#hes off screen wondering if his heart rate is gonna make him have to call phillip

[am0ngtheb0nes]

Kyo promised no boys. This is not a ‘boyfriend hoodie’ and he did not spend the night at Shiro’s house for any other reason than it was dark and rainy and it would be unsafe to go home alone. It was a responsible decision. No he is not blushing. Definitely not.

[verstappen-cult]

I don’t know why I went full angst on this but maybe one of them totally blanks on your birthday plans so you’re just sitting at a fancy restaurant with the other one wondering where he is

I can see this where Max forgot and you and Charles finally decide to order food and when you get home he was steaming and didn’t realize what was going on

PART TWO.

You look to the front door just to see another random person walking in. Across the table, Charles tries to hold his anger inside, he tries very hard not to show how affected he also is.

“Maybe something came up.” Your boyfriend tries to smile and reassure you that everything is fine, that Max has a good excuse for not showing up.

He better have a god excuse or Charles is gonna make him sleep on the couch for the next month.

“Should we order? I’m pretty sure Max will want for us to celebrate. It’s your birthday, princess.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak.

It’s not the ideal celebration. Not when one of your boyfriends is not there with you and doesn’t pick up the phone. But Charles does a pretty good job of making you forget about it.

At least until dessert cames and they sing happy birthday to you.

*

“We have plenty of leftovers,” You go to the kitchen as Charles closes the front door. “You want a cup of tea, Char?”

“Don’t be a cunt! I was winning!”

You and Charles look at each other.

“Wha–”

But Charles is already sprinting up the stairs.

You follow him, heart rate through the roof, into Max’s streaming room.

And there he is. Max. Wearing sweatpants and streaming. You look at the screen that says how long he’s been there: four hours. Then, you see his phone on the floor, right next to a couple of Red Bulls.

“What the fuck, Max?!” Charles exclaims, making his boyfriend jump scared.

“Jesus Christ,” He touches his chest, just where his heart is. “Everyone’s laughing, by the way.” Max points to his headphones and then the screen where his friends, in fact, are laughing.

But you couldn’t care less about it.

“Max.” You say softly, grabbing Charles’ hand and caressing his wrist to try and calm him.

“What the actual fuck, mate.”

Charles never calls him mate.

“What?” He looks at Charles, then at you. “You look pretty good. Where did you go?” Max asks, already turning around to keep playing.

But Charles is having none of it. He walks to one side of the room, where everything is connected, and shuts everything off.

“Charles!”

Max is off his chair in a matter of seconds, looking absolutely pissed.

“Oh, you don’t get to be angry.” Charles takes two long strides, but you stand between them before he does something he will regret later. “We waited three hours! It was her birthday, you giant, fucking idiot.”

Charles throws his arms in the air before getting out of the room, leaving a speechless Max behind.

“What?”

You breathe deeply, avoiding eye contact. “You don’t even remember my birthday?”

“Of course I remember your birthday, Schatje.” He picks up his phone, seeing all the missed calls and texts. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with tears.

You can’t see properly anymore. “I think is better if you sleep in the guest room tonight, Max.”

You leave before he has time to say anything, running down the hallway and into your room. It’s only then that you let the tears flow freely down your face.

[nadvs]

cam girl (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The next time you log in to the cam website, your heart is racing. Throughout your classes that day, all you could think about was how hot the session with the man you thought was a stranger was last night.

But he isn’t a stranger. He lives in the mansion you get paid to clean twice a week, where he taunts you every chance he gets, practically fucking you with his eyes.

Does Rafe know it’s you on the camera? Is this a sick little game he’s enjoying, thinking you don’t know it’s him? Or maybe he’s aware you know who’s behind the account and he wants to see if you’ll say something about it?

But you do such a good job hiding your face. He can’t know it’s you.

You wonder if it’s wrong to continue doing the nightly private sessions knowing his identity. But when you remember how much joy he gets from berating you while you clean his house, you figure it’s ridiculous to care about the ethics of it.

You try to focus on the fact that you’re making so much money. Rafe gave you over $1500 last night. And he wants to keep paying you for every session. At this rate, you won’t have to worry about bills or your college tuition at all.

You closed your cam girl account to all other subscribers and posted a note that you were no longer streaming. The truth was, you were, but for one man only.

The thought of Rafe lying in bed jacking off to you turns you on before you even start the chat with him.

You take a deep breath, your hand hovering over your laptop trackpad. Rafe Cameron is going to watch you get naked and touch yourself and it makes your stomach feel like it’s flipping.

You start the private session.

Your screen fills with the image of you from your lips down to your feet as you’re curled up on your bed. You’re in a sheer white nighty with no bra or panties on underneath, your body hardly hidden beneath the smooth fabric.

Rafe called your tits perfect last night, so you figured he’ll appreciate you having them on display right when he logs in.

figure8 has joined the session.

You swallow hard.

figure8: been thinking about you all day princess

His words give you butterflies. You try to keep your confidence at the same level now that you’re aware of who’s on the other side of the chat. You refuse to be intimidated knowing it’s Rafe.

“Yeah? What about me?” you ask.

figure8: how pretty that pussy is and how im gonna watch you fuck it from behind

You feel the blood rush to your face. You know he has a filthy mind from the comments he makes to you at his house while you work, but this is more than you ever expected.

“Should I go slow for you again?” you whisper. “I know you like that.”

figure8: what a fast learner

You smirk. There’s the Rafe you know. He has such a natural talent for mocking you.

“You like this little outfit?” you ask him, your hands running down the fabric on your chest, fondling your tits. “I wore it special for you.”

figure8: so fucking hot. bounce those tits for me

You sit up on your knees and arch your back, lightly bobbing on the bed with your hands up in your hair. He has a perfect view of your chest beneath the sheer nighty, your nipples hard under the fabric as your tits jiggle up and down.

figure8: damn. i’d leave hickeys and bites all over those tits. you like to get bitten dont you princess. i know you like it rough

With every other viewer you’ve had as a cam girl, you’ve lied about your preferences just to get tips, but with Rafe, it’s like he knows exactly what you want. You haven’t had to lie to him once.

“I fucking love it rough,” you moan. You put your hands up to your tits and squeeze hard. “I want you to leave marks on me.”

figure8: i’d leave them all over your tits and your ass

“Yeah? Would you spank me? Hard enough to leave a handprint?” you ask, turning around and slowly lifting the nighty over your butt. You stick out your ass for him and sway it slowly for him.

figure8: fuck yes. shake your ass

You spread your knees wider and obey, looking back to watch your body on the screen. The thought of Rafe lying in bed fisting his cock while he watches you makes you get even wetter.

figure8: straddle your pillow. i wanna see how you’d ride my face

You tilt the laptop down so he doesn’t see above your mouth as you move to grab a pillow from behind the computer. You readjust the screen then straddle the pillow, the cotton soft against your naked core.

You start to buck your hips, shuddering immediately. You’re dazed already, desperate for his hands on you, as you rub your body against the pillow.

“I’d ride it fast like this,” you say breathily, humping the pillow.

figure8: my needy girl. my dick is throbbing watching you

figure8 tipped you $200.

figure8: that’s for riding it so well

“Thank you,” you purr, still grinding the pillow. The feeling of getting paid while doing something that feels so good is intoxicating. You’d do anything Rafe’s filthy mind desires.

figure8: don’t cum yet. i’m not done with you

You bite your lip in frustration.

“Okay,” you say heatedly. You slow down your thrusts, back still arched as you await your next instruction.

figure8: show me how you finger yourself. get your pussy nice and close to the camera

You shift to spread your legs in front of the camera, seeing yourself on full display for him.

figure8: start with one finger. i want you to work up to four. can you do that princess?

“I can do that,” you say shakily. You insert a forefinger into your warm, tight hole and let out a contented sigh.

figure8: pump it in and out slowly. add a second finger when you’re ready

You obey, stretching yourself out a bit before adding a second finger. Slowly, you add a third and writhe a bit. You push your hand back and forth, watching yourself on the screen.

You add your pinky finger and slightly tense up, your body rolling.

figure8: breathe through it. you can do it

You let out a shaky exhale as you continue, watching your fingers disappear inside of you.

figure8: good girl stretching that pussy out so nice. i bet you taste so fucking good. taste yourself for me

The request is so sinful, so unlike anything you’ve ever been asked to do. You slowly pull your fingers out of yourself, bringing your hand up to your mouth, making sure he can see your lips.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say to him.

figure8: you’ll do a lot of new things with me, princess

You taste your wetness, sucking on your fingers for him with a slurp loud enough for him to hear. It’s such an animalistic, depraved act, and you find yourself wishing you could do it with him in person, have him watch you do this in the same room.

figure8: god i want to taste you so bad

“I want to taste you, too,” you whisper. If only Rafe knew how accessible you were to him, in his house twice a week. “You know, you can send me photos whenever you want.”

figure8: desperate to see this dick aren’t you

You smile. He could not be more correct. You don’t know how you’ll manage to be around him in person and act normal knowing what you know.

Your stomach heats when you see that he sent a photo. He’s holding his cock, the curve of it so perfect, a pearl of precum leaking out of the tip.

“I want to use my mouth on you,” you keen. “My pussy is aching for it.”

figure8: i know you’d love the taste, princess. show me how you’d take my cock doggy style

Finally. You pick up your dildo and turn around, backing up towards the screen. You angle to slide the toy in slowly, feeling it fill you up, then move your hand so he can view you clearly.

figure8: i can see you dripping

Sure enough, you look down on your sheets to see drops of your own wetness. This man has got you hornier than you’ve ever been.

“That’s what you do to me,” you rasp. “Fuck, I bet you’d destroy me.”

figure8: that pussy would grip my dick so well. i’d fuck you so hard

“Can I please do it now?” you say breathlessly, throbbing with need.

figure8: only because you asked so nice

You dip your arm between your hips, knees sinking into your bed as you lean so your cheek is pressed against the mattress and out of the camera’s frame. You hold the base of the toy and shut your eyes and imagine Rafe’s warm, hard cock inside of you instead of a dildo you have to control.

Breathy moans spill out of you as you thrust the dildo in and out of your slick cunt. You picture him behind you, his hands on your hips as he ruthlessly thrashes in and out of you.

The orgasm slowly builds and builds.

“I’m gonna come,” you say, muffled. You bite your tongue, stifling the urge to call him by his name. Your eyes roll back as the orgasm ripples through with a powerful force, making you shake with pleasure.

When you finally regain enough energy, you sit up and turn to look at the laptop again. To your delight, you see that Rafe sent another photo.

You look closer at the image to see his cum sprayed across his muscular stomach, the white splashes of his pleasure glistening atop his abs.

“Shit,” you rasped. The image is so sexy that you feel yourself getting aroused again.

figure8: see what you do to me? i never cum this fucking fast

figure8 tipped you $100.

figure8: use the money to buy this. have it ready tomorrow

He sends a link in his next message. You open it to see a sex toy website. The page he sent is for a rose vibrator.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” you say breathily. “Thank you, baby.”

figure8: dont use it without me watching. understand?

“Yes,” you say.

figure8: sleep. you’ll need your rest for what im doing to you tomorrow

figure8 tipped you $1000.

Rafe leaves the chat. You follow his instructions, ordering the toy right away and selecting the option to have it delivered tomorrow. What is he planning?

