#he did NOT remember he also can’t swim now the first couple of times

[thousand-sunnies]

do you think the first time kidd fell overboard after they departed from wano killer jumped in after him

the rest of the crew just sat there for a couple of minutes before someone had to be like wait and go fish both of them out

[charmercharm3r]

Hihi! I really like your writings. 💕

I would like to make a request. One for ot8.

I would like to know the boys' reaction when you moan their name in your sleep. Like, you're best friends with so and so member and your sleeping over and you're having a wet dream and you moan their name out loud. What would their reaction be? What would they do? Would they say something to you or keep it to themselves? Would they make a move?

If you do this request, thank you so much! 💕

And if not, no worries and thank you nonetheless. 💕

i kept this in the vault for TOO LONG im sorry

Masterlist

☆ﾟ

chan is a slut for you. S. L. U. T. even if you don’t know it. everyone knows this man is a night owl, so to get in your channie-time, you stay up with him a couple nights a week. one of those days happens to be in his bedroom. while he’s on a roll with this melody that’s stuck in his head, he’s humming into the microphone and has his big ass headphones on, so he doesn’t see you start to drift off. but when he finally returns to the outside world, he hears you mumbling in your sleep. you look so cute wrapped up in his bed, blanket tucked under your chin and taking up the entire single pillow he has. then you do it again, more intelligible this time. is that… his name?? he doesn’t do anything to stop you or wake you up. hard as a fucking rock, excuses himself to take a cold shower and get rid of the filthy thoughts swimming in his head. little does he realize that his mic is still recording. only later the next day when he’s going over the project does he catch the small moans in the background. those get put in an extra secret, extra secure folder on his phone. just for him, his hand, and the late, late night.

minho is the most straight forward out of all of them. he warned you, he didn’t want you to fall asleep in the first place because he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep fighting off the stupid warm bubbling in his belly cus you’re so damn cute. you always thought he was being his normal teasing self whenever he’d tell you, “stop falling asleep around me, i’ll fall in love with you, i swear.” no way did he have a crush on you, too. refusing to admit it, you fall asleep in his bed one night anyways. doesn’t get hard cus he’s in shock and almost bursts into laughter at you moaning his name in your sleep. not because he thinks you’re funny, but because he can’t believe you’re actually doing it. of your own free will— well, as much free will as you have when you’re unconscious. wakes you up immediately by tapping the pillow you lay on. his face is right in front of yours with the most serious look on his face. you don’t remember the dream, but still, he won’t let you sleep until you admit what you did >:(

changbin would wake you up immediately. what the fuck do you mean, you moan his name in your sleep?! this whole time?! he’s not gentle about it, his cute aggression a lot stronger now that he knows you feel the same. it was the first time you’d fallen asleep in front of him, and this happens?! he would’ve made you stay over more often if it would’ve led to this. cus he kisses you as soon as you confess that yes, you’re incredibly into him and care for him more than a friend. things get steamy, but you’re still half asleep! it is the a.m., after all. don’t worry, he doesn’t wanna move too fast. you’re the needy one (his words), so he’ll do all the work for now. some nice, desperately in love head for the first of many mind numbing orgasms, it practically rocks you back to sleep. this time, with him cuddled up beside you.

hyunjin knew it from the beginning. he’s intuitive when it comes to other people’s feelings and emotions, is also very emotionally mature. it helps that he knows you so well. falling asleep in his bed, you can’t help the wet dreams when he’s a dream personified. light touches of his fingertips over the outline of your body from your head to your ankles, not wanting to disturb you but also not being subtle. you mumbling his name in your sleep solidifies that you want him just as bad, he can’t pass up the opportunity! brushing your hair with his fingers softly, that wakes you up but only enough to know that it’s him touching you. he’d come in close to press a kiss to your cheek and you think that it’s just a sweet gesture, until he comes in closer and closer to your lips. oops, now you’re making out— and you don’t wanna stop. he’ll stick his hand down your sleep shorts, let you use him however you’d like, but that’s as far as he’ll go until you’re more of a sound mind. would love if he could kiss you until he fell asleep, too.

jisung is another one where you think he’s kidding every time he tells you he’s in love with you. he says it to everyone! he pretends to kiss all of his friends! except he only started doing it to mask how much he liked you. a movie night with him turned into a slumber party, you on the couch and him on the floor in front of you. when you fall asleep on your belly, one hand hanging off the edge and it whacks him in the face, then he hears the slightly incoherent murmurs of you saying his name. ohhh he’s hit the jackpot now, and bricked up like no fucking other. would kiss the inside of your palm to softly wake you up, except you’re deep in this dream and need a bit more than that to come back to reality. slips a hand under the back of your shirt to feel your warm skin and he almost melts cus you say his name louder, consciously. at least, semi. would— and will— rut against the side of the couch when you lead his hand down the back of your shorts to feel how much you want him. rips the fucking fabric off you immediately and goes to town just like that. does not care whatsoever if it’s an unconventional position for a first intimate moment together, he wants you. and later intends to make it clear that he will not try to kiss his friends anymore if you say you’ll date him.

felix is so timid when it comes to romantic relationships, so his mouth is like a vault locked and sealed away when he hears you moan his name in your sleep. however, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t pitch a tent in his pants, cus holy hell is he fucking hard. he isn’t shy when it comes to anything sexual, though. you two are close! so close that he feels comfortable enough to roll onto his back and pull his dick out of his underwear and dry fist himself to the sounds of your pretty whimpers for him. does he feel guilty? a little. would he do it again? absolutely. cums hard when your hips start to twitch slightly as though you’re reaching your own peak within the dream. will he be confessing after this? maybe, maybe not. who knows if he can even look you in the eyes again.

seungmin would also wake you up as soon as you say his name even just once. he’s not sweet about it, but he doesn’t make you feel like shit. kinda teases you and goads you into annoyedly confessing that yes, you have a massive fucking crush on him and yes, you were having a wonderful wet dream until he decided to ruin it. raises his eyebrows and smirks, “a wet dream about me,” as if you didn’t already fucking know that. asshole. kisses you to make you stay and forgive him for waking you up, but won’t outwardly admit he likes you back. intends on showing you that the feelings are reciprocated by making you cum on his fingers and in his mouth, “isn’t the real thing better? should’ve been having wet dreams about me this whole time.” “i have been.” “good to know. now, think you can handle more? one for each dream you’re gonna tell me about. who knows? maybe i’ll be nice enough to make it come true.”

jeongin is more flustered than you are when he accidentally falls off the bed and wakes you during his attempt at escaping. he’s only embarrassed because he’s hard as fuck and should not be thinking about his best friend like that— even if you’re thinking the same about him. it’s wrong! it’s immoral! and that’s why it turns him on so much. when you jolt awake to see him on the floor clutching his dick, he gets red in the face and ultimately admits that he was listening to you whimper his name in your sleep. it’s you who makes the first move and invites him back to bed, making him lay beside you while reassuring him that it’s okay to feel this way. he’s not doing anything wrong when you feel exactly the same. uh oh, you’re leaning in, does he kiss you? he wants to so bad. you’re so warm and smell so good. shivers covers his body when you trail your hand towards his waistband and simultaneously guide one of his towards your aching center. who would’ve thought a routine sleep over would’ve ended in the two of you hand fucking each other until you were kissed breathless and eventually fell back asleep in one another’s arms? he definitely didn’t.

[astayinwonderland]

Preview - Silk and Fire - Chapter 6

pairing: namjoon x f.reader , jungkook x f. reader

genre: romance | drama | smut +18 MDNI

status: ongoing

You can read about this story and other chapters here.

His strong hands lift you off the ground, hugging you so tightly as he spins you, once, twice. Time seems to stop as he puts you back down. Nervousness invades your being, not knowing what’s going to happen next. His hot breath on your ear made it almost impossible to think about anyone else. Namjoon smells your scent, one of his favourite things in the world. He missed you so much, three days was not long, but he craved to have you this close. He needed it like oxygen.  

Namjoon lips find yours and he takes his sweet time with you. Kissing you softly, slightly tasting you, just a tease. Now he has plenty of time to be with you and make up for these three days when he couldn’t touch your warm, soft skin or kiss your beautiful lips. He grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you closer and that’s when your mind, body and soul remember– Jungkook. 

“Babe?” you say, breaking the kiss. 

Namjoon looks into your eyes, a loving smile drawn on his lips, making his cute dimples show up. Your heart accelerates. 

“I love you,” you hear the sheer excitement in his voice. That excitement that boldly punches your gut and makes your heart sink in anguish.

“Love you too,” you kiss his cheek. 

In all honesty, you loved him, you couldn’t deny that. But you also can’t deny the fact that Jungkook is in your life now, you crossed that line with him last night– well not entirely. Nonetheless, a kiss is a kiss and the way his lips seemed to own yours was addictive. You secretly hope you end up nowhere near Jungkook in the next couple of days while you detox from last night’s encounter. 

“Where did your mind go?” Namjoon asks puzzled. 

“Huh? No… I am just tired, that’s all.” 

Namjoon nods, he is always so understanding. 

“Put on something cute, we are going out,” he gives you a little push and you just know you would do anything for this man. 

From Namjonn you expected anything… but maybe not this. The place is small but quite elegant with white table clothes and candles. The dim-lit French restaurant had an alluring atmosphere and the food smelled beyond amazing. Camille and Yoongi sit and you can see them in their ‘bubble state’ where they act as if no one’s watching. Your friend is talking effusively. Bright eyes, her voice a bit louder than usual, a thing she does when she’s excited. Yoongi’s face rests on this hand, admiring, all ears, just for her. It is curious, you think, did Namjoon bring you here just to remind you of what you are when your pussy isn’t leaking for Jungkook? 

“Oh hi!” Camille waves. 

You rapidly find yourself sitting before the soon-to-be newlyweds. This is not your first time on a double date with them, but you assumed Namjoon would like some time alone after spending several days apart. Underneath, you are grateful, being alone with him makes your guilt surface and that’s the last thing you need. 

Grateful for the change of scenery for the evening, this ‘special outing’ was great. Food was better than you could have imagined and you had time to catch up with Camille’s out-of-the-ordinary ideas for the rehearsal dinner and bachelorette party. Yoongi seems to be happy she is happy, and if this isn’t love… well– 

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” that voice… you could feel the vibrations of that voice and know who it is. 

Why is Jungook here?

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

masterlist

a/n: this is all ✨fiction✨ - I am swimming in chores and work, but I am committed to finishing this tomorrow. I am so excited! I hope you are too!

taglist: @paramedicnerd004 | @darkuni63 | @bangtans-momma | @diorh0seokie | @gimeow

[onthewaytosomewhere]

👀 Skinny dipping in the sea with firstprince :)

ok this one was not at all what i expected it to be so ... hopefully ya like lolz (and yes i may have used a resort i know of off the gulf instead of the sea but the emerald coast is so damn pretty)

this can also be found on ao3 if you'd rather

When Henry decides he wants to visit ‘Florida—but not Orlando, please’ Alex knows just the place. He remembers a place he had stayed off the ‘Emerald Coast’  with his family when he was young. He remembered the small private beach at the edge of the property that not many people went over to because of the many pools on site. Now that they’re here, he has the perfect idea for the beach; he just needs to convince Henry it’s also perfect.

He eases into it, bringing Henry out to the beach during the first couple of days and commenting on how few people there are out there and how many pools there are on the property for everyone to use as they pass them. The first time he convinces Henry to go out to the beach with him at sunset, he nearly attempts to push his luck and attempt to persuade him. Instead, he settles for kisses while sitting on the sand, watching the dolphins across the bay that they can just barely see in the waning light. It’s romantic, and well, he’ll never say no to kissing Henry, so he waits.

The next time they go to the beach near sunset, he decides to just go for it. Henry is turned, looking out across the bay on the other side of the beach, so he removes his trunks and tank top and leaves them lying in a pile on the beach—a pile Henry can’t miss seeing. He swims out a ways and waits, relaxing in the water still warm from the day’s sun.

Henry’s “Alex?!?” tells him he’s found the pile of clothes, so he turns back to shore.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Is there a reason your clothes are in a pile by my feet?”

He walks toward the shore because he knows Henry is weak for the way water drips down his chest, and he will use every tool in his arsenal at the moment. He looks down as if just realizing his clothes are not on, “Oh, how did that happen? Maybe yours should join them, and you should join me?” He knows it’s not subtle or even all that clever, but he’s been waiting for this moment all week and is running out of time.

“You do know we’re not at any of the nude beaches we’ve been at, right? Anyone could come out here, and everyone these days has phones.”

“You know that no one comes out here this late. C’mon, please just—” He cuts himself off when he sees Henry’s hands go to the waistband of his swim trunks. He watches as the trunks drop to the ground down his thighs and calves. As Henry pulls his tank top up over his head, he sees, even from a distance, the way the muscles stretch and move under the setting sun. He’ll never tire of seeing Henry naked, but Henry naked in the twilight is somehow even better. The waning sun gives off just enough light that it makes his skin, with slightly more color from the week in the sun, glow.

Henry makes his way into the water, and Alex waits and watches, admiring how his body moves unencumbered by clothing. When Henry reaches him, he pulls Alex in for a kiss, and Alex melts into it. This kiss alone, feeling Henry’s naked body next to his in the water, makes the week’s worth of waiting he did to get to this moment more than worth it.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Guardian angel; Matt Murdock x teen daughter reader

*Author’s note*

Okay this little idea randomly popped into my head over the weekend so I decided to post it up here and see what you all think. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, we NEED MORE DAREDAD FICS!!! Seriously this man DESERVES happiness *ted talk over*

Now the way I picture this fic is like PRE S.1 like just before the events of the first episode of the series. The early days of Matt being daredevil or in this case the Man in the Mask aka the Devil of Hell’s kitchen. 

Warnings: fluff, some angst, teen pregnancy (protection was used but remember kids wrap it before you tap it), some chaotic religious aspects shown but not acted upon, 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

@austynparksandpizza​

__________________________________________________________

I knew I couldn’t hide this forever.  It was only a matter of time before he got too suspicious or worse found out about me and Austin’s…..I took a heavy breath as I bounced my leg anxiously and rubbed my hands over my face.

I heard my phone rang and across the screen was my favorite picture of Austin playing his acoustic guitar and my name for him flashed across the screen, “The King” with three heart emojis and a king emoji.  He was asking for a Facetime which I accepted.

“Hi baby.”

“There’s my best girl.” I blushed as I ducked down.

“You know what that nickname does to me.”

“And I’ll still say it an infinite amount of times just to see you get flustered every time.”

Austin Callahan, probably one of the cutest boys at St. Maria’s Catholic School.  Captain of the swim team and the basketball team, honor student, and the nicest guy in the world who loves listening to Elvis music as well as all the oldies rock and roll? Could there be any other dream guy?

Not only that but we had been friends since we started our High school year until just last year at homecoming, he admitted to having feelings for me as he gave me a handmade rose he made from one of the napkins (I still have it to this day in my pencil cup on my desk at home).  From there our romance began to shine.

Of course being in a relationship, there was no hiding it from my dad.  Well when your dad is a lawyer like Matthew Murdock of “Nelson & Murdock” obviously you can’t hide anything from him.  Believe me I’ve tried in the past and he finds out every time.

Which is why I’ve taken up residence at my all-time bff Maddie’s place.  It’s not much (Hell’s kitchen never is) but it’s home, nevertheless.  The reason why I’m sleeping over at my friend’s house almost indefinitely is because—I’m pregnant.  Yep, 17 years old and I’m pregnant just short of a month and a half.

Past couple of weeks I’ve been getting really sick, like even just the smell of Hell’s kitchen’s smog is enough to make me puke my guts out.  I also began to realize that I hadn’t gotten my period yet.  So one day after school with Maddie at my side, we went to the local doctor’s office, told them about my symptoms and my late period and after some blood work and a pregnancy test, I came back positive.

