Byers out at all always felt like a win so no one said anything.

This bar felt more Eddie’s speed, even as he watched a few of the others try not to comment about the sticky table or dusty decorations. After a few drinks, no one was going to care.

What happened after a few drinks was karaoke. Something that started normal enough, the lot of them watching the regulars get up and try to croon some Christmas classic or sing like they were expecting a record deal. Normal stuff.

It didn’t take long before Robin and Vickie were up singing a duet. Steve wasted the pocket change to call and try to get Jonathan and Argyle to come back. Jeff followed suit, though, and called for Gareth and Freak to come down. That Eddie actually wanted to happen.

A very drunk Nancy got up and mumbled her way through Madonna as the rest of them laughed and cheered like she really was the material girl. The regulars were fighting to get the spots in between the rowdy kids who’d crashed the party.

Jeff and Eddie were arguing over which Metallica song to do when Steve walked up. Eddie froze. He’d never needed the rest of his band more. Steve better suck at this.

Rich Girl by Hall and Oates started and Robin whined, cupping her hands to shout at Steve “I thought you were going to do Carly Simon!”

Steve flipped her off and earned a chorus of cheers from their friends.

The song itself didn’t start off spectacular, something closer to talk-singing than really belting it out, but Steve put his own spin on it. The nerves were clear but he had this buttery smooth voice that gained confidence as the song went on.

Thirty seconds in, though, and he hit that “Don’t you know,” with soul he hadn't earned, they were too young to feel anything that hard. Robin and Vickie were on their feet, screaming like he was some Tiger Beat heartthrob who’d worked their name into the song. Eddie, meanwhile, was sinking lower and lower into his seat.

He could handle a lot of things but Steve being musically talented on top of all the other great things about him? It was more than Eddie could bear. He was only human.

Jeff knew and failed at his one task. He could have talked about how awful Hall and Oates were or that Steve was a little pitchy, anything to take some of the power out of this moment. Instead, he gave Eddie a pathetic look and asked “You okay, man?”

“I’m going to marry him one day.”

"I know, buddy. I know."

[decaffeinatedcandycane]

John "Soap" Mactavish aka Johnny, aka Scotland forever

Headcanons

Absolute baby. Loves to pamper himself and be pampered.

High confidence club.

Passionate and spicy boy.

Loves sports, his country, his teammates, his family (even if they don't support him) and eveeything fluffy.

"Look at that spider, LT. Wavin' at me." *goes to touch it* "Johnny, no!"

Casually flirting and getting people flustered.

Thickening his accent when he gets mad, or when he feels mischievous.

And he feels mischievous...a lot.

Prankmaster ft. Roach and Gaz.

Throwing slumber parties for the taskforce and wearing Superman pj's

Gets his nails done with Price. Draws small cigars on his nails without the captain noticing.

Doodles a lot.

If he likes you, you WILL KNOW.

This man does not hide. No. He jumps straight in. Slides into you irl like the slickest mf he is.

Lots of staring, impressing and lurking around. You are almost always in the same room as him.

He tries being subtle, but is staring so intensly you are grateful he doesn't have laser vision.

Crafts bombs out of everything. From military to glitter ones.

Takes on bets, challenges and wins them every time.

Zero bullying policy.

Loves PDA and long kisses.

Dreams of a farm in the countryside.

If he allows you to call him Johnny, you best know that he is practically yours.

Deeply emotional.

Stubborn af.

Bit of a child, not like a man child.

Involved as a partner. Also, respectful of boundaries.

Please, avoid giving Soap too much chocolate or he will bounce off the walls.

Has a LOTS of energy anyway and is always horny. especially for you

Captain Mactavish

headcanons

Don't talk to him before his morning coffee.

Mr. Stealyourgirl

Funniest guy in the room

Confident, passionate and cocky af.

Bit grumpy at times.

Calmer than the sergant. Definitely silent, petty and vengeful anger though. Deadly...

Has a farm on the countryside, but stays in an small apartment in the city most times.

Never married, but would like to have a wife, maybe some kids.

Staring captain.

Enjoys self care and giving Price waffle sticks that looks like cigars.

Has several tattoos and piercings. Not visible when he has his clothes on.

Loves chocolate. Often walk around base munching on a bar.

Is forward with expressing his feelings and will flirt with you at any given moment.

Powe play? If you are into it.

Will spoil you rotten and knock you up as soon as you express desire for babies.

Bit jealous and handsy.

Is a great cock...I mean cook. Hehe *cough* autocorrect

Will teach you how to fight and how to use guns. Non negotiable.

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 3 Part 1

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: The summer brings a new challenge - and a new moral failing, it seems. And while Yoongi certainly seems happy to lurk and wait for his opportunity, Minjoon is quite adamant about solving the tension.

Chapter word count: 21.9k words

Warnings: i mean, not much haha, the mc has like three breakdowns every day, some crime happening, yoongi being a menace

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: okaayyyy, so the first part of the summer chapter is here darlings, and while it is important, it's actually just a bridge to the real shit that's going down in the next chapter haha, so you have that to look forward to! enjoy the read and do let me know what you think! <3

Summer, first year in the force

I sighed, eyes red and watery from staring at my screen for hours already, and clicked on yet another online article about Yoongi’s involvement in some charity event, donating a truckload of money and being hailed as the modern day warrior of justice, scoffing at the ridiculous attempt to hide any links he had to the underworld.

It’s been six days. Six days since I last saw Yoongi, six days since Seungcheol called me panicked that he was last-minute called away to Busan to help with a case related to a possible serial killer they’ve been working on before, therefore he couldn’t make it to our Monday morning debrief, and I’d have to wait for his return or start by myself. Six days since Minjoon left my apartment at 3 AM, both of us guilty yet satisfied. Six days since we spoke properly.

Six days I spent back at my desk, back at square one, and desperately grasping at any straws to take at Hoseok and Jungkook, since I was hesitant to tail them without Yoongi between us as buffer. After all, to them it would be less hassle to kill me without his permission and then grovel to get back into his good graces. I was as expendable as they got.

I tried googling the seven men, but didn’t find anything much interesting. Namjoon won a few gold medals back in high school, so he was probably the kid that always participated in all the competitions. Taehyung was mentioned a few times when he opened new clubs, though there were two very interesting articles about a murder that happened at a seedy bar that fell under him. It went nowhere, but it was interesting to see.

Jimin was mentioned only a few times in fashion related articles when he flitted around fashion shows or partied with models, nothing except for his exceptional charm and charisma mentioned.

Seokjin by the nature of his pedigreed upbringing cropped up quite a few times – mentioned in articles about his family and their legacy, all prestigious successful doctors and lawyers, an old family with ties to old aristocracy. He also won some competitions, archery among them, and he was mentioned in an article about saving a man’s life, but nothing that linked him to anything uncouth.

Jungkook had none. Hoseok had a single one – when his fighting ring was busted and he ended up in a holding cell for three days before getting released, bond paid by Mr. Kim and Mr. Min, back then two unknown names, now giants towering over all of us.

The two that stood at the beginning of it all.

Yoongi himself had a barrage of articles about him, so many in fact that I quickly got tired of going through all of them. Most were from the last few years, when he was already sucking up to the higher class and fighting his way to belong with all the young, spoiled chaebols, who really made the best kind of clientele for him.

There were three articles from when he was about eighteen or so, detailing some petty crimes he got busted for and spent six months in jail, and the only reason he was mentioned at all was purely by association to his boss who was the actual target of the raid.

Except for Namjoon and Seokjin, none of the men were mentioned before they hit adulthood, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was due to the protection of privacy of minors law. When I pulled their records, I hit a few obstacles there as well – all of the reports about juvenile crimes got sealed and courts rarely gave permission to unseal them. So what was happening before then, we could only guess.

That didn’t stop me from my sleuthing though.

I had to remind myself periodically that this wasn’t about Yoongi. No matter how much the man occupied my thoughts, awake or not, night or day, he wasn’t my current target.

So, once again, I went through the information available for Jungkook and Hoseok, this time more diligently, comparing it to things I was already able to deduce.

Both men still had their addresses set to their home cities – Hoseok in Gwangju and Jungkook in Busan. A quick search revealed what no doubt were the houses they were born in and at least to a certain point grew up in, but it quite clearly wasn’t where they resided currently.

Namjoon had a little flat close to the office he spent most of his time in, and Taehyung and Jimin according to the records lived together. Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s addresses were clear. The only address associated with Jungkook was his security company, and Hoseok didn’t even give me that luxury, as elusive as ever.

If I had to guess, Jungkook probably lived with the other two youngsters and Hoseok definitely slept hanging upside down from a cave ceiling like a bat.

Currently my best bet was to stake out Jungkook’s office building and see whether I see him around a suspicious amount.

A movement caught my eye and I looked up from mindlessly scrolling through news reports in time to see Minjoon carefully slinking towards my table, unsure and awkward. I straightened and gave him a polite smile, taking all the wild emotions trying to burst out and stuffing them back into my chest, back into that little closet where they belonged, where they caused no havoc. Right next to Yoongi’s dark eyes, warm form and spicy scent from last Friday.

“Park’s bringing Namjoon in,” Minjoon informed me, keeping his voice steady and matter-of-fact, nodding my way when I thanked him. I had completely missed Park even leaving, too engrossed in my little corner of shame and regrettable choices. To be completely honest, what the rest of the team did in the past few months, unit leader included, I wasn’t too sure about. My tasks ate all of my time and attention, and it was easy to forget that others actually still continued with their jobs as well.

Without thinking I stood up and followed the fellow detective back to his table, leaning on the side that would allow me to keep an eye on the entrance, and tried to pretend I didn’t see how Minjoon looked at me with eyes swirling with hope.

“What is he bringing him in for this time?” I enquired casually, fingers instinctively going to play with the edge of my t-shirt, “I didn’t even know we made enough progress to question him again.”

Minjoon hummed, making it a point to look straight at me with a small smirk, growing more comfortable with each second I spent sitting by his side again. I fought my own amused grin off, but my lips still twitched and his eyes jumped down and back up, grin spreading wider.

“Well, I think it’s more or less the same as last time,” the man finally answered, leaning back into his chair leisurely, “a mix of psychological warfare and an attempt to annoy Yoongi.” I chuckled at that, knowing all too well how that usually went, before promptly freezing, the smile slipping off of my face lightning quick.

Like last time. When I met them for the first time. Already half a year ago, when I was still a nobody that didn’t even talk to anyone in this unit. When Park dragged Namjoon in and in just over two hours Yoongi was storming in to get him. The night I made the first of a long series of bad decisions that led me all the way down here. Yoongi’s going to come here.

“I don’t think he really even has anything, I mean, the informant did bring in some interesting info, but it’s not much,” Minjoon continued happily, “It’s actually annoying how well everything matches up in their finances. We’ve already wasted one warrant and found literally nothing, and the judge is done with our bullshit.”

“What do you mean?” I frowned, never having heard of this before. Minjoon sighed and leaned forward on the table, propping his head on his hand.

“We fucking know that Yoongi’s doing something illegal with his finances, but the fucker manages to make it all look so legit, it’s bulletproof,” the man complained, grimacing with disgust, “we managed to get a warrant to go through his finances after catching him with some other known names in the game, made a whole spectacle of it. We were absolutely sure we were going to bust him for something, but his records were squeaky clean. Namjoon might be a criminal, but he clearly is a genius. The most we found out was that Yoongi drinks dangerous amounts of coffee from a little café near his office.”

I hummed, but my mind was already somewhere else. In the background Minjoon continued grumbling, but I was experiencing something I could only call an epiphany.

Financial records. Of fucking course. The one thing they’ve been focusing on since I came here, I thought I would get around it by doing it more old-school by focusing on the unofficial stuff, but really. What better way to find out what a person does and where they spend most of their time than bank statements?

“Hey Y/N, I was thinking...” Minjoon’s voice filtered back, but I was already pushing myself off of his table, going through my mental catalogue of all the information I had on the Min gang. I turned quickly on my heel, startling the man into silence, and gave him a quick professional smile.

“Sorry Min, I just remembered I needed to look up something for the Moon case, talk to you later?” since I was walking backwards to my table, Minjoon just awkwardly smiled as well, hand abortedly waving in the air in a half wave gesture.

The moment I crashed back into my chair, I was pulling up the database for one Jung Hoseok, scrolling through endless arrest reports, victim statements and court records, painting the whole picture of the kind of violence this man was capable of. I was frantically searching for at least a single confirmation of my assumption – that they all most likely used the same bank.

It took a while, I did have to read through several different court documents outlining violent assaults, but finally I managed to stumble upon a settlement he paid to a guy he beat up in one of Taehyung’s clubs, where bank information was mentioned – and bingo. KEB Hana Bank. The same as Yoongi and Namjoon.

So that now meant I was facing two new problems (awesome) – I would need a warrant I’d never get, and Hana Bank was known for having an impenetrable wall of lawyers and putting them between their clients and anything that could hurt their money, police included. Even with a warrant it would be hard to breach their defences, that’s why rich bastards usually chose them. Client above anything.

If their finances looked as clean and proper as Minjoon said, it’s highly improbable I’d be able to find enough to get that endlessly sought after warrant, plus as was established – someone in the prosecutor's office was paid off by the man. He’d not only get warned, but they’d also most likely shoot any attempts down.

Not even with an esteemed hacker I could get in those statements. Shit. Fuck.

Shamelessly I walked back over to Minjoon’s table, the man curiously looking up as soon as he noticed my absent-minded approach. There was a small smile already playing on his lips and he leaned back, probably very aware of what would come next.

“Minjoon, is there any other way to-“

“Get someone’s bank records without a warrant?” the man jumped in, shocking me into a wide-eyed stare, “Yeah, there is.” He was smirking at me cheekily from his chair, all relaxed into the backrest, eyes beckoning me to continue speaking.

Instead, I playfully narrowed my eyes, a grin tugging at my lips while I dragged over a chair from the neighbouring table and sat down heavily with a thud, putting the backrest to the front and leaning on it. I saw his eyes flick down minutely before he looked back to me, and the air between us crackled.

Shit, there was the tension again.

“What, are you side-hustling in fortune telling?” I teased, leaning forward just slightly, just enough to draw the man’s attention to my lips forming into a smirk. He did look, of course, for a second getting lost to his own thoughts before the topic of the conversation resurfaced in his mind and he looked back to my eyes.

“It wasn’t that hard to guess, given the fact you mentally checked out of the conversation the moment I mentioned that,” the teasing sounded very smug from him, and I could tell he wasn’t done just yet, “it also helped that you were mumbling financial records as you walked away.” I physically felt my face burst into flames, cheeks rapidly getting consumed by red as I spluttered for a moment, not really knowing how to respond.

“Okay, let’s leave that behind for now,” I quickly got out, cutting through the detective’s amused laughter as I attempted to school my features and look my part as a hardened police officer, “So, is there a way?” It took a moment for Minjoon to stop his chuckles, and the several slaps I administered to his shoulder definitely didn’t help, but finally he seemed to give up on this and actually answer.

“Yeah, but you can forget about it,” he said good-naturedly, “you’d have to get their written consent to look.” The way my face fell and I sunk back into seriousness wasn’t lost on the man and he immediately matched my mood, a more sombre expression settling onto his face. His fingers started up a nervous little tapping rhythm at the edge of the table and I watched them for a moment.

I hummed. I had no idea what I was doing. I needed those statements. Everything was so muddled.

Well, clearly I wouldn’t be getting that from Jung fucking Hoseok. So… how does one swindle a swindler?

With a big sigh I stood up. “Thanks Min, I’ll think of how to get that warrant,” I told him dejectedly, pulling my lips down into a frown and patting him on the shoulder. I could almost see Yoongi’s amused proud smirk, and I hated that. The police officer was obviously confused by my sudden mood changes but let me go back to my table with an easy smile, hand squeezing my wrist in reassurement.

I was lying to him.

Fuck. Back here we were. I pushed all the thoughts of Yoongi away, pushed away his teasing voice whispering taunts in my head and sat down back to my computer.

There was no getting a fucking warrant, who was I trying to fucking kid? I had to get that consent off of him, no matter how. And legally, there was no way. So, how does one forge official documents? Time to find out.

The same second I desolately looked to my monitor, the door flew open and Park charged in, a terrible déjà vu gripping me as Namjoon got dragged behind, two officers holding each of his arms and speeding through the office towards the back rooms.

Much like last time, he looked completely unperturbed, like he was just taking a walk through the park, like the officers were nothing more than annoying flies buzzing around him and he was simply mildly inconvenienced, not a hair out of place. But this time, he looked at me and smirked. For a moment I was shocked, a terrible feeling like he knew what I was planning from a single glance gripping me, before I turned away and hid my shame.

I told myself that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how many laws I broke as long as I brought him down, nothing I did could be worse than what they were already doing.