You decide to do some more online shopping, finding a top you know he’ll like.

After you buy the items, you stare at your laptop, reeling from what just happened.

You look at the pictures he sent again. Rafe was always such a cocky asshole whenever he taunted you at work and it definitely isn’t from overcompensation. He’s so well-endowed that you know it’d hurt so good having him inside you.

How would he react if you told him you were the girl he was jacking off to? Would he be embarrassed? Or relieved he could fuck you for real? Because you’d let him have sex with you. After tonight, there’s no doubt about it.

You close the laptop. It’s Thursday, meaning you’ll likely see Rafe in two days when you’re back at the Cameron estate on Saturday as scheduled. You typically see him around the house, but there are times where you don’t run into him at all.

You don’t know if you’d prefer to see him or not. How could you act normal after having him talk to you like that, after seeing his naked photos?

You try to go to bed right away, but your head is spinning.

The next night, you log in wearing skimpy white panties and the pink tank top you bought the night before, the word “princess” stretched across the front in white cursive letters.

Rafe joins the private session and you can imagine the smirk on his face once he sees your outfit.

“Hi, baby,” you coo, pinching the peaks of your nipples poking beneath the shirt. “You like my top? Bought it last night.”

figure8: its perfect. i want you to spoil yourself with every dollar i give you

You giggle and hold the small silicone rose toy up the camera.

“I was tempted to use it, but I didn’t,” you admit. “Promise.”

figure8: good girl. i hope you got your rest last night. im not paying you til you cum three times tonight

“Oh, my God,” you laugh. “Three? I don’t know…”

figure8: you can do it, princess. take ur panties off but keep that shirt on. don’t want u to forget who u belong to

His possessiveness is so attractive that you feel yourself getting wet already. You slide your underwear off, spreading your legs and putting yourself on display for him.

figure8: tell me what you’d want me to do if i was there. you’d like my head between your legs wouldnt you

You giggle, “You read my mind.” You put your fingers on your clit and close your eyes, imagining curling your fingers in Rafe’s hair as his tongue presses against your middle.

You would have never guessed that Rafe Cameron likes eating pussy, always having assumed he was selfish in bed. But he’s been surprising you since the first message he sent.

“I’d want you to start off kissing me right here,” you purr, “then you’d start using your tongue. Then you’d suck my clit.”

figure8: then i’d put my tongue deep inside your tight cunt

Reading the words makes you tremble. You lower your hand to spread your lips open and show him your opening.

“Right here?” you tease.

figure8: i want my face all wet from you

You groan, imagining his pretty face glistening, his pink lips swollen from eating you out.

You grow wetter and wetter as you touch yourself.

figure8: get the toy

You eagerly pick it up and hold your finger over the “on” button.

“Which setting?”

figure8: whatever will make u cum the hardest, princess

“You get off on me feeling good, don’t you, baby?” you tease.

figure8: those sounds you make are so fucking perfect. i’m already rock hard

“You want me to be loud?”

figure8: don’t hold back. i’ll count your orgasms with you ok? and on the third one, we’ll cum together

This man could not get any sexier if he tried. You curiously explore the toy, finally turning it on and hearing it buzz immediately.

You place it on your clit and the pleasure is instant. You let out a sharp exhale, imagining Rafe touching himself while he watches you.

The toy buzzes and suctions on you and it doesn’t take long at all for the first orgasm to roll through you. You don’t stifle the moan that comes out of you, knowing he’s enjoying it.

figure8: that’s one. that was so fast, princess

“I was horny all day,” you confess.

figure8: thinkin about me?

“Mhm. That picture of your cum all over your stomach is so fucking nice.”

figure8: then u can imagine how much i enjoy watching u fuck urself

“I want a video of you rubbing your cock,” you say impulsively. “I want to hear your sounds, too.”

figure8: you’re such a needy girl

“It’s why you like me,” you flirt. He doesn’t respond right away, making you anticipate that he’s recording a video for you.

A file from him pops up in the chat. You eagerly play it, watching six jaw-dropping seconds of his hand moving up and down the thick girth of his dick in his dark bedroom, his heavy breathing filling your ears.

“God,” you whimper. “I’m ready to go again.”

You pick up the toy and place it on your clit, pressing it down hard as it pulls another orgasm out of you after a minute. You moan out a jumbled, high-pitched mess of “oh, fuck”s as you cum.

Your muscles are tingling and tired. You’re not sure you can give yourself a third orgasm.

figure8: two. not done yet

“Maybe we stop here?” you whisper. “I’m already so weak.”

figure8: are u going to be a good girl or not

“I will,” you resign. “I will.”

figure8: go again. on the max setting

Feeling spent but determined to please him, you put the toy on your sensitive clit again. You hang your head back, looking up at your bedroom ceiling as you press the button a few times to turn on the highest level.

The toy’s suction and pace is brutal and unforgiving. You cry out from the overstimulation, writhing beneath it. The forced orgasm rises inside you and you groan loudly as you cum, tremors ripping through your body.

You’re panting when you turn off the toy and sit up to look at the chat. Rafe sent another photo. His hand is holding his cock at its base, the swollen shaft covered in his cum.

figure8: would u lick this up?

“Every fucking drop,” you say, wishing you could have orgasmed with him inside of you.

figure8 tipped you $2000.

figure8: extra for being so good

The high of the orgasms, of your bank account growing all because this man wants to watch you pleasure yourself, makes you feel like you’re floating.

“I belong to you,” you tell Rafe drunkenly, unable to imagine letting anyone else watching you like this ever again.

figure8: yeah you fucking do. that pussy is mine

“All yours,” you whisper.

figure8: ill see u tomorrow. good job today princess

Rafe exits the chat, leaving you a heaving mess.

Your heart feels like it twists reading his last message. He surely means he’ll see you on camera tomorrow… but what if he means at the estate for your housekeeping shift?

No, he doesn’t know it���s you. He can’t. You breathe out a tired sigh and take a long, hot shower before going to bed.

Your shapeless uniform is scratchy against your skin as you walk into the mansion the next day, still not sure if you want to run into Rafe or not.

You finish up cleaning downstairs and move up to the bedrooms, leaving Rafe’s room for last.

When you enter his room, it’s empty, the late morning sun hidden behind the blinds covering his big windows. You hear the shower in his ensuite running. You curse to yourself, suddenly nervous to see him. Maybe you can quickly collect the laundry and leave before he gets out.

You start to strip the bed, picturing the photos he sent you of himself on it, fucking his own hand and cumming with you. He lies right here, typing dirty things to you, watching you fuck yourself.

You’ve only unbuttoned one button of the duvet cover when you hear the shower faucet get turned off. Shit.

You rush to unbutton the cover, but you finish just as the door squeaks open behind you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” you mumble, keeping your back to him and leaving the bed half-done.

“You’ve seen it all already,” Rafe huskily says behind you. You freeze for a second.

You shyly keep your eyes on the hardwood floor as you turn. When you look up at him as he towers over you, his mouth merely inches away from yours, you see he’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

His hair is wet, his broad chest spattered with water drops. He smells amazing from the body wash he used and his eyes are heavy lidded and his smirk is so damn self-satisfied.

“Why do you look so surprised? You really think I didn’t recognize that pretty mouth right away, princess?”

{ read part three here }

[arcanefox207]

The Wolf You Feed (Part 4)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.1k

Part 4 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for complete warnings.

A/N: This one is gonna hurt. I’m so sorry.

You get ready for bed and eye the flannel that you stole from Joel’s house. You hold it close to your chest and breathe in his scent that still lingers. 

You strip down to nothing but your lacy panties and don his shirt. You precariously drape it off your shoulders and look at yourself in the mirror. 

Joel would love this. 

Your hair is still damp and messy from your shower but you look clean and bright. The I’m positively smitten glow you have makes you radiate. 

You position yourself on your bed perched on your knees with your legs spread open. You adjust the shirt just right to hang over your shoulders and around your breasts, just barely covering your nipples.

With your phone positioned slightly above you, you snap a pic while making your most innocent face. Your full body is in the frame and perfectly teasing with your frumpy shirt placement. Your sluttiest black, lacey panties also help to conceal just enough to be a tease. 

You: Getting ready for bed

You attach the photo and send it. You sit back on your heels and eagerly watch for the read receipt. He is quick to reply.

Joel: Goddamn

Joel: Beautiful

A brief pause. 

Typing. Typing. Typing. 

Joel: Got any more?

Your heart skips a beat. You absolutely want to give him more. 

You: Maybe

You sit back and let the flannel shirt drape open, fully exposing your breasts and your hardened nipples. You sit more upright, and grab a fistfull of your hair and gaze up to the camera, looking a little deranged and lustful. You eye your photo before sending it, impressed with yourself. 

Sent.

Joel: Fuck

Joel: Look at them tits 

You smirk as you imagine him losing his mind and hope he is as horny as you are. You feel your heat begin to surge inside. You feel so needy for his cock.

You: Your turn

You weren’t too sure what to expect or if he would even play along but after a minute you got your answer.

The photo he sends is so poorly taken, it is endearing when you get over the disappointment of not having his dick perfectly photographed. It’s dark and grainy. You can just make out the navy blue sheets under his skin to deduce he is in his bed too. His black t-shirt is pulled up just slightly and his hand is what's mostly in focus, holding onto his cock that is peeking out of his flannel pajama pants. He is pulling his foreskin down tight making the head of his cock flush with color against his skin.  The shadowiness makes his happy tail look even thicker and more unruly than what you have seen.  

Nevertheless, it is undeniably Joel. The flutter you get inside that you only ever felt from him.

You: Joel, how naughty 

One more photo, he earned it. 

This time, you let the shirt fall off completely to your hips. You slide one of your hands into your panties and hook your thumb over the edge to pull them down. You make a “V” with your fingers and press yourself apart so your swollen clit is in full view. With your free hand you snap one last picture and send it. This one is more focused and does not show your face, but it certainly was an eyeful. You doubt he would even be looking elsewhere.

Your message is instantly read. After a moment Joels typing comes and goes until it stops completely. You wonder if he is touching himself. Hope he is touching himself. You impatiently rub your fingers against yourself while you wait, aching at the thought of him.

Your screen changes to an incoming call from Joel Miller. 

Of course you answer it as calmly as you can.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.” You greet him with a flirty tone.

“Mmm what are you doing to me, baby girl.” He speaks low and sounds relaxed and groggy. You wonder if you woke him up when you sent the first pic and kind of hope you did.

“Just getting ready for bed and thinking about you.”

You hear him make a breathy acknowledgement and you know he is stroking himself just by how he is breathing. You feel bolder and more daring talking to him on the phone. You can be a tease and he can’t do anything about it. 

You put it on speaker so you can have both your hands free.

“Wishing it was your fingers on me.” You lay back on your bed and slide your fingers over your clit until a moan escapes you. “Or your cock.”

“Mmm. Keep going,” he growls low. 

Even on the phone he has to be bossy. His voice cuts straight through you. Always so commanding but spoken with a warmness that makes you melt. 

You slide a finger inside your wet and needy cunt and use your other hand to tease your clit. 

“Joel…” you rasp his name low as you moan. “How hard are you right now?”

You hear him chuff quietly. 

“Bout ready to come, sweetheart.”

His shallow breathing and occasional grunt cheers you on. Your hands are so inadequate compared to his. You need to be filled by him. Want his rough hands putting friction in all the right spots.  