Austin was the first person to tell and he was shocked at first but he took me by the hands, looked me in the eye and swore to me that he wasn’t gonna leave me like his daddy did him and his mama.  I was at least thankful to God above that I had the support of my friends and Austin, but the biggest hurdle was yet to come. My dad.

My dad is not just a Man of the Law, he’s also a Man of God. Not like holy religious that he beat the script of every verse of the Bible into me, or told me everyone is a sinner and everyone is going to Hell should they not repent (thank God).  But he did raise me to be a good Catholic girl ever since my mom died of cancer when I was only 2 years old.

He told me to always be aware of my surroundings, know the temptations, and don’t let anyone take advantage of you.  And just like that I gave into temptation and now I paid the price (before you say it YES we did use protection).

“How you feeling sweetheart? You ducked out of Chemistry class pretty quick.”

“I’d rather not relive that. I tried so hard to keep it in but that crap that Hilary was wearing as perfume became too much. I mean really there’s a reason why you don’t put on perfume in a classroom especially in a chemistry class. Can’t perfume catch fire or something?”

“Some can. But that scent she claimed she bought from Paris, she’d be a human candle if she got one knick of a Bunsen burner.” I laughed and said.

“Maddie gave me the homework for that class, god I still don’t get how you can understand all that stuff.”

“It’s not that hard really. I mean, we found good chemistry right?” I rolled my eyes and told him.

“That has literally got to be the worst cheesy pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

“Can’t blame me if I’m crazy positive about you.”

“Stop!” I whined as he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I swear I’m done now.” He said through his adorable laughter.  “So you at Maddie’s again?”

“Yep. Thankfully my dad seems to buy into the fact that we’re doing a project together for history class and I just keep falling asleep here.”

“Wait but didn’t you guys finish that project last week?”

“Yeah but my dad don’t need to know that.”

“Babe. How long are you gonna hide your pregnancy from him?”

“I was thinking….maybe by the time our kid’s out of high school?” he raised his brow at me. “Okay, okay fine! I’ll…..I’ll tell him tomorrow after school. Will—will you be there with me?”

“Anything to take the tension off. It took two to tango after all. Plus I met your dad before, I know he’ll be okay with this.”

“I just….” I trailed off looking down at the ground sadly.

“What? What is it (Y/n)?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Babe…..”

“No, no Austin just—just listen for a second. Sure my dad’s cool, he’s a kickass upcoming lawyer. He’s not embarrassing, he’s not overbearing when it comes to us being Catholic, but what if he doesn’t want me anymore? Teenage pregnancies are frowned upon and as soon as I start really showing the signs, those hens are gonna cluck.”

“Then let them cluck. It’s not any of their business. This is about us, about you. Our child. Yes we’re still kids and yeah we’re still in school just about to get into adulthood, this is our life. If you still want to have this baby, I’m in. But if you change your mind down the line, I’ll support that too. Because we’re in this together baby girl.”

“How did I ever get so lucky to get you as my boyfriend?”

“Believe me, if anyone’s lucky it’s me. How I ever managed to convince you to be my girlfriend is a miracle that only the good Lord knows.” I smiled and said to him.

“Goodnight king.”

“G’night pretty mama.” He couldn’t help but say in his best Elvis impression.  I smiled and kissed my hand before blowing him a kiss and he did the same for me before winking at me and we ended the facetime call.

“I swear the way you two talk to each other makes me want to puke out butterflies and rainbows.” Maddie’s voice said.  I turned and she came in with some tomato soup, saltine crackers and pickles.

Another strange thing during my pregnancy is that every now and then I’m getting these cravings for the weirdest shit.  Like just the other day, I had sliced orange slices as a side dish for my mashed potatoes and everyone knows how much I loathe oranges (even the smell of them has made me gagged for years).  And yet I needed them, or I guess the baby needed them.

“Well that is if your strange food combos don’t make me first. You know how I’ve hated even looking at pickles.”

“I know I’m sorry. But you’re the best for getting some for me.” I said as I took a sliced pickle and put it between two crackers and ate it like a sandwich.  Maddie gagged and turned away as she turned on her tv and switched it to MTV to see our favorite show Ridiculousness was on.

“Ohhh I love this one with Sage. The Jeremy category makes me die everytime!” I exclaimed.

“I know right! But you also can’t beat when Ryan Sheckler came on the show and the animal stalkers category. That cat one still makes me think it was a weeping angel.”

“Right!? I swear all cats are the weeping angels familiars. I don’t care what any whovian says prove me wrong.” I said after slurping up my soup.

“So were you like for real about not telling your dad about the baby?” I dropped my spoon back into the bowl and set the tray aside.

“I thought you said you’d work on your snooping in on other people’s phone calls?”

“I did but when it’s a call this serious about my future godchild, I should have some say in it. And Austin’s right, you gotta tell your dad.”

“I know I should but…..do you remember what happened when Katelyn first came out as bisexual. Her parents completely disowned her and now she’s living with her cousin MJ in Queens. I got no other family to go to, what if my dad isn’t cool with…..I mean yeah I’ll have Austin and you but—”

“I get it. Really I do. I’ve seen how close you and your dad are, hell I’d trade my dad for yours any day.” I playfully shoved her.

“Your dad’s sweet.”

“Yeah sweet like a fly buzzing around me every second. Constantly in my business, wanting to look through my phone, I swear he’s the definition of a helicopter parent.” I looked down as I placed my hands over my lower abdomen where the baby was slowly growing.  “Hey,” Maddie wrapped an arm around me and I looked up at her, “Your dad loves you. He’s not like those crazy parents we’ve seen that come to preach about the Lord’s will or the End of the world. He won’t give up on you, I can just feel it.”

“I hope your right Maddie. I really hope so.” I looked at the clock and saw that it was just after 10:30pm.  “I’m getting kinda sleepy, think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“Yeah I’m gonna head to bed myself. Night (n/n).”

“Night Mads.” We hugged each other and she went across the hall into her room while I snuggled into my bed in her sister’s room (she had left for college in LA so it’s been used as a guestroom) and tried to get some sleep.

Time ticked by and while I was asleep and my eyes were shut, my brain was just buzzing with so many thoughts, fear and anxiety.  I got up from the bed and opened up the window that was near the fire escape and decided I needed some fresh air.

The cold autumn night wind blew over my thin pajama bottoms.  I almost wish I had grabbed a hoodie or her sister’s old fleece blanket before scaling up onto the roof.  I sat along the edge and just stared out into the city as I listened to the sounds of the sirens that passed by, the occasional stray dog barking or people shouting at each other.

“A bit cold to be up here by yourself.” A voice said behind me. I jumped out of my skin and was surprised to see the latest vigilante that had been rumored to be running around Hell’s kitchen.

Unlike the Avengers, this man is said to be brutal against his enemies.  Unleashing his untamable wrath on the scum of Hell’s Kitchen but he never kills them (if you ask me from some of stories I hear, I’m surprised they aren’t dead).

The upper half of his face was covered with a black mask with no holes for his eyes.  Seriously how is he able to see through that material? His whole attire was black with a skin-tight black shirt showing off every bit of muscle on his upperbody, thick black pants and black combat boots.

“Coming from the guy wearing a skin-tight t-shirt.”

“You’ve got a quick wit.”

“Smart-mouth Murdock some of the kids call me at school. That’s why I’m co-Captain of the debate team.”

“Co-captain? I would assume you’d be captain.”

“Well there’s always someone clever than you, not to say he isn’t a good captain but he can be an asshole at times.” He turned to me. If I could see under the mask, I’d assume he’d be judging me for my foul language.  “Pardon my French.”

“I’ve heard worse. Mind if I sit?”

“I’d assume you’d be out there knocking out bad guys. You know kicking ass and taking names.” He let out a scoffed chuckle.

“I prefer not to take names. That’s one difference between the Avengers and me. I would prefer my name to not be publicly known. Not for my sake but for the people around me.”

“I get that.” I replied softly.  “I mean look at Captain America. He shouldn’t even bother with a mask cause everyone knows his name. And don’t get me started on Stark’s public announcement, “I am Iron-man”. No wonder why those aliens came for us if the heroes are publicly announcing to the world ‘hey we’re the big and strong Avengers and you can’t do anything about it’. And next thing you know BAM! Aliens are flying in kamikaze style and nearly blowing us all to hell.”

“A bit cynical for one so young.”

“Sorry. I get snippy and cynical when I’m anxious or stressed.”

“And why’s that?”

“I—” I trailed off.  He slowly scooted closer to me and said to me in a soft assuring manner.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener. Plus with the mask you won’t get any judgmental looks from me.” I picked at my nails as well as stroking my lower abdomen with my pinkie and ring fingers.

“The whole aspect of catholic guilt it—it’s eating me alive.”

“Catholic guilt?”

“You don’t want to hear this. This is just dumb teenage drama that all adults try to pin us with even when we’re going through some really hard and tough shit. It’s not always just teenage drama we have our own problems that you folks don’t seem to get and—” I went on a ramble until I felt him ground me by placed a hand on top of my shoulder.

“Hold on now, take a deep breath.” I turned to him and even through his black mask, I could almost feel the gentleness of his eyes as he had his body fully turned to me, giving me his full attention.  I slowly but sharply breathed in through my nose before exhaling shakily.

I did this a couple more times until they became deep, steady breaths.

“There we go. I could hear your heart racing erratically and you were on the verge of a panic attack.”

“You—can you really hear a person’s heartbeat? Or are you just messing with me?”

“It’s a long story but I have enhanced senses that allows me to hear better than most.”

“Wow. That is both dope and freaky at the same time.”

“I apologize if it’s invasive. I don’t mean to do it on purpose.”

“Call me crazy but I believe you.” A slight smile came at the corner of his lips.

“So shall we get back to that spill on catholic guilt?” I bowed my head.

“I was kinda hoping you’d forget about that.”

“I don’t mean to push. But I just feel like you want to talk to someone about this. Someone who isn’t a friend.”

“It’s……my dad.”

“Your dad? Wait he—he doesn’t hurt you, does he?”

“No nothing like that. He’s the best. I swear he’s like my best friend, well after Maddie but still he’s sweet, he’s caring, he’s compassionate. He raised me all by himself for so long that I—I’m afraid he won’t be with me anymore.”

“I’m sorry. I mean eventually we all have to die at some point in our lives. But I’m sure that won’t be for a long, long time for your dad. Unless he’s—”

“I’m not talking about losing him to old age or cancer. I’m talking about that he’ll never speak to me again!” I snapped.

God this pregnancy already has got me so antsy that even the slightest thing in my already stressed out mind, can make me explode. He froze in his spot and it looked like his body was tense at my sudden outburst.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered burying my face into my hands.  “The truth is I—I found out just a week ago, that I’m…..I’m a month and a half pregnant with my boyfriend’s baby.”

If I could see under his mask, I’d bet his eyes are bulging out from underneath the satin material.

“Yeah. Pregnant at 17. Go ahead and make assumptions, call me names.”

“You’re sitting next to a guy who goes around wearing a skin-tight shirt and a mask that beats up bad guys late at night. As far as I’m concerned, I am the last person who should be judging you.” He adjusted in his spot as he asked me, “Does the father know?” I nodded.

“Yeah. He was the first person to find out after my best friend. And he’s been nothing but supportive. Even though we’re just about to graduate high school, he’s willing to help out with anything.”

“It’s just you’re afraid to tell your own father about your pregnancy.”

“Don’t get me wrong he’s a great guy. Like I said never once raised a hand to me, was fair in his punishments when I needed them. And he’s not like those so called ‘preachers of God’ that you see out in the streets proclaiming the Lord’s Will and the End of the world. But—he always told me to be careful especially around boys.”

“Were you careful?”

“Yes! Austin had the condoms and everything! But it still happens you know.”

“No I know. I remember my days in health class.” I shook my head shamefully.

“I just…..it’s always just been me and my dad. My whole life he’s always been there for me. Whenever life got tough, no matter how busy he was, he always took the time to check up on me. Even if it’s just a quick hug or a peck on the nose before calling me his ‘guardian angel’. What if—what if he hates me? Or decides I’m not his sweet guardian angel anymore but a shameful harlot of Lucifer?”

Tears stung behind my lashes and I harshly tried to wipe them away but that caused them to start falling down my face.  I curled myself inward before choking out.

“I need him now more than ever but I—I feel like he won’t be there for me this time. That when I reach my hand out for him, he’ll turn me aside and I’ll be drowning in the unknown world of parenthood. The guilt, the anxiety, forcing us to drift further and further apart from one another until I…..” I sniffled and wiped more tears as well as my nose with my sleeve. “I feel so alone.”

I felt his hand gently stroke down my hair before it moved down to my back, his gloved hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.

“He won’t abandon you. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Yes I can.”

“How?” I choked out as I looked up to him.  I saw as his jaw tensed up before he said.

“Because…because I have a daughter.” I looked at him surprised. Of course, superheroes and vigilantes can have their own lives they don’t have to be full-time superheroes 24/7.

But who would’ve thought that the Man in the Mask aka the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was a parent.

“You’re a……”

“She’s just around your age. And she means—the world to me. I would want her to be able to come to me for anything, to not be afraid to speak to me. But if she ever did feel the same fear you are now, then I’ve failed as a father.”

“No I—I’m sure you didn’t. It would have nothing to do with your parenting skills, it’s just…..I’ve had friends who had parents just as loving as my dad is. But when they admit to something that goes against their religious code, they disown them or try to repent their sins.”

“But you said your father isn’t like those types of people, right?” I nodded.  “I won’t lie. He will be shocked at the news, but give him time to process things and he might just surprise you for what he has to say.”

“I know I should tell him. I can’t hide at Maddie’s forever. But there’s still a lingering voice in my head telling me that when I do tell him, it’ll be the last time I ever see him. I’d give anything to shut that voice up.”

“If you’d like, I could have a word or two with that nagging voice in your head.” That brought probably the first real laugh out of me ever since finding out about my pregnancy.

“I hope those words aren’t with your fists.” He softly laughed.

“No, I mean a real talk. I’d tell it, ‘Alright you negative worm. Stop filling this poor girl’s head with scenarios that aren’t true. Go make like a tree and get out of here!’”

“It’s leaf. It’s make like a tree and leaf.”

“Right that’s it.” I shook my head as I kept laughing.

“You know, you’re not what I’d thought you’d be like.”

“Mean and scary?” I nodded. “Oh to most I’m terrifying but—I have a soft spot for those that are lost. Don’t tell anybody though. Can’t have the scum of Hell’s kitchen thinking I’m too much of a softie.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“As is yours. Now you promise me you’ll tell your father in the morning?”

“Yes. First thing after school.”

“Good.” He said patting my knee.  “It’s late, you should get some sleep. You’re not just sleeping for yourself anymore now.” I rubbed my lower abdomen.  As he walked away and stood along the edge of the roof I told him.

“Thank you.” He turned to face me and gave me a soft nod before leaping off the roof and he disappeared into the night.  I scaled back down the fire escape and re-entered Maddie’s sister’s room and got back into bed.

As promised after school I stood by mine and dad’s apartment and took a deep breath in before exhaling.

“You sure you don’t need me to go in with you anymore baby? You know I don’t mind.” Austin told me.

“No sweetie, I��I need to talk to my dad about this alone.”

“Okay. If he shows leniency, give me a call later?” I nodded. He leaned forward and we kissed each other before he continued on his way home.  I took another deep breath and entered the apartment and headed for the elevator.

Once the elevator dinged on our floor, I walked down the hallway until I reached the apartment room.  Taking out my key I took another deep breath in and muttered.

“Okay, he won’t get mad. He won’t get mad. Just—tell him the truth. He’ll understand. He’s cool, he’s my dad and he loves me.” I placed the key into the lock, turned it to the left and heard the click and opened it up.

“Uh-huh, yeah. Alright yeah we can make it. Yes of course, thank you. Yes and have a good afternoon to you too, bye.” I heard my dad’s voice say as I walked through the front hallway until I got to the spacious (as spacious as a New York apartment in Hell’s kitchen can be).  “Well look whose returned. Finish your project already?”