And it did feel more like a lie every time I tried to make myself believe it.

“Are you going to finish that?”

Yoongi’s voice cut through the blankness of my mind and I realised I had been just sitting there and staring dumbly somewhere slightly above his shoulder, fork hanging limply from my hand. There was a really annoying grin on his face as he pointed towards my half-finished pasta, a nervous looking waiter hovering by his side.

Instinctually my fingers tightened around the rim of the bowl and I fastened a polite smile to my face to quickly shake my head at the waiter. He didn’t linger for a second longer, immediately bowing and high-tailing it out of there.

I felt Yoongi’s eyes burning holes into the side of my face as I started shovelling the rest of my food in my mouth. I hated to admit it, but it really was quite delicious.

“I was just thinking about how inappropriately dressed I am for this place,” I muttered in between bites, washing everything down with coke that Yoongi so graciously let me order instead of a matching wine. The man in question just scoffed and grabbed his own glass from the table.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re sitting with me,” the black-haired man said, smirk colouring his voice into smugness, “Nobody dares to judge.” This time it was my time to scoff at him, and I rolled my eyes so hard there was no way he missed that.

“Humble, are we?” My voice was lacking its usual bite, and I wondered whether he realised that.

“Darling, we’re literally sitting in my restaurant,” he shot back immediately, clearly in his shit-stirer mood. And he was right as well, that was what pissed me off the most.

We were sitting in the Black Swan, the restaurant in the lobby of his fancy schmancy hotel. I was caught by Jungkook while suspiciously loitering around his car and he flew over like a cartoon cat with its ass on fire, prepared to defend his car from my dirty parking-tickets-distributing hands, but that time I wasn’t intending to do that. It was purely a coincidence, not that Jungkook believed me.

In an attempt to break us up before our squabbling got too annoying to listen to, Yoongi came over and invited me inside, which I accepted just to spite Jungkook. Now I found myself here, sitting across a private lounge from the man, the restaurant buzzing with life to our side and the young man staring daggers into me from across the room.

“So, officer, what are your plans for the summer?” Yoongi revived the conversation, doing some heavy lifting today. Ever since I came to the resolution to falsify legal documents, I hadn’t been much in a mood. Minjoon tried as hard as he could to bring my spirits up, bless his heart, but he probably assumed I was being icy because of the whole ‘you shouldn’t fuck your colleagues’ thing, which funnily enough currently was the least of my problems. Cheol was still away and the files lying on my table were collecting dust, my first big case starting off with a crime.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I grumbled back, moving on from the pasta to the little salad that was brought to me as a side-dish. Yoongi peered over the edge of his wine glass at me, eyes filled with uncharacteristically soft-edged entertainment, and I did my best to pretend we were still at odds with each other, and not sharing a suspiciously normal lunch together.

“Well yes, that’s why I asked,” the man replied smartly and I rolled my eyes at him again, “I wouldn’t want my favourite policeman to suddenly disappear again. I’d miss you too much.” His voice tampered off into something deeper, huskier, towards the end, pulling the rug from under my feet once again with these pesky complicated swirls of emotions I tried to persuade myself I didn’t care enough about to dissect. The bastard was probably having the time of his life teasing me like that, I was just being weird about it.

“How’s Hoseok?” I chanced a cheeky change of conversation, hoping I’d be able to play it off as a joke about our last meeting, and he wouldn’t know that I was currently quite literally losing my mind because of that man. Yoongi tsked at me, leaning back into the cream-coloured chair.

“Still too busy running after my friends?” he teased, “I don’t consider myself a jealous man, but you should be careful lest you hurt my feelings.” Mischief swirled through his eyes together with something harder, much less kind. Stay away, his gaze screamed, or trouble will catch you.

A little too late for that Yoongles, I’m afraid.

“Unfortunately, from a police officer’s standpoint your friends are what’s most interesting about you,” I shot back immediately, feeling no need to keep the suspension.

Yoongi didn’t say anything to that, only watched me with sharp gaze and hummed, taking a gentle sip from his glass.

“Then how about we play a game?” I blurted out suddenly, surprisingly myself as well as the dark-haired man. It was almost time for me to return to the station, but I was feeling reckless enough for a little gamble. I got Yoongi’s attention immediately though, and at the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. He simply gestured for me to continue, but his eyes sparkled under the artificial lighting of the restaurant.

“If you answer one of my questions truthfully, you get to ask me something back and I’ll answer too.”

It was plain stupidity. All he had to do was ask me about something concerning to official investigation and I’d be done, either unable to answer and losing my opportunity, or forced to spill important secrets. The risks were immense, and depending on Yoongi’s attitude there didn’t even have to be that good of a reward. And really, I couldn’t even find it in myself to think up an appropriate excuse.

“How interesting,” the man purred, not even trying to hide his excitement and I did all I could to sit still under his dark roused gaze. He leaned closer on the table, everything about his body language screaming how open he was to this suggestion. “What do you want to know?”

“Where is Hoseok’s office?” the question tumbled out of me in an instant, “And don’t even try to bullshit me, I know it’s not the warehouse in Songhyeon-dong.” I felt slight heat in my cheeks at the way Yoongi giggled with the remainder of that cursed building, but soon his mirth was overshadowed by plain curiousness.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked in return. I scoffed.

“I’m not required to answer that.”

Silence settled over us, a few tense seconds during which Yoongi measured me with his gaze, contemplating, before finally a bit of his resolve lessened.

“He’s in Jungkook’s building,” he answered me in the end and internally I was screaming in victory, attempting to school my expression so the way I was so disgustingly happy with myself wouldn’t show. Yoongi smirked then, and a bit of my joy died down. “I only feel comfortable telling you because you’d be crazy if you tried anything around there. Jungkook has eyes around most of the city, but that there is the centre of his turf. Consider that a friendly warning.” I fought back a shudder at the clear threat in his words and said nothing. There really wasn’t anything that could be said back to that. How does one respond?

But then Yoongi brightened again, and I realised it was his turn to ask. Steeling myself to whatever he wanted to know, preparing to lie my ass off if needed, I gestured for him to go ahead.

“Did you fuck the detective?” his question wasn’t said seriously at all, he actually sounded quite amused, but it still shocked me to say the least (an understatement). I was sure if I was drinking something I’d be choking on it and spitting everything out all over the fancy white tablecloth right about now. The blush was back with a vengeance, and I could even feel my ears heat up.  But mostly I was just angry that such a question even crossed his mind.

“Why the fuck do you even want to know that?” I gritted through my teeth, boiling in my seat enough to almost have steam coming off of my head, “You really going to waste your chance like this?”

Yoongi just shrugged, the annoying smirk still firmly sitting on his face, quiet chuckled escaping his lips at my peeved expression.

“Just curious, that’s all,” he hummed mysteriously, and I sighed, figuring this wasn’t the worst thing he could have gotten me to admit to him.

“Yes,” I muttered, voice going uncharacteristically quiet. It was just another one in the long line of rules Yoongi caught me breaking, even after that lecture I gave him about the importance of following the law. I was such a pathetic hypocrite, it was laughable.

“It was that night, right?” he asked, and this time his voice dipped into a strange mix of dark and faux scandalised, gaze probing for something that set me alight for a different reason altogether. If it was possible, I blushed even darker,  but attempted to stand my ground.

“That’s a second question, so I won’t answer.” Yoongi’s delighted beastly grin told me that was answer enough to him though, and I decided enough was enough.

Promptly I stood up, rattling the table and sending the chair skittering back with a terrible sounding screech, drawing the attention of most of the room, the grumpy driver included. Yoongi sat in his seat, completely unperturbed and looking like he was having the best time of his life.

I scowled and moved to leave, finally sending the man into action as he leaped to his feet to follow after me.

“In a rush to get back to work?” he teased some more, sounding way too happy for my liking, but I was no longer interested in keeping up conversations with him, a fact which made him chuckle at me.

Jungkook joined us as soon as we walked by him, immediately falling into his place by Yoongi’s side, watching me alert to make sure I wasn’t trying anything.

“Leaving so soon?” the young man joined in on the teasing, though his grin was much more hostile than Yoongi ever looked at me, and I deliberated on whether I should ignore him as well.

“Some of us can’t spend all our days staring broodily off into distance,” I settled on finally, bursting out through the Black Swan entrance door and taking the stairs two at a time. The two men stayed standing on the top, looking down to me with unreadable amused expressions as I sped by their car.

I pointed at it, still parked at the same spot that made me give them all those parking tickets, and wagged my finger at them, before taking off and briskly walking towards my own vehicle.

Nerves uncomfortably rolled through my stomach, a looming sense of unease that lingered in me after the turn the conversation took that I couldn’t fully place or explain. I weaved through the busy Hannam-dong streets, putting as much distance as I could between me and the cursed hotel, somewhat aimlessly wandering the streets in the vague direction of my car, not really ready to drive back to work where Minjoon and Park were currently having a meeting about the strategy the new special team was taking.

I wasn’t invited, of course, and the violent crime unit was absent as well due to their prolonged stay in Busan, making Hwang and Min the only ones involved. They brought in all that they were capable of gathering so far, information of which I had only a surface understanding to my utmost frustration, but I felt bad continuously pressing Minjoon to tell me more, especially since we haven’t been really speaking much lately.

Clearly keeping me up to date wasn’t their priority.

And I knew that some sort of resolve has broken in me. For the second time that day I thought back to my first meeting with Yoongi (well, second technically, but the first in all the ways that counted), when I came to his bar and flew off into a self-important rant about justice.

Yoongi had warned me then, that laws will never be enough, and I called him a monster. And look at me now – cut off from the security of partnership by my colleagues, left to my own devices and pushed to my limits in the face of a seemingly all-powerful demi-god of a criminal, I spent the last few days deliberating on how to get my dirty little hands on Hoseok’s signature so I could falsify it.

I could tell myself all I wanted that I merely had to slip down into illegality to be able to fight Yoongi on an equal ground, but I knew that my ego was also getting the best of me. And that somehow made it worse – I fully couldn’t even say this was about a noble cause.

Just a few months earlier I’d been chastising myself about the same thing, about seemingly forgetting all about the reason I even did all this just to one up Yoongi whenever I could, and I promised myself to keep my distance from such things. And today I was driving back to the station, after having taken lunch with the very man I was hunting, avoiding a colleague I had slept with against the internal rules of the force, and thinking of how to commit a crime to get my way.

But I couldn’t lie – at this point, just good plain taking him down would be enough to quench that uncontrollable fire that roused in me in these past few months. The infallible Min Yoongi, bested by a young police officer. A tale worth of telling.

Maybe I caught more mannerisms from Yoongi than I was willing to admit – illusions of grandeur certainly seemed to be one of them.

When I reached the station and walked back in, Minjoon was already sitting at his table, signalling the meeting has already ended. Discreetly I peeked into the meeting room to quickly look through the picture wall and see if anything has changed, but either it was still the same or it was small enough that I didn’t catch it on the first try.

I also attempted to catch Minjoon’s eye, to see whether he’d call me over to fill me in, but he kindly smiled at me before gathering his phone, keys and badge and swiftly walked off with Hwang. Probably on official business, which left a sour taste in my mouth, and I sat down on the chair with an ‘oomphf’, hitting the seat with more force than I was anticipating.

The black screen of the monitor stared back at me blankly, as if telling me that there was still time to turn around, chase after them, humiliate myself by begging to be included and then silently watched them work. Still time to change my mind and take the righteous route.

Instead I powered the computer on and clicked once more on the digitalised file on Jung Hoseok, full of court documents, warrants and testimony statements.

This time it took me considerably quicker to find what I was looking for – the undecipherable scrawl of Hoseok’s name together with his personal seal, all forever adorning the documents about financial settlements.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly printed out the bundle of papers belonging to the same case, taking care to choose one of the new printers, the pride of our little precinct as it was bought by the meagre grants given to us by the headquarters, and which kept all of us in awe with the quality of the printed papers. It was just two weeks ago that I myself finally gathered courage to use it and marvelled at how real the testimony looked. Now it would come in handy to do the exact opposite of what its purpose was.

Hastily I grabbed the stack of documents and a stapler, stuffing them both in my bag and I rushed out of the building, the address of the specific court scribbled on a little paper clutched deathly in the palm of my hand.

In the car I took a moment to wind down, trying to will away the subtle shaking that overtook my hands and knees, taking in deep breaths and pushing my body down into the coarse fabric of the car seat, grounding myself through the feeling of my heavy limbs pressing into the furnishing, through the feeling of uneven bumps in the foam I felt under my fingers. I wondered whether Minjoon and Hwang went to Yoongi, whether he was still at the restaurant. Whether he already informed Jungkook and Hoseok that he told me the location of his office, so they should keep an eye on me.

I hoped they would be too focused on guessing where I was sniffing around during nights to realise I was messing about somewhere completely different. I hoped Yoongi still didn’t have me followed.

The court would close in an hour, and it was quite the gamble on my part when I breezed through the door like a hurricane, almost running through the modern building towards the archives. I had one hand permanently stuck in my pocket, at first only to make sure I still had my badge with me, but then I grew too anxious to pull it back out, instead closing my fingers around the cold metal, even though it was slowly warming up. The weight of what I was doing had it burning a hole through my palm and I fidgeted endlessly, cold sweat gathering at my back and soaking into the white t-shirt I threw on that morning.

There was an old lady sitting behind a desk, bored and tired of everybody’s bullshit, and I took a long stabilising breath in, before pushing through the door and walking confidently over.

Her attention was on me immediately, torn away from the book spread in her lap by the sound of the opening door, and when she glanced up, there was already annoyance visible on her face, likely at getting interrupted from her read. I plastered on another polite smile, expression admittedly a little wooden.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked, mono-tone and stone-faced. I walked all the way to her, until I was leaning on her table, and gave her another queasy smile.

“I’m here to check out a specific file on Jung Hoseok’s settlement trial from 28th of April 2022,” I recited, more focused on keeping my voice as steady as hers than on the words that I’d been practicing repeatedly in my head on my way over.

“Do you have the appropriate permits?” she asked back, barely even looking at me to instead fiddle with her computer, swiftly putting in the date and name I just gave her to check it over.

I pulled out my badge and set it down on the table in front of her, other hand rummaging through my bag to locate my unit ID card to show her as well. She took one unimpressed look at it and then back at me, eyes gliding over my body head to toes, before she set her stare back on the computer.

Silence stretched between us, interrupted only by her mouse clicking as she sifted through the database.

“I don’t know if you have clearance to access these files,” she said, sounding like she had to deal with fifteen people like me each hour, and I started to feel desperation and frustration lick at my mind.

“Police officers are legally allowed to look at files connected to their investigations,” I told her with all the conviction I could muster, “this man has been investigated by my unit for over a year.” She looked at me like I was crazy, lips in a thin line and clear disapproval all written over her face.

“Then you surely have access to these scanned for his files,” she said petulantly, safe-guarding the documents like they contained the nuclear weapons codes. I fought back the urge to sass back at her, as it would likely make her ever harder to deal with.

“I do, which should be answer enough whether I’m allowed to access them,” I answered, not even lying on that one, though I still had to carefully skirt around the reasons for my visit, “but I’d like to see the original document, the scan’s never as clear as good old paper.” For signatures anyway. Otherwise they’re pretty well visible.

“They lack the depth,” I added in for good measure, but it was obvious the lady really lost interest in fighting with me over this. The settlement was for grievous bodily harm caused by Hoseok to a club-goer, and it was clearly stated that he acted as a body-guard to Min Yoongi and almost killed the man while “trying to maintain peace” in the club. She wasn’t dumb, she must have realised it was gang related.

And no matter what she thought about my visit, I clearly was police, and that opened a lot of doors (even when it shouldn’t have).

“Show me some ID, I’ll need to put you into the system as a visitor,” she grumbled finally, outstretching her hand to me and waiting for me to fumble with my bag to pull out my wallet.

After another few tense moments of silence during which she carefully copied my details into her computer, she then suddenly got up and gestured for me to follow her. I scrambled to go after her, stuffing all of my things back and making sure the papers I took were still there and in a passable state.

She weaved through the maze of shelves, confidently making her way as if she’d walked the same route a thousand times, suddenly speedy now that she wasn’t behind her little table. Our journey took us one floor door, a rickety metal staircase leading further into the underbelly of this huge building.

As we strayed away from the little table, I noticed a significant lack of cameras, which was frankly startling for a court in Seoul, but they probably thought writing your name down into the little form and going through this little old lady was security enough. I chuckled a little at that and thanked whoever it was that decided that putting CCTV here wasn’t a priority.

The lady finally slowed down by one of the shelves, fingers flying around the boxes stored there until she found what she was looking for, nimbly pulling out a brown cardboard box with Hoseok’s name written on the front.