You fumble with your nightstand drawer for your dildo. His ears pick up on the creak of the wooden drawer opening and he stops you in your tracks. 

“No toys.” His stern voice commands. “I want you to get off with your fingers.” 

You can hear his grin on the other end.   

“... and beg for my cock.”

That wouldn’t be hard to do. You already are screaming inside for him to put you out of your misery. Your performative moans are now all too real.   

“Joel… fuck.” You whine but bring your hand back to your opening and press inside with two of your fingers while you massage your clit. 

His authoritative demands empower you. Hearing him breathing, groaning and barking orders at you makes it a lot easier to get yourself to the edge. Despite how tiny your hands are in comparison, your mind fills in all the gaps as his voice penetrates your ears. 

“I want you to fill me,” you whine.   

“Mmm. Gonna make a mess of me.” He sounds haggard. He has been holding back his own release for sure. The thought of making Joel Miller come undone over the phone is intoxicating.

You moan and your breath hitches as you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. Pleading to release.

“Joel…” You whimper. Begging. 

“Come for me, baby.” His commanding tone returns, beckoning you to do as he asks. 

“Let me hear you. Come for daddy.”

You gasp at his words. That was never something you thought you were into. It went straight to your pussy. Your walls flutter around your fingers as you replay his words in your head. You do come for him, hard, and let him hear you climaxing over the thoughts of him inside you. 

“Mmmm.” He groans low as you ride your climax high and let your desperate sounds tip him over the edge.

His labored breathing and raspy moans pick up and you know he is coming.   

He goes silent and You can just imagine him laying in his bed with his cock in his hand, pumping himself until he comes over his knuckles. Spent and sticky. 

A moment passes as you both breathe heavily catching your breath. Enjoying the moment with one another and relishing in the aftermath of your shared experience.   

“Such a good girl.” He praises. “Now, get some sleep.” 

You roll your eyes. As if sleeping was going to come easy at this point. 

“Night, sweetheart.”

“Night… daddy.” You smirk to yourself, amused and satisfied, and hang up. 

You were pretty shocked to see Joel in your driveway come the next morning. He was scraping ice off your windshield and there was a fresh tossing of salt and sand on your walkway. There was some freezing rain overnight, unbeknownst to you. 

“Hey, you really don’t have to do that for me.” You call out as you lock your door and make your way down the path. 

“I know.” He scrapes at the last bits of frost. “Still gonna.”

You brighten at the way he says it. Feminism be damned, it felt really good to have this man looking out for you.  

You were looking real cute in your Bean boots and beanie. Acting a little more timid compared to your late night activities. 

You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets and walked over to your car with a cutesy spring in your step. Joel tried to hide his disdain for your carefree jaunt down the icy path. Still, he looked so handsome in his brown suede coat and his relentless refusal to wear a winter hat. Always wielding that power to make you melt in his presence.

“Thank you.” You smile at him as you approach him at arm's length. “Still not giving you the shirt back,” you tease.

“Don’t want it back.” He holds back a smirk and quickly looks you over. Reliving last night's photos, you can imagine. You suppress a wicked smile imagining him saving them in his main album like a heathen.

He takes a step towards you and with his gloved hand he gently holds your chin and brushes his thumb over. You note the subtle way his eyes soften. His longing stare makes it feel like he isn’t going to see you for a long time, and it lingers. He drops his hand and puts it on his hip. His other hand fidgets with his leg like he is unsure what to do. 

“I’m not gonna be around for a little while” He hesitates and looks like he wants to say more and you pickup that something is off. Something he still has decided you are not privy to know about. Whatever has been bothering him the past few days is still weighing on him. “I got some stuff to take care of and I’ll be real busy.”

“Ok, Joel.” You don’t give away that you think he sounds suspicious. Guilty even. You want to press him, but you let it go, again. You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off.   

“I’ll call you, alright?” His voice is firm, there is no room for questions. 

“Alright.” You force a smile and he nods and heads to his truck. It was hard not to take that as asking you not to bother him. He wasn’t being unkind in his tone, but he wasn’t being truthful either.  

You can’t shake the feeling that something is off. 

You are dragging your feet at work. After your late night fun with Joel your mind was wide awake and you had trouble sleeping. 

Marlene is extra bubbly today. She is riding the Friday wave and you are grateful she takes on more of the customer facing role while you just work mindlessly making endless orders of lattes and cold brews. 

“So, do you wanna?”

“Huh?” she had been talking to you, apparently. 

“Do you want to go out tonight?” 

“Oh. Yeah, ok.”

“You sound really interested.” She says sarcastically while she stares at you and crosses her arms.

“Sorry, just tired. Yes, I’d love to.” 

“Good. Meet at Copper’s around 8? They are doing all night happy hour and open mic.”

“Sounds good.” And it does sound good. Something to do to keep yourself busy and it’s better than going home and watching Netflix by yourself. You have no idea how long Joel is going to be occupied and Marlene is the only other person you would consider a friend since moving there. It would be nice to spend some real time with her outside of work. 

“Its not the classiest place, but the crowd is good. Dress slutty and maybe we can get some free drinks.” Marlene jokes, but you have every intention to dress like a knockout and have a good time. 

When you walk in it becomes obvious you are overdressed. Many eyes were on you. You stuck out and had a lot of attention, some unwanted, but it also was flattering. Your choice of black minidress was conventionally good for a night of drinking and letting loose, but less practical once you walked through the door and saw what you were working with. 

Copper’s was just a few notches above a dive bar and significantly less upscale than the late night Boston clubs and speakeasy’s you frequented. It was mostly crawling with locals, many of which you recognized from Grind. Despite that, the energy felt good. Friendly faces lit up when they saw you and even more cast some not-so-conspicuous stares at your body when they thought you were not looking. 

The expansive bar wrapped around the back wall and there was a small stage on the wall across from it. High tops and tables filled out most of the middle with little room to do much more than sit and socialize. Get drunk off beer and cocktails and fat off appetizers and hot wings. The whole place was a little chaotic and rough but it felt cherished. It embodied that small town feel that was brought to life by the patrons. 

Marlene walks up to you with some sort of fruity cocktail in each hand. Dressed much more casually than you with a high waisted denim skirt and a low cut band tee. 

“About time you get here. Damn, girl!” She looks you up and down as she hands you the drink. “You don’t play around.” You share a laugh, and relish your new, unexpected friendship. 

The cocktail is overkill on the sweetness but the vodka hits you hard when you take a sip. 

“You didn’t tell me this place was a dive!” You tease. 

“Well it’s the only bar we have open year-round so don’t knock it.” She pretends to scold you.

“I’m joking. This is perfect.” And it was. 

You and Marlene make quick work of your drinks as you float around the bar. She introduces you to new people and you get friendlier with familiar faces. The bartender flirts with you when he learns you are new to town and you indulge in some harmless fun. 

The bar is quickly filling up and you think it must be a fire code violation at this point. You buy the second round of drinks and take a seat while you still can. Laughter and the high from your buzz set you on the right path and you are filled with gratitude for your new friendships and your new home.

[Joel POV]

Joel fiddles with his empty beer bottle, unsure what the hell he is doing. Tess should be arriving any moment now, and he is no closer to ending things with her. 

He has his guitar in tow, stowed against the wall. He perches himself in the very last seat, enjoying some solitude while the bar slowly starts to fill in. 

He raises two fingers at the bartender and signals that he is ready for another beer. The bartender returns a moment later with a fresh Budweiser.

“There he is!”

Joel spins on his bar stool to the familiar voice. 

“Hey Frank. Bill.” He nods to them as Frank slaps his back enthusiastically and sits down next to him. 

“Been a while. Tess coming too?”

“S’posed to.” Joel takes a swig of his beer and doesn't give them much of an opportunity to ask more.

Bill sits silently on the other side of Frank, orders two beers and slides one to Frank. He never was one to talk much compared to his counterpart.

“Well, we have missed you. It has been at least a month since we have seen you.” Frank turns to Bill, urging him to converse a little. They were all old friends, but Tess was the one that tended to be the glue between them. 

Bill nods in agreement. “Ain’t like it used to be. Not missing much.” Joel keeps to himself, staying mostly quiet while the other two make small talk between themselves. They know Joel well enough to recognize when he is in a mood and to give him space. 

Tess walks up to the bar shortly after and throws her arms around Frank in surprise.

“Hey Stranger!” She turns to Bill and does the same thing but he is much more reserved. She intentionally makes him uncomfortable with an embrace, making Frank laugh at his discomfort. 

Joel turns his body so his legs are back under the counter and sips his beer. The three of them chatter for a few minutes while Joel broods.

“They are going to start soon. Lets grab a table before they are all taken.” Frank was already buzzed and it made him even more eccentric.  

“I’m fine right here.” Joel declines. 

“Alright, well join us if you want to later.” Frank taps his shoulder and shuffles off towards some tables closer to the stage. Bill follows behind after giving a silent nod to Joel and Tess and lifting his beer to gesture goodbye. Poor Bill was not one for going out and socializing, but he did it for Frank. 

Tess takes Frank’s seat and hails the bartender right away. She notices it's not their regular guy and isn’t too impressed with him making her wait. A silence looms for a few moments. The air is awkward and tense. 

“Two shots of whiskey.” She requests and glances over at Joel as the bartender pulls out two shot glasses. Joel nods in agreement. 

“Wasn’t sure if I’d see you tonight.” Joel is the first to speak.

“Likewise.” Tess says sharply but follows up softer. “I’m glad to see you.”

The bartender finishes pouring the shots and pushes one to each of them. They knock them back.

“Look, I meant what I said.” Joel sounds like he is reassuring himself as much as her. 

“I know.” She retorts. His eyes find doubt in her words. “Jesus, Joel, I know. Can’t we just have some drinks? Don’t be such a sour puss.” 

Joel scoffs at her words. He pushes his empty shot glass away and taps near his glass when the bartender walks closer. He pours another round. Joel and Tess knock back a second shot. It isn’t nearly enough to help him deal with his issues but it does help him lighten up a little.

Tess leans against Joel's shoulder and presses her hand onto the top of his thigh. She always was a lightweight, and had no problems coming on to him. No doubt she had pre-gamed before coming out, same as Joel. 

“Why can’t it just be like this?” she traces a circle on his leg and moves her finger closer to his groin. He shifts his leg as she grazes his zipper. 

“Nothings’ ever easy with us, Tess.” Joel pauses and puts his hand over hers. Reluctantly he peels her hand away. “We don’t want the same things anymore.”

“You don’t want this anymore?” She slides her hand back over his zipper this time with more force and she feels him twitch under the denim. She strokes her fingers down his length pressing into his seam. He stifles a groan and stirs in his seat.

“Tess..” His words plead her to stop, but his body reacts to her touch as it always does. Betraying his good intentions. Their attraction for one another was never in question. It just made things a whole lot more complicated. It was hard for him to resist her advances, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. She wasn’t exactly cooperating with his poor attempts to resist either. 

“‘Course I do.” He looks at her, wantonly and holds her gaze. He pauses and chooses his words carefully. “But it’s not enough.”

She was observant of his reaction, calculating what sort of leverage she had left with Joel. She could see his genuine anguish and was reminded too well of the circumstances that brought them together in the first place. She never said it in all those years, not once, but she did love him. 