“Dad I—I gotta tell you something.” I came right out with it.

“Okay, and what would that be?”

“Can we sit down on the couch?” he nodded before walking from the kitchen to the living room as we both sat on the couch.  

“Is everything okay? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” he asked as he reached his hands out to cup my face.  I took his hands and held them between us.

“I’m fine dad. Physically I am.”

“And what about emotionally?” he asked concerningly.

“Dad, I…..I lied to you. I wasn’t at Maddie’s for a project.”

“You-you—you lied to me? Then where were y—you weren’t at Austin’s were you? (Y/n) we’ve talked about this you’re not old enough to sleepover at a boy’s……”

“Dad I wasn’t at Austin’s either. I was at Maddie’s just not for a project.”

“Okay then I’m lost. (Y/n) sweetheart you’re starting to scare me. Whatever it is you can tell me, you know that right?” he asked as he scooted himself as close as he could get to me and wrapped his arm around me.

“Dad I—the reason why I was at Maddie’s was because I……I’m—” come on just say it.  I swallowed a large lump in my throat and felt my leg beginning to bounce anxiously. “Promise you won’t get mad.”

“Go on.”

“You didn’t promise.”

“That’ll depend on what news I’ll be hearing. If it’s something illegal you know I won’t be happy.”

“Not really illegal. God I don’t know why I can’t just say it! Why can’t I tell you that I’m a month and a half pregnant!? I—” my mouth stopped as I realized how I had said it.  I looked at my dad anxiously and saw how he just sat there flabbergasted.

“Y-you-you’re…..” he leaned back against the couch and just sat there limp like a ragdoll.

“Daddy? Are you—okay?”

“Just….need to process this.”

“Okay.” I muttered as I fiddled with my uniform skirt.  We sat there in silence for a few minutes before he finally spoke out.

“Is it Austin’s?”

“Yeah. I swear dad we used protection but it—” he held out his hand telling me he didn’t need to hear anything else.  Oh shit this is it. He’s gonna flip his lid, he’s pissed now. Way beyond pissed!

“And you’re sure you’re really pregnant? How did you even get an appointment and why wasn’t I notified?”

“Maddie has an aunt. Her aunt Claire performed the test and she was sworn to secrecy to not notify you.” He rubbed his hands against his face as he let out a deep sigh, his leg bouncing rapidly.  Whether in anger or anxiety I couldn’t tell.

“Baby girl, why-why wouldn’t you tell me when you first found out? Why did you go through all of this trouble to lie to me about it?” my heart ached with guilt as tears began forming in my eyes.

“I’m sorry daddy. I—I was scared. Scared that you’d disown me or kick me out with no remorse or hesitation. Everytime I wanted to tell you, my brain kept showing me all the possibilities of you never wanting me to be in your life ever again. That you’d hate me or never say you had a daughter.”

I couldn’t look at him anymore so I closed myself into the edge of the couch and sniffled as I wiped my tears away.  I felt dad’s hand gingerly stroke down my hair before coming down to lift my chin up.

I noticed how he had taken his red shades off and placed them on the table.  Very rarely does he ever take them off, even around me but when he does, it’s always because he wants to connect with me (even though he’s blind).  His unfocused gaze was staring in my general direction as he said to me.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Y-you’re not?”

“No. I’m—taken by surprise don’t get me wrong. But it takes more than you getting pregnant at 17 for me to ever, ever, ever, think about disowning you or telling you you’re no longer my child.”

“Really?” I whispered.

“Yes.” He said giving me a nod.  “So don’t ever go thinking like that again, okay?” my lip trembled as I nodded. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” I choked out.

“Okay.” I immediately hugged him as tightly as I could as I buried my face into his shoulder.  His arms immediately wrapped around me as he chuckled softly.

“Oh daddy I’m so sorry I hid this from you!” I wept.

“I know you are angel. It’s okay now, it’s okay.”

“It’s just….I love you so much and I thought you’d—”

“Hey none of that now. There will be no more talk about the paranoid ‘what if’s’ in this apartment. There will never come a time when I tell you to get out of my life or that you aren’t my daughter anymore.” He said as he had me look up at him and he wiped away my tears.  “You’re the most important person to me angel, and nothing will ever change that.”

I buried my face into my dad’s shoulder again and hugged him once again.

“I love you daddy.”

“And I love you my little guardian angel. I love you so, so much. And nothing will ever change that.” He said giving me a reassuring squeeze before kissing my forehead as many times as he possibly could.

[disorganizedkitten]

Climbing The Louvre

Miraculous Ladybug | 2018 | 508 | Ao3

Kim took Ondine to meet some of his friends. That should be a good thing! Except it turned into a huge back and forth between him and Alix, until they decided to something stupid. What did they get themselves into?

 Ondine had not known how much more of a redneck Kim was around his classmates than his swim friends. Seriously, he was a lot more daredevil charlatan. A lot. And the small pink and green fury that was Alix Kubdel just fueled the flame.

 “You can’t even climb a tree!”

 “I can too! You can’t!”

 “Please, I could climb the Louvre.”

 “I dare you to climb the Louvre!”

 “Do you really want me to? I’d do it so fast you won’t even see my technique!”

 “Guys, is that even safe?” Ondine interjected. “Or legal?” They were going to get themselves hurt or arrested or killed or Akumatized from losing or some other thing that would not be a good outcome. Honestly, she didn’t want to mentally explore all the options. Kim and Alix ignored her, instead choosing to insult each other some more.

 “You’re technique? On what? Losing?”

 “Climbing, sir runs-a-lot!”

 “Kim, as much as I hate to step in while you two enjoy yourselves with your wordplay, Alix did beat you a couple of months ago. Therefore, there’s a 39% chance that there will be a crowd uprising if you say the word ‘Dare’ one more time.”

 Alix, Kim and Ondine turned to the kid who had spoken. Ondine knew his name, but which one was it? Max? Yeah, Max Kante. Kim’s best friend. Ondine actually remembered him!

 “Oh burn! You can’t dare me to do anything Mister I-can-do-anything-you-just-have-to-do-it-first!”

 Ondine winced. She had known Kim had a competitive streak. Of course she knew this, she competed with him at the pool every now and then. But this was bad. Very very very very bad.

 “Max, what’s the most commonly known synonym for dare?”

 “While there is a large amount of such synonyms, I believe the one you’re looking for is simply challenge,” Max answered without pause.

 “Thank you. Fine Alix! I challenge you to climb the Louvre!”

 “Kim are you sure-”

 “Oh it is on Kim! I know that place like the buckles on my rollorblades! You’re going down .”

 “Race you there?”

 “You mean you’ll meet me there. It’s already been proved I’m faster than you.”

 “Oh? Ready, set, go!” Kim took off running, and Alix kicked off less than a second later. Oh boy.

 “Max, how do get them to call off a dare?” Ondine asked hopefully.

 “There’s a 56% chance that an Akuma attacking the Louvre could get them to postpone, but also a 44% chance that they’ll start challenging each other to see who can be the most helpful to Ladybug and Chat Noir in beating aforementioned Akuma.”

 “So pretty much, you can’t?”

 “Just about.”

 “Siren teeth.”

*****

 Alix won.

 Kim won.

 It was a tie.

 Technically? Alix won. Due to her smaller size, she went farther up, despite tying with Kim as to how high they went.

 Also technically? Ondine convinced Max not to tell either of them that it was a tie, for fear of them coming up with another da- challenge as a tiebreaker and not getting anything else done that day.

[dark-lina]

The Black Waters of Fog: Part 2

Part 1 : The Black Waters of the Fog part 1

More and more of them came, men and women, survivors, as they called themselves, and killers. Some people liked the sea very much, while others felt that something was hiding under the dark surface. The being who was the ruler in this part of the fog, however, was not in a hurry to meet. Rather, he made his first contacts through dreams ... the dream world in the mist and the worlds outside merged in this one ... dream world.

There he was whatever his victim wanted, a lover, a husband, a child... someone who would listen to comfort. Someone who will inflict sweet suffering. Oh, there are many more pleasant ways than murdering, sacrificing and devouring emotions piece by piece. Of course, you have to work hard to reach for them, what the rest of his counterparts did was simply the most effective.

He used to be like them... 

 but he fell into a long sleep... and found new ways... But now the increasing number of beings .  Who were interested in his part of the mist forced him to be more vigilant. The first meeting was also interesting.

This person fell off a steep cliff... he doesn't know if he jumped or if someone helped him, it didn't matter. Anyway, person couldn't swim, It was going to drown... but was he going to let that happen? No... if he can also complete his information about the outside world... without revealing himself yet.

Slowly he took this limp body between his tentacles... gently filled the space around it with air so it wouldn't suffocate and took it to his lair... we'll have to wait until victim wakes up...

(from this part we will try to speak from the position of the reader)

You woke up... and you felt a bit cold, it was wet all around, everything was damp and smelled of the sea... and seaweed. It was dark all around. You reached out and found something soft and slippery, squeezed it a couple of times, and it moved. You screamed in panic. But then you covered your mouth. The cave slowly filled with light, the small underwater plants gave you enough light. To understand. 

You were in a cave, there were huge octopus tentacles spread around you. You yourself were sitting on what was a large sea sponge.Last you remember when someone pushed you off a cliff and then you fell into the water and you couldn't swim and... then it went dark.

You looked around more and then you saw it, the owner of the tentacles. What half a man? half an octopus? It looked like it. You slowly got up... soft snoring meant it was sleeping. Can you escape? You slowly approached the mouth of the cave and your legs gave out under you. You were under water... the water surface at the mouth of the cave looked like you were in a big bubble of air. Little did you know that the quiet snoring had stopped and the owner of the place was carefully watching your every move, slightly amused.

- We are 40 meters under water... by your human measurements... and you can't swim, don't even try to escape. - He muttered softly and the tentacles slowly wrapped themselves around you. You started screaming, loudly terrified. Octopus, I think that was a bit of an annoyance. He covered your mouth with the end of his tentacle and waited for you to stop screaming.

You stopped and no one will hear you anyway. You shuddered, you've seen too many adult mangas to know how it ends.

 And yet no, the tentacles put you back on the sponge. - And now we'll talk ... - the octopus muttered softly, slightly changing his form to stand in front of you.

You swallowed... what you saw was too much like what you saw, every time you had trial , in that cursed fog.

[mikeysbride]

Just (Another) Taste of Allen Stone

Last night, I saw Allen Stone for the third time, and I can honestly say he gets better every time I see him. Each time, I think he can’t possibly be any more awesome, yet he manages to do it anyway. It’s a gift, really - to be such a consummate showman and then to share that gift with his fans. No wonder we keep coming back for more.

This time, I saw Allen with my 14yo daughter, just the two of us. The previous time, it was our whole family, and the time before that, I went with a friend. This was my daughter's second time to see him but her first time seeing him with a full band behind him. It’s a whole new level of joy and pride to expose your kids to the thing that makes you tick (live music, in my case) and to have them fully appreciate it too. Allen is an artist I introduced them to, yet she was singing even louder than me at times and dancing along with me like we do in our kitchen…in the car…in the grocery store…basically everywhere.

We got the tickets months ago and were super excited, but for a variety of reasons, I wasn’t sure how the night might go or even if I truly felt like going, but that all went away once we got there and especially the moment Allen walked on stage. Then it was like, “Oh, yeah. This is that thing I love - the thing that keeps me sane. That’s why we did this and on a work and school night, no less.” Allen even spoke to that, as if he were reading my mind - that he wanted to create an experience where none of the burdens or worries we came in with mattered while we were there together. And that is exactly what he did. I had not a care in the world the entire couple of hours he performed. It was all joy, and as tired as I am after getting only 4 hours of sleep before having to get up again this morning, I’m still so happy we went. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

I’ll also say, after all this time Florida, I finally found the perfect spot to stand at House of Blues. That made a huge difference as well. The last time I was there, for Teddy Swims in October, I vowed that I was done with standing room only shows for good…only to fast forward to now and have tickets for Allen and also an upcoming Alec Benjamin show there - both of which are standing room shows. I thought I’d lost my mind. That was one of the things I was apprehensive about going into last night’s show, but it worked out beautifully. Now I just need to make a mad dash to claim that same spot every time I’m there, and all will be well with the world.

As fabulous as the show was, my mind kept going back to this one thought, and that is that fun times and making memories with my kids is everything. When they’re telling their own kids about how I parented them or when I’m no longer here, these are the times I want them to remember. The world is uncertain at times, but I always want them to remember at least these two things are a given: 1) Mommy loves them with everything in her, and 2) Music is their mother’s happy place, and sharing that with them - even on a school night - is a big deal. When the artists that matter most to us make an appearance, showing up for them becomes a priority.

Next up, twenty one pilots in a couple of weeks. The whole family is going to that one, plus one of the girls’ friends. That one is also on a school night but thankfully not standing room! Here’s hoping I can catch up on some sleep between now and then because this mama is tired.

[dyingdreams3]

Dream No.4 (1/27/23)

These are just… wild tbh. How do I even explain myself?? Some of these are from real life; others are just my wild imagination, I suppose. lol. The first couple were written as I was in between sleep, and the last were after I fully woke up, which is why it is the most coherent but yeah..

I'm a little upset that I waited to finish writing the dreams because had I taken the time, I'm sure I would have remembered more. But now I'm just left with tiny bits of information. Honestly, it shouldn't really affect my recall, so I'm sure it's okay. I'll just have to work on it.

Fighting with cats and avengers swimming in water drinking wine from talking glasses

Dnf found reading book together and flirting. It I was forget threw Ai art Bruno and mitski and ramskm people

There was an alien asociados with octopus that could heal momentarily unless you chard them but they could so kill. I was at my old apénense and I went to go hide at the park with sky kids. We hid in the tub but some black guy, the guy who shot Megan, thought it was her and shot yup the park. And then some lady started making some boom stale mashed patriots and broccoli

I also had a dream where I fought with my ex/current girlfriend about how I don’t want to spend time with them. And I was going to throw a phone at them, but then it hit another person. it might’ve been Liliana but I’m not sure. either way when the phone hit her head, there was so much blood and there was a wire hanging out of her head and I thought it was her hearing aid. After I went out to her and apologized, she was like it’s OK. I don’t even really feel anything. It was a girl we need to get you to the nurse. so when we took her to the nurse, we got there and they were like we can’t really do anything about that but here just stay here and call 911 I guess. After that mia made me feel really guilty about hitting her and not going to 911 first but I didn’t really care.  after I walked away we were in this like mid evil scary hospital looking please but then I went outside and I saw Jonathan a kid from my old middle school. He motion for me to walk over to him and I did and we went to this little box where we just talked. but that was from one of my really old dreams I had about him like we kissed in this box. but before we could start talking for some reason, his dad came over and was like no you can’t do this right now, and took Jonathan away and he put both of us in a pit of fire fighters knights..

[cha1cedony]

Click to read my insane ramblings (I put them under a break because this is. absurdly long). It’s just a bunch of fun facts about the Wilsons from the last 10 or so minutes of today’s episode (plus my own jumping to conclusions about them). Some of it is actual character analysis at the end. Vaguely. Obviously spoilers for DnDads S2E42 below!!!

Grant and Marco got married on a beach in Florida (unless they actually got married on the Titanic or something lmao). First of all, win for me as a Floridian! I wonder which beach it was; probably Clearwater or somewhere on the Gulf side because the sand is less pointy and full of shells

Anyway, Darryl’s mom (whose name I’m 99% sure is mentioned once, but I don’t remember it off the top of my head; sorry) retired to Florida. I wonder if she was there, or maybe even if they had the wedding near her place on purpose (because at that point she probably couldn’t easily come all the way to California)? :) Sweet.