Without much preamble she thrust it into my arms and then turned around and left, no words spoken and no glances exchanged. For a few moments I watched her go in stunned silence before the reality of the situation kicked in and I swiftly shuffled near one of the little tables that were scattered through the space.

To my absolute annoyance, the box contained a mountain of documents, and I spent good twenty minutes going through it just searching for the one that I brought with me. But once I had it in my hands, it was entirely too easy to carefully peek around to make sure I wasn’t watched by anyone or caught by a camera, dig out my stapler and punch the documents together in a way that looked the most similar, and then slip the original ones in my bag while I pretended to closely read through the copy.

It wasn’t fool-proof. If anyone looked closer at the files, it’d be fairly obvious that they were printed copies – as I said before, there was no depth to them and the signature didn’t look as real. But that’s exactly why I needed the original with me.

I just prayed to God that no one would feel the need to dig these out and closely inspect them until I had the chance to sneak back and switch them again.

I loitered around long enough so that it wouldn’t look suspicious (or at least what my nervous brain told me was enough time to not make it look suspicious) and then I slowly made my way back up the steel old staircase, towards the little brown desk.

The lady didn’t even look up this time, eyes glued to her book without a single acknowledgement of my existence as I walked past her, smuggled documents stuffed in my black bag.

As I was walking out of that building, it suddenly struck me just how easy it was to break the law when you had the police badge on you – a realisation I’d keep to myself and never divulge to Yoongi, lest he laughs himself to death while screaming ‘I told you so’.

Now, I wasn’t an expert on forgery, but I had been able to catch some basic ideas while growing up on the streets. I wasn’t directly involved in it, but some of the kids I sometimes used to hang out with made and sold fake IDs around the orphanage and other neighbourhood kids, and I wasn’t completely clueless on that. When you spend hours sitting next to someone labouring over a fake little piece of plastic, no matter how hard you’re trying to ignore them, you’ll take a peek here or there.

Still, it was more DIY than I was expecting. I bought some see-through paper sheets and spent an evening carefully tracing the elegant lines of Hoseok’s name and personal stamp, trying to work out all the kinks and all the lines, watch where they fill out more, where he exerted more pressure and dug the pen deeper into the paper. All of that, all of the things that made it a little bit more authentic.

The seal was going to be more tricky – not only I had to trace it, but then I’d have to mould it somehow so that I could make a copy of it from wax. I had bought a whole case of playdough and I wasn’t scared to use it. Well, maybe a little bit. I’ve never been an overly artistic person, nor a terribly precise and patient one. So that would be fun, for sure.

When days later I finally felt confident enough to try and transfer it to the actual document, my tiny two rooms apartment was buried under mountains of white papers with randomly placed signatures on it, some a little more successful than others, but most of them still felt a little wonky.

That day I stood at work right next to the fancy printer, once again, and hoped that whoever walked past wouldn’t think it weird that I was gathering what looked to be a hefty stack of the same copy of an official form, waiting expectantly at the mouth of the machine and snatching all the freshly printed sheets still warm from the process as they were coming out. I certainly hoped that what people said was true – that no one was really paying as much attention as you did to what you did. This would be a little awkward to explain.

The stamp DIY had gone as terribly as I was expecting it to. The playdough was malleable, maybe even a little too much, and even when I spent literal hours carefully tracing the shapes into it and smoothing it out with thin popsicle wooden sticks, every time I tried to actually make the seal the result was less than desirable. One look at those uneven lines and everybody would be able to tell that it was made by a child. The messiness of the ink could hide some discrepancies, but what I had made was laughable.

It was truly embarrassing how many evenings I spent bent over the table, tongue peeking out of my mouth as I as carefully as my clumsy hands allowed me traced Hoseok’s name into the soft clay, hoping that maybe I’d already written it so many times those lines were pressed into my muscle memory.

Even with the practice I allowed myself, I still burned through the stack of the forms pretty quickly, always chickening out and fearing that it was just not perfect enough to get caught under a closer inspection. And closely inspect they would, the Hana Bank were no amateurs and they’d walk through fire for their clients. I didn’t know what the procedure was when we had a signed consent to get the statements, but when we delivered warrants, they sure fought it for as long as possible.

Some of my colleagues apparently even believed they even tipped the clients off sometimes, even though that was illegal.

So it had to be bulletproof. More bulletproof than Hoseok himself seemed to be.

On Wednesday a week later I walked through the office once more to nervously shift around the printer as it gave me a fresh copy of the official consent form to butcher at home, this time only one because it was suspiciously full today, with almost everyone present at their desks. I sincerely hoped no one was tracking my printing history.

It felt a little more concrete, having only a single try this time, like I really had to succeed, and I was determined to do so. So determined in fact, that I didn’t even notice when I basically walked straight into Minjoon who had been watching for an undisclosed amount of time, my arms and body immediately twisting so that the piece of paper stayed unharmed.

Minjoon’s arms wrapped around me to catch me, working against the momentum I put to work and instead pulling me closer to his body, to right me when I inevitably lost my balance. Very briefly I thought back to that sunny afternoon I broke into Yoongi’s office and then bumped into him on the corner, before I was forcing myself back into the present, quickly shuffling out of the detective’s arms. I was properly flustered at being caught so unaware, even as a pinch of fear ran through me at being seen like that, as if the others could sense what happened between us the last Friday of May.

“Whatcha doin’?” the man asked cheekily, completely ignoring the fact that seemingly everyone and their mother currently sat just a few feet away from us, our small little desks mushed together to fit into the tight space. On a cursory glance no one was overly paying attention, but one never knew.

All that was needed for me to lose everything was one nosy police officer making an anonymous complaint about me getting a little too chummy with my colleagues. ‘The only woman in an all-male unit fucked her way through the entire team’ was a rumour that would spread a little too well around these parts, especially if Park got involved.

“P-printing,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, instinctively taking a few cautious steps back. Minjoon noticed, and for a split second I saw hurt flash through his eyes before a sad kind of understanding settled in instead, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

“Coffee?” was the next question that came out his mouth, noticeably less cheery, but I still appreciated the exit he offered us, the chance to talk a little more openly without the very real possibility of everything spectacularly crashing down around us. So I just nodded and led the way, not even realising I was still clutching the freshly printed document.

Minjoon clocked it in too and as soon as we were settling down in the empty cafeteria, he was pointing at it with a jut of his chin, a silent question written into his gaze.

“O-oh yeah,” I stuttered through once again, cheeks colouring slightly in embarrassment even as the acidic feeling flooded me at the realisation I’d need to lie to him more, “I’m taking your advice. Someone in those cases might be willing to let me go through their finances, it would give me an advantage. I’ve been prepping it while Cheol’s gone.”

The man hummed in answer, but I could tell his interest laid somewhere completely else, eyes slightly glazed over as he stared intently into the cup of coffee gripped almost dangerously tight in his hands. Oh, so this wasn’t going to be professional chit-chat about work.

“What’s up?” I asked instead, meaning it as both a question about his current mood and the current happenings in his life. I hadn’t exactly given him many chances to catch me for a conversation these past two weeks, and I was starting to feel a little guilty about it; but every time he even as much as looked in my direction, I feared someone would immediately figure out what I’d done – let him fuck me in my living room, as if my bedroom wasn’t full of pictures of Yoongi and I didn’t still wear the little skirt I chose specifically to surprise the man. As if I still didn’t feel the phantom ghost of his presence by my side, and my mind still wasn’t stuck on that little red couch, three pairs of eyes glued to me while I sipped on a fruity cocktail and Yoongi whispered to me like a lover about to sweetly strangle me to death.

That’s what I’d done.

And Minjoon deserved so much better than that as well. I truly liked the man, I did so much, but the way Yoongi burrowed himself under my skin, like a permanent itch, it left barely an hour a day when I didn’t somehow think about him, even if that was the last thing I wanted to do. The man was like a curse, hanging over me and poisoning my mind until even a stupid black car reminded me of him, and I hated that with my whole being.

I didn’t want to do that to Minjoon, but now what was supposed to be a sweet moment will forever be tainted by the fact that I spoke to Yoongi the same day and somehow got myself stuck with the man firmly clawing his way into my consciousness every waking second of my every day.

When I went to him that one winter night, sitting in Dynamite for the first time across him, I had no fucking idea I’d end up here, with my entire existence carved and moulded around his in mere months.

‘I’m like mold, darling’ Yoongi had said, and at the time I had no idea just how right he was.

The awkward silence took over our table, both of us too troubled by our own thoughts, before Minjoon finally decided to take a step forward, looking like he’d been pushing himself to it for a long time and maybe now felt brave enough. How unfortunate that it coincided with the kind of spiral I was going through right opposite of him.

“I was thinking we could have a dinner together,” he suggested quietly, throwing little unsure yet hopeful glances my way, “like we used to.”

Like we used to. Like it was years, and not merely two weeks ago, that we last met for food outside of work.

“Is that a good idea?” when I asked that, I already knew my resolve was slipping, and I knew Minjoon knew that as well when he gave me a wide toothy grin, life pouring back into him and I saw a glimpse of the flirty attractive man he turned into when no one was around. I found my lips tugging into a grin too, wanting to follow his lead with no further prompting needed, but I pulled back until I heard what he had to say about this.

“No.” the word was simple enough, an acknowledgement – both of the fact that we were getting into trouble and the fact that we weren’t about to stop, “But you don’t strike me as the type that would mind that.”

Oh, if you only knew, I found myself wanting to say, but bit my tongue to keep those words in. You haven’t the faintest idea, were the next ones, and I just simply settled for an amused smile.

“Fine, then,” I said, and even as I put more sauce on the resigned tone in my voice, the lightness slowly spread down to my chest and a different kind of trepidation set in. And for once it felt like the good kind, even though I still couldn’t shake the feeling of doing something kind of wrong.

I wished it was easier to banish the thoughts of guilt from my mind – for having even slipped there during the intimate moments we shared. I wished even now I wasn’t thinking about how unsettling it felt with Yoongi being so clearly invested in my relationship with Minjoon. ‘Was it that night?’ as if he branded me by talking to me. Like he was trying to tell me ‘I got there first. It was me. ME’.  

But I’d grown tired of that. I wanted to reclaim my life from his hands. And I wanted Minjoon and I didn’t want to feel guilty about it. I wanted to do it right. I didn’t want Yoongi interfering with that. And I sure as hell wanted to try.

I had a feeling that whatever happened this summer, wherever we were heading, it would come to a head now anyway, and everything would change between us. The warehouse murders, the Moon Jiwoo case, me hopefully finally cracking down on Hoseok, too many things that would put us clearly on opposite sides of the fight, and for all Yoongi tried to plant seeds of himself into me, soon I’d cross that line. And he wouldn’t be as friendly anymore.

Like it should have been from the beginning. As was right. The natural order.

Minjoon would still be here even after Yoongi had grown tired of playing with me, and it was time for me to move on from the frustrated obsessiveness he pulled me into when I interacted with him. I might have reconsidered a lot of things since the first time we spoke, broke a lot of my own rules, but the truth was still there – he was a criminal and it was my job to catch him.

“I still have a few things I gotta work on,” I was only half-lying to him, and I told myself that was somehow better than full-on lying, “so I’ll go back now.” The man hummed and nodded, and when I stood up, he made no move to follow – so I walked back to the office by myself, clutching the paper in my hand.

For the first time since Cheol left I opened my notes about the cases we were supposed to work on together and started quickly reading through. If I was going to tell people these forms were for this investigation, I needed names at the ready. If I stuttered and stumbled through some vague explanation, it could make them realise I was being suspicious. There had to be a concrete wall between them and the truth, so I sat there and built it brick by fucking brick.

When Minjoon came to my table hours later, the station was already almost empty and our office was void of any of our coworkers, which made it easier for me to relax about being seen leaving together. This time when Minjoon gestured to his car, I ignored mine own and went with him to his. I’d get my car tomorrow morning, and right now I just wanted to go.

The slightly awkward tense silence still hung about us, though both of us were considerably less high-strung. As I sat quietly in the passenger seat, I felt the brown-haired man sneaking glances at me, face open and curious, like he couldn’t believe he finally succeeded in talking me into talking to him again, and it had a tentative smile tugging at my lips.

He drove us a little further away from the Namyeong station, where we usually grabbed lunch due to the vicinity to our little police station, most probably to make sure we’d have privacy cause a lot of the restaurants around there already knew our faces and knew we were police officers. Though, he did drive us straight into Itaewon, which also didn’t serve my nerves too well.

If we bumped into Yoongi or another one of his clowns, I’d be forced to commit aggravated assault.

But thankfully without any problems we ended up in a small, cute hole-in-a-wall eatery that served ramen. Not one of us has spoken a single word yet, except for ordering, and the tension slowly grew as we knew we were nearing the point when we’d have to talk to each other.

Finally, Minjoon seemed to have reached the breaking point, and when he turned to me, I saw the determination in his eyes. I steeled myself as well, sipping from my coke to put a little barrier between me and the intensity he channelled.

“So… should we talk about it?” he asked simply, though he didn’t look strictly serious – there was still a light smile on his face, like even through his nerves he was sure I was already open to whatever he wanted. Which I was, so I smiled as well.

“Talk about what?” I teased him, cheekily throwing little glances towards him while I pretended not to pay attention by playing with the napkins. Minjoon didn’t seem offended, not at all, though he scoffed lightly and leaned back in his chair. For a moment my eyes jumped to the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest, before I looked back to the table with my cheeks a little redder than before.

“Should I describe in great detail what I mean?” Minjoon teased back, and I immediately held up my hand to him to stop him, even though we were both already snickering.

“I think there’s some things you can keep to yourself,” I grumbled back, feeling myself unfreeze and relax slightly. For a moment we just sat there and looked at each other with small grins, the atmosphere warming around us and reminding me of the way we’d enjoy each other’s company before. Then we both sobered up a little though, the reality of having to have this conversation fully sinking in.

“No, but really, we should speak,” Minjoon said again, this time a little more serious than before, and he leaned on the table, like unconsciously trying to shorten the distance between us, “Do you want this?”

The simplicity of the question and the straightforwardness of the statement momentarily shocked me, and I choked a little on the soda I’ve clutched in my hand this whole time. But I guessed there was no reason to beat around the bush – we’ve already crossed the line, there was no need for being all shy now. I still found embarrassment flooding me at the way I reacted though, and I cleared my throat.

“Do you want this?” I knew it wasn’t completely fair flipping this onto him when I didn’t answer the question myself, I knew it wasn’t fair having to know his answer before having the guts to make the leap of faith myself, but I couldn’t help the strands of doubt wrapping themselves tightly over my heart.

Minjoon simply stared me for a few seconds before he nodded. It was such an uncomplicated and yet resolute gesture, it robbed me of my breath momentarily. Could it really be that easy between us? Just acting on desire and need, ignoring all the things that could be at stake – just being together, like we were a normal couple of coworkers. Did he even fully realise what the consequences could be?

Still, I couldn’t stop the way my heart quivered in quiet hope, jumping in my chest at the idea and letting me run with the fantasy of sharing this with Minjoon. Aligning myself to where I was supposed to fit, doing the right thing with the right man by my side. He was a good detective, and a kind man, and as much as I feared getting found out, there was a part of me that yearned for getting to have that kind of connection with him. We were both on the same side, shared the same goals – we could be perfect like that.

“I understand why you’re hesitant,” Minjoon whispered when he sensed my conflicted state of mind, and offered me a small smile, “but I’m willing to risk it, for you. For us, really. I’ve never connected with anyone here this way, and I knew that you were something special from the moment you stepped through the door. I could see it all in the fire and determination in your eyes. I’ve enjoyed all our little chats, I’ve enjoyed being a mentor for you, I’ve enjoyed our dinners and the time we spent together outside of the precinct. And I’ve most definitely enjoyed our last time together.”

That had me lightly slapping his shoulder, even as I was smiling to myself about his words. Minjoon laughed, the genuine cheerful sound cutting through the atmosphere between us and pulling me along.

“Minjoon, I…” the words simply escaped me, and I had no idea how to express the storm of thoughts, worries and emotions, but I figured I owed him to try. “I’d like that. A lot. I’ve also enjoyed our time together, but my standing in the unit is already quite precarious. I don’t really even care about breaking the rules, I’m just scared. Of what it will do to my career were something to get out. If the situation was different, I would have loved giving this a try, truly I would.” I tried softening the blow with a smile, but I knew I looked more sad than reassuring.

“We’d be careful,” Minjoon whispered to me, hopeful grin in place and I could already feel myself slipping again, “We’d make sure no one knew. Y/N, I don’t want to do anything that hurts you. I’d never let that happen.” He reached over the table to grab my hand, and I almost jerked back before realising we weren’t at the station and I didn’t have to worry about being seen together. Minjoon noticed my reaction, I could see it in the way the corner of his lips weighted down with the knowledge, but when his hand reached mine it was gentle and light.