“We can make it work… we always do.” Tess tries to reason with him, but she has defeat in her voice. 

“It’s too late for us, Tess.” Joel reaches a hand out to the side of her face and gently holds her. She removes her hand from his lap and wraps around his forearm and covers his hand with her own, leaning into his touch. The moment is intimate and despite a room full of people it felt like they were the only two. The unspoken love between them was always there as a thread to keep them together. This was not ending because the love was gone, it was ending because it had no more room to grow.  

He could see that she was finally accepting what he was saying. At least she was trying to. He brushed his thumb over her cheek and reassured her with his touch that his feelings for her were not lost, but he was not going to give into them anymore. 

“I need a clear mind.” He locks eyes with her as he takes his hand back. “I’m playing tonight.”

“You are?” She pulls away, surprised and easily distracted with the subject change. She looks down and eyes Joel’s guitar case leaning against the bar. “Singing too?” Joel nods. This feels familiar and comforting. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” Tess’ smile fades and expression softens, filled with sadness. A realization that they had moved away so far from where they used to be. A silent moment lurks but it is not unwanted. It gives them both time to think. 

“I never asked you for anything.” Tess utters quietly. Joel nods in agreement, silently reliving all the things he loved about her. Still loves about her.

“Never had to.” Joel gives a gentle side smile. Their eyes meet. Eyes that are intimate and mourning all at once. Hopeful and nostalgic. 

He was always going to love Tess. 

She stands to interrupt the silence and reaches for his hand to follow. 

“Lets find Bill and Frank. I wanna sit with them while you play.”

“Alright.”

Joel leaves his guitar at the bar and follows close behind her. The room is getting more and more crowded by the minute. The first act is wrapping up and switching over to another singer. The bar is alive with excitement. 

Following Tess into the crowd his heart drops. There you are, just a few tables in front of him, sitting at a hightop with Marlene. Dressed incredibly sexy with your short dress and your cropped leather jacket. Knee high boots and your hair flowy and free. He wished he could take you right there and have his way with you.  

You looked so happy. So unaware of what was about to happen. Innocent and at peace.

Tess grabs his arm and pulls him towards your table, excited to see you and Marlene and she makes a beeline to say hello. 

You shouldn’t be here. His brain screams and his heart races. His chest gets heavy and tight as he inches closer to your table, unable to stop the encounter. It was too late. You had already noticed him approaching when Tess called your name and you saw him in tow.

He should have told you from the start, but he didn’t. Even if nothing had happened with Tess since he started falling for you he was well aware how this was going to look.

He was finally making some progress with Tess and couldn’t risk that getting ruined. At your expense, too. There was no other way. 

And he knew right at that moment he was the biggest asshole in the world.

[Reader POV]

You turn your head as you hear your name being called out. You see Tess first and just towering behind her is Joel. It was impossible to miss him with his broad shoulders and brooding scowl. For a brief moment, you light up to see him when your eyes catch his.

He was a sight to behold. Wearing a button up navy blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his tight forearms. Jeans hugging his body and perfectly accenting his burly frame. His hair was also slicked back and styled like he gelled it fresh out of the shower. The moody lighting masking his silver streaks more than usual. He looked absolutely delicious and it made you ache for him all over again. You had just put him out of your mind too. It didn’t take much to stir up those feelings again when your desire for him was relentless and insatiable. Your heart races, fueled by your longing. 

Until you realize they are together. 

A wave of dread washes over you. Joel immediately looks away from you in a panic, confirming your fear that something is wrong. He won’t look at you but you can’t take your eyes off of him and ignore everything else around you.

“This is my new star employee. She’s wonderful.” Tess lights up talking about you and playfully bumps into your shoulder. She is babbling on but you have no idea what she is saying because you aren't listening to her anymore. Too preoccupied with figuring out what was happening. Questioning why Tess was introducing you to the man you had been fucking for the past few weeks. The man who had naked photos of you on his phone. The man you were hopelessly besotted with. 

Joel’s eyes glance up at you and for the first time ever he looks sheepish. He holds his hand out standard and practical. Emotionless like it's a formal business greeting. 

“Joel. Nice to meet you.” You stare, dumbfounded by his words, spoken so nonchalant. 

Nice to meet me? 

He holds his hand out firmly, waiting for you to take it. His eyes plead with you to go along with it. You lightly grasp his hand. His fingertips drag tenderly as he pulls it away, as if they were apologizing. You say nothing but force a pathetic half-smile. 

Tess clearly having one too many drinks hangs off of his shoulder and bumps into his hips. You try to hide the confusion and disgust on your face. Joel refuses to look at you again after your introduction.   

He doesn’t reciprocate her energy at all. He looks like a lost dog. Uncomfortable and out of place. She seems oblivious to it, but you are dead focused on reading him to get some answers while she carries on talking. He is a stone wall, giving you nothing.  

Marlene says something in response and the two of them laugh but you can’t hear anything but muddled voices over the loudness of your thoughts. 

Joel nods at whatever she says but is silent. He looks so distant like he wants to shrink away. Guilty and cowardly. 

Every piece of your being wants to scream. What is going on? You don’t want to assume anything. Maybe they are friends and you are overreacting.  But then why wouldn’t he have said something sooner? Why did he pretend not to know you? Why won’t he even look at you? The questions keep piling up and your stomach is in knots.

“Come on, Joel.”  She hooks her hand around his arm to pull him along. You’ve never seen him act so submissive. “See you girls later.” 

As he brushes past you he catches your arm when no one is looking and he gives you the softest brush with the back of his hand. He tries to be inconspicuous and whispers in your ear as he passes.

“I’m so sorry.” His words stab you. They sound sincere and painful but offer no comfort or answers. 

As Joel and Tess disappear into the crowded room of people, Marlene is quick to notice you are in your head but brushes it off as being a little drunk. 

“God they are annoying.” Marlene shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink. You hear her talking, but still not really listening. You are preoccupied watching Tess take a seat a few tables away and see Joel make some brief small talk and wander off in the direction of the bar. 

They didn’t look romantic, at least not from his angle. Are you just overreacting? The alcohol is probably just making you paranoid. You hate how insecure he makes you feel. The reality is that the more time you spend with him the harder it is to be apart. He was unlike any man you had ever been with on so many levels. He made you feel so needy for his attention, and jealous that he was with Tess in some capacity, instead of you. You feel foolish. 

A singer briefly performs a song and the room gets loud again as voices rise between sets. You are silent and disassociating with everything around you, unsure if it's the buzz from the alcohol or your serotonin working overtime to calm you down. 

“You ok?” Marlene asks.

“Yeah…”

Marlene prys. “You don’t look ok.”

It was obvious from that awkward moment earlier that she knew Joel. You wanted to spill and tell her everything and pick her brain, but your suspicions made you question where her loyalties may lie. You had never told her who your neighbor was and now you felt trapped and alone with this secret.

“I just need another drink.” You laugh and play it off coolly. “Gonna grab one at the bar, be right back.”

As you walk to the back of the room you take note of Tess still sitting at the table and talking to a few guys. It looks like they are familiar and catching up. Joel is standing at the crowded bar at the very end, mostly tucked away and probably how you missed seeing him sooner because you weren't looking for him. Against your better judgment you approach him.

You squeeze into the space next to him and try to keep a little distance from him, but your bare thigh rubs up against his leg as you step in and the person to your left pushes into you. He stays facing straight ahead and doesn’t acknowledge you, except to move his leg from its wide posture. His scowl works overtime to keep his composure. He takes a sip of his beer.

You hail the familiar bartender with your empty glass. He winks and goes to make you another. Drink three and he already has your order memorized and was probably hoping to get your number.  

Joel stares him down as he walks away and you could have easily mistaken it for jealousy. The irony of it, as your harmless flirting was nothing compared to his potential relationship with your boss. You needed answers, whether or not Joel wanted to disavow you.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” Your voice is a little shaky, wavering through your anger and confusion. 

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods, still staring off ahead. 

You pause, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. Your eyes bore into him and his ignoring you is making you fume more and more. You try to read him, and see the subtle changes as he gets more and more frustrated that you are not getting the hint to leave him alone. 

“So… explain?” You push his chest, try to pry the information out of him. His jaw tenses. Glowering and annoyed. His calm facade being chiseled away by your incessant need for answers. 

Joel looks at you with cold eyes. Sad eyes. Eyes you do not recognize. He recoils at your touch. Makes you feel like a dirty secret. He tips back his beer and downs the rest of the bottle. 

“Can you please fucking say something?” You beg. You are annoyed at how he is acting. He was clearly frustrated by your being there and that anger was festering by the minute. 

“This isn’t the time.” He says unphased by your request.

The bartender interrupts you to hand you your drink and gives Joel the side eye, no doubt noticing how prickly he was and how much your demeanor had changed from earlier. 

“What are you staring at?” Joel snaps at the bartender. His intimidating tone was low but it was threatening. His misplaced anger was looking for any way to escape. 

“Relax, bud.” He puts his hands up in a submissive gesture and backs off.  He glances back over to you but you look away and don’t make eye contact with him again.

“She ain't’ interested.” He threatens and somehow makes himself look even bigger. The bartender nods with a knowing smile that might as well say ‘not worth the trouble’ as he grabs Joel’s empty beer bottle and moves on. He wasn’t interested enough to contest with Joel.  

You hate how much it turns you on to see him get protective over you. His mixed signals were giving you whiplash. You suspect and even hope that his lashing out and acting this way is just a tactic to get you to leave the matter alone for now. It wasn’t going to work with you though. You were not afraid of him or intimidated.    

His fingers curl over the counter and he flexes them, agitated. He taps his fingers in a rolling motion and pushes himself away from the bar with the heel of his hand. 

“You should go home.” His words hurt and are spoken with finality through dark eyes that penetrate you. “We’ll talk about this later.” 

“No.” Your brows furrow at the audacity. “I want to talk now.” You demand. 

Joel ignores you and pushes past you to get to the back hallway. He makes you feel insignificant and like you are just an obstacle in his path to walk around. It makes you even more angry.

You tip back the bulk of your drink dangerously fast and follow him. There were so many people, no one was really paying attention to you and Joel, so why was he acting like this?  

You stumble down the corridor to the bathrooms, instantly regretting your choices to drink so recklessly. It makes you feel gross and desperate that you have to chase him someplace so dark and secluded.

With his back to you he balls his hand into a fist and knocks on one of the bathroom doors with enough force to startle anyone in earshot. Someone inside yells that they need a minute. 

He puts a hand on his hip and the other drags down his face as he paces and turns towards you. He knew you would follow. He fans his hand out in your direction, pleading with you to let this go. 

“I said later.” His words sound tired from your persistence. He looks you up and down and you see something else in his eyes. Behind the anger, the hunger for you is still there.

“Joel.” Your anger starts to cool when you see how agitated he is. Afraid that you are just making everything worse. Maybe you should just leave this alone until later. You could be making a scene over nothing. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he speaks slowly and deliberately, trying to keep himself calm. You try to hold it back but you can’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. Impatiently he bangs on the door again and an angry yell returns, calling him an impatient prick. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.” You are not sure why you are the one defending yourself here. You feel the room spinning and reach to brace yourself on the wall before you stumble. The alcohol and the adrenaline of being afraid to lose Joel was just becoming too much.  