I’m a little surprised that Grant invited his family tbh. I’m also wondering who else was invited, since Scam Likely popped up unexpectedly. Wondering if the other dads and kiddads were there, for example… hmm

Also cool that DeSantis hasn’t outlawed gay marriage in Florida in this future HAHA

Grant CAN tie a tie, thank you very much, but he’s not good at it :’) Marco probably usually ties them for him (and Darryl, too, of course). This also leads me to believe Link probably can’t tie a tie, either, but that’s not surprising. It’s okay. He only wears soccer jerseys even as his new business persona Boss Kicks

Grant doesn’t like spaghetti that much. He likes it enough for Darryl to make it for dinner for him, but not enough for Darryl to swim in it (even though swimming in spaghetti is apparently heavenly?) Hmm. This podcast… is so interesting… 🫶 hahahaha

I THINK this episode implies Carol and Darryl didn’t get divorced, since Darryl talks about wanting to impress her by getting fit in heaven. Either that, or they DID get divorced but still have sex, which is fun. Regardless, it’s definitely implied that they still have sex: “When Carol lifts this shirt up, ohoho… It’s gonna be heaven; I’ll just tell you that much.”

The last (and funniest) option is that they DID get divorced and no longer sleep together, but Darryl has deluded himself into thinking Carol will fuck him on sight once she dies and sees how hot he is now. This is probable because he’s setting up the house for Carol and Grant and presumably JUST the three of them; not counting Marco, Lincoln, etc. Maybe he’s still thinking about their family from when Grant was 12, before they went to the Forgotten Realms. That’s sad for a whole other host of reasons :’) aaah

Darryl only takes his Christmas lights down for a month (February-March) because otherwise Glenn will get mad at him? So fucking funny

Darryl and Darnell are FRIENDS. They’re FRIENDS GOD this means everything to me. If you’re reading this and don’t follow me, you should know I am a big Darnell fan. This is the best day ever. Anyway, Darnell finding Darryl dead is less fun. :(

The clarification that it wasn’t Carol who found him also makes me think they were still living together, since Matt says it like Carol finding Darryl would’ve been the most logical conclusion. It also makes me think Darnell comes over to visit often, which is nice :)

DARRYL CALLS MARCO “MARKY”. Sweetest thing I’ve heard in my wntire life oh my LORD.

“I know those phases… ay. Grant, buddy, you went through a couple phases yourself.” I NEED to know what Grant’s embarrassing teenage phases were

Ron and Darryl’s beer tastes like feet (and the Marys hate it)

Darryl and Grant both agree that in their relationships, they’re the overachievers, and their partners (Carol and Marco respectively) are just settling for them. Which is. SO. Fucking sad. The Wilson family self-hatred runs deep. I could go on for a very long time about this, but I’ll just shove it in a character study fic someday. Augh

Given the (mostly confirmed, I think) knowledge that Darryl and Carol stayed together, it’s extra sad. Despite couple’s counseling and years of working to stay together post-Forgotten Realms, Darryl still feels like he’s not good enough for Carol :(

And the same with Grant feeling he’s not good enough for Marco… I can’t believe how ready he was to call off the wedding. I wonder if that’s how he is often, and maybe Marco’s used to him being capricious like that, or if he’s been thinking about this for a long time and finally snapped. I think the latter. That’s the most like Grant: dwelling on things and bottling it up until he explodes. My poor boy :(

Marco was the one who wanted kids, which makes sense to me. Grant was resistant to it, which obviously also makes sense. Just mentioning it to say I think it rules out the idea that all the kiddads tried to have kids on purpose to get more daddy magic

Lastly, Grant’s reaction to seeing Darryl again made me cry. Maybe it’s because I’m overly invested in these two particular characters; I don’t know. I will elaborate…

Grant hasn’t gotten to hug his son or his husband in AGES, and that’s basically his whole family now. He’s not close with the other kiddads (except sort of Sparrow and Terry, one of which he literally killed), and he’s presumably not close with the rest of his family, either. Maybe Carol, since she’s still alive, but I don’t think there’s been any time for him to see anyone else since the beginning of S2. And then he got to hug Darryl again for the first time in YEARS. I know the line Anthony said about the fucking. spaghetti pool was a joke, but the emotion in his voice was there. Idk maybe I’m being crazy

Also, Darryl died suddenly. When Frank died, it was a shock, and it happened suddenly, but he did have cancer; Darryl knew it would come eventually. But Darryl literally died just living his everyday life. Grant didn’t get to say goodbye or even have time to process the idea of losing him. They were probably still not speaking to each other when it happened. They didn’t get along often as adults, as Link has said before; they were always arguing

But that relationship is still strong on Darryl’s end. He’s been thinking about Grant the whole time he’s been in heaven. And when they reunited, Grant stopped caring about their disagreements, too. Because he got to hug his dad again :’)

Okay, I’m done. Tl;dr I’ll never be normal again. There’s probably other things I forgot to mention. Idk. I’m feelign Unwell (/lh). Feel free to add stuff I forgot in the reblogs if you want. IDK. I LOVE THESE GUYS. I’m so happy and sad

I will never be normal again. Relistening to this forever actually. I will probably make a bulleted list of all the new things we learned about the (Li-)Wilsons also 👍

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 5 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 11.4k (you're welcome 😌)

contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! *deep breath in* YES THERE IS ACTUAL FUCKING HAPPENING - EVERYONE REMAIN CALM. also i promise this is the most unhinged reader gets lmao. alright let's go: one night stand/stranger sex, semi-public sex (bathroom of a bar), fingering, spanking, a truly gratuitous blowjob, orgasm denial, a smidge of dirty talk/namecalling, finger sucking?, protected sex, semi-awkward sex lmao, the hatefucking is HERE 🙌🏻 plenty of alcohol mentions as always,, so much alcohol. this chapter also features a couple fun cameos - kihyun of monsta x and wonho 💜

A/N: hope y'all enjoy this absolute CHAOS!! i have so many lovely friends who cheered me on while i was writing this, far too many to name, but i fucking adore you all 🥺🥺 and i do want to specifically shoutout @kiestrokes because the ~spicy twist~ in this chapter would not be HALF as good if it wasn't for her and her big beautiful brain. srsly she took a half-baked idea i had and made it insane. god i love that woman. ALRIGHT ENOUGH BABBLING - ENJOY!!!!!

read on AO3!

chapter four | masterlist | chapter six

~*~

“Try this.” Jimin yanks an emerald green dress off the hanger and chucks it over his shoulder, nearly hitting you.

“Ugh, I hate this one,” you groan as you hold the offending item up for inspection, pinched between index finger and thumb. “The fabric is so itchy.” 

Your best friend whips around, hands on hips, when you question his taste. “I’m sorry, did I just hear you going back on our agreement? Is that what this is?”

You groan, flopping over onto your bedspread, doing your best not to mess up your hair. Jimin had, understandably, been pissed when you’d called him immediately upon leaving the office last night, hands still shaking as you cradled the phone against your cheek. You think you have permanent hearing damage from the anguished wails your best friend made as you finally admitted everything you hadn’t told him. And you certainly could have done without the appreciative noises he made after he forced you to describe Suga’s dick in explicit detail. 

It’s not like you aren’t constantly thinking about it, anyway.

Especially now that Yoongi has specifically told you everything, everything he wants to do to you. The words swim back to you in pieces whenever you aren’t actively trying to suppress the memory. Finger that tight little pussy. Spank you until you bruise. Fuck you like the slut you so clearly are.

God. You’ve been horny for 24 hours straight. This can’t be good for your health.

Jimin had nearly disowned you for letting secrecy infiltrate your friendship for the first time in over a decade, but then he’d realized how truly distraught you were as you just kept babbling into the phone about Suga, too far gone to make any sense.

“Jesus fucking christ, it’s not the end of the world!” He’d finally interrupted with a frustrated groan. “You really think Suga is the only man in the world who can fuck you senseless? He was probably overselling it anyway. Having a pretty dick doesn’t guarantee he knows what to do with it.”

At this point you’d stumbled onto the bus home, and you remember smacking your forehead against the cold glass of the window with a whine at the words pretty dick, your mind already departing on another Yoongi spiral.

Jimin’s peal of laughter rang in your ears. “I’ve never heard you down this bad in my life, good god girl! We just need to get you laid so your fucking brain can work right again.”

“Please,” you’d grunted.

“Alright, I’m coming over tomorrow, and we’re going out.” He’d paused then, and you knew there was more even before he continued. It was like you could hear his evil smile. “And I get to pick your outfit.”

You’re snapped out of the memory as a second dress is tossed your way, this one hitting you square in the face.

“Either the green or this one. You’re still in the doghouse, ma’am,” Jimin reminds you.

You pull the second option up to examine it, already grateful for the softer feel of the material. Jimin loves to put you in shit that you’d never wear— usually dresses that he bought for you, or bullied you into buying. You think you already dress pretty racy when you go out, but Jimin likes to take it to another level, always encouraging you to show more skin, more tits, more ass. He’s definitely responsible for this number even being in your closet: dark burgundy in color, it’s tight, short, and the cutouts leave very little to the imagination.

You whine softly despite yourself. “Do I have to? I’m going to freeze to death.”

Jimin has already moved to sit at your desk, examining his hair in the mirror you use to do your makeup. He’s in one of his favorite going-out shirts, one he claims “makes even the straight boys look twice”, a blue and white striped button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He doesn’t even bother making eye contact with you as he peers at his reflection, fiddling with the silver hoops in his ears. “I dunno. Depends on whether or not you value my friendship.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “I can’t stand you.”

“Will you shut up and put your damn freakum dress on already?” He rummages through your makeup bag without asking until he finds what he’s looking for, a tube of Fenty gloss that he dabs in the center of his bottom lip.

“That is not what freakum dress means,” you say with a laugh as you stand to strip out of your sweats, but he’s already reaching for his phone that’s connected to your Bluetooth speaker, another requirement for the evening in order to keep your friendship intact. Beyoncé starts to blast as you pull your shirt over your head and suck in for dear life.

“So, what exactly is the plan?” You ask as soon as you swallow down another shot, nearly shouting to be heard over the noise of the bar. Jimin made you do a couple in your kitchen before you left, and though you haven’t even been out for an hour, you’re already straddling the line between tipsy and drunk.

He shoots you a look. “Don’t act so innocent, like I haven’t personally seen you go home with random dudes.”

Your gaze flits over the mass of bodies out on the dance floor. “I mean, yeah, but…” You shrug, grimacing slightly. “I don’t know, it’s been a while. And we’re not in college anymore.”

“What about him?” You look back at Jimin and he nods his head behind you. You do your best to be subtle as you glance over your shoulder to see two guys a couple of tables away.

“Which one?”

Jimin makes a face like it’s obvious. “Are you kidding me? The absolutely built daddy with the red hair?”

You examine them more closely, scrunching your nose up a little. He’s cute, big as hell, and you certainly notice his bubble butt in those tight pants. But it just doesn’t feel right. “I don’t know that he’s my type.” When your gaze lands on his friend, dressed in all black, dark hair skimming over his eyes as he leans in to say something, your heart flips in your chest. Now that could work.

Turning back to Jimin to say as much, you realize that he’s already brushing past you. “Well I’m not stupid,” he scoffs, and you scramble to follow after him as he stalks confidently across the room.

He’s already talking to them when you catch up. “Hi boys. Care for some company?”

They glance at each other, and you can tell Jimin’s presence is clearly unexpected but not unwelcome. He wasn’t wrong: nobody can resist him in that damn shirt.

“Sure,” red-haired daddy says with a shy giggle, and you have to bite back a smile. You were not expecting a guy that built to react so softly, and you already know your best friend is going feral on the inside. There is nothing Jimin loves more than a man he can fluster. Especially one who can make him pay for it.

His friend flags down a server and orders a round of shots for the table, then gives you a small wave as Jimin takes the liberty of giving his name and yours. “I’m Kihyun.”

“Hoseok,” Jimin's target is clearly squirming under his intense gaze. “But my friends call me Wonho.”

“Can I be your friend?” Jimin purrs. You’re nearly laughing at how quickly he lost the plot of trying to get you laid, but he’s also such an intense flirt that it nearly works as a wingman maneuver, in its own weird way.

You scoot a little closer to Kihyun as Jimin and Wonho disappear into their own conversation. Up close you can really admire how attractive he is, full lips and a wickedly sharp jawline.

“Hi,” you say with a smile, surprised to find yourself slightly nervous despite the alcohol coursing through your system.

“Hi,” he says back, and he looks like he’s about to say more when the server reappears with a tray of four shots.

“Thanks again for these,” you say as you reach for one, and he waves it off. You glance over at Jimin and Wonho, assuming they might want to toast as a group, but Jimin is already hooking his elbow around Wonho’s ridiculous bicep and making a not-at-all-subtle comment about how big he is, intertwining their arms before they each throw the shot back.

You look at Kihyun again, who is biting his lip nervously, and you can feel your face heat up. You’re no Jimin, so you settle for gently tapping your shot glass against his. “Cheers.”

He echoes the sentiment and you down your drinks simultaneously. You shiver a little as you swallow, but you’ve had enough that you don’t even feel the burn of the alcohol.

“So,” Kihyun’s eyes flit over to Jimin, then return to you. “Do you two come here a lot?”

You shrug. “We rotate. Jimin likes this place more than I do. You?”

He laughs softly. “Not really. Honestly, we’re both homebodies, but we try to get out every so often. Always nice to meet new people.” It’s so quick you nearly miss it, but you swear his eyes jump down your figure and back up again.

You try to ignore the little voice in your head reminding you of another pair of eyes; dark, calculating, wandering over your body. Not now.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you say, because it’s true: a new person is definitely what you need in this moment.

Before you can ask a follow-up question, you hear Jimin, talking loudly so that he’s audible over the music. “Your thighs look so good in those pants!” You have to resist the urge to smack your head against the table when you look over to see him attempting— and absolutely failing— to wrap his small hands around the circumference of Wonho’s leg, who is giggling like a schoolgirl.

You glance back at Kihyun, who is equally enraptured. “I’m so sorry,” you say quietly. “He is unfortunately always like this.”

“You know where else those thighs would look good?” Jimin’s voice lowers as he asks the question, and you watch Kihyun’s eyes go wide.

“Do you want to dance?” You say quickly, and he nods so fast you think his head might fall off. You start to break away from the group, his hand slipping to your waist, when Jimin smacks the table so loud that it makes you jump.

“Hey!” He yells, and you turn back, but he’s pointing at Kihyun, who instantly looks terrified. He leans in, as if to divulge confidential information, and Kihyun takes a tentative step towards him.

“Just so you’re aware,” Jimin starts, and you know it’s going to be bad. “She needs to get dicked down. Severely. Hope you’re ready.”

You close your hand around Kihyun’s wrist and drag him towards the dance floor, eager for a distraction to keep you from murdering your best friend.

Now that you’re actually in motion, you can feel the last couple of shots quickly catching up to you, the room blurring slightly at the edges. At the center of the dance floor, the thudding bass is loud enough to make it hard to think, which is exactly what you need right now.

You’re grateful not to have to force any more conversation, both of Kihyun’s hands slipping to your hips as you start to move in time to the music. It gives you free reign to admire him up close, and damn, he really is gorgeous. He’s only a little taller than you in your heels— probably about the same height as Yoongi, though his frame is slighter, smaller. You watch as his dark hair falls into his eyes again and he reaches up to sweep it off his forehead— Yoongi’s hair is a little longer, and he certainly has much better hands, but other than that—

You have to squeeze your eyes shut when you realize what the fuck you're doing. The whole point of this encounter is to stop thinking about Yoongi. Not pick apart this absolute stranger in comparison to him.

You desperately wish you could get another drink, but you know that would push you all the way into “drunk” territory. As much as you hate admitting it, Jimin was right: you really need to be able to consent to sex tonight. You’re gonna have to get through this the old-fashioned way, with sheer fucking willpower.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes flutter open to meet Kihyun’s concerned gaze. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just, uh. Thinking about work.” Not a complete lie.