“We both want this, and I think it would be a pity to not try,” he gently probed, leaning even closer to look into my eyes. I fought the instinct to dodge the eye contact and allowed myself to soak into his soft brown gaze. “It would be a pity to lose what we could have together, don’t you think?”

I saw the waitress approaching with our orders out of the corner of my eye, so I pulled away and softly dropped my hands to my lap to give her space to put our food on the table. Minjoon’s face dropped for a second before her approach registered in his mind too, and we both attempted to focus on the food for a moment.

Silence settled over us as we both dug in, the atmosphere surprisingly not as oppressive as I feared it might have been, but still a sense uncertainty hung in the air.

I spent the entire meal mulling over his words. I knew what decision I wanted to make, and I knew what decision I could afford to make – and they were not the same. Minjoon’s soft insistence that he’d shield me from the bad warmed my heart, I felt touched by his genuine words, but at the same time – how much control did we have over this?

To take the leap of faith and potentially face losing everything, or to continue living by the side of what could have been and awkwardly bumble through every interaction?

‘Did you fuck the detective?’

Yoongi already knew. It gave him a direct fool-proof plan of getting rid of me should he choose to do so. He wouldn’t even have to plan anything, wouldn’t even have to plant anything on me. He’d just report our relationship, and the rest would be done for him. And the sad thing was it would be a bigger hit for me than if he’d plant cocaine on me.

And once again I had to face what my life had become – Yoongi’s echo chamber. Everything I did and everything I chose to do or not to do, it always came back to him, and for a brief moment I mourned the control over my life that was taken from me when I stepped into this investigation. But that was all the more reason to bring him down.

In a moment of panic I just wanted to run from everything. I was so overwhelmed and I felt like a child in many things – choosing things with potentially devastating consequences knowing I couldn’t ever make a fully informed decision. And living with knowing I’d always managed to choose the thing that brought me into a worse situation.

I wanted to trust Minjoon’s reassurance, and I wanted to take the leap, but something kept me firmly tethered to the dark little spot I made for myself here at the rock bottom.

Not many words were exchanged between us after that, and once we finished our meal, we quickly found out there wasn’t much point in staying out longer. Minjoon still watched me with hopeful eyes and I still found myself hesitating every single time, not capable of giving him what he asked of me.

Sleeping with him complicated everything, and while I wouldn’t say I regretted doing it, I thought to myself quietly that given the chance to make that decision again, I wouldn’t do it – just to spare myself this strange vacuum we were suspended in – sitting side by side, yearning, yet not brave enough to take the final step. Well, at least I wasn’t.

Minjoon drove me home, his presence as calming as it was anxiety inducing, the silence spreading over us in an all-encompassing embrace. I couldn’t decide how I felt.

Just like that night, he insisted on walking me to my door, and just like that night I accepted after slight hesitance. Minjoon lingered a little, hand almost instinctively reaching out to me endlessly – always gripping onto my sleeve for just a second before letting go. I could see he wanted to speak, to say more, but didn’t know what.

I knew what he meant to do when he stepped closer though, and I’d later tell myself I didn’t have enough time to stop him, to protest when he leant down with his eyes burning into me, lips gentle and reverent in how he slowly kissed me.

I couldn’t help the way my heart lurched in joy, couldn’t help how I reached out back just as instinctively to hold onto him when he briefly pressed closer. Couldn’t help the slight ring of disappointment when he pulled away, and with a last boyish grin walked away.

As soon as the door closed behind me, the weight of my reality settled back into my shoulders and the giddy feeling slowly trickled out of me. The state of my living room was an endless testament to the situation I’d gotten myself into – covered in a layer of documents with failed forged signatures, and the space that was clean of that was filled with dirty clothes or dishes.

My living room was cluttered with the signs of my planned crimes, and the ones I’d already committed also, and for a moment I had the terrible feeling – that maybe it was Minjoon who should have been fearing a downfall through his relationship with me. That maybe it would be me who ended up dragging him down.

With a sign I pushed away all thoughts of the evening I had, cleaning out my mind – because that always made it easier to cope, and I didn’t have the capacity to face everything right now.

I felt kind of queasy and scared and all I could think about was storming Yoongi’s club to distract myself, my treacherous mind supplying this idea to me like it was a cure and not the root of all of these problems.

Instead I sat down onto my cluttered couch and pulled out the single copy of the bank search agreement, pulling out the tools I’ve made myself in the weeks I tried. With shame I scribed Hoseok’s signature on there from memory, my wrist already familiar with the movements, before I reached over for the stamp with a jittery anxious heart.

This was the last attempt. If I didn’t like this, I’d stop. Clearly it was a sign for me to let this go – and I promised myself – if I messed this one up, it was the last I did.

I tried the stamp out a few times on a different paper, and this one did look the most accurate out of all the ones I did before. The ring around the name was finally symmetrical, and the characters didn’t look as if they were written by a first-grader anymore. With one last deep breath, I rolled it in the red ink and without hesitating a second more, slapped the stamp onto the document.

There was a strange stillness when the deed was done – as if I slowly accepted the decision I’ve come to within myself when I saw it. It didn’t look perfect, and I argued it couldn’t anyway – not even by his own hand the signatures looked all the same. There was a certain margin of error and doubt involved, and the moment I saw the signed and stamped document, I knew in my heart that it was close enough to pass.

Strangely, a trickle of disappointment lit up my chest – maybe I was hoping for it to fail, so that I could talk myself out of this insanity. But would I have stopped? How many times did I promise myself I’d keep my distance and how many times did I actually honour that?

How much time would it take before I tried again?

Leaving the document sitting in the middle of my table like it was a part of an exhibition, I slowly walked over to my bedroom, and I stared into Yoongi’s eyes on my wall before the sleep claimed me, clothes unchanged and all.

The sleek interior of the office unnerved me, and I watched the wooden carving lining the walls with endless curiosity. This was definitely a space where I firmly didn’t belong, and I felt it in the expensive interior and in the strange looks I got from the employees and the occasional client passing through.

I must have been standing out like an ugly bruise, all wonder-eyed and nervously sitting in one of the modern-like chairs, wearing my best clothes that still must have looked like rags to everyone around me, as they were draped in high-end brands from head to toe.

Bitterly I thought to myself that this surely was a crowd Yoongi must have felt very comfortable with, but any thought of the man cranked up my anxiety to new heights. Currently I was panicking about him potentially having an appointment here for today – and what a coincidence that would have been.

The Hana Bank headquarters, situated on the Eulji-ro intersection, was a sleek glass skyscraper with even sleeker cold interior full of squeaky-clean shiny blocks of sandy brown marble. Once I recovered from the initial wonder about the reception space complete with artworks and a fancy café, I stuttered out to the bored receptionist about my surprise visit and she let me up here into the office, where I was currently waiting for someone to talk to me.

And after what felt like ages, during which I sat there and stewed in my own fear and shame, I finally saw someone walking towards me.

“Miss Lee?” a nicely dressed woman stopped by my chair, her heels clacking on the floor loudly, and I stood to meet her halfway. I felt her heavy judgmental gaze on me and I felt the need to defend myself that I wasn’t here looking into my banking options, but kept my mouth shut and just followed after her when she gestured for me to join her.

Of course I wasn’t there about banking, I was on the wrong floor for that.

She walked me down the white and brown hallways until we reached a door that said ‘Kim Jaejoon, Director of Risk Management Division’. With a single knock she was gone, leaving me standing there like a fool.

“Come in,” a voice came from inside, and I struggled to put an age to it.

Upon my entrance, I quickly realised the white and light wood theme persisted in here too, and the uniformity of it all started grinding at my gears. The poshness of it all became almost laughable to me and the insistence on appearing a certain standard turned almost tacky.

I said nothing though, and sat down when offered.

The manager was an older gentleman, elegant and keeping a certain young-like vibe, no doubt through living a very comfortable life. He smiled politely, in a practiced way, but I couldn’t really force myself to return it through all my nerves.

“What can I do for you, officer?” he asked in that practiced slyness, and I decided that there was no point in beating around the bush. I reached into my bag and pulled out the cursed document, a weight falling off of my shoulders as soon as it was placed on the table, like I’d finally rid myself of the burden of it. Now I only had to sell it.

“I came here to obtain Mr. Jung Hoseok’s financial records,” I tried to match his energy, and hoped that I didn’t sound too hill-billy, “We’ve been investigating him and he graciously agreed for us to have access to his information.” If he only heard me, god. I’d be dead meat.

The man pulled the piece of paper to himself, squinting eyes in concentration as he read through the official form. I watched with bated breath as his gaze slid expressionlessly over the signature, moving on immediately to look at me again.

“Mr. Jung is one of our top clients, I hope you understand that I’d like to discuss this issue with our lawyer first before I grant you access,” he spoke diplomatically, keeping one hand on the paper, his smile turned sharper now that I was after someone he no doubt swore to protect.

I nodded and offered him a smile. I hoped he wouldn’t contact Hoseok himself – because if he did, I might not live long enough to hear back from them. I was expecting for him to show me out, but instead he picked up a phone and dialled a number so quickly it had to be at the top of his caller’s list.

It took barely a few seconds before the call was answered and I watched as he gave me a wooden smile while he explained the situation.

“It is signed, yes,” he told the phone, a bit of frustration bleeding through as he narrowed his eyes at the document, “I can send it over to you.” There was an answer that he didn’t like, telling by the way his eyebrows cinched together in a frown, clear annoyance taking over his expression.

“Yes, I said it already… Yes, there is a date… What? What do you mean? That can’t-“ I sat there and listened to him get angry, though he did try to be discreet about it. I put on a disinterested face, but I was listening in with stomach knotted in nerves, straining my ears to catch the lawyer’s answers.

“But don’t you want to see it first?” he asked finally, resignation settling in before he got what I assumed was the final confirmation and set the phone down on the table.

“Sorry about that,” the man told me, but he looked more annoyed when he looked at me again, “They seem to be quite busy. According to what he told me, I’m required to honour your request as it is an official document and you proved yourself with a badge.” Every word sounded like an accusation, and if I didn’t forge that document myself, I might have been peeved at his clear anger at having to honour the law. As it stood now, I was breaking it instead, so I let it slide.

“You’re entitled to the last year of the records, so you can expect it by afternoon today or at the very furthest tomorrow noon,” the man conceded finally, looking thoroughly peeved at me. Sorry for investigating a serial killer, I guess?

“Well, you’ve got my work email,” I said, just to have something to say, and then awkwardly sat there with his expectant gaze at me, before I realised he wanted me to leave. I scrambled to stand up and gather up my things because fuck this guy, I didn’t want to stay either, and he gave me the first pleasant smile since I got here.

After exchanging some wooden pleasantries and polite conversation, and after some more reassurance that he’d send the materials over, I found myself standing outside in the blisteringly hot street with the sun bearing down on my already burnt skin, wondering what the fuck just happened.

I checked my phone for time in disbelief, reading the little numbers over and over again like the piece of technology was somehow lying to me. I was in his office for all of 13 minutes. I waited in the lobby for almost twenty, and then I was out in thirteen.

I committed a crime, and all it took was not even a full quarter of an hour and not a single security check.

As I crossed the street to get back to my car, I had to wonder – was it always this easy or was it because I had a badge that nobody cared?

I spent weeks stressing myself out over a forgery for one of the most prestigious banks, only to be given the clear upon the decision of a single guy after his lawyer told him he’s too busy? It was almost laughable.

I kind of wished I could have asked Yoongi to compare notes with him. How long does it take you to commit a crime? Cause I bet I can do it faster with my badge. Ain’t got nothing on me, baby.

Sitting down behind the wheel, I almost didn’t know what to do with myself. The anxious energy that swelled up inside of me now didn’t have any outlet and I found myself squirming and overthinking, still expecting something terrible to happen the moment I let my guard down.

But even after I spent full twenty minutes sitting in my car staring at the building of the bank (which, if I didn’t look suspicious before, I definitely did now), nothing happened. People walked by, some walked inside, some continued on, some walked out, cars buzzed by. Nobody looked towards me, nobody seemed to care for my presence. Nobody was angrily chasing me down demanding an explanation. Everything went on as usual.

I pulled out of the parking spot absent-mindedly, thoughts going a mile a minute, but heart finally calming down slowly. I wasn’t even really thinking of where I was going, but my body worked on autopilot, clearly deciding for me where to go while I was still mentally stuck in that sleek white room, sitting across the bank manager calling his lawyer.

And that’s how I ended up sitting in my car right across Pied Piper, at 11 am, flabbergasted at how I even got there. Mindlessly I walked over, no plan no nothing, just plain curiosity and a propensity to making bad decisions.

Two bouncers stood in front of the club, smoking and clearly tired, but both perked up the moment they realised I was heading for them. I saw them gearing up to deal with me and send me away, before the taller one’s face lit up in recognition and he slapped the shoulder of his buddy to stand down. When I got to them, I was already intrigued at what the interaction was going to be like, but instead of telling me anything, the taller of the duo opened the door with a shit-eating grin and motioned for me to get inside.

I already held a personal grudge against the other two bouncers, and I certainly wasn’t planning on embarrassing myself in front of these two as well, so I hid my confusion about suddenly gaining a VIP 24/7 access and walked in without uttering a single word, feeling their amused gazes on my back. It sent shivers down my spine, but I figured I shouldn’t be looking down on such sudden luck.

Unless the only reason they let me in was that Yoongi was by some miracle here at the moment, in which case it would be weird and eerie that I ended up here at the same time. I would even consider visiting a shaman, if that ended up being the truth.

The club was of course completely empty – and now fully lit up, without the blaring music and empty of dancers it felt less glamorous and more like a big sad room full of discarded trash, spilt drinks and other liquids I’d rather not think about. The grey on the walls was way bleaker in this light, and I could clearly see how the floor was wearied down by daily use, same as the tables and chairs and couches – where every little stain was suddenly visible, and I vowed myself to never sit on any of those.

My reverie was broken by a melodic voice, and I turned from where I was standing motionlessly just staring emptily into the room.

“Hey, how can I help you?”

There was a boy behind the bar. Well, I say boy – he looked incredibly youthful, especially when his expression broke into a friendly smile, but couldn’t have been much younger than me. Might have even been slightly older. He was leisurely wiping down the counter, no doubt trying to deal with the disaster left behind by a busy night, but there was this cool vibe to him and he moved with a certain swagger.

When I turned to face him, his eyes took me in and I think we might have simultaneously realised we knew each other, because just as I thought back to the memory of him trying to lure me to his bar up in the VIP section with his smiley barkeep charm, he suddenly piped up again.

“Yoongi hyung isn’t here right now,” he offered me the information he probably thought I sought after, and I fought the angry blush off of my face.

“I’m just passing by,” I answered him with a forced nonchalant flare, going back to looking around the room to appear more care-free, and not like I absolutely had no idea what I was doing. Which was always true.

The guy hummed and moved on to shining the glasses with a special rag of some sorts. He didn’t let my attitude bring him down though and kept smiling towards me, almost as if he was blissfully unaware of who both me and his boss were. He probably thought we were some kind of friends.

“Oh, but Hobi hyung is here,” he supplied more details, chattering off excitedly when he caught my attention, “he came in like fifteen minutes ago to get TaeTae hyung, I think he promised to drive him somewhere.” I took a few steps closer to him, hesitating but kind of tempted to sit with him at the bar and just pull whatever he wanted to share out of him. He definitely seemed the type who loved to share.

The name Hobi also rung some kind of bell to me, but I couldn’t fully place it. I’ve gone through so many materials pertaining to the Min gang that I couldn’t remember everything, and I told myself it was probably someone that had a case against them once and I remember it from there. I didn’t care much for this apparent chauffeur of Taehyung’s and instead slinked closer to the guy.

He gestured towards the seat across the bar, and that sealed the deal for me. As soon as I sit down, he was offering me his hand, and I shook it with only slight hesitation.

“I’m Yeonjun. We kind of saw each other around, but hyung never introduced us,” Yeonjun told me excitedly, and I kind of hated having to burst his bubble.

“Hi Yeonjun, I’m detective Lee,” I braced myself for some kind of reaction – really anything would have been appropriate ranging from worry to curiousness to mistrust. I wasn’t really expecting the joyful barkeep to raise one eyebrow at me with a smirk and say: “Well, I doubt that’s your name, detective.”

For a moment I stared at him in surprise, eyes owlishly blinking and mouth barely keeping shut, but I pulled myself together with an embarrassed smile.

“You’re right, it’s Y/N.”

Yeonjun smiled all friendly at me again, no sight of the knowing smirk that slipped onto his face for a second, and I realised I might be dealing with much more of a professional than I initially thought.

“So, what are you here for today? Probably not to dance,” he gestured to the empty silent club, momentarily pausing with a glass precariously hanging from his other hand before he resumed the shining, “though if you feel like it, help with clean-up will definitely be very welcomed.”