Joel reaches out to you and grabs your wrist to steady you. He leads you a bit further down the hall, and just at the end is a small and dark alcove with storage boxes. You can still hear the loudness of Copper’s echoing through the hallway but at least it feels more private. Trashy, but discrete. 

You back yourself against the wall, feeling overwhelmed by everything and your anger vanishing into nothing but hurt. Joel stands across from you with his arms crossed. He takes a deep breath.

“Listen. This ain’t got anything to do with you. Ok?” Now is your turn to respond with silence. You have a thousand questions but no words manage to come out, instead a tear drops down your face. You wipe it away quickly but he already noticed it.

“Sweetheart.” He closes the gap between you and holds your face in his hand, wiping his thumb over the wet trail on your cheek. You look up at him with glossy eyes and he looks pained to see you so upset. “Please don’t.”

You feel foolish crying given the real probability of infidelity. Still, you lean into his touch, craving the contact with him that he had been denying you. Soaking in his warmth and pushing the negative thoughts as far away as possible.   

He presses up against you, pinning you against a stack of boxes. It is reserved but still so sensual. He pushes your hair behind your ear and combs his fingers through it, smelling your sweet scent mixing with his woodsy, pine cologne. 

The heat from his cock feels so good against you, and you can feel him harden slightly when you push your hips into him. Even through tears your body can’t say no to Joel. His body towers over you and makes you feel calmer being in his clutches.    

He sneaks a hand up the side of your leg and slips it under your dress. You feel his breath hot on your neck as he kisses you there. His scruff scrapes against the soft meat of your neck and makes you come undone. He presses his mouth into you, hedonic and greedy. 

His thumb slides under the thin straps of your panties and he draws circles on your hip bone, dancing dangerously closer to your center. He doesn’t cross the threshold, and with restraint he slides his hand around to your hip over the top of your dress. He presses his forehead into yours and holds you there for a brief moment, relishing having you in his grasp.

As soon as the heated moment starts it fades and Joel takes a step back, holding you at arms length. With a desperation in his eyes, he speaks.    

“Go home.” His words hurt. “Please. Go home.”

He turns and leaves you alone in the hallway, disappearing into the crowd. Discarding you like an unwanted problem. A mistake. Something to acknowledge only in the dark. 

You feel absolutely blindsided and used and you don’t even know what is going on. You slide your back down the wall and curl your arms around your knees, hugging yourself. You have never felt more alone and abandoned. You hold yourself harder to keep back the tears.

Moments later you hear footsteps and a familiar voice rattles you back to earth. It’s Marlene, knocking on one of the bathroom doors asking if you are inside. You regain your composure and bring yourself to your feet and walk sheepishly towards her from the alcove. You adjust your dress and hair, both a little disrupted by Joel. 

“There you are! Is everything ok? I’ve been looking for you.” You turn to face her and do your best to look composed and calm. 

“Yeah I was just feeling my drink and had to get away for a minute.” You are a terrible liar.

“Uh huh...” She reaches her hand out and wipes some black makeup that still lingered on your cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re crying about that guy you’ve been seeing?” She tries to guess what could have you so upset. You fake a laugh and try to throw her off. She notices your messy hair. “Or did you makeout with that bartender that was hitting on you?” she asks excitedly.

“Nothing like that. I’m fine. Really.” You say with confidence but she is still skeptical. You take a few steps down the hallway. The words Joel begged of you before leaving you replay over and over.    

“Hey, do you… know that guy?” You struggle to get his name out. “Joel?” She looks at you puzzled. Inquisitive. Amused at your question. 

“Everyone knows Joel Miller.” She stares at you, her expression trying to hide some judgment but can’t resist. “Why?”

You don’t answer and just stare off blankly. You feel like a total idiot. A used trollop. She tries to read between the lines, assuming your drunk ass is crushing on him.

“Don’t get involved with Joel.” She warns and hooks her arm in yours and leads you back to the main room. 

Your table had been scarfed up which was no surprise. There were so many people.

You are floating between being too drunk and carefree and on the verge of a mental breakdown. For now, the alcohol was keeping you afloat. This wasn’t the time or place to deal with whatever was going on with Joel and you were not in the right frame of mind to handle it. 

You made up your mind. You were going to stay and try to salvage what was left of your night. You would stay clear of Joel. Why should he get to tell you what to do? You lose your footing and stumble but Marlene balances you.

“Ok… you need to drink water.” She mothers you and takes you by the shoulders to lead you back to the bar.

“Yes, mom.” You muster up a joke and take a deep breath.

Another half hour passes. You don’t see Joel but you don’t look for him either. You don’t want to see him or want him to see you. The water helps sober you up just slightly. The music is loud but soothing as it occupies your headspace. The current act was a man and woman duo singing something moody and playing guitar. They played a few songs and then the MC shared that they had just one more performer for tonight. 

You lazily look at your phone and it’s so much later than you realized. You turn to ask Marlene if she is ready to go when you see him, walking towards the stage with a guitar slung on his back. Joel was the final performer? You watched him walk up to the stage with disbelief. He wanted you to go home so you wouldn’t see this? It felt forbidden to look and of course you needed to.  

You had no idea he was the musical type. Realizing now you didn’t know much about him at all, apparently. The thought of that makes you feel sick. 

You feel numb to everything around you. Maybe it was all just a bad dream. It had to be.

He takes his seat on a stool in front of the mic, propping up his guitar on his lap and strums a few chords. The audience is awakened. You hear people mumbling to their friends that they can’t believe Joel is playing again. 

Apparently everyone but you. 

You want to be angry. Upset that he was so deceptive to you and kept his life so secret. Dismissive about your desire to understand.   

Your body betrays you, fluttering at the sight of him. The room is darkened and the light shining on him makes him look even more gorgeous, casting harsh shadows that accent his tight body. His silver streaks in his slicked hair catching the light and his broad frame defined perfectly in his well fitting shirt. His watch reflects the light as he positions his hand to cradle the neck of his guitar. His forearm flexes as he guides his hand over the strings. It makes you wet.   

“This one’s…. for Tess.” 

Your heart stops. 

His voice wavers as he looks down to his guitar, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The room is deadly silent. He has everyone’s attention. You are certain your heartbeat is the loudest thing as you are filled with panic. 

Did you hear that right? 

He strums his guitar and a low and gravelly voice follows. 

Love will abide

Take things in stride

He said… Tess?  

Sounds like good advice

But there's no one at my side

You feel a pit in your stomach.

And time washes clean

Love's wounds unseen

He said Tess.  

That's what someone told me

But I don't know what it means

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

The profound sadness in his voice hurts. It cuts you like a knife. His guttural but steady low singing moves you. You would never, but it makes you want to run up to him and hold him.  

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

You hate this. Being in this moment, trapped. It felt like listening to a private conversation. Still, you can’t look away.  

Caught in my fears

Blinking back the tears

I can't say you hurt me

When you never let me near

The sharpness in his tone is notable and you see him clench his teeth at those words.  

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

The pit in your stomach grows as your fears are being realized before your eyes. 

And I think it's going to hurt me

For a long, long time

Joel was in love with her. 

Wait for the day

You'll go away

Knowing that you warned me

Of the price I'd have to pay

You look over to where Tess was sitting earlier. She looks hurt and fragile, masked by anger. Not like anything you had seen before. You pity her. You pity yourself. 

And life's full of flaws

Who knows the cause?

Living in the memory

Of a love that never was

Joel is hurting. Whatever their relationship was, he certainly wanted it to be different. 

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and change your mind

And you are just a toy for him to play with. You need to leave. You need to be anywhere but right here. 

And I think I'm going to miss you

For a long, long time

Suddenly the room is spinning. You are going to be sick. The alcohol and anxiety inside you mix together and you feel like you can’t breathe. 

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

Joel looks up and his eyes accidentally find yours for the briefest moment. An unintentional stare. He looks away and down at his guitar, no doubt outraged that you didn’t go home. That you saw him spill his heart and soul out to another woman. 

For a long, long time.

Angry that you caught him cheating. The only truth you know. 

The loudest silence follows as he strums the last chord. Then, the room erupts in applause and many people stand up to clap and cheer. Even the drunkest person could have watched that performance and felt his pain. You suspected few people realized it was so good because it was so honest.  

Marlene looks over at you and can clearly see how ghostly and unwell you look. You shake your head and try to hold back the flood of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Can we… can we go? Please?”

“Yeah, of course.” Marlene puts an arm around you and helps you up. The tears start falling and you can’t stop it. You can’t hold back the flood of sobs and emotion leaving your body.  

“Whoa… Whats wrong?” She puts her hand on your cheek and tries in vain to wipe the tears away. Looking extremely concerned and no doubt piecing things together.

You can’t even think properly. You gasp at the air to save you.   

“I just need to get out of here.”

You glance up to the stage and Joel has already left it. Probably going to his lover or whatever the fuck that was all about. That sickness feeling surges back. You want to throw up. You want to disappear and erase every moment you had with Joel.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

Comments / Reblogs are so incredibly appreciated 🧡

Thank you to @magpiepills for being my wonderful beta, ily 🧡

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[sturnsbaebackup]

can you write something about how the fans have started speculating something between you and chris??

RUMORS FLY - CHRIS STURNIOLO

summary: you and chris have been talking, and the fans are starting to notice.

warnings: none!

-

as nick and matt argue about god knows what into their microphones, chris stares down at his phone with a small smile. “chris what’s your opinion on this?” nick asks, but it appears chris hasn’t heard him.

“chris, get off of your fucking phone. we’re on the podcast! who are you even texting that’s so important right now?” matt groans. quickly after being called out chris puts his phone away. he’s very clearly flustered, and he says, “i was just um— texting nate!”

“texting nate? with that big of a smile on your face? i didn’t know nate was so funny… but whatever can you please just get off of your phone and help us settle this debate,” matt says, glaring at chris with a wondering eye. not even his brothers knew about you and chris, but they were bound to find out soon enough.

chris feels his phone buzz on his lap, and he waits until he has a chance to answer it. he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s recording because he doesn’t want to stop talking to you, so he tried to multitask, but clearly he’s not very good at it.

nick suddenly gets up and walks over to chris, snatching his phone from his hands. as he does so, he see’s your contact name and the photo of you and chris cuddling at the top of the screen. “oh my god that’s—“ he blurts out, but immediately stops himself. “—enough! i’m taking your phone until the end of the episode” nick says, immediately catching himself before he reveals you and chris’ secret.

chris’ cheeks turn bright pink, and his heart rate is through the roof. he knows he’ll be grilled with questions once they’re done recording, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that yet. eventually the pod is over, and immediately nick hands chris his phone with a smirk.

“have fun texting y/n!” nick shouts as chris begins walking downstairs to his room. a loud gasp can be heard from matt, and chris can feel his cheeks burning up. he scurries into his room and replies to your texts, and immediately opens tiktok to rewatch the tiktok you guys had made a couple days ago. he scrolls through the endless comments, and begins to notice a reoccurring pattern.

“are they dating?!”

“oh i ship this”

“i think they’re dating! i mean, y/n is wearing his brand…”

and so forth. he bites his cheeks to hold his smile in, but ultimately fails when he sees all of the support even when you guys haven’t gone public. as he scrolls through his phone, a gentle knock can be heard on his door.

“come in nick!” he exclaims, not even looking up from his phone. he knows it’s nick because matt has a tendency to just walk in, or bang on the door. one or the other.