“Well, don’t,” he says with a soft laugh. “It’s the weekend. You should enjoy it.” His hands press a little tighter, pulling you close until your body is flush with his. His breath ghosts over your neck as you hear his voice in your ear. “That dress looks really good on you.”

A different voice echoes in your mind before you can stop it. Spread your legs for me. Show me what’s under that dress. You can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to literally go insane, and then you grab Kihyun’s face with both hands and kiss him in a desperate attempt to not think anymore.

You can feel him freeze, clearly not expecting it, but after a second his mouth starts to move against yours. His hands slip further down towards your ass, and fuck, it occurs to you that you are still incredibly horny. You need this to happen as soon as possible.

Pulling away and sliding your hands to Kihyun’s shoulders, you tilt up to speak into his ear. “Do you live near here?”

His eyes go wide for at least the third time tonight. “Y-yeah, not far.” You see his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“I don’t know how to say this politely,” you admit with an embarrassed smile. “But my friend wasn’t wrong. About… what I need.”

He pauses for a moment, and your stomach twists as you prepare for rejection, the reasonable reaction considering you basically jumped this man like a crazy person. But then he smiles, leaning into you so he can keep his tone soft. “Come on, then.”

You follow Kihyun as he guides you towards the exit, keeping one hand pressed to the small of your back. It’s hard to miss the other half of your group making their way through the crowd— Wonho is large enough that people quickly shrink to get out of his way, but his gaze is entirely transfixed on Jimin’s ass in front of him. You nod in their direction and Kihyun follows as you push past bodies to reunite.

“Are you leaving?!” Jimin asks, and you can only nod. His eyes jump to Kihyun. “I told you, you better give it to her!” He shouts it so loudly that people standing behind him glance over their shoulders, but he is fully unfazed, now brandishing his cellphone. “And I always have her location on, so if you murder her, I will come find you!”

With a roll of your eyes, you lean across the circle so that Wonho can hear you. “Take good care of him, okay?” When you pull away, you swear he’s blushing as red as his hair, and he nods sheepishly.

You turn back to Kihyun. “Ready?”

The door to Kihyun’s apartment barely has time to close behind you before you find his lips with yours again. He presses you up against the wall of the entryway, and you waste no time in moving your hands over his body. His shirt and pants hit the floor in quick succession.

When he reaches for the hem of your dress, you cover his hands with yours to stop him. “Do you— is it okay if I keep it on?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, breathless. “Yeah, okay.”

He kisses you again and you let him guide you backwards through an open door into his bedroom until you feel the mattress hit the backs of your knees. You perch on the edge of the bed and glance around the room, taking it in. It’s clean, if minimally furnished, and your stomach flips when you see a nondescript work desk tucked into one corner.

You look at Kihyun when you feel his hand gently rub your thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs.

“Kihyun?”

“Yeah?”

Your gaze jumps to his desk, then back to him. “Do— uh… Do you think you could bend me over your desk?”

He seems a little dumbfounded, and takes a second to find words. “Wh— I— yeah, yes, I can do that. I just—” he clears his throat. “Do you need, like, foreplay, or…?”

You stand up again, knees shaking slightly. “I’ll tell you what to do, does that work?”

It must, because he kisses you, eventually starting to move towards the desk. When you’ve gotten far enough, you feel him tug at your hips, encouraging you to spin around so your back is flush with his chest. His hand slides up to your shoulders to gently press you forward, and you brace your forearms on the desk, already breathless.

“P-pull my dress up,” you manage to instruct. His hands caress over your thighs, then move to the hem of your dress, pushing up until your ass is fully exposed for him.

Get a good look at that ass you were tempting me with, the voice in your head finishes for you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on this moment, this man. Not any others.

You look back at Kihyun over your shoulder in an attempt to stay present, spreading your legs a little wider. “Touch me.”

He slowly moves a hand from your thigh up towards your core, and you feel his fingers just barely brush over the fabric of your underwear. The rush of contact after so much anticipation is enough to make you shiver slightly, but his touch is so light, so gentle.

Gentle is not what you need right now.

Keeping yourself held up on one arm, you reach the other behind you to forcefully tug your panties to the side. “Your fingers, Kihyun,” you hiss.

You tip your head forward and swallow down a whine of relief as he presses a digit into you and starts to rub circles. “How’s that?” His voice purrs in your ear, and you whimper as you nod.

It feels good, especially when he adds a second finger, but it’s not enough. He’s too soft, too tentative.

You look back at him again. “Can you spank me?”

You’ve officially lost count of the number of times you’ve surprised this man tonight. “I— what?”

“Like, smack my ass?”

“Like this?” He asks, but you barely feel it when he brings his hand down over your ass.

“Harder,” you say almost instantly, realizing after the fact that you could probably stand to be a little nicer to this random stranger. “Please.”

Kihyun’s second attempt is better, enough to make you groan softly as the sensation of the sting mixes with the movements of his fingers pressing against your front wall. He does it again, harder still, and you wiggle your ass back towards him— you need more, more than his hands can give.

“Kihyun,” you gasp, “want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? I’ll fuck you right here,” he grunts. At least he seems to be genuinely into it, you think to yourself gratefully. He smacks your ass a final time and you bite down on your lip as he withdraws his fingers. “One second.”

You hear the sound of him opening a drawer somewhere in his room and retrieving a condom, and you let your eyes flutter closed until his hands brush over your hips again.

“Ready?”

“Yes, Kihyun, please,” you beg, your head dropping down onto your forearms. “Please fuck me.” Desire is wound up so tight inside you that you can’t think about anything else; you need this so fucking badly.

He makes a strangled whine as he presses into you, and you move your hips back onto him, gasping slightly at the stretch. “Fuck.”

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Kihyun groans, and he starts to roll into you with steady thrusts that brush the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You push backwards, matching his rhythm, and he’s not wrong: it feels good.

But it’s not enough.

“Harder,” you groan, your voice muffled in the crook of your elbow, and you hear Kihyun grunt as he picks up the pace, hips snapping against your ass. Better, but somehow still not what you need.

“Please, Kihyun,” you encourage again. “Fuck me like a slut.”

“Jesus,” he breathes, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve finally broken him. But then his hand cracks over your ass, hard enough to take you by surprise, and he starts to thrust even faster.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, and his voice is tense, almost angry; something about it makes your walls start to flutter. Your orgasm is so frustratingly close, yet somehow beyond your grasp.

And then you hear that all-too familiar voice in your head. I want to make you come so hard that your legs shake. Before you can help it, you moan a little at the memory. The way Yoongi leveled his gaze on you as he spoke so calmly, in a way that had you believing every single word. You can feel your core starting to tighten at the very thought, and once your brain realizes that’s what will get you there, it’s like the fucking floodgates open.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, and you can hear him grunt in agreement, like he’s close, too.

You’re helpless to stop it now, too desperate to come. Yoongi’s voice, his face, his tongue, his hands, his cock. It’s all you can think of. You gasp as everything inside you tightens and starts to pulse.

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna come,” you whine. So hard that you have no choice but to scream my name as I wreck you, the voice in your head finishes, and you dig your nails into the desk beneath you as you reach your climax.

Your back arches, pleasure washing over you, and you cry out. “Yes, Yoongi, yes!”

There’s a moment where his hips stutter, and then he pushes all the way into you one last time with a grunt of effort as he comes, too. Your heartbeat starts to slow.

And then it occurs to you that the man fucking you is absolutely not named Yoongi, and you smack a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you say softly, voice muffled, and you remove your hand as you start to straighten up. You can hear Kihyun still breathing heavily behind you, but he’s otherwise silent as he releases his grip on your hips and slides out of you.

“Kihyun,” you turn to watch him cross the room to the en-suite bathroom, where he briefly disappears to dispose of the condom. Face burning with embarrassment, you awkwardly maneuver to readjust your underwear and pull your dress back down over your ass.

When he reappears in the doorway, you try again. “Kihyun, I am so sorry. I—I don’t—” you fumble for what to say, knowing full well you don’t have a good explanation. At least not one that doesn’t make you sound insane.

“It’s cool,” he says, but he’s clearly uncomfortable. “I mean, you know. Shit happens.”

You glance around nervously for your phone before realizing it’s back on the table in the entryway where you tossed it in the throes of passion. You shoot Kihyun a weak smile. “I should— let me call Jimin. I can get a ride home.”

Kihyun laughs dryly. “Yeah, I’m gonna take a wild guess that he might be a little busy. I can take you home. It’s not a big deal.”

As much as your pride wants to refuse, you don’t exactly have a backup plan. “I would really appreciate that,” you murmur.

The drive is silent and painfully awkward, Kihyun turning up the music just loud enough that you get the indication that he doesn’t want to talk. As the lights of the city stream by, you can’t help but wonder how everything got so fucked up.

When Kihyun pulls up to your apartment complex, you indicate where he can drop you off, and he reaches over you as the car slows to a stop to politely open the door.

“Have a good night,” he says firmly, and you can barely manage a word of thanks before you slip out of his car and head up the stairs to die of embarrassment.

Jimin shows up at your door late Sunday afternoon, a takeout bag of haejangguk tucked under one arm, gushing incessantly about the various ways Wonho threw him around all night. It feels like he babbles for an hour, until he finally takes a break to sip from his own container of soup, and prompts you with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Your turn. Was your mission successful?”

You keep your gaze firmly planted on the floor as you recount what happened.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

~*~

Jimin decides that you’ll try again next weekend, promising he’ll be less distracted. You’re not positive you’ll survive that long. You preemptively text Jungkook asking to take the week off from boxing class - your stomach is such a fucking bundle of nerves that you barely sleep at all Sunday night, and you know the next five days spent in constant fear of running into Yoongi is only going to make it worse.

Those same nerves creep up into your throat when you unlock the doors Monday morning, Jungkook waiting patiently behind you with his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.

Dread blooms inside of you as you move to place your purse on your desk, and then you make a split-second decision, spinning back to face Jungkook.

“Hey, JK?” The nickname is unplanned, just sort of comes out, but you see him visibly brighten. “Are there any open desks on your side of the office? I think I need a change of scenery.”

He nods, eyes wide. “Yeah! I’m actually all by myself right now. Sunye is on maternity leave for the rest of the month. You can use her desk.”

You gesture for him to lead the way and he does, heading past the break room and walking backwards down the hallway to keep talking to you. “Is there something wrong with your normal desk? We can always put in a work order.”

“Uh, no,” you scramble, trying to find a good excuse. “It can just be a little distracting, you know. People coming in and out all day. I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to be heads-down on this week.”

The excuse sounds flimsy and false to you, but he seems to buy it. “Yeah, makes sense! I’ll try not to distract you too much.”

He does a full 360-degree spin on his heels as you turn the corner at the end of the hall, and it’s enough to make you laugh softly despite yourself. There’s a small alcove with a desk pressed against either wall, and you don’t even have to ask which one is Jungkook’s. The standing desk is dotted with tell-tale signs of Baby Star Candy: an empty shaker cup, a mini tub of protein powder, several fidget toys tucked beneath his monitor. A small collage of polaroids is taped to the wall where you see him smiling with friends, throwing up a peace sign in nearly every single one.

Sunye’s desk is mostly empty, save for a few framed photos of her with her husband and two young kids. You drop your purse down and take a seat as Jungkook chucks his backpack under his desk, both of you reaching to retrieve your laptops.

Outlook hasn’t even loaded before he’s turned around and talking to you again. “So how was your weekend?”

You grimace reflexively at memories you’d rather forget, and Jungkook misinterprets the look. “Oh, sorry, no distractions. I’ll be quiet.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s not you. My weekend was fine. What about yours?”

He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. “I mean, honestly? I’m super addicted to this new mobile game that just came out. I feel like I blinked and lost two days.” He’s already reaching for his cellphone. “Want to see?” You roll your chair across to his side of the room as Jungkook leans over to show you the little island world he’s nearly 500 levels into. After a few minutes, he seems to remember himself.

“Shit, you specifically said you came here to focus. I’m sorry, I really will leave you alone now.”

You bite down on your bottom lip. “No, it’s okay, JK. I— honestly, I wasn’t being entirely truthful when I said that. I don’t mind the distraction at all, actually. It’s kind of complicated, but… it would be nice if I could hide out here for the foreseeable future.”

He looks at you, clearly surprised. “Of course. Whatever you need. Is everything okay?”

You wince a little, with no idea how to answer that question.

His voice drops. “Is it Suga?”

“It’s complicated.” You repeat with a sigh.

An unfamiliar emotion flashes in Jungkook’s eyes. You’ve never seen him angry before, but you’d guess this is what it looks like. “Hey, seriously, if he’s being aggressive with you, we should do something about it. Report it or something.”

You have to suppress the urge to laugh in his face. Like Yoongi being aggressive with you isn’t exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about for days.

“No, it’s not like that,” you reassure him. “I think we’re just two people who are better off kept apart from each other. That’s all.”

Jungkook nods slowly, and it’s clear from his expression that he wants to pry more, but is forcing himself not to. “Okay.”

There’s a heaviness of unasked and unanswered questions in the air, but the two of you manage to lapse into corporate smalltalk as you roll back over to your desk and dive into your workday.

Jungkook eventually has to peel off for a few virtual meetings, and watching him work is its own source of entertainment. If it’s a meeting that requires his focus, you can tell because he leans in close to his monitor, staring at spreadsheets or data visualizations with a look on his face like he’s using every single brain cell he owns. 

You can also tell when he’s put on calls where he clearly isn’t needed, because he’ll spin in a full circle at his desk with a glazed over look in his eye. There are even a few times where you glance up to see him silently doing what you vaguely recognize as TikTok dances, and you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from outright laughing.

The day rolls on, and you’re neck deep in drafting a communication when Jungkook’s voice breaks your concentration. “Do you like ramyeon?”

Your head snaps up to see him lean down under his desk to grab his backpack. He unzips it to retrieve two containers of instant noodles, and when he offers one to you, you give an approving nod. “I usually bring two in case I get extra hungry. I’ll make it, come meet me in the break room when you finish what you’re doing.”

You genuinely believe him on the first day, but when he just so happens to bring a second lunch on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you start to get a little suspicious.

Friday has you stuck on a working session straight through your usual lunch hour, and Jungkook disappears without a word, returning as you’re pulling your headset off with two to-go salads in a plastic bag.

“I ordered one, and they gave me two. Crazy, right?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him to signal that you don’t believe a damn word, but you still thank him as you follow him down the hall to the break room.

“You’re coming out tonight, right?” He asks over lunch, and it takes you a second to remember the planned happy hour your boss has scheduled for the office. You’re torn between never wanting to see the inside of a bar again, and the overwhelming desire to drink as much as you can on the company’s dime. Ideally enough to obliterate the brain cells that store your memories of last weekend.

In the end, your cheapness wins out. Plus, given that it’s a social work event, you’d bet your entire salary that Yoongi will be nowhere to be found. You figure it might actually prove to be a good distraction. “Sure, yeah. At least for a couple drinks.”

“Cool,” Jungkook smiles a little as he spears a piece of chicken on his plastic fork. “Let me know when you’re done for the day, we can head over together.”

As much as you’d like to blow off early, a phone call that was supposed to take fifteen minutes ends up lasting over an hour. You mute your headset briefly to give a loud sigh, and shoot Jungkook a silent pout in apology when he meets your gaze, but he just flips his phone around to show you the progress he’s making on his island. At least he’s good at keeping himself entertained, you think with a smile.

Finally the person leading the call seems to come to the extremely delayed realization that no one is going to make any more progress on the issue after 5 PM on a Friday, and things wrap up pretty quickly after that. You and Jungkook gather your things and head for the front, and the office is a ghost town.

Your eyes drift down the opposite hallway towards the Genius Lab, your pulse quickening a little. You’ve checked the lab every evening this week and have luckily only found it empty, but you’re nearly an hour ahead of schedule today. And you don’t exactly have a great track record with Yoongi when it comes to Fridays.