I grinned at him and leant down on the bar, propping my head up on my hand to make myself more comfortable.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on that,” I sassed back, curious eyes sliding over the design of the bar, drinking in every little detail. It somehow felt a little forbidden to be so casually sitting here in broad daylight, and I wanted to use the chance to look around well.

“Yeah, figured,” Yeonjun snorted and moved on from glasses to wiping down the bottles of alcohol that were no doubt all sticky from layers of spilt drinks. Silence settled over us and I wracked my brain to come up with any topic to talk about, opening and closing my mouth endlessly, but always changing my mind last minute. What does one talk about in a situation like this?

Well, in the end it didn’t matter anyway, because just then my attempts were ruined by cheerful voice booming over the room.

“There’s one of my babies! How’re you doing, Jjunnie?” a loud joyful scream interrupted our stilted conversation, and I froze in my seat, fear taking over for a few seconds. Just like that, the sudden realisation why the name Hobi seemed familiar to me hit me in the face like a truck full of bricks.

I turned slowly, almost too slowly, only to come face to face with a wildly smiling happy Hoseok swaggering down the stairs, all care-free and feeling very at home with arms flailing dramatically about. I saw the moment he clocked me in, the moment his eyes slightly narrowed and his smile turned more stilted, but he said nothing and did nothing. When he finally reached the bar, he was acting like nothing was wrong, and reluctantly I went along.

“I see that you’re entertaining one of our friends,” were his only words acknowledging my presence, before he turned to Yeonjun, eyes full of warnings. The boy chuckled, eyes rolling slightly at the older man.

“Yes, Miss Detective finally introduced herself to me,” came his answer, and as far as subtlety goes, this one was about as obvious as the Moon in the sky. He could have just come straight out and say ‘don’t worry, I won’t spill, I know she’s police’, but nonetheless I was glad I wasn’t getting some rando in trouble with Hoseok.

Though, he did call him his baby. Probably not a rando then. I looked Hoseok up and down, ignoring his slightly peeved aura – a lover maybe? I guess for a man as busy as him it’d kind of make sense if he was messing around with the employees. Where else do you meet people to fuck when you’re Min Yoongi’s phantom.

My eyes flitted between the two men, the dots somewhat connecting, when Yeonjun’s embarrassed face caught my attention.

“I feel like there’s a misunderstanding happening,” he quipped in, watching us with wide but amused eyes, and I turned back to him. His dark black-reddish hair was glistening under the lights of the bar, and the unusual mixture of colours kept catching my eyes.

“Well, I had no idea I was talking to one of Hoseok’s babies,” I teased the man, though I sounded much too disgruntled to carry the vibe of care-free joking, “if you ever need help, I have a crucifix and garlic in the back of my car.”

Two different voices burst into laughter and filled the empty room almost to the brim, and I was flabbergasted by the chance that I made Hoseok laugh – but the second laugh wasn’t his (though I did see his lips twitch to smile). Suddenly there was an arm thrown over Hoseok’s shoulders where he stood leaning on the bar with his side, and Taehyung emerged from behind him with amused eyes sparkling at me. I paled.

Great.

“I don’t consider myself overtly religious, but I’ll take the garlic,” Hoseok joked back, for a moment taking a break from casting dark glances in my direction (which I greatly appreciated), “I’m sure hyung would find a use for it.” Hoseok had two hyungs, but at that moment Seokjin completely slipped my mind and it jumped straight to Yoongi “making use of it” and I frowned in disgust.

“How? To stuff it into the fresh wounds of his torture victims?” my lip turned down as I sneered, turning my face into this sardonic grimace, which Taehyung readily laughed at. I think it might have been this point where Yeonjun realised he probably was in over his head in this conversation, and the poor guy watched us throw not-so-friendly jabs left and right with an awkward smile.

“Wow, you’ve got quite the imagination,” Taehyung teased, pretending to be shocked by my ‘brutality’ and almost even going as far as to clutch his metaphorical pearls while I rolled my eyes to high heaven.

“Ever consider getting employed here? Sounds like you’d fit right in,” Hoseok’s voice cut through the room and hit right where it hurt, and it didn’t help that this was the first thing he genuinely laughed at.

A frown pulled at my face before I could stop it, and with the way my lips curled in barely supressed anger, it must have been clear to everyone the effect the words had on me. And I felt like a big old fool for getting angry at it – because it was like confirming an anxiety – like if they could see it in me then every worry I had about the state of my own morals was right and warranted. In a twisted sense, it wasn’t even his fault I was mad about it, and it sucked.

So I pulled myself together and played it off, ignoring the painful tug of my heart and the way it beat hard and fast, like it was trying to escape out of my chest. Like I was found out.

And to make matters even worse, that was the moment Yoongi stepped in – scanning the room with eyes that were already searching for me, a big silver briefcase in an AP watch adorned hand, sleek and elegant and put together as always.

He walked to us with a small smirk playing on his lips, but like he sensed my raging emotions he aimed straight for me – until he was standing so close to my side I was once again greeted with the spice of his perfume and the warmth of his body.

Throwing an arm around my shoulders much like Taehyung did to Hoseok, he sent the gathered men a mischievous reprimanding gaze. “Stop bullying my police officer, you know she tends to run away when spooked,” he joked, but I was too lost in my own mind to even snap back at how he clearly depicted me as some wild scared animal.

Because from the moment his arm touched me, it was like a scalding hot iron brand was wrought around my body – and I realised this might have been the first time we touched – it felt like the first time we touched, because I’d remember this kind of feeling running through my shuddering body. I’d remember what the overwhelming sense of being drowned in him felt like.

But then a memory flitted to the forefront – yes, we touched before. I crashed into him outside his office and he caught me (everything always coming back to that damned tracker). But why didn’t it feel like this? Why didn’t I feel the strange heat enveloping me from inside out and why didn’t I already have the scent of his cologne mixed with the slightest tang of sweat burned into my brain?

Because now I did.

The weight of his arm didn’t move, and when my crisis calmed down slightly, I could even hear the other’s voice as if from far away. I heard Yeonjun’s drawl and Taehyung’s laugh, I heard Hoseok’s high-pitched cheerful yelling now that Yoongi was here and I was out of the conversation. I also heard their steps when they walked away and the subsequent silence during which Yoongi still didn’t move.

I sat there quietly, hoping to vaporise into the air to not deal with this right now, but of course the man wouldn’t let me go now. When his hand clamped over my shoulder so he could steer me where he wanted me to go, I went easily, not fighting the momentum at all.

Yoongi pulled me through the club up the stairs to the VIP section, leading me to the already very familiar balcony, and still keeping me firmly under his arm even though it made our sides rub against each other – my cheap shirt to his expensive suit. As we passed the top bar, I realised Yeonjun moved from downstairs up here to repeat the whole process of the clean-up, and he sent me a little wave.

When we arrived into the privacy of the balcony, I was expecting Yoongi to immediately let go, but he even went as far as to deposit me on the sofa where Taehyung usually sat before he himself settled down in his own usual spot, watching me with an entertained smirk.

For what felt like hours no one said anything, and slowly I came down from my embarrassment to tap back into the endless frustration I had towards this man. It also didn’t help that now I felt almost miserably cold after spending those several minutes melting under his aura, and the way my body reacted to that made me both ashamed and confused.

Refusing to deal with another thing in the long line of forbidden topics that slowly built up around this man like some ancient mythos, I instead turned away to face the entrance, catching glimpses of busy feet running about while cleaning.

The silence now suddenly felt like a competition – who would break first and start the conversation? Who’d beg the other to speak?

So I stubbornly pursed my lips and avoided looking at the man.

Yeah, well, too bad I wasn’t exactly known for my patience.

“You know fucking your employees is bad for business?” I threw out the first thing that came to my mind, thoughts straying back to happy Hoseok screaming at the top of his lungs, “I’d expect a businessman like you to know that.”

Yoongi simply raised his eyebrow, looking on the verge of laughter as I stewed in my own anger.

“Having another jealous tantrum, are we?” he teased back, pointedly ignoring my jab and turning it around at me.

“Another? Jealous tantrum? I don’t know which one of us is constantly asking inappropriate personal questions,” I huffed and grumbled, still looking away from the man, “I’m talking about Hoseok and Yeonjun. He called him his baby.” I didn’t know why this was the hill I chose to die on, but my pride was a terrible thing and didn’t allow me to pull back now, much to Yoongi’s amusement.

I heard his chuckles, a melodic and almost ironically joyful sound, before he leant forward into my field of vision – holding my gaze now that I was caught back into his charm.

“Hobi calls them his babies because he trained them, not because he fucks them,” the man explained in that voice one uses on a petulant child, further ruffling my feathers, “He trained our babies too.” For a moment I wondered to who he was referring to as our babies, before the realisation that he was talking about Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook smacked me in the face and I blushed. Right, not ours but theirs.

“Hoseok trained everyone? I guess that does make sense,” I mumbled more to myself, leaning back into the sofa subconsciously to make myself more comfortable. The mental image of teenage Hoseok in a fighting ring flew in front of my eyes, all bloodied and fighting for his life like a dog, young and feral and scared. That he trained Jungkook made perfect sense, though Yeonjun – why would he need training? Was he more than just a chatty waiter?

But after all, in a life like this everyone needed to know how to fight at least a little. I knew how to fight and I barely ever got out of the office. Unless I was annoying Yoongi.

Speaking of the man, I finally turned to face him, finding him sitting comfortably in his spot watching me with curious eyes, a soft grin playing on his lips.

“So what have you got in the store for me on this fine morning?” the man asked conversationally, fingers twitching as if on instinct to grab a whiskey glass. Well, I guess that was our usual set-up, so I couldn’t blame him for being a little confused.

“Or maybe this month?” he fished more, trying to push me into a conversation. He probably thought I was still sulking, so I ignored how embarrassing that was of me and grinned at him like we were great friends.

“Nothing special,” I teased, going for that whole mysterious vibe and shit, hoping my theatrics hid the way I shook inside from all the events I’ve already gone through that day – and it was only a bit after 11 am. Crazy, is what I was.

“Really? All that talk about having such amazing games prepared for me and you have nothing special ready?” The reminder of our last meeting nearly made my eye twitch, though my expression did sour – much to the amusement of my host.

“What? Not even your detective’s amazing skills made you less mad about that evening?” Yoongi’s voice was so happy, like he stumbled on a diamond mine by accident, and I scrambled to shut that line of conversation down as quick as possible.

“No, no, no,” I wagged my finger in his direction like I was reprimanding a misbehaving dog, “We’re not discussing that. Stop bringing that up, I’m also not asking about what you were doing to that girl when you got the call to come to The Rose.” Yoongi’s eyes immediately lit up at the mention of that, pulling an annoyed groan out of me. I should really learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.

“You could you know, I’m an open book,” he said, vibe dripping in self-assuredness to almost a maddening degree, as he draped himself over that red velvet sofa, dressed in his nice black suit and with an infuriatingly amused expression on his face, I could see clearly how unbothered he was by everything. How this was such a fun game for him. Pissing me off.

“That’s why I don’t,” I growled right back. I could already imagine how happily he’d divulge any details, as long as it made me embarrassed. I wouldn’t trust a single word coming out of his mouth, but I’d still blush and be angry and cuss him and run out, just to spend the whole day thinking of his teasing words. We’ve been here before – there was no need to test that again, I knew he was perfectly capable of spilling anything just for a reaction back.

The conversation stalled a little after that, as Yoongi seemed to be too busy watching me with sparkling eyes, like a cat playing with its food, and me like a mouse squirming in my seat, knowing I was always on the verge of being devoured by a giant. Yoongi’s smooth sharp claws were already deeply embedded into me, now it was only a matter of time when he’d get hungrier.

“I hope you’re at least putting my tracker to good use” was his next quip, after a moment of silence, and that’s how I knew he was really trying to piss me off. And almost loyally, I as always gave him that satisfaction he craved from that.

“Why are you so obsessed with the tracker?” my voice took on almost a whiney annoyed edge, drowning out the giggling of the man as my face twisted into an annoyed scowl.

“Well, it is mine.. And I have a very hard time parting from what belongs to me,” he drawled out, voice suddenly taking on a much more seductive quality, and I cursed him for really trying to pull out all the stops here.

I leant back into the sofa and looked at him, properly took him in for the first time that day. As always, he wore loose dress pants with an incredibly soft looking airy t-shirt tucked into them and a blazer thrown over that, all in black. I doubted I ever saw him in any other colour, taking the time to dip into my mental catalogue of Min Yoongi and only coming up with black, white and greys.

He was way more comfortable and relaxed than I ever remembered him, and that said a lot since we were talking about Yoongi here – the king of appearing unbothered by mortal affairs. Something just put him into an extraordinarily good mood today, and for a moment I feared he already knew about my visit to the Hana Bank head office. After all, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities they’d try to double check with Hoseok on whether he was cool with sharing his records with the police – but if that was true, I doubt the man himself would joke around with me at the bar.

“What, are you like a dragon protecting its hoard?” I shot back after a while, getting back to the teasing back and forth once Yoongi let me stare my fill, nothing but his lips quivering to stretch into a smirk betraying that he was paying close attention to my very obvious ogling.

“No, that would be silly,” the man chuckled, hand playing with the hem of his jacket almost coyly as he spun his tales, “I’m just a poor boy that got his grubby little hands on some gold and now doesn’t want to let go.”

“Some? I’d argue it’s way more than just some gold,” I gestured wildly around the balcony and the club, and even with the very lavish furnishing, it still felt like a criminal understatement. I’ve seen The Rose, I’ve been to his office – and I dare say that were I to visit his house, I’d see even more, not to mention his never-ending collection of expensive brand hand-tailored clothes. A normal person wouldn’t even be able to comprehend the amount of his wealth.

“Yeah? Are you impressed by the size of my empire?” his out-right coquettish tone didn’t really leave much space for me to misunderstand the clear innuendo, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Gotta be impressed by the size of something,” I grumbled back, crossing my arms over my chest and doing my best to throw him the most uninterested glare I was capable of even with the heat in my cheeks at the subject we’ve found ourselves discussing.

“Well, why don’t you come over here and find out which is more impressive?” something dark flashed in his eyes as he said those words, legs parting on instinct and making everything a little more prominent to the eyes, “I know what I’m betting on.” I could have just combusted with how my eyes unwittingly slid down at the movement before I caught myself and forced them back up to watch his smirk turn sharper.

Even with the embarrassment flooding my system, I could feel the strange heat that spread through me at the look in his eyes and the words spilling out of his mouth in that rasp, and in shame I found my heart beating faster in some sort of twisted interest.

I squashed all that down, though there wasn’t much I could do about my flaming red cheeks. I hoped nothing more than mortification was visible in my expression though, because otherwise that would have been the end of me, and I’d never talk to the man again without him teasing me to death.

Fuck, I thought to myself, I’ve been neglecting myself more than I thought, because there’s no way Yoongi’s flirting was actually working on me.

“It better be the gold, Min Yoongi, otherwise you’d be a very stupid man,” I gritted through my teeth, through the humiliation, and tore my eyes away from the confusing mix of emotions flitting through the man’s eyes. I could swear I saw a flicker of open hunger in them, but I chose to lock the mental image of that deep down into myself, so deep that I’d never stumble upon it ever again.

When I looked to him again after a bout of tension-filled silence, he was already back to his self-assured relaxed self, smirking at me – though now there was a twinge of something in the edge of it, something that made my stomach roll in an unpleasantly positive way.

If I was counting our victories, this one would definitely go to Yoongi, and I knew I’d be feeling the aftermath for a long time.

“So you’re not here to talk about your colleagues breathing down my neck about certain murders that happened at Bukhang Port,” Yoongi sing-songed, like he was revealing some big secret – like he found me out and wasn’t fooled by my visit. I sat there flabbergasted.

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped my mind Minjoon and Hwang were going to go talk to Yoongi about it. Right, I did want to talk to him after the revelation was made, because I wanted to gloat and try to pull information out of him, but I was so swept away with my own plans that I was truly shocked he thought this is what today was about.

No wonder he was trying to push my buttons when I didn’t say anything – he wanted to provoke me into getting mad and pulling out the murders.

But I was also too embarrassed to admit to him that I had ended up here by a complete accident, so I just played along.

“Right… You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, Mr. Min?” I drawled out, playing my part as the detective – what he clearly wanted me to do, “I distinctly remember you lying to me about having no idea what happened there while slipping a tracker into my phone.”

“Me? Never,” he teased back, putting a hand to his chest and finally fucking pulling his legs more closed, “I don’t lie.”

Even with him basically spoon-feeding me the topic for conversation, I just couldn’t think of anything else to say – my brain was fried under the barrage of strange experiences I had this morning, and I couldn’t even pretend to be interested in those murders. And I ended up just… staring. At Yoongi.