“can i ask you something?” nick asks, sitting in the end of chris’ bed.

“yeah, anything,” chris says, putting his phone down and fixing his posture.

“why didn’t you tell me and matt?”

“um— well we aren’t really telling anyone. i mean we’re not dating yet, but—“ he pause, “actually i don’t really know, honestly. i guess i’m just nervous that if i start telling people things will go south,” he shrugs.

“are you planning to ask her out soon?”

“yeah, i am actually. i was gonna do it this weekend, and make it a big surprise for the fans but now i don’t know. the fans are already speculating things, so i feel like i should just scratch the whole big idea i had and ask her the next time we hang out.”

“oh! that was also one of my questions! how the hell have you been hanging out with y/n and both me and matt didn’t know about it?! we live together and i still didn’t know!”

chris chuckles, “there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me nick. and it’s gonna stay that way, so if you could stop asking me a million questions that would be great,” he sarcastically grins, and nick just rolls his eyes. nick closes the door behind him, and chris immediately goes back to texting you.

—

the podcast episode was posted a few days ago, and immediately the fans have been questioning who chris was texting. there have been many many guesses, but most have been you. chris feels like it’s his fault, and the last thing he wants is for you to feel like you’re being led on, so there’s only one thing to do.

“y/n, i have a question,” chris says nervously, looking down at you as your head rests on his arm.

“what is it?” you ask, knowing exactly what it is. or hoping, at least.

“well, obviously i like you. a lot. and i was just wondering if you wanted to make this official? will you be my girlfriend?”

“of course i will chris, is that even a question?” you giggle, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of chris’ shoulders. he smiles at you and gently places his hands on your cheeks, pulling your faces towards his. your lips melt together, and your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

you both end up falling asleep in chris’ bed, and while you both nap, you’re unaware that nick and matt both arrive back home. they enter chris’ room after calling his name a few times with no response, only to see you both asleep. of course, them being the immature boys they are, take your guys’ picture. unfortunately, you learn about this the hard way when you see the photo in their photo dump a few days later. you gasp and immediately check the comments, expecting tons of hate comments.

“i knew it was y/n! they’re so cute!”

“AWWW”

“cutest couple ever”

you immediately text chris, and you both share a big grin over the situation. although you never would have expected your situation with chris to have gotten semi-exposed, you were just glad everyone was so supportive.

[klausinamarink]

Last Few Minutes For Another Lifetime

rating: G | cw: none | tags: modern au, post-breakup, going back together, hopeful ending | wc: 996

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | Dec 30: New Year’s/Resolutions

10:45 PM

Eddie comes to the party later than he would’ve liked. While he’d planned to come without bringing food, he had changed his mind at the last minute and spent the next few hours cooking. Cinnamon rolls and cheesy lasagna. They were Steve’s favorite comfort foods too.

He keeps telling himself not to think about it any further. He knocks on the door with a knee, his hands carefully holding his unexpected dishes. Eddie’s heart thuds against his chest, wondering that if Steve would answer-

Thankfully, it’s Jonathan Byers who answers and lets him into the already-crowded room, pointing to the food table. Eddie checks all of the faces he passes by, but none of them are Steve’s.

“He can’t come tonight.” Jonathan answers for him. Eddie doesn’t respond, worrying his disappointment will turn into devastation instead.

He lets himself take a cinnamon roll.

10:50 PM

After he’s done eating, Eddie goes over to where the drinks are being made. Argyle takes one look at him and gives him an already-made Bloody Mary. Eddie thanks him and takes a sip.

He goes outside to the balcony, New York City winters be damned. A couple people are already smoking and talking. He joins in.

11:01 PM

Eddie can’t help another glance around when he steps back inside. There’s a couple of new people, but none of them are Steve.

Eddie wonders if there’s something wrong with him. Aching for Steve despite their wordless agreement that they’re both better off alone.

Eddie goes back to the bar and Argyle offers a lemon-flavored cocktail this time. When Eddie laments aloud that’s the same drink Steve likes to give him, Argyle switches it with watermelon vodka. 

11:02 PM

At the couches, there’s some kind of game playing. Looks like Charades except there’s more yelling and the loser needs to do a silly dance or something. Fuck it, why not! Eddie thinks as he asks to join in. The new year’s an hour away so he’s going to accept part of him that is the cringe and all that.

11:19 PM

At some point, Eddie looks up and catches Robin Buckley staring at him. He stares back until she pulls out her phone, frantically tapping on the screen.

Eddie hopes it’s not her signaling to some hired sniper to take the shot on him. 

He ducks into the bathroom just in case.

11:23 PM

There’s something familiar about lying fully-clothed in a bathtub. Except this time, the shower’s off and Eddie’s not sobbing his heart out after being dry-eyed in his last conversation with Steve.

Someone knocks on the door.

“It’s open!” Eddie calls out.

Robin comes in. Before Eddie can have enough time to jump out and try wrangling through the window, she lifts her hands up and says, “I’m not gonna murder you, Eddie.” She pauses. “Yet.”

Eddie sighs, accepting his fate, “Get with it already, Buckley.”

“Don’t get mad at me but I just called Steve and now he’s on his way.” Robin barrels on before Eddie can even gawk at her, “You can call me a horribly optimistic blockhead, but Steve really hasn’t been doing good after your last conversation. Now this is your chance to talk to him, honest feelings and no stone walls!”

Eddie stares up at the ceiling. His eyes are still dry as he speaks, “You know that we broke up, right?”

“Did you?”

Eddie swallows, not answering. Robin sighs and opens the door to leave. “I don’t care how it goes. But if you make Steve cry, I’ll throw you out of the balcony.”

11:45 PM

Eddie finally leaves the bathroom. After grabbing another plate of food, he goes straight to the balcony. He’s the only one here.  

Eddie lights a cigarette. Listens to the growing swell of celebrations.

11:55 PM

And then Eddie’s not alone anymore. He doesn’t have to look and see who it is.

“Got another cig?” 

Eddie wordlessly hands his pack over. Steve snorts as he takes a cigarette.

“What?” 

“Nothing, it’s just- last cigarette. On the last night of the year. Go figure.” 

Eddie could barely resist a playful eyeroll and a puff of laughter. 

They smoke in silence.

11:57 PM

Finally, Steve says, “Are we really bullshit?”

Eddie snaps his head to him so fast that it cricks his neck. “What?”

Steve shrugs, but his eyes are already glistening over, “I know you never said it but-”

“No.” Eddie throws his cigarette so he can place both hands on Steve’s face, making the man look at him. “I know we both said things that probably were right at the time, but I never said we were bullshit, sweetheart.” The pet name slips out but it still sounds and feels so natural. “We were a lot of things but that word ain’t one of them.”

A tear slips out of Steve’s eyes as he leans into Eddie’s touch. Eddie easily brushes it away with his thumb. 

11:59:01 PM

Inside, the clambering spikes as someone starts counting from sixty. Eddie doesn’t have it in him to remove his hands off Steve’s face.

“Would it be bullshit if-” Eddie swallows, his eyes already welling up, “-if I feel like trying again?”

Steve huffs out of his nose, smiling with those love-filled eyes, “No.”

11:59:20 PM

“Great.” Eddie shudders out a breath, “Because I really missed you so much-”

“That you made cinnamon rolls?” Steve finishes for him with a playful smirk. “They’re still delicious as always.”

Eddie mocks a despaired gasp, ��I knew it! You only missed your favourite food!”

11:59:50 PM

“Ten!”

There’s a lot more that Eddie wants to say. And he knows Steve wants to say more. That they need to take off the rose-coloured glasses and actually sit down with their hands holding the other.

Eddie leans in and Steve meets his lips in the middle. 

It doesn’t feel like they were even separated at all. It feels like home.

12:00 AM

[training4theapocalypse-backup]

On Her Majesty’s Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x Reader) Ch. 2

Chapter 2: Bird after Reading

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Romance, Praise, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of violence, Phone sex, Send noodz, FaceTime sex.

Summary: On a rare night off after the Glan Tai massacre, Vigilante gets your phone number from the 11th Steet Kids group chat and talks you through some things.

A/N: He is being really, really sweet to Birdie and she can’t help but be charmed by him. My heart :(

Masterlist

Chapter Text

Last night did not go to plan.

Still, the sound of pleasant chit-chat hums through the air as everyone loads up the van to make the two-hour journey back to Evergreen. The team is in good spirits on this bright summer morning after a successful mission. Everyone except you. You just want to curl into a ball and die.

After clearing up last night’s misunderstanding you practically ran back to your tent to hide in shame. Adrian called after you “Wait! So we’re not even gonna cuddle?” but you couldn’t even bring yourself to turn around and acknowledge his wounded voice with a glance. 

It was only when you were nestled back into your own sleeping bag that you noticed your lip was cut and bleeding from when you hastily removed the duct tape to use your sonic scream.

This morning, however, you’re kind of surprised to find that Vigilante has a spring in his step already. “Good morning!” he beams cheerily, leaning against the van as you and Chris are the last to haul your duffel bags and packed tents over to the vehicle. 

“Woah, what happened to your lip?” asks Economos. You give a small dismissive shake of your head and glance at Vigilante. 

“Hey- let me get those for you.” says Vigilante. Chin in the air, you stride past him and load the bags yourself. You can’t accept special treatment from him after last night.

Not any more special treatment anyway. 

“Thanks, Vij,” says Chris, tossing his bag into Vigilante’s outstretched arms. 

“Aw, man!” He pouts after you.

You brace yourself for confrontation as your steel-toed boots continue to stomp over to where Harcourt and Adebayo are discussing next steps. You wait for them to finish, back straight, eyes ahead, hands folded behind you. 

They look up from the iPad. The mischievous glint in Adebayo’s eyes and the smirk on Harcourt’s face tells you that Adebayo has been briefed on the mistaken attempt to rescue you last night. 

"At ease, soldier. Or should I say 'damsel in distress'?" teases Harcourt.

“What was Vigilante going to do, Blackbird? Tie you to the railway like an old-time cartoon villain?” Adebayo adds with a laugh.

The brutal intelligence officer training you’ve endured enables you to remain composed and you stand tall preparing to explain yourself, despite the dread stirring in the pit of your stomach. As neither of them knows sign language you pull out your phone, quickly type a message on your notes app and hold up the screen

‘I apologise for acting unprofessionally last night.’

Harcourt pulls a face, deciding how to proceed. She really should reprimand you for indiscreetly fraternising with a colleague. But you’ve noticed the way her gaze lingers on Chris Smith lately and you wonder if that’s why she’s choosing not to jump down your throat.

Adebayo beats her to the punch “Listen Blackbird, we’re only giving you shit because we’re your friends.”

“Yeah but if Smith or any of those fuckers,” Harcourt points at the rest of the team beside the van “If they have anything to say about last night, we’ll tell them to go fuck themselves.” 

Well. That was very unexpected. And, despite yourself, your shoulders loosen slightly as you feel a rush of gratitude for the pair sweep through you. You have respect for both of your colleagues but you didn’t think that they’d consider you to be friends. Let alone friends who would back you up if the rest of the team gave you a hard time. You type on your phone again.

‘It won't happen again’

They read your screen and then share perplexed glances.

“I get it, I mean, even if I was straight I definitely wouldn’t have sex with either of the roided-up himbo lunatics on this team… would you?” Adebayo asks Harcourt. 