“I should probably…”

“I can do it,” Jungkook cuts in softly. You’re hit with the automatic urge to say no, to shield him from this chaos in any way you can. But it would be really nice to not have to deal with Yoongi for one fucking day.

“I would appreciate that,” you reply, and Jungkook is already striding down the hall. You pretend to busy yourself on your phone as you hear a knock, then the electronic beeps of him punching the code into the door lock. When you glance up, you see him push the door open and stick his head inside, then promptly close it again.

“He’s gone. Let’s get out of here.”

The bar your boss has chosen is only a few blocks away from the office, and Jungkook holds the door open for you to enter first when you arrive. You don’t see your group right when you first walk in, and you have to round a bend in the layout of the building before you spot the long table of familiar faces.

You move to take a step forward, but Jungkook nearly imperceptibly brings a hand to your elbow to stop you. He says nothing, which is unlike him, and you start to ask a question.

“Wh—” the words die in your mouth when you see Yoongi smiling politely into a glass of whiskey, seated at the table next to your boss. His gaze flickers up to meet yours. Your stomach twists as you watch the smile immediately drop off his face. 

“We can go,” Jungkook says quickly, but you know you can’t give him the satisfaction.

“It’s fine,” you say, and it comes out a little more harsh than you mean it to. “We don’t have to sit near him.” Jungkook follows your lead to the opposite end of the table. When you take your seats, he almost immediately gets sucked into a conversation with some of the audio engineers. You do your best to at least act like you’re following along, but it feels like the room is spinning despite the fact that you’re entirely sober.

That absolutely needs to change, you quickly determine. You’re sitting at the corner of the table, so it’s easy enough to slip out and get to your feet. Jungkook glances up when you do.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and your tone must be direct enough that he doesn’t ask any follow-up questions or offer his company. Which is fine, you think to yourself as you cross the room. You’re perfectly capable of walking to the bar and ordering a drink on your own.

At least it feels that way until you sweep your gaze across the room, waiting on a bartender to acknowledge your presence, and realize Yoongi is headed straight towards you, empty glass in hand.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You set your jaw, determined not to let him smell your fear, and renew your conviction to flag someone down and get a drink as fast as possible. When Yoongi takes a seat at the barstool next to you, you will your face not to react. But you’re not quite fast enough to remember to tell your mouth to stay shut, too.

“What are you doing here?” You snap, refusing to look him in the eye.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, voice even, and you blink hard. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “I figured an event with free alcohol was a good place to start. Let’s hope no one wore their good shoes tonight.”

Setting your jaw has turned into fully gritting your teeth, and you’ve never been more grateful to see a bartender when one approaches. You order quickly, and see Yoongi silently lift his empty glass as a request in your periphery.

“What do you want, Yoongi?”

When he hums and doesn’t respond right away, you glance over to see him running a finger around the rim of his finished drink. Just his fucking hand is enough to send a shiver up your spine, and you tear your gaze away.

“Well, for one, I honestly have to say I was surprised when HR didn’t personally escort me out of the building Monday morning.”

Your head snaps up to look at him again as you parse out his meaning. “Really?”

Yoongi’s gaze meets yours, his brows slightly pinching together as if he’s surprised that you’re surprised. “Uh, yeah.”

You’re so shocked it takes you a minute to form words. “I— I mean, it’s not like it was unprovoked.”

He makes a face as if he’s considering it, shrugging a little. “I suppose.”

As you drop your gaze to the wood grain of the bar, you can’t help but wonder if that was meant to be an apology. You barely have time to process that thought before the bartender returns, setting your drinks down, and you reach for yours like a woman dehydrated. When you take a sip, it’s strong— exactly what you need in this moment.

You’re already halfway off the barstool, very ready to get back to your seat at the table, when Yoongi speaks up again.

“Do you want to hear a funny story?” Something in his tone makes you pause, and he keeps going.

“I heard from an old friend a few days ago. We used to be really close, but lately I don’t think we’ve talked in…” He shakes his head in disbelief, like he’s trying to think. “God, probably years. I’ve been so focused on work. You know how I get.”

You physically recoil at his strange candor, how comfortable he suddenly is with implying that you know him. Your stomach is already starting to turn, though you can’t put a finger on why. It just feels like he’s playing with you.

Yoongi rolls his glass between his palms as he continues. “So you know, we catch up, ask how life is going, all the usual shit. And then my friend— Kihyun, that’s his name— Kih starts telling me about this crazy hookup he had last weekend.”

You nearly drop your drink as your blood runs cold. Yoongi continues the charade, pretending like he’s telling you something you don’t already know first-hand.

“He said he got approached by this super hot girl out of nowhere, and that she was fucking desperate for it. Barely said two words to him before she was asking him to take her home. And once he did, he said the sex was wild. I mean, it definitely sounded great to me when he gave me the play-by-play.” He pauses for a moment, and when he speaks again, there’s a new tone to his voice, almost aggressive. “Straight out of one of my own fantasies, really.”

You take a nervous gulp of your drink in hopes that it might help cool down your burning face— whether it’s from shame or rage, you can’t tell.

“And get this.” Yoongi’s voice is grave now, all pretense of telling a funny story gone as he turns to fully face you. “You’re never gonna believe whose name she cried out when she came. Because it sure wasn’t Kih’s.”

The shock of his words, at the fact that he knows this, is enough to freeze you where you stand. You’re nearly shaking with the chaotic storm of emotions swirling in your brain, and it takes every ounce of willpower you can muster to keep your voice steady as you fix him in your gaze. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business who or how I fuck, Yoongi.”

“Oh, I think it’s absolutely my business when you’re calling them my fucking name. And I don’t understand why you’d settle for imitation when you could have the real thing.” Despite how livid you are, you don’t miss the way your pussy flutters at the smug look on his face.

“Maybe it’s because your friend doesn’t come with all the strings attached that you do.”

“Strings?” He quirks an eyebrow. “I wasn’t planning on dating you, sweetheart.”

You can’t believe how dense he is, and you slam your drink down on the bar. “No, Yoongi, but you’re my fucking coworker. Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘don’t shit where you eat’?” He chuckles dryly into the rim of his glass. “It’s a bad fucking idea.”

He examines you as he takes a sip of whiskey, then finally speaks again. “Here’s the way I see it. We are both sane, consenting adults, very capable of being rational about this.” You scoff in disbelief at how calmly he can say such a thing as you take another long pull from your drink. “There’s obviously a lot of pent-up feelings going on. I’m not saying we have to be friends. Hell, we don’t even have to like each other. Sometimes it’s more fun when you don’t.”

Not expecting that commentary, you nearly choke on the ice in your glass. Yoongi gives you a moment to recover before continuing.

“It seems to me like we could establish something that would be mutually beneficial. Get some of that energy out. If anything, I think it might help both of us actually focus on our work, and that would in turn benefit everyone. It’d certainly be a lot better than the two of us running around like a couple of horny teenagers the way we have been lately. It’s not a purely selfish thing.”

You hate that his stupid logical argument makes sense to you. You hate it so much that you finish your drink in one swallow.

“Look, I’ll make it easy for you,” he says, eyes locked on you, his voice dropping into a lower register. The tone immediately takes you back to the last time you were in his lab. The things he said to you. The things he wanted to do to you. Heat pools in your belly before you can tell it not to.

“I’m going to head back to the group. You get yourself another drink, come join us, and take some time to think about it.”

He leans in to speak the next part directly into your ear, his voice quiet. Every nerve ending in your body lights up at the feeling of his breath against your neck. “Then I’m going to get up and go to the restroom. I’ll give you three minutes to discreetly excuse yourself and join me. If you don’t show, I’ll drop all of this and leave you alone. Promise.”

Yoongi pulls away, shooting you that trademark smirk, knowing full well that he doesn’t have to explain what will happen if you do decide to join him. He already has. Then he slips off the barstool, glass of whiskey in hand, and strides back towards the table.

When you order the next round, you ask for a double.

You do your best to act like the world isn’t ending as you return to your seat at the table. The conversation continues around you, without you; you can only stare dumbly at the empty space between two of your coworkers as you take a long swig of your drink. You’re vaguely aware of discussions of upcoming mixtapes and the Grammy’s, but your brain can’t process anything over the roaring in your ears, the pounding of your heartbeat in your gut— and a little lower.

You feel insane, enraged, and deliriously aroused.

You have no concept of how quickly time is passing, no clue if it’s been an instant or an hour when you see movement from the other end of the table out of the corner of your eye. There’s no self-control left in your system to keep your jaw from going slack, to keep you from unabashedly watching as Yoongi gets up from the table and strides confidently across the bar toward the restroom. He doesn’t so much as glance in your direction.

“Are you alright?”

You whip around at Jungkook’s voice, having completely forgotten there was anyone else in the room. It takes a second for you to snap your mouth shut, and then you realize you have to open it to answer his question.

“I— uh—” You can barely string a sentence together. “My drink is really strong.”

“Do you need some water?”

When you nod, he’s up in a flash, heading towards the bar, and you realize as you watch him disappear that it might have been a bad idea to let yourself be left alone. Because now you have no distraction from the way every cell in your body is screaming at you.

It’s obvious that there is a right choice and a wrong choice here. And you’ve tried so hard, for so long, to be smart. To deny the truth, to say no and go home, to channel the energy out in any other way. But none of it has worked. You still want this terrible man to do terrible things to you, maybe now more than ever. And you’re so fucking tired of making the right choice.

So tonight, you resolve with a final sip of your drink, you’ll make the wrong one. Fuck it.

You slip away from the table before Jungkook returns, following the same path Yoongi did towards the back of the bar. When you reach for the handle of the restroom door, your pulse is racing, enough that you nearly jump out of your skin when the door swings open before you can even touch it. You glance up to find yourself face-to-face with an equally shocked looking Yoongi.

“Your three minutes are up,” he says dryly. Rather than bother with a response, you bring your hand to his chest and firmly shove him back inside the single stall room. You hear him laugh a little as you follow after, pulling the knob and turning the lock into place behind you.

When he takes a step toward you, there’s nowhere for you to go except flush against the door. You watch his eyes drop down your body and back up, taking his time, shameless. His gaze lingers on your mouth.

“Didn’t think you’d really do it,” he murmurs, eyes glinting.

“Call it a lapse in judgment.”

There’s something about the situation that makes you feel like Yoongi has the upper hand— like he expects every part of this to go according to his plan. That, you decide, simply will not do. And then you drop to your knees in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Yoongi breathes, taking a small step back to give you room. “You’re a whore.”

You do your best to shoot a death glare up at him. “I don’t have to do this.”

He smirks. “I meant it as a compliment, honestly. Respectfully.”

That’s it. You’re determined to suck that smug fucking look off his face. “Hands to yourself,” you say firmly. “If you touch me, this all ends.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be giving any orders. But then he nods, raising both hands in the air as if to indicate compliance. You lower your gaze and realize he’s already straining against the fabric of his joggers, which do nothing to hide how hard he is, the thin material clinging to every inch.

In one swift motion, you tug both his pants and boxers down his hips, and you have to actively suppress a soft sigh of appreciation. Yoongi’s ego doesn’t need any more feeding, but damn, his dick is even better up close: long, pale, and pretty.

Glancing back up at him, you maintain eye contact as you lean forward to teasingly trace your tongue along one of the prominent veins that runs the length of his shaft. His eyes are dark with lust as he watches you. Despite being on your knees, a thrill of sheer power runs through you when you see him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple jerking in his throat.

It occurs to you that you are extremely ready to torture this man.

When you reach the tip, you just barely slide your lips over it in an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, your tongue swirling in sloppy circles. You can hear Yoongi breathing now, clearly trying and failing to suppress his shaky exhales at your work.

Tilting your head to find the right angle, you take more of him into your mouth, then bring a hand to his shaft to guide the head of his dick to one side. You don’t miss the quiet groan you elicit from him as you let him press against the soft wall of your cheek to create a bulge. He makes the same sound again, louder, when you rub your tongue firmly along the underside of his shaft while you do it.

His hips jerk under your touch as you start to move the hand wrapped around him in slow, deliberate strokes. You recenter him in your mouth and bob your head along his length in time, now sucking firmly. Yoongi’s breath catches on a moan as you keep your tongue pressed tight to his shaft and match the movement of your head to the deliciously slow pace of your hand.

The sound only encourages you, and you lean forward to take even more of him until his cock briefly brushes against the back of your throat. You hold him there for a second, then swallow.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses. You can feel him twitch a little in your mouth, taste it as he leaks precum onto your tongue. You tip back for a few more shallow thrusts, just tormenting him, then repeat the action, humming this time as he hits your throat. His knees nearly buckle.

You glance up at Yoongi as you pull back again, lashes fluttering, and you have to keep yourself from laughing around his cock at the look of pure distress on his face. Now that you’re watching him, you realize his hands are flexing desperately at his sides— it’s clearly taking everything in his power to follow your no touching policy.

Good, you think, and then you lean forward to swallow him down and keep him there, taking as much as you can until your nose is nearly flush with his pelvis. You bob your head, guiding him up and down your throat, choking slightly but too determined to stop even as your eyes start to water.

“Oh my god,” you hear him groan, and your eyebrows raise at the sound of a loud smack. When you look up, still working him in your throat, you realize that he’s helplessly banged a fist on the bathroom door and is now bracing himself against it. You watch as he rakes his other hand through his hair, his head tipping back with a gasp as you increase your pace in response. His hips shudder as he starts to buck softly into your mouth. “Y-yeah, keep doing that, oh fuck, fuck—”

At what feels like the last possible second, you pull off his cock with a soft, wet pop, swallowing down the precum in your mouth. You wipe at the corners of your lips before getting to your feet, legs shaking a little more than you’d like from how long you’ve been on your knees. As you meet his gaze, now at eye-level, it seems you’ve certainly achieved your mission: Yoongi’s usual smug appearance has been replaced with a look of frustrated desperation, courtesy of one denied orgasm.

“Why should I let you get off that easy?” You ask simply, and he makes a noise low in his throat, something between a groan and a laugh.

“Fuck, you are such a bitch.” He advances towards you, and you find yourself backing up, this time until your ass is pressed against the countertop of the bathroom sink. He’s staring at your mouth again, looking at it with what seems to be a little more reverence now that he knows what it’s capable of.

“Am I allowed to touch you yet?” His voice is so low, his mouth so close to yours, that it makes your core ache. The noises you sucked out of him have unfortunately only turned you on even more. “Or are you going to make me beg?”

As much as you’d love to see that, the desperate throb that’s been steadily building between your legs has now overtaken your desire to tease. “Yes, Yoongi, you can touch me.”

The words have barely left your mouth and his hands are already on your hips, firmly spinning you around. You have to clutch the edge of the countertop just to stay upright, but you only feel yourself getting that much wetter at the rough way he handles you. You shiver as he shoves the hem of your dress up to expose your ass, and you can’t help yourself, leaning forward to give him the best possible angle, too desperate for anything less.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, and you’d swear he almost sounds appreciative.

You don’t even have time to process that thought before his hand cracks down over your ass, so hard that it nearly knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You inhale a shaky gasp, your mind reeling in its attempt to catch up, but Yoongi is already pulling your panties to the side, perfect fingers sliding between your folds. There’s no hiding how drenched you are; your upper thighs are starting to stick together with arousal.

Without warning, he presses two fingers firmly into you, and it’s enough to make your jaw go slack. You outright moan when they find purchase against your g-spot, rubbing in tight, expert circles. He could make you come right now if he wanted to.

“You’re so wet for me,” Yoongi’s voice is low and smug, and you don’t need to see his expression to know that cocky smirk has returned to his face. “Been ready for it all night, huh?” You whimper a noise that isn’t disagreement.

“Good,” he says firmly, pairing the word with another smack to your ass. You’re too far gone to try and hold it back now, not with the way his fingers are working inside you, and you moan again. “Because we can’t take too long,” Yoongi continues. “Don’t want anyone getting suspicious. Which is really a damn shame, because there’s so much I want to do to you.”