To his great amusement.

“Well, alright,” he said finally when I failed to continue with the jabs, breaking our sacred ritual of pissing each other off until I run off, too angry to continue, “we can definitely go back to the earlier topic if you’ve got nothing to say on this one.” I couldn’t have that.

“They were drug dealers,” slipped out of my mouth, very intelligently, but at least it seemed to surprise the man for a bit before he smirked.

“Great job, detective,” he purred out, “What do you want as a reward for cracking such a tough case?” I flew forward before I even knew what I was doing.

“So you did know them?” He only smirked more, before pretending to turn disinterested in the conversation.

“I may have.”

I could see the way his eyes ever so often flicked to me to gauge my reaction, to see how interested I was with keeping the conversation alive, and I realised this was another game. A game to say just enough to keep engaging me, but never too much to actually give me anything. He just wanted me to banter.

“Yoongi,” I said his name, and it came out all weird, like I wasn’t meant to call him such to his face – but it did get his attention immediately with his eyes wide and jumping to me in a split second, “If you’re bored, I’m sure you can pay someone to keep you entertained. With the size of your empire, as we established, I’m sure you could afford that.”

When his smirk turned a little more savage, it felt like I won something too.

“Hey Min!” I called out to the man bent over his desk, punching something away into his computer. The second he heard my voice his head whipped up, and he smiled warmly my way. When I stepped closer to him, for a moment I worried he’d do something, but the man just sent me a sparkling wink and patted the seat next to him, which I took gladly.

“I’ve got a question,” I told him, and he chuckled, already used to my antics at the office. I did feel a little bad because I’ve been so over the place the last month, but there was a lot on my plate – and if everything panned out, there was about to be even more.

“Fire away,” he sighed and leant back into his chair, arms folding behind his head.

“When you went to Yoongi about the warehouse murders, what did he say?” I hoped my tone wasn’t too eager. Hoped there wasn’t that strange waiver after the kind of morning I had – after the things we said to each other in that empty silent balcony. Hoped he couldn’t reach into my mind and see how jittery I still was from the interaction.

Cause Yoongi sure could – to him I was more than an open book. Sometimes it felt like he could predict me, and it left me worried when I interacted with other people – people that weren’t supposed to see what I didn’t mind showing Yoongi, because he was already a lost cause.

Minjoon though… Minjoon couldn’t see, not when he looked at me with those excited hopeful eyes. Why did I feel as if I cheated on him? That was ridiculous.

“Well, he deflected as always,” the detective said, cutting straight through my inner turmoil, “told us he didn’t see why we bothered him with something that had nothing to do with any of his businesses. Couldn’t get a single word out of him about it.”

The man grimaced and gestured to his face vaguely before continuing. “Did that annoying thing he does… you know, when you just know he’s lying to you because he’s straight up laughing in your face, but doesn’t really say anything, so you’re just really mad?” He chuckled tiredly, and I felt terrible.

The revelation that Yoongi himself admitted to me just hours ago sat parked on the tip of my tongue, and I so desperately wanted to shout out that he knew the men who died – but how would I be able to explain having that information? How valuable really is something that was said between teasing jabs during a conversation that shouldn’t have been happening?

I swallowed those words, and they went down bitterly – but there wasn’t anything I could do to help Minjoon right now. If I shared, he’d only be suspicious of me. If I told him to not ask how I knew, he wouldn’t be able to bring the tip to anyone else anyway, without an unconfirmed source it was useless – and I couldn’t afford to further fall down the rabbit hole of lies and invent a convenient informant.

“Well, that’s just typical of him,” I ended up saying, somewhat awkwardly trying to play the whole thing off and change the subject, even though I was the one who brought it up.

“Hey, are you free tomorrow night?” Minjoon suddenly asked, totally out of nowhere, turning more towards me with a coquettish look on his face, and I felt simultaneously flustered and mortified. A quick cursory glance of the office showed that no one was really around, and those who were had their noses stuck deep into their own work and business, but still a shrill note of panic flew through me upon his open flirtation.

“Actually, I’m most probably going to need to stay late, so I gotta pass,” I answered, not even lying but still feeling guilty, especially with how Minjoon’s face fell. I wished I could explain to him more what was going on in my life – enough so that he wouldn’t think I’m just trying to dodge him – but I couldn’t. At least not now.

Not when he still wouldn’t understand why and what I was doing.

“But I could probably meet up the day after…?” I added after a moment, whispering the words into existence as if they were deeply forbidden; cursing my soft heart and cursing how I couldn’t stop myself from slipping – not when it came to Yoongi, and not when it came to Minjoon either.

The man’s face lit up like I’d told him Santa was real, and for a split second he reached over to grab my hand and squeeze it, before letting go and leaning into his chair again. The action was so quick even I had trouble processing what had just happened, but I still cast a quick glance around the room to make sure no curious eyes were on us.

Even with me all jittery and squirming on the seat, the man was unbothered as he returned to his computer, back to furiously typing out something. I glanced over his shoulder to peek in, meaning it as just a playful gesture, and Minjoon let me with a little grin.

What I got an eyeful of though was a team report about the murders full of information I hadn’t heard of. My name wasn’t on it.

My heart sank, but I was already used to living with that feeling.

I ended up waiting for those records until the afternoon the next day, when I finally got a very unpleasant email from even more disgruntled Mr. Kim linking a file with the last year worth of Hoseok’s finances. He very begrudgingly admitted their lawyers gave the form the green light after looking it over just to be sure, and I felt an immense sense of vindication. In the end the ‘justice’ prevailed, no matter what the truth really was.

I could hardly keep back the excitement, the burning need to look through them wracking through every nerve of my being, but I was too afraid of someone seeing what I was doing, so I had to painstakingly wait the whole day until the office emptied out, pretending to keep busy by menial tasks.

I’ve long since realised that no one really paid attention to what I did, and at least sometimes there was an advantage to that.

With the hours counting up on the clock, the office slowly emptied out – Park rushing out in his usual manner, slamming doors open and running through the space like a storm, while Minjoon took the time to stop by my table with a smile and a discreet wink, gesturing to his phone as he texted me he couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

I also made the decision to stop waiting on every little breadcrumb they decide to drop for me, tired of the way I begged every little information out of Minjoon. After seeing him write up his report yesterday afternoon, I decided rather than going the usual route and pestering him until he told me everything, I’d just simply request the document and read up on the case as he wrote it for Park – quickly realising there were many reports – way more than I was expecting, detailing everything, and most of all things that no one bothered telling me up until then.

So instead of doing anything productive or endlessly going through old cases, I sat down with the reports, catching up on everything that I missed by not being updated properly.

There was a lot of material. Interviews with dock workers I wasn’t notified about (they all denied hearing or seeing anything), one more visit to Mrs. Kim (which didn’t yield much of anything when she plainly refused to see them), endless references to in-person meetings and team briefings I was never invited to.

The latest one was full of frustration on Minjoon’s part – the still unknown third man, the stubbornly quiet people from the neighbourhood, Yoongi’s silence on the topic. From the first reports where he swore these must have been turf wars, he now made a pivot back to a drug deal gone wrong, citing Mrs. Kim’s words as the reason. He didn’t know why though. He just had several pieces of the very infuriating puzzle, but not enough to put together a clear picture.

What we knew was scarce – these boys were playing with things beyond their scales, they got into a skirmish with Yoongi, and found themselves solved by Hoseok. Who were they, how they got there and what they did to invite such trouble – we knew very little about that.

My name was mentioned in a few of those reports, mostly where Minjoon recounted my work on assembling the cases and looking into the Moon Jiwoo case, but otherwise it was all between him and Hwang, with the occasional quip from Cheol or Sunmi.

By the time evening came, I was so beaten down by the reports I almost didn’t even notice when finally the last person left the office and I was alone, free to comfortably investigate my own things without someone constantly walking behind my back.

Well, clearly my path to this unit didn’t lead through this team – it would have to lead through Yoongi himself then, and I was determined to put the work in.

Hoseok’s records were long and disorienting at first – a mess of numbers and locations that were foreign to me, and I spent a lot of time just googling names of places and putting them on the map.

About halfway through I got up and pulled the neighbouring table closer to add a second monitor to my own, so that I could comfortably see both. I felt both like a professional and like some underground vigilante, but it did significantly ease the whole process to me.

I spent hours there, just scrolling through endless spreadsheets, linking Hoseok’s whereabouts to several main areas.

Mostly the man just spent concerning amounts of money on clothes, watches and collector editions of sneakers (really, when I first saw the amount of money spent on a single shopping trip, I almost fell out of my chair), but after few very boring and confusing pages a few patterns started to emerge.

He liked to visit a small café near Jungkook’s office, he clearly had a favourite spot to have a lunch in for when he spent time around the docks. He spent a lot of money on food delivery – the amounts making me think they were probably for a team of people and not just for him. A lot of purchases happened in Gangnam too, real close to where Yoongi lived, which meant he might be living somewhere in that area too.

One of the more noteworthy ones were his weekly visits to a place called the Golden Lily, which at first glance seemed like a restaurant, but after some further digging turned out to be a very high-end brothel. As far as I could see, every Thursday without fail Hoseok went to this establishment and dropped a fat check there, probably paying for something even my wildest imagination couldn’t come up with (and honestly, I’d rather not try). Well, clearly I managed to stumble upon one of his vices – though he seemed like a man of many, with how much money he dropped everywhere he went.

After hours of going through the records and barely getting back a few months, I was fucking ready to pack it in and be happy with the info I was able to gather so far, but the combination of fear I’d miss something huge and the pure pettiness of ‘I committed a crime for this, so I’m fucking using it to the fullest’ kept me going long into the night – to a point I resigned myself to sleeping over at one of the couches in the break room. It wasn’t the most comfortable fit ever, but it would do.

And approaching 2 am, I finally came across something that was worth the determination and the pure torture I put myself through.

At the beginning of January of this year, Hoseok’s location suddenly shifted. The usual coffee spot didn’t come up, nor the odd little transactions from around Gangnam or Bukseong Port, and instead it filled with purchases in hotels and restaurants in Busan. Then Japan. Then Busan again. Then Seoul.

I looked through it again and immediately something screamed to me that this was somehow significant. It was just a few days, but it could have easily been a work trip – I knew that Yoongi had ties to yakuza, and Hoseok didn’t seem the type to go on vacations.

A woman on a mission, I quickly ran over to the meeting room, frantically looking through ‘the Yoongi wall’ and searching for any mention of his Japanese gang ties, but wasn’t able to find anything more than a brief mention of him being seen meeting up with Sato Masaru, which had to do as far as information went.

Running back like a headless chicken I slid onto my chair so hard it wheeled halfway across the room, and I had to awkwardly shuffle back to my table, where I logged back into the internal police database and quickly pulled any files I could find on the man.

There were also plenty, though most of them weren’t specifically about him but about his family as a whole (and his older brother mostly), and they were all signed off by names that were vaguely familiar to me as my colleagues, but I couldn’t think of whether I’d had a single conversation with either of those men.

A quick read-through (which I did clutching a cup of coffee and desperately trying to stay awake as my eyes started closing by themselves) told me that apparently, they were a family Yoongi struck up a connection with immediately after he claimed his throne. The oldest son of the family, Sato Daichi, at the time started taking over the ‘family business’ and took a liking to the struggling boy of a similar age, and the two empires have been moderately friendly over the years.

Problem was – Satos were based in Fukuoka and controlled most of the trade with Busan and Korea. Hoseok didn’t go to Fukuoka.

Double-checking just to be sure, squinting into the brightly lit monitor, I once again googled the name of the hotel he stayed at – and it was located in Kitakyushu, a city northeast of Fukuoka.

When running that name through our database didn’t give me much of anything, I groaned in frustration – because what do you mean that after spending hours on this and stumbling upon the first potentially interesting thing, it turns out to be a dead-end? Hoseok was really starting to piss me off with this.

After a few more failed attempts at finding out why that city specifically could be significant to Hoseok and Yoongi, I dejectedly went back to the financial records. And then, looking at the dates, something just… clicked in me.

Why did they feel so familiar? Why did I vaguely remember something happening at that time?

Absolutely crazed and on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, I dived under my table to fish out my bag, spilling it all over the floor in the process of raking through it with the grace of a bridge troll – I was able to find what I was looking for. My little black notebook, full of bullshit and useless little tidbits about Yoongi. Like what coffee he liked to drink, because I was genuinely insane and wrote down everything (also it wasn’t that hard to not remember – he liked plain unsweetened americano, and even during winter he alternated between getting the hot and the iced version).

Included in those notes were a few days of angry rambling – me losing my mind about Hoseok being nowhere to be found and wondering what the fuck was he doing and where. And the dates matched – even to the point of the very embarrassing stake out when Yoongi had Soobin bring me coffee happening only like four days after his return. And the warehouse murders happened a day before he left.

In a scrawl that was undecipherable even to me I wrote down the connection I seemingly made and with shaky hands turned back to the map of Japan I had pulled up and the Sato family files, reading through them again with more presence, though it took absolutely everything of me to not just fall asleep on the spot.

I was hoping that maybe I’d find a mention of the city – a suspected base, a warehouse, a fucking summer getaway cottage or some shit, just anything to signal why Hoseok travelled there of all the places, but the Satos infuriatingly seemed completely straying clear of there.

For a moment I even wondered whether I actually lost my mind and this was just a normal vacation. Everybody needed a break sometimes, didn’t they?

But then I noticed something – through the files and the reports, there was a name that kept coming up every once in a while – and from the way the detectives spoke of him, he must have been close to our unit. Baek-sunbaenim.

Going back to square one, I put his name into our database and was met with a friendly middle-aged face, distinctive black curls already greying through and an unkempt stubble giving him a bit of a rugged vibe. He seemed like the perfect example of a merry neighbourhood policeman – and he was apparently the chief of Busan’s narcotics and organised crime unit.

There, sitting by the brightly shining computer, eyes tearing up, completely deranged, at 3 am – the idea that suddenly burst into my mind like a wrecking ball through a cardboard wall seemed like the best one I’ve ever had.

Hoseok went to Japan around the time the murders happened. He didn’t visit the family Min gang was affiliated with, and instead went to a different city. He stopped in Busan both on the way there and on the way back.

Busan was somehow important. Baek-sunbaenim seemed to have a lot of expertise on Japan’s current crime scene, and he was in Busan.

Who was also in Busan? Cheol and Sunmi, chasing a serial killer.

Quickly turning everything off, I pulled away from the table and promptly stumbled like a drunken sailor the moment I tried getting on my feet. The world swung in front of my eyes for a moment before everything righted, and with shaky hands I grabbed everything I could see from the floor, stuffed it back into my bag and started the long and exhausting shuffle to the break room.

As I dragged my feet through the office, I reached for my phone.

There weren’t many people I was in contact with – the very few I usually kept up with offline, and there was little need for any kind of electronical communication. What was work related was kept to my email. Yoongi didn’t have my number, and I didn’t keep in touch with people from my childhood. As such, when I opened the messages app, the only chat that had been active in the past week was Minjoon’s still unread text about tomorrow’s dinner, and so it didn’t take long at all to find the only other person I’d been recently (in the past three months) texting.

Cheol picked up my call on the third ring, groaning into my ear sleepily with a healthy dose of annoyance, and I guiltily realised I was calling him literally in the middle of the night and other people actually slept instead of endlessly scrolling through miles of white spreadsheets until they were crying from the exposure (among other things).

“What happened?” his voice was all scratchy and raspy from being woken up, but I could still sense the tinge of worry as the detective started coming more to himself. There weren’t many reasons police officers called each other in the middle of the night, and none of them were good, so I couldn’t blame him for expecting some bad news.

With more guilt pushing into my heart, I vowed myself to buy the man at least a breakfast, a lunch and a dinner once I’d get the chance to, and with an equally tired voice I replied.