Harcourt hesitates.

“I don’t know. Peacemaker is mostly a piece of shit. But I guess he’s kind of handsome?”

They laugh and you allow yourself a small smile. Harcourt hates that she’s interested in Chris even more than you hate that you might feel a tiny bit of attraction to Vigilante. Your turn to look at the rest of the group and catch Vigilante staring over at you, clearly interested by the giggling. 

“All I’m saying is- it couldn’t be me. Remember, Vigilante is kind of fucked up. I heard he murdered people for doing graffiti for crying out loud!” 

You consider this. Adebayo is right but then again, you’re no beacon of morality. Peacemaker isn’t the only one on this team who’s done unspeakable things on behalf of a government agency. A government agency that now hates you and sent you on this mission as a punishment for your misdeeds. So what if Vigilante kills people on his own accord? 

“Don’t dwell on last night. It’ll only distract you from the mission,” says Harcourt “It’s not even the most embarrassing thing that’s happened so far. Remember when Adebayo showed everyone that picture of her vulva?”

“Hey!” Adebayo hits her arm with the iPad. “It’s a risk you gotta be willing to take for amazing phone sex.”

“Listen, all of us can see that you and Vigilante work well together in the field. Maybe it’d be the same outside of work? You could teach him about sarcasm… he could teach you to be less serious.”

This is rich coming from her, who insisted you all referred to her only as Agent Harcourt until literally yesterday. 

Adebayo echoes your thoughts “Coming from you?!”

“Serious like in a sad, solemn kind of way,” she explains with a pitying look “If anyone needs cheering up it’s Blackbird. No offence.” She adds.

None taken. Losing your voice has made you simply recede into yourself with despondency. You look over at Vigilante who gives you an enthusiastic wave. You feel guilty for ignoring his offer of helping you with your bags. Maybe spending more time with that maniac will do you some good.

“Just be careful.” Adebayo shifts uncomfortably as she watches Peacemaker and Vigilante roaring with laughter at Economos gesturing like he’s wielding a chainsaw, regaling the story of yesterday's mission. 

After finding out that Murn wants a briefing of yesterday's events, the three of you walk back to the van. Vigilante extends a gloved hand to help you up into the back. You hesitate for a beat too long but he keeps his hand out all the same. You grab it, allowing him to pull you in. 

You perch on the seat next to him and when the doors close and Economos starts driving, he removes his mask. 

Ugh, he’s even more handsome in the daylight. 

“Y’know Blackbird, you’re the only one who hasn’t removed your mask yet,” says Chris, removing his helmet. “You saw Vij last night, which means we all know each other’s faces now.”

Oh. Your domino mask - issued together with your suit- covers from your eyebrows to your cheekbones. You’re supposed to wear it on missions to conceal your face from both CCTV and civilians. You shrug and remove the mask, unpeeling it from your face- your life is in London so it’s not as if you have a secret identity here to worry about. 

“Wow,” remarks Adebayo “You look exactly the same.” 

The van erupts in laughter and you smile reluctantly. 

“Nuh-uh, we know she has eyebrows now!” says Adrian. “I’m glad you have eyebrows by the way,” he adds quietly to you. 

The good spirits continue as you speed along the highway- ugh, motorway, you take a mental note to eradicate the Americanisms you’ve picked up on this trip from your vocabulary. The team plays music and bonds over their shared love of Glam Metal. It’s not really your thing but you enjoy just being amongst the camaraderie.

This time yesterday you had all been at each other's throats. But apparently almost being beaten to death by a giant gorilla controlled by a butterfly was just one of those things that you can’t go through without becoming friends afterwards.

Adrian’s gaze lingers on you for longer than usual. Your eyes meet his but he doesn’t look away, embarrassed, as most people would if caught staring. He studies you blatantly and then leans in to whisper in your ear. The sudden intimate closeness takes you by surprise. You’re acutely aware of his knee pressing against your own and you catch another whiff of his bergamot and bonfire smoke scent.

“You’re even prettier without the mask.” Adrian whispers into your ear and the warm vibrations of his breath make the hairs on your neck stand up pleasantly.

You see Harcourt and Chris watching you interestedly from across the van so you give a pronounced roll of your eyes at his remark. “And I can see you rolling your eyes at me even better now!” he adds earnestly.

The van hurtles its way towards Evergreen and Harcourt takes out her phone to snap a picture of you all. You listen to them reminisce about concerts while Adrian tries and fails to include you in the conversation. Chris suggests he asks you ‘Yes or No’ questions and he fails miserably. 

“What’s your favourite band?” You raise an eyebrow as Chris berates him.

“She’s British so I know she prefers The Spice Girls to Motley Crue!” exclaims Adrian “Right?” You nod and he beams.

A while later you pull up to the video shop. You listen as the team debriefs Murn on what happened in the factory. “This is good work,” he says, nodding at the equipment on the desk. “We're gonna need to sort through this but that can wait until tomorrow. You all have earned a rest.”

Adebayo raises a fist in celebration and you all file out towards the car park, laughing and joking. You and Adrian fall behind the rest of the group. “You know I really wish Economos had passed me the chainsaw. I’ve always wanted to kill someone with one.”

You give a small nod but your agreement is actually sincere - it would have been kind of hot if you had gotten the chance to see Adrian wielding the chainsaw. But after last night, you’re definitely biased. His face lights up at your silent encouragement. 

“See!” he yells to Chris up ahead “Blackbird agrees!”

“That’s only because she’s fucking you!” retorts Chris without turning around. You glance at each other and both put your masks back before exiting the building.

Vigilante’s pace drops and you match it- you can tell he’s prolonging your goodbye “I’ve got to get to work but do you need a ride home first? I’ve got the Vigalante-mobile.” he gestures to a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. You shake your head and jerk your thumb over to Economos who’s waiting at his own car- you’re staying at the same motel. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks. His eyes are obscured but you think he’s looking at your lips. Is he going to kiss you? You’re annoyed at how hopeful your inner monologue sounds. 

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach as he places a gloved hand on your chin and tilts your head up towards his masked face. 

“Sorry about your lip. I didn’t realise duct tape was so dangerous.” You shake your head to say it’s not your fault. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth and you resist closing your eyes and leaning into his touch. Economos clears his throat and Vigilante withdraws his hand quickly as if burned. You give an awkward nod goodbye and walk over to Economos’ car.

For fuck’s sake John.

You glare at him and decide to make him stop by a liquor store on the way home.

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

Back in your motel room you pour yourself a large whisky and run a shower. As the water is warming up you get a ping on your phone.

‘Emilia Harcourt added you to group ‘11th Street Kids’’

Harcourt shares a group photo of you all in the van. A smile creeps over your face as you examine it. You’re sitting next to Adrian and you just now realise his arm is resting on the back of your seat. Was he working up the courage to put his arm around you? He’s less sure of himself in the daytime than when he’s lurking in the dark as Vigilante. 

Notification light up your phone screen - it’s the 11th Street Kids groupchat. 

Peacemaker: [Hands up emoji]

Economos: So fucking cool.

Vigilante: [Merman emoji]

You wonder what Adrian’s emoji means. You type:

Blackbird: Nice one! x

You tap on the name “Vigilante” and your thumb hovers over his contact details, thinking about texting him. Or at least adding his contact details into your phone. Just in case of emergency. Another notification pops up.

‘Vigilante has added you as a contact’

Vigilante: Hey what’s up B- bird? [Penguin emoji] 

You’re relieved he immediately had the same thought. You still haven’t acknowledged what happened last night directly with him. This morning, in the cold light of day you felt ashamed of your one-night stand - not least how it ended. But now as the steam rises in the bathroom and the whisky burns your throat, you’re a little bit giddy that he messaged you. You contemplate for a moment.

Blackbird: Lmao that’s not even close to a blackbird! x 

Vigilante: What’s the X for? Is it a British spy code? 

Oh. Technically ‘x’ at the end of a text is shorthand for ‘kiss’. Back home almost everyone signs off like that to friends or family. It’s second nature to you when you write a message- words, space, x, send. Clearly, this cultural norm doesn’t translate well. You carefully craft a message to explain it to Adrian, trying to sound nonchalant.

Blackbird: Sounds weird but it means ‘kiss’. It’s just how we end text messages in the UK lol :) x

Well, that was lame. 

Vigilante: So you’ve given me 2 kisses since we started this conversation?

Blackbird: Not exactly- It’s just a habit when I send messages to friends x

Vigilante: Oh

Maybe he just isn’t used to being friends with his hookups afterwards? And according to Peacemaker he has plenty- of hookups, not friends - sometimes they even have one-night stands together, with the same woman.

A small stab of jealousy twists in your side at that thought.

Not Peacemaker and Vigilante sharing a woman, God no, but that you’re probably just the latest in a string of casual encounters. After all, he didn’t kiss you this morning when you thought he might, outside the video shop. 

Blackbird: I can stop sending them if they’re bothering you? 

Vigilante: What would you send to someone who was more than a friend?

A lot of people back home would use ‘xx’ at the end of a text to a boyfriend- but you haven’t had any reason to do that for a while.

Throwing caution to the wind, you type a flirtatious message, delete it, reconsider, take another drink of whisky, type the exact same thing again then hit send. You hold your breath.

Blackbird: Probably nudes :) x Blackbird: Just kidding. Probably more x’s. ‘xx’ rather than ‘x’ 

It’s been a long time since you flirted with anyone. It makes you want to launch your phone across the room but instead, you stare at the screen in anticipation.

Vigilante: Damn, this is REALLY bad timing but my break is over. I gotta get back to work. Later Birdie.

You catch your reflection in the bathroom mirror- your face falls. Is he blowing me off? Like I did to him at the van this morning? You feel betrayed by your own disappointment but you probably deserve it.

Stepping into the shower, you sigh as the hot steam fills your lungs. Your hair still smells of bonfire smoke and you’re almost sad to wash it away because it reminds you of Adrian’s smoky and citrusy scent. Shampooing your hair, you think about how Adrian curled his hand through it last night when you kissed him.

Ugh - stop it. You simply cannot catch feelings right now.

You press your head to the cool tile on the wall as the water from the tarnished chrome showerhead flows down your back. You need to scrub yourself of any feelings you have for Adrian. Even if he did feel the same way, what would be the point of starting a romantic relationship nearly 5000 miles from home? Or when you work in a job that has you in a different country every month?

The water pressure is surprisingly strong and you’re grateful for it as it soothes your sore back muscles. Yesterday’s mission and the night that followed have left your body exhausted. There’s still a pleasantly dull ache between your legs from last night. 

You felt a connection with him like you’d never felt before. Like he was reading your mind. Every thought, every want, every need. 

The only thing that has ever come close to it is how well you fight together. It almost seems silly that you haven’t been able to admit that to him today but the sensible voice in your head reminds you that you have a job to do. 

Your hand slips down the nape of your neck to your chest and you think about his skin. Pale and covered with scars, though you couldn’t see them all in the darkness of the tent last night. You wanted to look at each one, you wanted to kiss every single scar, cursing whoever had caused the damage to his lean, sculpted body. 

You find your favourite lavender soap and as you wash your body from your toes to your head, you take note of your own scars. Several cover both of your legs from the jet crash, one deep one in the meat of your thigh where you were stabbed that one time, another on your forearm from when you were stabbed a different time, and one on your shoulder blade where you were stabbed… again. Perks of the job. But you really need to get better at not being stabbed. 