When he smacks your ass one more time, even harder, and couples it with an insistent press of his fingers against your front wall, you have to grip the edge of the sink for dear life. Your cunt squeezes around him; the noise you make is practically a sob.

He huffs a laugh as he withdraws his fingers, and you glance up to see him retrieving a condom from his pocket and tearing it open. “Wrecked already? And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You try to compose yourself, but just watching the way his hands work as he rolls the condom over his leaking cock has you aching, clenching around nothing. You really are fucking wrecked— nothing has ever come close to this.

Yoongi’s hands come to your hips, pads of his fingers digging into your skin, and you feel the head of his cock against your entrance, sliding lazily through your folds but purposefully not pressing into you.

“Yoongi,” you whine. You’re too far gone for this teasing.

“You have to tell me what you want,” he says, his voice dark.

You can barely even think a sentence, and you try to push back on him instead, but he keeps you held firmly in place, hands squeezing into the flesh of your hips. “Tell me,” he insists.

“I want you to fuck me,” you manage, and you look up to meet his gaze in the bathroom mirror.

He licks his lips, and you realize that he’s having just as hard a time restraining himself. “That much is obvious,” he says, and you can hear the unsteadiness in his voice now. “How would you like to get fucked?”

You’ve had enough alcohol to brazenly tell the truth. “Like you hate me.”

It may be the first genuine smile of his you’ve ever seen.

“Gladly,” he replies, and then he thrusts all of himself into you at once. You collapse forward on the countertop, crying out at the feeling.

“Yeah,” Yoongi grunts, a little breathless. “You like that?” He pulls nearly all the way out and slams into you one more time, pressing his hips flush with your ass until you feel overwhelmingly full. Then he starts to properly thrust, moving at a pace that can only be described as ruthless.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head dropping down as you scramble to brace yourself against the counter. You practically yelp when his hand cracks over your ass again.

He leans forward; you can feel his chest graze over your back, his hips still snapping into you as he grabs your jaw with one hand and forces your gaze up to look at him in the mirror again. You watch as he runs two fingers along your bottom lip in an unasked question. You let your jaw go slack to allow him to slip into your mouth.

When your lips close around his fingers, you find yourself a little grateful to have something to keep you grounded to reality. Your eyes flit up to Yoongi’s face, and his gaze is piercing, eyes totally fixed on you.

“You look so good like this.” His voice is hoarse, strained from effort, and he continues to drive into you, never slowing. Your own hip bones dig into the bathroom counter, shocks of pleasure-pain rippling through you with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers spill out from your mouth around his fingers at the sensation, and you can feel your climax starting to build.

Yoongi withdraws from your mouth, that same hand moving down your body to slip into your panties and circle your clit, earning a gasp from you. His other hand keeps a death grip on your hip as he thrusts, and he straightens up again, the head of his cock now rubbing so perfectly over your g-spot that you hiss.

“Did Kihyun fuck you like this?”

The question catches you off-guard. “N-no,” you gasp, and the hot coil of your arousal tightens in your core. Yoongi’s cock stroking into you, his hand working your clit, the feeling is overwhelming, dizzying. “Oh, god.” Your head presses into your forearm as you give yourself over to the pleasure. You can only distantly hear Yoongi’s voice continue, somewhere between coaxing and demanding.

“I didn’t fucking think so. So why don’t you say it? Tell me who fucks you right. Tell me who you fucking hate.”

The fingers on your clit are unrelenting now, and your edge approaches fast and hard.

“Y-Yoongi,” you breathe, and it feels too good to say his name and mean it. “Yoongi, fuck, Yoongi.” A loud moan rips through you as your legs start to shake. “Oh fuck,” you gasp, “I’m coming, fuck, yes—” You nearly sob as your climax hits you hard, and your walls flutter around Yoongi’s cock over and over in what feels like an endless orgasm.

The pleasure rolls through you, and you look up in the mirror to see Yoongi grit his teeth as he picks up the pace of his hips. A look of desperation paints his face, not unlike the way he looked when you were blowing him, and you know he must be close.

“God fucking damnit,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a thrust, and then he tips his head back and pushes all the way into you with a moan as he comes.

For a moment he pauses like that, gazing up at the ceiling, chest heaving with effort as his dick twitches inside of you. “Holy shit,” he breathes, and then he starts to laugh softly in what appears to be disbelief. “Fuuuuck.”

You haven’t fully recovered, so you can only watch, still gripping the countertop for dear life, as he slips the condom off, chucks it into the trash can, and pulls his boxers and pants up. He gives his reflection a once-over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how quickly he’s put himself back together. The only indication that he was literally just railing you is the way he’s breathing heavily.

Yoongi notices you watching him and gives your ass one more firm slap, hard enough that you flinch a little.

“Wait a minute or two before you head out,” he instructs, and you nod dumbly. He crosses the room, opens the door, and slips out, all before you can even so much as think a coherent thought.

It takes several more minutes for you to get your shit together, but you eventually manage to readjust your underwear and smooth your dress down, though your legs are certainly still unsteady when you make your way back to the table. You can’t help but shoot a glance over at Yoongi as you pass, and you’re shocked to see him laughing and chatting it up with the group of coworkers seated around him. You see clear expressions of surprise on their faces, too— because he’s never like this. Except, apparently, mere minutes after fucking you.

You don’t even bother to sit down, instead grabbing your purse off the table and slinging the straps over your shoulder.

“Wow, there you are,” Jungkook’s voice drags you out of your thoughts, and the look of concern on his face just makes your stomach turn. You genuinely have no idea how long you were gone for. “Are you okay? Your face looks flushed.”

You don’t know how to answer his question, so you don't. “I think I’m gonna go home.”

“Do you need a ride?”

You shake your head quickly. “I’ll call a friend.”

Perched on the curb outside, you clutch your phone for dear life as you pull up Jimin’s contact to call him. The line rings and you realize you’re shivering; you don’t think it has anything to do with the weather.

You don’t even give him a chance to say hello when the call connects. “Can you come get me?”

He groans on the other end of the line. “Why? I already took my pants off for the night.”

“Baby mochi, please.” You whine, but you know only the full explanation will get him out of bed. You drop your voice a little. “I just hatefucked Suga in the bathroom at the company happy hour. I need you to come pick me up immediately.”

Jimin’s apartment is a ten minute drive away, but you swear he makes it in five.

“Well, well, well,” Your best friend’s voice is smug as you slide into his passenger seat. “If it isn’t the company whore.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jimin.”

~*~

Come Monday morning, you’re racing down the hallway to the conference room, quietly cursing yourself for being late. You’d seen the email from your boss moving the usual Tuesday pull-up to first-thing Monday, but then you’d gotten so tied up with other projects you’d forgotten about it entirely. It was only once you were in the break room, trying to get your caffeine fix in, that you’d glanced up at the wall clock and realized it was already ten after.

Focused as you are on getting to the meeting quickly— and just as importantly, not spilling any of your coffee— you’re completely unaware of your surroundings until it’s too late. You nearly smack directly into Yoongi as you approach the conference room simultaneously.

He smirks as you jump back in surprise. “We have got to stop meeting like this.”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him since Friday; you’ve been hiding out in Baby Star Candy’s corner all morning. “We’re late,” you say, flustered enough to state the obvious, and he shrugs like he can’t disagree.

“I got distracted.”

Yoongi must notice the way your eyes start to widen. “With work,” he clarifies quickly. He reaches around you to place a hand on the conference room door, and you hear his voice low in your ear. “Amazing how much easier it is to focus today, huh?”

Straightening up to put some space between you, he pushes the door open and gestures for you to go first. You swallow hard and try to keep your composure as you enter the room, briefly apologizing for being late. Yoongi follows behind you silently, slumping into the open seat across the table. You take a sip of your coffee to settle your nerves, which turns out to be a horrible idea when your boss speaks.

“There they are, perfect timing. You’re the very two people my next announcement concerns.”

You just barely manage to keep your drink in your mouth. When your gaze flits to Yoongi across from you, he looks similarly shell-shocked. You can’t help but wonder if you’re about to get fired in front of the entire team.

“We’ve managed to secure funding for the Grammy’s at the end of the month,” your boss says brightly. “We’ll be flying Suga out to do a press circuit as well as attend the award show and surrounding events in-person. We think it will be a great opportunity to network with American artists, try to get his name out there and work on our international appeal.”

“And of course,” your boss’ gaze lands on you, “we all know that our Suga isn’t the most extroverted, or good with schedules, for that matter. We figured he needs a wrangler, and who better than our very own admin?”

You swear your heart stops beating. Your boss keeps going, reminding the team to connect with you about temporarily taking back any deliverables you’ve been handling while you’ll be out of pocket for Grammy’s weekend and subsequent travel time, but you barely process a word. This can’t be happening.

An entire weekend of forced professionalism, in Los Angeles, with the man you just hatefucked in a bathroom. What could possibly go wrong?

chapter four | masterlist | chapter six

[solitaryearthperson]

Castiel

Summary: (Y/N) wakes up in a strange place and finds ‘Clarence’ there and asks him to explain himself.

(The reader is 18+ and goes by he/him pronouns. The ethnicity/race is any.)

(Y/N) = Your Name

Where am I? I wondered looking around myself. The park I was in was my usual go to, but something was off. The sun shined brightly in the sky, but it wasn't insanely hot like it should have been. There were birds chirping happily and ducks swimming in the pond, but something was strange. Last time, I remembered it wasn't summer or spring, in fact it was winter. Why is it so sunny?, I wondered, looking up at the sky and seeing the bright sun. I looked around the large park, seeing the peacefulness all around and suddenly it hit me. The people! Where is everyone? Why is it so empty?

"(Y/N)," a voice came from behind me, interrupting the peace, and I turned around to see Clarence.

"Clarence," I said, taking a step towards him, before I could stop himself. I immediately felt a mix of emotions at seeing his familiar blue eyes. At first, I felt joy at seeing him, but then it quickly turned into anger at how the bastard left me. That was also quickly replaced with fear. Why is he here? What is here? If it's not the park, then what is it? "Clarence, where am I? This isn't the park."

"No, it's not," he answered, sadness evident in his gruff voice and he looked down to his feet, reminding of my comparison of him to a puppy.

"Where am I? And what're you doing here?"

He looked back up to me and let out a sigh, his face held a look of sorrow and suddenly I felt fear again, scared at what his answer might be.

"Do you think this place is too perfect? Too peaceful?"

I nodded and waited for him to continue.

"My name isn't Clarence and you're correct. It's all too perfect for you to believe that it's an actual park on Earth."

His answer and demeanor did nothing to comfort me and only made my nervousness and fear worse than it already was-wait did he say 'on Earth'?

“Did you just say ‘on Earth?’ As in we’re not on Earth right now?” I asked, walking up to him. I couldn’t help the warm feeling I got at being so close to him, our faces only a couple inches from each other. “Where are we? Are we on Earth?”

“No,” he shook his head, looking me in the eye, in a way, letting me know he was telling me the truth. “This is heaven, (Y/N). You’re dead.”

I let out a chuckle at his words, finding it incredible and unbelievable. This can’t be real. Is he serious? “Where am I, forreal? I’m serious, Clarence.”

He looked at me with confusion and tilted his head in the familiar puppy-like manner like he did before, before answering, “I told you. You’re dead, (Y/N) and I’m sorry...And my name’s not Clarence. Sorry I lied.”

Scoffing, I looked around again. First at the green grass, that seemed to be too green and too healthy to be from a normal park on Earth. Then at the pond, at the peaceful ducks swimming in circles, and no one was bothering them. Then at the sun, at despite how bright it was, it wasn’t blazing hot and I was able to actually look at it without burning my eyes.

I'm dead. I'm dead. How can this be? I don't even remember how I died?

"How did it happen? Do you know?"

"I don't know. Do you have any memory of where you were before or what you were doing?"

Where was I? What was I doing? I tried my best to remember. I most likely did my usual thing that day or night, it happened. I probably looked for a warm place to sleep, as winter meant more colder, harsher nights.

"I remember going to the park," I told him, closing my eyes, wracking my brain. "It was too cold and the shelter was overcrowded...and I fell asleep." I fell asleep and woke up here! The night was too cold. I remember already having a cough before that night. The realization of my death made me open my eyes. I looked to Clare-whoever and saw that he figured it out as well.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he said, his eyes becoming glassy.

"It's fine," I told him, wiping my eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him. I was still slightly upset with him for disappearing.

Wait

"What're you doing here?" I asked. "How'd you die?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. His demeanor suddenly changed and he seemed more nervous than before.

"Did you die that night? When you left?"

He shook his head. "I died, by a being called the Empty taking me."

"What? The Empty? What's that?"

"It's...a being before God. As an angel, I was able to go to them-"

Did he just say-

"Angel?"

~

I don't know how long it took, but after revealing to me that we was or is an 'Angel of the Lord', he sat me down on nearby bench and explained to me everything about him.

"So,... Let me get this straight. You're name is Castiel."

"Yes."

"You're an angel."

"Yes."

"God has a sister?"

"Yes, her name's Darkness and Amara."

The information he provided me would've made me have a headache had I still been alive, but now I just sat in shock, trying to understand it all.

"This...Empty..."

"Yes?"

"They... are older and more powerful than God and Darkness?"

"Yes."

"You made a deal with them? And they killed you?"

He nodded his silently.

"Why'd you make a deal?"

It took him a second to answer, and when he did, his voice was full of sadness.

"To save my...family."

"I'm sorry," I told him, noticing his hesitation on the word 'family', but deciding not to say anything about it.

So much makes more sense now, I realized. The strange innocence about him, childlike curiosity, the way he acts and talk. He's an angel?

"(Y/N)," Castiel said. "Are you alright? You're quiet."

I nodded, looking down at my lap, not knowing what exactly to say to him. I kind of feel bad, now knowing how his life is and what he's been through.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," I heard him say, before I felt his hand grab mine and hold it tightly. "I should've told you I was leaving, but it was important that I keep you and any innocent people safe from-"

"It's alright," I interrupted him, looking at him. His face had a guilty look and I couldn't control the warm feeling in my stomach at the sight. God, he's so sweet and kind.

Wait, God?

"Castiel?"

"Yes?"

"If God is now human, who runs heaven and controls the world now?"

A wide, happy smile suddenly appeared on his face, making the warm feeling in me grow.

"It's being ran by Jack."

"Lucifer's son, right?"

He nodded. "Him and Amara are one now."

"Okay." I didn’t get how two gods or god-like beings can suddenly merge into one now, but I guess that’s something that’s not that important.

Maybe it was the adorable smile on his face when he brought up Jack, who apparently is almost like a son to him. Maybe it was those beautiful blue eyes of his but suddenly I found myself kissing him on the lips. His lips were warm, and a bit dry but the kiss was still magical, and I couldn’t help but let out a slight moan. 

When I pulled away, his smile was somehow wider, and there was slight blush on his face which made my cheeks grow warm. 

I looked around the park and let out a sigh at the sight of it. Nothing but peacefulness. 

“I guess people were right about how nice heaven is.”

He nodded his head, and stood up offering me a hand.

Confused I accepted it and was surprised to feel him pull me towards him strongly and bump into his body. Was he this strong before? 

He kissed me again, only this time stronger and I could feel the warm feeling in my stomach bloom into something else and suddenly I didn’t really care that much about being dead anymore, about being left alone on that park bench, or the fact that I was kissing an angel or former-angel. All I cared about was being near him.

“You want to see my friend Dean?” he asked, pulling away and somehow leaving me breathless.

“Dean? You mean one of the brothers you fought and hunted with?”

“Yes,..He died shortly after defeating God. His brother lived on and died of old age. They’re both here.”

“We can go to his heaven?”

He nodded again. “Heaven is now much better than before. We can go to each other’s heavens and enjoy the afterlife together. So do you want to?”

“Um,...sure,” I answered, still getting used to all of this, but I knew that I’ll get the hang of the afterlife, especially with a special angel by my side.