“Hey, Cheol… Do you think I could maybe come down to you to Busan? It’s work related…”

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@sousydive

[naileadevoras]

christmas just passed but i still have a gift for you all ! under the cut , you'll find a list of tagalog slang + sample sentences to help with writing your filipino muses . keep in mind that filipinos typically use these words / phrases during informal conversations . also , i'm mainly translating a type of slang called " conyo " which is a certain way of speaking that involves mixing the english & filipino languages . i hope this list helps you out & inspires you to play more filipino muses .

a like + reblog would be greatly appreciated ! happy holidays ♡ ︎

anuna - what's the plan? - can also be used when someone is taking too long. - you've been getting ready for 3 hours now, anuna? - anuna yung plan for this friday night? i thought we were going out.

awit - ouch + that hurts - usually used when faced with a negative situation - i just found out my crush likes somebody else, awit.

badtrip - used when someone is in a bad mood - what do you mean i failed my test? badtrip.

bes / beh - short for "best friend" - can be interchanged with "bestie" - beh, this boy tried to get my number at the bar last night, what a weirdo.

chika - gossip - omg bes, sit down right now 'cause i have so much chika to tell you!

charot / char - just kidding - usually said in a sarcastic manner - yeah i hooked up with my ex last week... charot!

dein / deins - no - used when refusing an idea or invitation. - dein, i can't go to the party tonight, i have to babysit my little brother. - deins dude, i don't have any extra money to lend you.

fambam - short for family - i can't next week, i'm travelling to italy with the fambam.

foodtrip - an eating session, like a picnic - you wanna come over to my place? we can have a foodtrip while watching netflix.

kilig - having butterflies in your stomach - blushing - i get so kilig every time i see my crush. - my girlfriend still makes me kilig even after five years together.

g! - short for "game" - can be interchanged with "yeah, i'm down" - usually used when accepting an invitation or suggestion. - you wanna go to the mall today? g. - g! let's try that new fast food place down the street.

gago - a swear word that translates to "dumbass" - used when calling someone stupid but can also be used in an exclamatory way. - ay gago! i just dropped my phone in the toilet.

lodi / lods - "idol" spelt backwards - usually used by masculine presenting individuals when referring to their other masc friends. - yo lods, are we still up for drinks tonight? - jake? oh yeah that's my lodi right there.

omsim - "mismo" spelt backwards which translates to "exactly" or "that's true" - usually used as an expression of approval - omsim! i love drinking protein shakes in the morning too.

pogi - handsome - here's a photo of my new boyfriend, he's so pogi, right?

praning - paranoid - we're not getting arrested! stop being so praning.

sana all / sanaol - used in scenarios when one is jealous. - can also be used when you're envious of someone elses achievements. - do you see that couple holding hands? sana all. - oh, she's a nepo baby? sanaol.

siszt / sis - short for sister - usually used by feminine presenting individuals when referring to their other fem friends. - can be interchanged with "bes" or "bestie" - sis, can you pick me up? i just got stood up by my date.

yaya - nanny, maid, housekeeper. - yeah that's my yaya, my mom hired her last week. - yaya! can you start making dinner for us please?

[a-simple-imagine]

mean girls mob au

A/N - forever thinking about my mean girls mob au. where everyone is some sort of career criminal but regina george is the worst one around so here’s some 2am thoughts .

characters - regina, gretchen, karen, cady, janis, damian and reader

WARNINGS - mention of violence, murder, and general illegal activity. weapons mentioned including knives and guns. toxic relationships. mutual obsession. dark themes idk

Regina George. she/her. leader -

she was born into this life. maybe directly her parents. maybe a close relative but either way she has known nothing but riches her entire life. her family is loaded. massive houses. expensive cars. she doesn’t know the meaning of the word struggle because life has just been so easy for her. until it’s not. maybe her father gets arrested for something. or someone close enough for it to have an impact dies. but soon enough reality hits regina that it’s not all pretty dresses and fancy parties. there’s a darker side to it all. her father tried to keep her out of it all but regina is stubborn. and eventually her father realises he needs someone to take over one day. so she’s taught the ropes slowly but surely until mean girl regina george who bullies kids in school and gets everything she wants becomes one of the most lethal women in the country. she’s involved in almost every shady deal that does on around her. drugs. murder. fraud. she’s done it all. it’s the only way to live. she’s very good with a gun but much prefers knives. pretty ones with engraved blades and sleek handles. they’re much more personal. you have to be up close to do any real damage. she likes to see the fear in people. the way their body reacts in their last moments. its a rarity that she deals with things herself but when she does she likes the play with her prey. draw it all out. she loves it. she’s obsessed with the hold she has over other people. some people are desperate to be loved but she couldn’t care less about that. it’s all about control. she wants people to fear her. not a bad word is uttered against regina george. but she’s not alone. she has a crew. and if nothing else, regina george is insanely loyal and pays very very well.

Gretchen weiners. she/her. right hand. -

gretchen is regina’s right hand man. they probably grew up together. her father probably worked alongside regina’s which is how this relationship formed in the first place. they often played together at family barbecues or whatever. through school gretchen knew it was better to stick with regina than be bullied by regina. she knew how ruthless the george family could be. so she’d support regina however she wanted. so from bullying kids to intimidating strangers, gretchen weiners has and always will be right by regina’s side. she would do anything for that woman. all regina has to do is snap her fingers and gretchen would come running. but that doesn’t mean gretchen isn’t ruthless in her own way. she’s the one doing the dirty work. she’s the one making sure everything runs smoothly whether it’s making people disappear or making sure deals go through. gretchen has probably seen much more action than regina. probably killed more people too. she prefers a gun. it puts more distance between what she’s doing but she’ll do anything. although it is all in service of regina. you’ll often find her at the bar in the main club the george family owns. an office upstairs where regina does most of her work. she enjoys getting cheeky cocktails when it’s quiet.

karen shetty. she/her. driver -

now karen met the girls a little later. maybe in high school or maybe a little after. regina probably tried to intimidate her but it never really worked on her. not in the same way it did for others and that was something that caught regina’s eye. now karen is the nicest person around. she is someone who says hi to everyone when she comes in every day. is making cute little friendship bracelets for the bouncers at the club. but her main role is driving. not just a general driver, regina pays boring white men for that, no karen is only for important jobs. she’s absolutely insane behind the wheel. can outrun anyone on the road like it’s child’s play because for her it basically is. she loves playing games. and driving can often feel like a game of cat and mouse. she’s also really handy with a weapon. maybe guns. maybe pretty knives. has a bad habit of causing… accidents but nobody ever stays mad at her. she loves dancing at the club and chatting with gretchen at the bar.

cady heron. she/her. new kid. -

now cady is the new girl in town and therefore has a lot to prove. maybe she gets mixed up with the wrong kinds of people. but she doesn’t stay at the bottom long, no she aimed straight for the top. maybe she had some help along the way. maybe there was a moment where she tried to make deals with regina but they never really worked out. regina never played particularly nice with others. that’s okay though because cady somehow found her way. she leads her own team. but she rules through mutual respect rather than fear at least within her own ranks. she finds a little place to set up shop, her own bar. it’s probably really small but it’ll do for now. but if she wants to stay alive she’ll have to either make nice or beat the competition. and unlucky for her regina is the competition. but she figures the easiest way to destroy regina is to go after the most precious thing in regina’s world.

damien hubert. he/him. bartender -

less important to the world than the others but still plays a role. he’s a bartender. just doing regular bartender work. maybe he has multiple jobs in both regina’s and cady’s places or maybe he’s just in regina’s but either way that’s his primary job. he loves interacting with people can usually tell when people are there for business or pleasure. both clubs work as normal clubs too that regular civilians can attend. he loves a good gossip but more so when it comes from the right kinds of people. he is known for having his ear to the ground. knows everything about everyone and is willing to share any information… for the right price. his side gig is in intel. he sells valuable crime secrets for massive amounts of money. runs a weekly poker night for the scariest/richest people in town. it usually puts all kinds of criminals against each other.

janis imi’iki’. she/her/they/them. artist/art dealer. -

a loner. makes art. probably spends a lot of time in the studio working on original pieces. they’re really talented. maybe they sell under a fake name, maybe they don’t. but they get invited to all kinds of fancy parties for the rich and famous. you can find her works in mansions and town houses but only the mindless drivel that she doesn’t care about. anything important to them is reserved for the people she actually cares about or shared for free through donations or exhibitions. she’s also a renowned art trader. big in the trade of illegal or forged art work. they probably paint a lot of the forgeries. it’s easy work and money. plus scamming rich people is fun. they have a bad relationship with regina. probably started when they were younger. now they just avoid each other or more so janis avoids regina. regina loves to try and provoke them especially if she sees them in her club. they’re probably there to see damien who helps facilitate buyers for their business.

BONUS: reader -

the reader is whoever. maybe this whole world is new to them, maybe it’s not. maybe this runs in their blood but they’ve just never been very good. but the most important thing is that regina is obsessed with you. utterly enthralled. does that mean she’s nice to you?? well, yes and no. she can be really cruel. she probably calls you weak an pathetic. sees you as some whose way out of their depth. likes to make a show of you. humiliate you. she’s probably held a knife to your neck once or twice just to see the look in your eye. she’s in complete control. can do whatever she wants and there’s nothing you can say or do about it. not if you valued your life anyway. she loves to shower you with expensive gifts though. especially clothes and jewellery. likes to see you dressed exactly how she wants. just a little doll to dress up and parade around. but as cruel as she can be regina would also move heaven and earth to make sure you’re okay. everyone knows your off limits. so much as bad word about you from anyone else and she’ll have their tongue cut out. and you go absolutely crazy for it. the dynamic is intoxicating. you love just how far she’ll go. it gives you a level of power that nobody else has. you’re untouchable. everyone is forced to respect you or face regina’s wrath. it takes a while for you to get used to being a part of her world. it was fancy and expensive but also dark and gritty. she tries to keep you out of it. but it’s hard not to notice the little things. splatters of blood. disappearances. you’re not stupid. but you just let it happen because just like everyone else you want to please regina. you want her to like you. to be interested in you. you’re not sure you could go back to before you were the centre of her world. regina teaches you some things like how to defend yourself. maybe how to shoot a gun and it’s exciting. when she’s so close and focused. pressed up against you. guiding your shot. it’s sweet. but you know to some extent that this can’t last forever. something will happen one day. she’ll get killed or arrested or whatever. maybe she’ll have to do something she’ll regret because of you. because while you are her greatest possession you’re also her biggest weakness.

[femdomdiaries]

Random Gojo Headcanons

If yall want me to put any of these into a separate post to better fit your blog theme let me know. It’s just random thoughts rn.

Tw: NSFW below cut. MDNI. One of these mentions breeding qnd pregnancy kink, the other mentions that gojo is a service switch.

SFW Headcanons (Realistic)

He's canonically addicted to sweets so do not underestimate what he would do for a Klondike bar.

On a museum date he would giggle and point everytime he sees a naked statue.

Doesn’t sleep often but when he does he often has nightmares about his past. Never when you’re around.

Doesn't drink but is fluent in drunk and can often be found being a bad influence to intoxicated people at parties.

Hope you don't get embarrassed easily because he has no shame and there will be loads of PDA.

Doesn’t wear headphones for the same reason he doesn’t get drunk.

He would steal your clothes, then when you catch him wearing your stuff, he'd deny that they're yours. You can't really fight him about it because he honestly wears it better anyway.

If you’re shorter than him (he’s 6’3 so likely), he rests his chin on your head when he hugs you from behind.

Chronically late so you have to tell him things in advance.

He always wins competitive games so now he tends to stick to creativity oriented ones like Minecraft. From an artistic perspective he tends to suck at those.

Obscure/Crack Headcanons

He licks the icing off the oreos and puts them back in the package.

Snags bites of your food but complains if you eat his food.

To make up for stealing your clothes he'd order you a "smoking hot outfit" he saw online. But when it arrives it’s barbie doll sized.

Don’t worry, he also got you these really nice shoes. But when the shoes come in they're also barbie doll sized. He puts them on his fingers and walks them up your face.

When he grabs ass or gropes you anywhere he says honk honk or beep beep or something like that.

Still has the original flappy bird on his phone. He holds the high score. Could have gotten higher but he lost interest after a couple thousand.

He made a portrait of you out of macaroni art. You keep it at your job. Your coworkers often say how they wish their children were still in the cute art making stage.

His phone wallpaper is a picture of you naked with hot face emojis censoring your private bits.

His lock screen is you with the potato filter.

Keeps a plant because plants are often unpredictable so even he wouldn't get that right by default.

Had an Undertale phase. You know how Sans is lazy and puts forth no effort because he knows it’ll all just be reset by the player anyway? Gojo canonically doesn’t get involved in major conflicts or try to solve everything because he knows that when he dies it’ll all just revert back to the usual. Twinnem.

Actively played pokemon go when it came out and was definitely on team instinct. Probably trespassed in weird places tryna catch rare pokemon and was single handedly carrying team instinct in his region. (Arguments could be made for team Mystic)

NSFW headcanons (realistic)

Bros the type to beg for sex in public then giggle loudly when you're trying not to get caught in the public bathroom

Since he's kinda just the best at everything, he's been worshipped his whole life, so praise would just go over his head. But degrading him? Using power play to humiliate him or make him seem inadequate in some way? Works wonders.

He would send you really explicit texts and get you all hot and bothered only for it to turn out that he was talking about tres leches cake.

Playfully mocks you for not being able to keep up with his stamina.

While he may have infinite cursed energy, he has a limit to his physical stamina and does eventually get tired after going too many rounds.

Believes that the future rides on the youth, so heavy on the breeding kink and pregnancy kink. Wants kids so if you'll allow it best believe this man is not pulling out.

Obscure/Crack NSFW Headcanons

As a service switch he's more than willing to make up for outperforming you by servicing you on demand. It doesn't matter where or when you're horny, he's all yours.

He gets even more turned on when you push him past his limits to use him like a toy.

Says he wants to bring "a special friend" to bed but it's just a stray cat he found. (If you're allergic, it's a life sized cat plush.)

Answers the phone during sex and doesn't care how loud you are, will talk as if nothing else is going on

"Oh, I have to take this. Oi, Nanami. Yes, this is a good time. Hmm? Oh, nobody's hurt, that's just (Y/n). Say hi (Y/n)."

You'd think his favorite sex toy would be some type of gawk gawk 3000 but no, it's a fleshlight that glows in the dark.

Would love to be a rope bunny but he’s just too strong and always breaks the restraints when he gets excited.

He’ll still want to be tied up if only for aesthetics. Maybe you’ll find curse imbued cuffs on the dark web or something.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not asking my sisters to be my bridesmaids?

So I got engaged almost a month ago. My parents have both been pretty involved in the planning process thus far, but my mom has already started being a little weird about it. For example, my fiancé and I mentioned wanting an open bar because his side of the family likes to drink and party. When my mom heard this, she said “well they aren’t paying for it so it doesn’t matter.” (Note: my fiancé’s family doesn’t have a lot of money so we don��t expect them to help at all. Meanwhile, my parents are upper middle class, and while I did not ask them to contribute, my dad already offered this week.) We already have a strained relationship for many reasons, but I was hoping she’d at least wait a little longer before starting her usual antics.

So anyway, I talked to my mom today about how excited I am to make bridesmaid proposal boxes for my friends. She asked who I planned on having, and I named 6 close friends who are really excited for me and happy to help with anything. I (31F) have two younger sisters (26F, 21F) that I did not include. I get along great with my youngest sister, but she will be a senior in college this year and I don’t want to impose on a busy broke college student to do bridal stuff. However, I don’t get along with my middle sister at all. Ever since we were kids we have been complete opposites and fought all the time. She also moved across the country a couple years ago and wasn’t speaking to anyone in my family for months. I honestly considered not even inviting her. I thought the best solution was to not have either sister be a bridesmaid and just have them be Sisters of the Bride, but apparently that’s not good enough according to my mom. I’d probably have to replace two of my friends to include them because I don’t want a gigantic party compared to my fiancé’s 5 groomsmen (side note: he has a lot of half siblings and is not including any of them in his party). So, AITA for not wanting my sisters to be official bridesmaids?

What are these acronyms?

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 31: halloween costumes

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

First I want to thank all the people who followed this during the month, I honestly never thought I would be able to join this kind of events, and I am very happy with the reception that each work received, you are incredible and made my days the best! I Hope this last one is to your liking, I send you a hug wherever you are

Deciding on an individual costume is already difficult, so you weren't surprised when you realized that a couple costume involved a bigger concern.

Halloween had finally arrived and you had practically begged Spencer to find a couple's costume for the party the FBI was hosting, something not really official, but with most of the agents, at the bar your friend David Rossi had chosen.

“Any suggestions for our outfit?” you had asked the man, once you convinced him to match his costume with yours.

Spencer thought about it for a while and although many of the options he gave you sounded excellent, there was the detail of the short time you had to get things or the disadvantage that few people would be able to recognize the theme of your costume.

“It has to be something practical and known,” you had murmured, when both of you were sitting on the couch at dinner time and a children's channel filled the void in the room.

Until, watching TV, you finally figured it out: you had the perfect option right in front of your eyes and you never saw it.

So it was that on the night of the 31st, quite happy and satisfied with the choice you made, you drove to the place and let him behave like a gentleman by opening the car door for you.

“Are you sure I look good?”

“You've never looked more handsome” you smiled at him, trying to calm his anxiety, while both of you walked hand in hand towards the entrance.

You didn't have to wait long to see your friends and, as you expected, they were comically surprised at you.

“No way…” Morgan had laughed, looking at you up and down. “Pretty boy in bell-bottoms? Now that's something I didn't think I'd see."

Shaggy and Velma from Scooby Doo. That was you two.

It was true that Spencer was wearing brown bell-bottom pants that you had gotten at a thrift store. You also searched your closet and luckily found a v-neck shirt in the perfect color. Unfortunately, your boyfriend had recently cut his hair and you wished you had thought about the costume more in advance so he could show off his long locks just like the animated character.

You had bought a few things from your all-orange outfit, but the bonus with you was that you could wear them later. When Spencer saw you, he was stunned and didn't waste the opportunity to compliment you extensively.

“What can we tell you? They solve mysteries and catch monsters, it's almost like our job”

"How nice!" murmured JJ, who had just arrived accompanied by her husband Will. Both of them were dressed as vampires “I loved Scooby Doo when I was a kid. My favorite was always Daphne.”

“I don't know why that doesn't surprise me,” joked Emily, who was dressed as the bride of Frankenstein's monster and drank from a glass with an unknown concoction.

“You should have told us and we could have done a group costume,” she smiled, while she looked at Will, hinting that they could have been the other couple on the show.

"Clear. You Daphne, him Fred and Morgan would have been the dog”

A collective laugh filled the place where even Derek, the affected one, smiled while he pointed a finger at you.

“Guess who was my favorite,” you murmured, a little more to your boyfriend than the others.

“Huh, Velma?”

“It was Shaggy!” you replied amused, while you took his arm to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Reid looks a little like Velma if you think about it. You know, with all those facts and statistics and they're the damn nerd of the group”

Spencer blushed slightly at the comparison and didn't think of anything clever to answer because, sadly, Morgan was right this time.

You complimented the others' costumes and everyone agreed that you were looking forward to seeing Penelope Garcia and her extravagant clothes, since she hadn’t yet honored you with her presence. After that the group started talking about something else and soon the two of you were no longer the center of attention, allowing you to take the man's hand and sneak over to the drinks bar to look for something to cool your throat with. 

“Does this have alcohol?” your boyfriend asked the bartender over the noise of the music, making you laugh lightly. When he checked that the drink was safe, he took one and made sure to order your favorite cocktail afterwards.

“If you think about it a little, we are both more like each other's characters,” you murmured thoughtfully, because what your friend had said seemed to have echoed in your head. “Shaggy was always clumsy and an enthusiastic eater. Like me"

“You're not clumsy.”

"I am. But not in a bad way, not like being an idiot or something, but like something…”

“Cute and adorable?” he completed.

"Exactly. You always know what I'm thinking."

“Despite I agree, I think the costume wouldn't have worked at all that way,” your boyfriend smiled, approaching you to grab your waist. Because of the heels your height was more balanced and he only needed to extend his hands a little to reach your body.

"Why?"

“Don't get me wrong, but I don't think that skirt would have looked good on me at all” you let out a loud laugh at this, realizing what he was referring to “Although you, on the other hand…” while he spoke one of his hands slid down until he slapped your butt, startling you slightly “you look gorgeous in it”

“You have all night to figure out how to take it off,” you said flirtatiously. Now it was Reid who held his breath “I'm wearing something underneath that I make sure matches the rest of the outfit and that I think you'll love”

The wink you gave him was enough to make him nervous and, evidently, excited by the images that his skillful mind was already beginning to generate.

Once you got your cocktail you returned to the hustle and bustle but your velvety voice couldn't leave Spencer's mind, who couldn't wait for the night to end because he was sure that the best candy he would receive this Halloween would be you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger @missabsey

[luckyythirteen]

Do you have any hcs about STARS before the mansion incident? :)

i got a few!

- Wesker was a fair boss, everyone looked up to him. I like to think he butted heads with Irons a lot in the RPD due to Irons attempting to boss around his team.

- Speaking of that, one time Wesker had to break up a fight between Irons and Chris. Instead of reprimanding Chris he rounds on Irons and tells him "Don't ever lay a hand on one of my men again."

- While Barry was the father figure of the team, Wesker was very much the mentor and friend of the team. To keep up a personable facade he'd often talk with his team members and even pull them into his office to essentially let them vent if they were acting off.

- The team would often get together after work and try to persuade Wesker to hang out with them but 9/10 times he refused

- The times he would go though, if it was a night at the bar he was always a designated driver. They also learn to never play poker with wesker bcs he always wins, no one can read his dead eyes or expression

- had one (1) Christmas party where they had an ugly christmas sweater contest. Barry won.

- When Rebecca joined the team, Wesker admired her. Not in a sexual or romantic way, but he admired her intelligence and the fact she was a child prodigy

- If there was a case they took and it involved a child as a witness, Wesker usually would direct Barry or Chris as the one to talk to the child to get info/calm them down

- One time though that didn't work, so Wesker took matters into his own hands. He knelt down and took off his sunglasses and his tone becomes soft.

"I'm Captain Wesker. Are you feeling okay?"

The child stared at him with watery eyes and a vacant look he knew all too well as they shook their head.

"It must be scary, everyone surrounding you and asking questions you don't understand." Wesker said slowly. "You know, despite being the captain of the team, I'm scared too."

This caused the child to take a quick glance at him. "You are?"

Wesker nodded solemnly. "I am. The safety of my team and everyone else is my job. It's scary to not know what will happen next - so that's why I'm talking to you. You're very important and you're very brave, you know that? That's why I need your help. Can you tell me what you saw?"

- Everyone after is in utter SHOCK over the fact Wesker suceeded in making the kid talk.

- once the tension dies down they tease him about having a soft spot for months after

- wesker allowed the team members to bring games to the office (darts, cards etc)

- he regrets this decision when a dart lodged itself in his shoulder due to Richard's terrible aim one time

[fatliterature]

The day the voice took over

Something’s up with me. I can’t get the idea of… getting fatter out of my head. When I’m doing other things it’s still there, when I’m living my normal office intern life, it’s humming beneath the surface. 

Have you noticed how thin people often think about getting fatter too? Especially when there’s food involved. Every lunchtime they get out their little meals and talk about their weight and their diet. It’s like they need to, to make themselves feel better. ‘Oh I can’t finish this sandwich it’s so big, plus I ate so much at my kids birthday party this weekend.’ Once you notice it- it’ll drive you crazy. 

It seems like we all think about getting fatter in one way or another. They all seem to have this voice inside them. It tells them when enough is enough. It tells them when to stop. I sort of understand… because I have a voice like that too, except mine has been telling me to eat more. In fact lately, it’s been getting worse. It’s been telling me to talk about it out loud, just like they do.

The first time it happened I couldn’t stop myself. Someone at the desk behind me had just taken out their lunch. They did what they always do, made their comments. ‘I can’t finish a can of soda like this, the fizzy sugary-ness sort of tingles after a while.’ 

‘Oh really? I drink a 2 liter of that a day, it’s incredible.’ Oop. Silence. 

What was I doing? To them I had broken some kind of taboo, the rule of restraint. I was openly and happily drinking a whole bottle of that sugary soda a day? And even worse, I was proud of it? The voice inside me was laughing, its like it had breached the surface for the first time. They stared at me. 

Over the next few weeks the voice got bolder. My thin coworkers cannot resist the habit of making their comments about themselves, and I couldn’t stop the voice inside me from responding. 

‘I’m thinking of cutting out dairy from my diet…’

‘Dairy is SO good though, have you ever drank an entire bottle of whole milk?’

‘How many calories are in this energy bar I’m eating? Woah 200? That seems high…’

‘No way I’ve got 2000 calories for my lunch.’

‘Rachel’s birthday cake is on the counter, I’m trying to be good though.’

‘I’ll have your slice, Is there any whole milk in the refrigerator? I’m still hungry.’

They were horrified by me. The funny thing is, the more I let myself say these things, the less I seemed to care. In fact, I was eating more than ever, just because I felt so liberated. This is crazy. I knew I was making them uncomfortable, but I couldn’t stop myself. My lunches got bigger. After half a year, I got bigger too. 

I came into the office one morning and my clothes were incredibly tight. I sat down with my breakfast and my shirt stretched over me. It was so uncomfortable. I noticed my coworker looking.

‘Have you been to the gym much recently?’

We had talked about the gym before. He knew I lifted weights sometimes. This was his way of trying to find out what was going on with me. But my brain was losing any sense of shame. I didn’t want to tip-toe around it anymore. The voice was becoming too strong.

‘No I’m trying to get fatter.’

Jesus Christ. The look on his face. ‘You want to get fatter?’ He looked down at my body. 

‘Yeah! Hahah’ 

Oh my god I really didn’t care anymore. I reached for my breakfast. He was still watching me. The way I stretched, something about the angle, I felt a tear. My shirt burst open. A button shot from my belly button. It hit him right in the forehead. 

‘Oh my god are you okay? That was crazy! Wow I’ve never burst a shirt like that before… what a milestone! I’m gonna have to go buy some bigger shirts…’ 

This was the final stage of my evolution, after this point there was no going back, I would get bigger yes, I would get huge, but there would be no bigger change than the one that happened inside my own head right here. I couldn't hide it anymore. The shameless, hungry voice had become my own voice, forever.  ‘…but first let me eat this breakfast’

I grabbed my food and started eating. He was still staring.

[amomentsescape]

Slashers Spend Halloween with Reader

A/N: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I'm honestly pretty bummed that Halloween season is officially over after tonight, but I hope you all had a great time! Thank you all for your requests and support on my writings this month. Stay spooky, everyone!

Freddy Krueger

Bar Hopping!

Are we surprised?

Freddy loves to have a good time, especially if it involves drinking and dancing with his hot partner

LOVES if your costume is a bit showy

Loves it even more if you both are matching

If he doesn't like the music that's playing, he changes it with the flick of a finger

If there's someone that's getting a little too close to you, he'll make them disappear for the night (and deals with them later)

And what's even better is that all of your food and drinks are free when Freddy is around

With the quirk of his brow, people are at his command, and no one will treat you any less differently either

Is constantly complimented on his costume because of how "real" it looks

But the moment your social battery runs out, he'll whisk you away into dreamland and cozy up next to you

But if you're ready to be out all night like he is, you can expect one killer hangover the next morning

Michael Myers

Horror Movie Binge!

Michael is clearly not one to go out

As much as he likes Halloween, a bunch of screaming kids or equally drunk adults isn't his forte

But he does like horror and gore

So just say the word, cook the popcorn, and grab a blanket because Michael won't refuse

He even lets you cuddle into him if you want since it's a "special" night

Will share some snacks with you

Probably won't use the blanket, but he's fine if you put it on him

Literally doesn't even blink during the scariest parts of the films

Just don't expect him to binge movies with you all night

Michael can get stir crazy easily

And since it's Halloween night, you can expect him to want to go kill even more

There are too many lives that need to be disposed of in his eyes

But he does secretly cherish that time with you beforehand

He promises to watch more films with you later if you're still awake

Just another reason to come home to you

Jason Voorhees

Walking Through the Woods!

Jason knows you still want to celebrate Halloween, even if it's not with a party or some public event

So what's better than a stroll through the woods?

You have to wait until it's dark, of course, and the moon is bright in the sky

He insists on taking his machete too, just incase

But he happily takes your hand and lets you lead wherever your heart wants

Loves to hear you ramble on about any current interests or hyper fixations

Especially loves when you bump into him or give his hand an extra squeeze

Will stop every once in a while to hold you close, trying to keep you warm from the cold night air

Also likes to watch you pick up random items you see on the ground or around the trees as you walk

Your constant curiosity for things makes Jason incredibly happy

If you guys manage to find a stump, he'll have you rest on it while he sits on the ground beside you

As you lean yourself against him, you share stories of what you did for Halloween as a child

Jason just listens in, content

Thomas Hewitt

Game Night!

It's actually his idea to find some spooky games to play for Halloween night!

It's up to you whether you play together or with his family

He kinda likes those traditional board games that change their theme just for Halloween

But he's also happy to try something new with you!

Will snack on random candies and chips you brought along for the night

Also likes to hear you talk about whatever comes to mind

He's honestly pretty good at the games and is able to beat you from time to time

Will play a scary movie in the background

You both don't really pay attention to it, but the sound is nice to have

If you lose, he always reaches over and squeezes your hand as an apology

But as long as you're having fun, that's all he cares about!

If you win, he claps happily and relishes in your laughs

You end the night playing a simple card game, giving you a chance to talk more and share what you love about Halloween

Bubba Sawyer

Carving Pumpkins!

Well, this only makes sense

Bubba and his family have all the perfect tools for carving pumpkins

And he finds the idea of jack-o'-lanterns keeping away spirits interesting

You have a bowl of candy and a couple drinks besides you both as you get to work

He definitely confuses the candy bowl with the pumpkin guts bowl a few different times

But he's honestly super quick with carving

It's all the practice with sharp instruments

He opted for more of a silly face while yours is a little more creepy

You decide to save the seeds later to bake for a snack as well!

Bubba turns on some fun Halloween cartoons while you both work

He even leans over to show you better ways to hold the knives and how to cut more evenly

Helps you light the candles to go inside the pumpkins once you're done carving

They both end up on the patio, lighting up the area with a fun glow

Brahms Heelshire

Reading Scary Stories!

His parents weren't big on such fantasy tales when he was younger, so he never got to read much fiction

But when you showed him some scary story books you still have from being a kid, he was intrigued

He doesn't really like reading, but he loves when you read to him

You both make a whole night out of it

You get some popcorn ready, turn out the lights, and even make a little fort in the living room out of chairs

You managed to find a flashlight to use when reading as well

He lays with his head in your lap, listening to you read the stories

You even managed to jump and grab him a couple of times, causing him to yelp

He actually ends up getting a little paranoid later into the night, making you read some lighthearted stories instead

Once he feels more relaxed, he ends up falling asleep to your reading

You smile as you get up to grab some blankets and pillows, deciding to sleep in the fort for the night

Norman Bates

Spooky Baking!

Norman has always been quite talented in the kitchen

You'd be happy only eating his cooking for the rest of your life if you had to

And since there wasn't much else to do in the middle of nowhere, you were happy to help Norman with his ideas

You start the night off with making some simple cookies

He made the dough and baked them while you got to decorate

You ended up creating little "spider" chocolate chips with a toothpick!

He then wanted your help making cupcakes

These took a bit longer, but neither of you minded

Norman had a record playing in the background, and it was easy to just converse back and forth with one another

While the cakes were in the oven, he took you by the hand and danced around the kitchen with you

Also plants plenty of kisses on your forehead throughout the night

You both took turns icing the cupcakes once they were cooled

Each treat ended up turning out a little different since you both wanted to create unique patterns and colors

And the best part of the night? Eating your creations together while watching an old Halloween film!

Billy Loomis

Halloween Party!

You thought it would be a horror movie binge, didn't you?

Well, lucky for you, Billy was down to try something different this year

Especially since the whole month comprised of watching every scary film known to man

He is obsessed with your costume, unable to keep his hands off of you

He isn't HUGE on parties to be honest, but if he gets to show you off looking like this, then he's happy to come along

He shares a few drinks with you once you're there

He doesn't like getting drunk, especially since he wants to keep an eye on you

But he enjoys holding onto the red solo cup with his arm around your waist

Occasionally whispers dirty things in your ears and plants warm kisses along your neck

He enjoys seeing how much he can push your buttons out in public like this

Will dance with you if you beg

But it's hard for him to say no to you either way

The night is cut short when he gets into a fist fight with a random guy for flirting with you

Don't worry; he plans on paying the man a visit later

Stu Macher

Trick or Treating!

You think you're too old for trick or treating? Think again

Stu finds you both costumes that make you unrecognizable

You don't think this is going to work out though since Stu is so freaking tall

But somehow, the adults don't question it too much

It's easier to not ask questions, it seems

He grabs your hand and drags you from house to house, laughing with you about random things

And once you both have your fair share of candy, he convinces you to play ding-dong-ditch with him

He may have stolen a pumpkin from someone's yard as well for being "cool-looking"

Asks to trade some of his candy for yours

Occasionally pulls you into people's backyards and makes out with you in the dark

And once most of the kids are back at home, he takes you to his place so you can binge on the candy

The night ends with a horror film too, of course!

Eric Draven

People Watching!

Although this may sound boring at first, anything with Eric somehow turns out to be fun

He sets up a little fort on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city, the view being in the dead center of everything

He makes sure you're bundled up in plenty of blankets

The candy bowl is full, and he even has some snacks and drinks to share

You both look over the edge and just watch all the people walk by

You take turns pointing out random people and try to come up with stories on who they are, what their costume is, where they're going, etc.

Always ends in shared smiles and laughs

He strums a couple of tunes on his guitar based on your request

Plenty of cuddles and cold kisses as well

You end up staying out a good majority of the night, only going back home when the streets become empty

Your safety will always be his number one priority

So although you didn't do anything super exciting for Halloween, Eric still made the night very enjoyable for you

And at least this way, he knew he could protect you