“Can I meet Jack too?”

“Yes, you’ll meet them all.”

I was going to meet his family!

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we���re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[miss-starryeyes]

TGCF. It was actually the first danmei I ever read, and I just adore it. Although, SVSSS gets better each time I reread it.

Hualian. Devoted believer X forgotten god is an incredible dynamic, and I love both of them so much. I love that their relationship just grows. It doesn’t rely on too much drama or miscommunication.

Xie Lian (a pattern emerges!) He is such well-fleshed out character. I love how he has so many different facets: soft/strong, wise/foolish, kind/unyielding, shameless/sensitive, etc.

Hua Cheng! His design is so bold, I think it would be so fun. Plus, I would feel like a badass with Eming.

Tianlang-jun X Yue Qingyuan. I just. Like this ship a totally normal amount.

Tianlang-jun. That man was such an absolute mood. I just want to get his take on totally random, everyday things.

Honestly, I can’t think of any! I feel like all the characters I’ve encountered in danmei so far have served a purpose, so even if I don’t like them, they still contribute to their respective novels.

Probably SVSSS. I feel like my survival rate would be the highest.

XIAO XINGCHEN!!!!!!!! MXTX novels have so many characters that deserve to be resurrected, but I am never getting over Xiao Xingchen. I just want him to be happy!

Jin Zixun. I resurrect him, then kill him again just for spite.

“The Flower-Crowned Martial God; Sword in one hand, flower in the other. Shi Qingxuan only remembered the flower, but had forgotten: Xie Lian ascended because of his sword.” The shivers it gives me...

Wen Ning, per the tumblr poll.

Wangxian. Only Wangxian doesn't have 1 person in the couple that would just be pissed off at someone 3rd wheeling. They're used to it with a certain Ghost General.

Hua Cheng. Where to even begin? The butterflies, the spiritual energy, E'Ming. Honestly, him being able to turn people into budaoweng dolls might just be my favorite of his powers.

We all know it's Su She. Don't even pretend it's not.

Lan Xichen. I bet he'd have a really random taste in music.

Meng Yao. He would figure out modern-day etiquette and tax loop holes in no time.

I want Chu Wanning's wontons!!! Erha has the best food descriptions, but the wontons also stood out to me. I am actually really hungry now that I think about it.

Shen Zechuan. Shit would get done.

Jiang Cheng. My boy needs it.

Nie Mingjue. He's still got the 'stache so he can just go around looking like a biker dude.

There is no fucking way Qi Rong can swim. Even if he could swim, he just wouldn't. He'd thrash around to make a scene.

Luo Binghe, because of the protagonist halo.

Jingyi would definitely watch anime despite it not being allowed in cloud recesses. I think he'd like the classic Naruto/Dragon Ball Z shonen, but I also think he'd like magical girl anime even though he's too embarrassed to admit it. Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua DEFINITELY used to watch anime. SY probably watched things he thought would have a good plot (Death Note, JJK) and SQH has absolutely watched hentai.

Zhuzhi-lang? I don't think he would view it as a sexual thing, but I can see him being interested in animal behavior. Plus, Tianlang-jun would be laughing his ass off in the background.

Nie Huaisang.

Shi Mei. Everybody would assume. that he's shy and not a good actor, but he's responsible and literally the only child in the sect that can stand perfectly motionless for the entire duration of the play.

Luo Binghe. Seriously. I *poorly* explained TGCF and SVSSS to her, and she said LBH was "sweet". EDIT: She now says she wants to svsss, which is a turn of events I did not anticipate.

I'd love to be adopted by Jiang Yanli.

Wen Ning. Is he an adult? Yes. Would I still adopt him? Absolutely.

danmei questions!!

reblog with your answers! also works for other genres/series

1. your favourite series

2. your favourite ship

3. your favourite character

4. character you most want to cosplay

5. your favourite rarepair 

6. a character you wish had more lines

7. a character you wish had less lines

8. the series you’d want to transmigrate into

9. one character you would resurrect

10. one character you would kill

11. your favourite line

12. if you were stuck on a desert island with one character, who would you choose?

13. what if you were stuck on the island with a couple?

14. the character with the coolest powers

15. the character with the lamest powers

16. the character who you think has the closest music taste to you

17. who would be the best at surviving in the modern world (if you don’t include the transmigrators)

18. who would you want to cook for you and what dish?

19. the character you’d vote to rule your country

20. if you could only pay for one person to get therapy who would it be?

21. which character would look the best bald?

22. the character who seems like the worst swimmer

23. the character who seems like the best dancer

24. any characters you think would watch anime and if so what shows

25. the character who’s the most likely to be a furry

26. the character who’s the most likely to be a theatre kid

27. the character who’s the most likely to play a tree in the school play

28. your mom’s favourite character

29. the character you want to adopt you

30. the character you want to adopt

[camsthisky]

"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?

“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”

“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”

Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”

“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.

“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.

Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”

“Names.”

Dick scowls. “The light.”

“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”

Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.

That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.

“Crap,” Jason breathes.

“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”

“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”

“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.

“Hhh.”

The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.

Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.

“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.

“Breathe,” Cass says.

Dick breathes.

He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.

When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).

On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.

“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”

Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”

Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”

They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.

With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.

(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)

While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”

Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.

Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.

Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”

Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.

“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.

Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”

Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”

The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”

“Not sure,” Cass answers.

“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”

“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”

“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”

Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.

Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.

Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.

When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.

—

“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.

“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”

“Huh,” is all Jason says.

“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.

“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”

“What do you remember?”

Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”

He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.

“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”

That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.

Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”

“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.

They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”

Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.

“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.

He only manages to come back to himself in increments.

There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.

“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.

As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.

Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.

He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.

“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”

“Why do they—”

“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”

“Whatever.”

“Enough. Car. Now.”

There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.

And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).

To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.

Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.

“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”

“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”

“How do you feel?”

Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”

“Hn.”

“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”

Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”

Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”

“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”

“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”

Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.

“Then sleep,” Bruce says.

Dick sleeps.

[lemonlurkrr]

@aureateart​ ok. My favourite parts of twilight princess  (and some other random thoughts about TP sprinkled in there) taken from my monster TP word vomit google doc :

Link lmao

Ok but for real, I like this incarnation of Link :)

I love Ordon (it just seems like such a chill and cozy village)

ALSO love how easy it is to interpret Link as being a sort of older brother figure to the Ordon kiddos. It’s just,, super cute? AND GHHH nice nice good thanks nintendo for giving me characters to care about/characters that I can imagine Link caring about

He didn’t sign up for any of this (tbh, none of the Links really signed up for this jshdjsd). But I mean like, dude was just going to take a trip to castle town, drop a gift off for the royal family, and come back. But haHA oopsies he did get to castle town eventually but definitely not the way he expected hsjdhsd

He’s just a little dude?

AND FUCK. HE REALLY HAD NEVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF ORDON UNTIL ALL OF THAT

everything is new for the player AND Link

Midna

She’s cool :)

she really just

*teleports into your jail cell* hello whore.

I am no master at writing but AYYYY she do got a character arc!!!

She was actually pretty helpful sometimes, I ALWAYS checked in with her before turning to a game guide

Other NPCs

NICE

Love all of the TP character designs (ASHEI’S ARMOUR??? AOWOAOAOOAO)

Saving Zelda and all of Hyrule was important yea but thinking back maybe it was more like, the Ordonians and the kids were what was pushing Link to keep on going

I like the Resistance members :) Very video gamey of them to have one NPC assigned to each dungeon but hey!!! Kinda cool getting to see a little glimpse of each of em

Idk, it’s just fun to imagine Link popping into Telma’s bar after each dungeon and taking a little rest :) (or to celebrate? maybe just chat, idk, give this man some downtime!!)

Honestly it was just kind of nice that Link wasn’t entirely alone. I mean, I know Midna was there the whole time, but I am always for giving Link a big group of friends (see my love for hyrule warriors, age of calamity, and LU LMAO)

Hero’s shade, very very cool, kinda sad he died with regrets but HEY. He got to pass on his knowledge eventually

AND the connection to OoT?? AND assumed to be related by blood too????? GOOD SHIT

Ilia, I REALLY really wanted to like her (er, it’s not like I dislike her, she’s just,,, kinda there for me).

It definitely seems like Nintendo was pushing to make her the romantic interest, but GHHHHH they really threw that out of the window for me by having her lose her memories

I saw a text post a while ago that said it would have been interesting if Ilia was Link’s sister instead and YES!! That would have been cool too :0

Wish we got to know Zelda a little more

I feel like we barely know anything about her

Idk man, like I said earlier, I never really had any sort of drive to save Zelda during my playthroughs

She obviously knows Midna, so maybe if they gave us just a little bit more of that relationship I’d be more interested in her?

TP WORLD BUILDINGGGG

Botw has good world building too, but each race felt kinda,,, isolated? I absolutely love the different architecture and vibe each town has (and all the the weapons too) but ghhh yea everyone felt so separated. As far as I can remember, we don’t see tooo much of the races interacting with each other? Now that I’m typing that out maybe that’s to be expected because of the calamity but KLSJDKJFD ANYWAYS THIS IS ABOUT TP

The world feels nice and alive, love how populated everything is

Castle town I like castle town a lot, it feels dense and busy and I really like how you can’t talk to every NPC you see

Very cool very fun that we got to see the Gorons hanging out in multiple spots

kinda wish we got to see the Zoras a little more (I guess they are a bit limited since they need water but GHHHH the tp zoras are so prebby,,)

BUT HEY, I do remember seeing a zora or two hanging out in the hot springs around death mountain after beating the lakebed temple (I think, might have been a different dungeon) 

but aaaa would have been nice to see them in at least a couple of other places. I think it would have really added to the “congrats Link!! You’re restoring peace to Hyrule” feeling you get from seeing the Gorons hanging out in Kakariko and Castle Town

ORDON

Love how chill it is and how it’s kind of separate from Hyrule proper

They really do seem to be doing their own thing apart from the rest of Hyrule

Just kinda adds onto the “he’s just a regular dude minding his own business” kind of vibes I get from TP Link

Also I like Ordona :)

THE LIGHT SPIRITS,,

Love their design

And love how they’re not exactly like a pure white?

Different spirit representing each aspect of the triforce my beloved

But yes hi I think Ordona is very cool

Who are you, how did you get here, which goddess do you represent? Do you even represent one of the three golden goddesses? Do the Ordonians know about you? Have any of them ever SEEN you??? Do they worship you? Does anybody even know about the existence of the light spirits?? FUCK so many questions but ghhh I like how they broke the status quo a bit by throwing in a fourth spirit :)

I feel like this one is kinda weird but I like that voice sample they used in the light spirit music. It’s spooky and pretty at the same time :)  

cutscenes mmmmm

Ok ok, the spooky lanayru cutscene is very good

BUT THE “Link, Chosen Hero! Lend us the last of your power!” CUTSCENE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LOVE IT SO MUCH

IT just

Idk man

It just hit different

I like the music

And seeing the light spirits swimming around in the light juice water whatever it is

Summoning the light arrows?

AND HHHHH “Lend us the last of your power!” THIS IS IT. This is the final battle.

Seeing Zelda bow down, and then Link putting his hand out 👌👌👌

Link: ok bud, let’s do this together :)

Connection to OoT (did I already mention this? Maybe., Whatever)

Very cool nintendo :)

I love seeing connections between all the diff zelda games.

Because like, on one hand, they’re all separate from each other because of yknow, individual hero stuff. BUT ALSO, they’re all connected because of the reincarnation stuff

Grrrr walking through the sacred grove and going “The Hero of Time walked around here a long time ago” FUCK THATS SO COOL

Is the Hero’s Shade watching me? What does he think of me? DIsappointed? Proud? The Hero of Time went through HELL so this timeline didn’t have to deal with any of the shit Ganon was gonna pull with the triforce, better not fuck this UP Link!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Midlink is cute

Kinda hurts that she smashed the mirror but that was probably so Nintendo didn’t have to worry about people going “but what about the twili??????” for any of the other games LMAO

BUT ALSO LIKE SKJDKLJFJ There are some pretty massive plot holes in TP anyway so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whatever it’s fine we’ll just use this for angst because GOD do y’all like angst

So is Shadlink

Honestly don’t know where this ship came from but it’s cute so whatever

THE MUSIC??

Love Midna’s theme and how they referenced the dark world theme from ALttP (I remember trying to learn the dark world theme on the piano and doing the Leonardo DiCaprio point meme at the little jingle I recognized from Midna’s theme)

Hyrule field theme SLAPS.

Apparently references a couple of the other over-world themes from the previous zelda games (I got this from 8-bit Music theory’s video on the over-world zelda themes, he talks about TP at around 11:40 but def recommend watching the whole video if you’re into music analysis stuff)

So there’s this bit of the Hyrule Field theme, I don’t know the official name for it but I remember seeing somewhere it being called the “at an advantage theme” since yeah, you hear it during the boss music whenever you expose their weak points. FUCKINGGG LOVE THAT. Didn’t notice it during my first playthrough, but hearing it during my second was like a little easter egg for my ears every time :)

Midna’s lament is very pretty (and fun to play on the piano)

COURAGE THEME.

I didn’t care for it too much when I started playing the game but hearing it in ZREO’s arrangement of the Hyrule Field theme literally makes me turn into a puddle of emotions. Also hearing it around and of the Ordon kids (I think it plays after Link saves Colin) AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Orchestra piece #1 and #2 HOLY SHIT???????????????? 

Literally, the first time I listened to those I just,,,, plugged in my headphones, volume 100, layed on the floor/against my desk and silently vibed. I don’t know what the hell it is, but those two just fit so well with TP?? I still avoid listening to them nowadays cause if I DO I definitely will get overwhelmed with the “god I love this game so FUCKING MUCH” kind of feels.

Wolf link sucks at singing

the first time I heard him howling Zelda’s Lullaby I lost my shit because LKSJLDKSGLKJFSKG god that was.,, Bad. Anyways, hearing him howl some of the songs from OoT was cute :)

TP STAFF ROLL??? 

VERY GOOD. IT’s like 10 minutes long and GOD do I love every single second of it. It doesn’t have the same energy as the skyward sword staff roll or the orchestra pieces but GOD does it hit good??

Nice and calm after that big exciting adventure. Maybe it would have been more fun or emotional to have a higher energy piece but it was really nice getting to sit back and watch the camera fly around Hyrule. Seeing like, the Gorons and the Zoras having a good time, the kids returning to Ordon? GOOD SHIT.

and AAAAA that end, when you hear the main Zelda theme and see Link riding off out of Faron woods on Epona… good shit. It gets you thinking, where the hell is he going? What is he doing? Off ot do more adventuring? Going to help out the resistance or something? Going to help Zelda? Or maybe he’s trying to figure out a way to restore the mirror of twilight? Whoooo knows.

hhHHHHhhh it’s just that final reminder that YES!!! YOU JUST PLAYED A ZELDA GAME. JUST ANOTHER STORY APART OF THE WHOLE EPIC OF THE ZELDA SERIES AS A WHOLE

I also want to acknowledge the instrument/samples they used for all the twili stuff.

They’re all just so unique and contrast SO well with the rest of the TP OST. LIKE FUCK!! Anytime I hear the screech from the Twilit Kargarok? Sends a shiver down my spine. I associate those sounds SO strongly with the twili realm. (Like, the same way you associate the BSHEWW VVWWMMM sounds with light sabers)

I love it so god damn much

literally any time there’s a certain sound or motif associated with something I lose my shit

Sacred grove sacred grove sacred gro-

lovely lovely lovely so much fun playing that on the piano. AND again, I did the Leonardo DiCaprio pointing meme when I heard the theme from the lost woods come in GHHHHHHHH

shoutout to TP Faron Woods for helping me study and get through all of my schoolwork

BLEGUUHHH can you tell that I really love music?

and also yea I guess TP is kinda cool too :\

IF YOU READ ALL OF THAT THANKS I GUESS