You wonder what he’s doing after this shift and hate that you hope he’s staying safe. He likes to prowl the streets at night looking for criminals and regularly ends up in life-threatening situations but you want him to go straight home - you all have enough to be getting on with, with the butterflies and everything. And if you ever want to get back home and in MI6’s good graces, this mission needs to be a success. 

You finish up in the shower and decide you’d better remind him.

Blackbird: Rest up tonight Adrian. We’ve got a big day tomorrow and need you to be awake x

A few hours later at 11pm your phone pings in reply. Having spent the night drinking whisky and watching terrible TV, your stomach twists with excitement at the interruption. 

Vigilante: Great! Just need to figure out what we could use instead of duct tape…

A pleasant tingle goes down your spine. He must have finished his shift at Fennel Fields.

Blackbird: Not that kind of big day. We’ve got a lot of video equipment to check x

Vigilante: I only need to patrol the neighbourhood for a few hours. Do you wanna join? 

Blackbird: Sure- I can see the headlines now, ‘MI6 linked to string of vigilante murders in Washington.’ x

Vigilante: Awesome! Will I come and pick you up? 

Blackbird: No! That was sarcasm Adrian x

Vigilante: Okay - your loss! A team-up would have been SUPER cool FYI. TTYL

Blackbird: Wait! What can I say to convince you not to go out tonight? x

Vigilante: Awwww, are you worried about lil ol’ me, Birdie?

Blackbird: I need you on top of your game tomorrow. Finding the butterflies’ food source is more important than ANYTHING else we’ve got going on right now x

Vigilante: Stopped reading after “I need you”. Admit you need me Birdie and I might stay home tonight [Penguin emoji]  

You get up and pace around the room. He’s so resilient even after you ignored him last night and outside the van this morning. You’re relieved he’s flirting again. And you can tell from his messages that all he needs is some reassurance that you’re still interested in him after your stand-offishness this morning.

You pause in front of the mirror at the vanity table, catching a glimpse of your exposed neck and the top of your chest flushed red again. And a familiar warm sensation pools in your lower abdomen as your mind wanders back into Adrian’s tent. 

Blackbird: I need you… Blackbird: to see something :) x

Vigilante: Ooookay?

Blackbird: But you need to be somewhere private. Such as your home. Alone. In your bedroom. With the door locked x

Vigilante: I have no idea what’s going on right now 

Blackbird: I will message you a special surprise if you promise me you’re home x

Vigilante: WAIT- are you talking about the nudes you mentioned earlier???

Blackbird: Only one way to find out. Prove you’re home, tucked up in bed with a cup of tea and NOT prowling the streets looking for crime x

Vigilante: On my way home RIGHT FUCKING NOW Vigilante: PS what kind of tea should I get?

Blackbird: I’m just joking about the tea x

In the bathroom, you take in your appearance in the giant, circular mirror. You’re wearing a plain white T-shirt and another pair of unexciting black cotton underwear. Looking over your shoulder into the bedroom at your suitcase, you curse yourself for not bringing at least one set of skimpy lingerie. But then again- why would you? 

After spending all day in a Kevlar and leather suit, all you want to do is to sink into something soft and comfortable. And, after more than a year of abstinence, you never thought you’d find love in Evergreen, Washington. 

A hookup, you correct yourself, you never thought you’d find a hookup in Evergreen.

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head at your Freudian slip. You put your hands on either side of the sink and stare at yourself sternly. 

You are not so touch-starved and devoid of self-respect that you’d actually fall for Vigitlane.

Sure, he’s good looking and yes, you have an undeniable connection that you’ve never felt with anyone before but you remind yourself he’s a psychopath. A very enthusiastic and sweet one, certainly, but a literal vigilante murderer nonetheless.

Even so, you sort of want to look cute for the man who, you remind yourself again, is wanted on multiple counts of murder. Christ, what does that say about you?

He called you pretty this morning.

And you just rolled your eyes at him, concerned about what your colleagues would think. When what you really wanted to do was call him pretty too. Grab his stupid, pretty face, straddle his lap and kiss him, bite his lower lip, grind on him, leave love bites all over his neck. Right there in the van. The thought of it makes you feel feverishly hot.

You tie a knot at the back of your white T-shirt, pulling it taught against your body so that your nipples poke through the fabric and your curves are accentuated. You adjust the hips on your underwear so they show off more of your leg. You take a couple of mirror selfies - one with your whisky glass resting subtly on your chest - finger brushing your nipple and one of you sitting on the sink - back to the mirror and looking over your shoulder. Looking over them carefully, you decide you’re pleased- artfully sexy but nothing too wild. You want to give him a tiny little taste to reassure him you like him but no more. You both have work tomorrow morning, after all.

Your phone pings.

Vigilante: I’m home. I wish I’d seen your message before I went to the Starbucks drive-thru.

Blackbird: Lol :) But I’ll need evidence to verify your location x

Another notification. Adrian sends you a photo of himself holding a Starbucks cup- a mirror selfie. He’s got his Vigilante suit on but you can see the mask thrown on the large bed with comfortable-looking burgundy sheets behind him. Ugh, he looks so dreamy with his cute hipster glasses and wavy black hair. His room is very clean but bare- the only decoration seems to be his weapons, at least a dozen guns and several blades displayed on the wall. 

Blackbird: Do you sleep in an armoury!? x

Vigilante: What?? I sleep in a bed in my apartment!

You really do need to teach him about sarcasm.

Blackbird: I’m just joking - you DO have a lot of guns in your room x

Vigilante: Oh, the ones in here are just for display- you should totally come over and see the rest!!!! Vigilante: Anything cool in your motel room? 

Blackbird: IDK… this mirror is pretty nice x

You wander over to your bed as you flick through the selfies you took. Hesitating, you decide to send him the one of you sitting on the sink. 

Vigilante: Did you realise your reflection is visible?

You blink at your screen. Your ass is literally the main focus of the picture. 

Blackbird: That was sort of the point Adrian… x

Vigilante: NOICE!!!! In that case, I am SO glad I came home. I would literally never leave home again if you wanted me to. 

Fondness for him cascades through you and it makes your cheeks grow hot. He is so whole-heartedly earnest about his thoughts and feelings, it makes you wish you told him how good he looked when he sent you his picture. 

Does he know he’s good at getting you flustered over text? Your brows knit together as you remember Chris telling the group about their strings of one-night stands together and horror strikes you.

Blackbird: Adrian, I need you to know that if you show that to anyone I will not hesitate to murder you in cold blood. I’m not one of your women to be shared with Peacemaker. 

There's a pause and you watch the three dots moving as Adrian writes his reply. 

Vigilante: Okay first of all showing your pics to Peacemaker without consent would be classed as REVENGE PORN which - by the way - is ILLEGAL. I’ve killed people for less!!! Vigilante: Second of all there is no way I would ever break your trust Birdie. You are my second BFF.

Oh no, a pang of guilt. Of course, he wouldn’t do that. Another message pings. 

Vigilante: Thirdly you could never murder me because I am a much better marksman AND better in combat AND I know how to disarm you. 

You scoff silently. You could definitely beat Vigilante in a fight. 

Vigilante: And last of all, you are mine and I would never share you [Merman emoji]

You are mine. Your eyes rake over the black pixels on your screen. Mine. Fuck, why is your heart rate increasing? Warmth creeps in deep in your tummy. You smile and shake your head at his audacity. 

Blackbird: Ahem, yours?? x

Vigilante: Yup. At least your pussy is 

Blackbird: Hmmmm is that so? x

Vigilante: I’m the only one who can make you cum (and that’s including you btw) I can show you how if you’re nice to me for like 5 seconds.

Blackbird: I’m not sure I know how to be nice x

Vigilante: It was pretty nice of you to send me a pic of your ass… Vigilante: BTW I will delete that pic if you’re worried. Just give me 3-5 minutes with it. I know the drill - burn after jerking. 

You laugh silently but his consideration for your situation makes you melt. It makes you want to get on your knees for him to show your appreciation.

But he’s not here so instead you finish the rest of your drink in one quick gulp, lift the bottom of your shirt up, exposing your tits, snap another mirror selfie and hit send. 

Blackbird: Don’t delete this one x

Vigilante: Fuck, Birdie you have the most perfect tits I have ever seen. I mean it.  Vigilante: Even if I do delete it, this pic is now uploaded permanently into my spank bank. 

Blackbird: Is this all you needed to keep you off the streets? Just a little peek of me? x

Vigilante: YUP. And I am so fucking turned on right now. I wish you were here.

Blackbird: Show me x

Ping. Another picture. This time you need to sit down on the edge of the bathtub to steady yourself.

It’s just his body - he’s still wearing his Vigilante suit but a familiarly shaped hard bulge protrudes against the fabric. Your breath hitches and you can feel the steady beat of your heart pounding in your chest. You’re a bundle of nerves and you want to see more. Swallowing thickly you type:

Blackbird: You look v sexy in your suit <3 x

Vigilante: Birdie? Is that an actual compliment?! I think it’s the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me.

You’re no good at expressing your feelings but he needs to know how ridiculously hot he looks in his suit. A vivid image flashes through your mind of a masked vigilante breaking into your motel room, holding you down and covering your mouth while he fucks you. Fuck, the imaginary scene nearly burns a hole through you as you wander back to the bed.

Blackbird: Have you ever had sex in your mask? x

Vigilante: I basically only have sex in my mask. Secret identity is kind of a bummer. 

Except for last night. Though you did burst into his tent and catch him off guard. But how does he…

Blackbird: How do you kiss? Or…do anything else? x

Vigilante: Kissing, cuddling, eating pussy - three things I can’t do as Vigilante. You were the best thing I’ve tasted in a LONG time. 

You sit down on the edge of the bed and cross your legs, trying to stop yourself from squirming. The more turned on he makes you, the more reckless you become. In just a few texts you go from a tough superhero intelligence officer with a reputation to protect to a simpering mess with no regard for professionalism.

Blackbird: You are so fucking good at eating me out Adrian. I wish you were here x

Vigilante: You’re gonna make me jizz in my pants if you keep saying stuff like that. 

Blackbird: Hey not yet- I have more to show you x

Vigilante: Fuck. Seeing you talk like this makes me wish I could hear you in person.

Blackbird: You wouldn’t like me if I could talk again. People said I was very unkind - to put it mildly x

Vigilante: HAHA as if I can’t tell what all those eye rolls mean. You’re such a meanie but you LIKE me. 

Everything just bounces off of Adrian. Every cutting glance from you or dismissive comment from Harcourt. Even the time Peacemaker just let Goff torture him. The world is literally ending and Adrian is just riding the wave and enjoying being included in this mission. You wish you could take a leaf out his book and be less serious in the face of an alien invasion.

You hold your phone to your chest and lie back on the crisp white linen bed sheets. Staring at the ceiling you wonder what it would be like to be here with Adrian, in an actual bed rather than in a sleeping bag. Both uninjured and free to take your time, not worrying about other people catching you.

You take your T-shirt off completely this time. You snap a selfie with you laid back on the bed and send it to him.

The phone starts ringing immediately. 

‘Vigilante is requesting video chat’

Here goes nothing. You accept.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” He drags a hand from over his eyes down his face. You hold the phone still above you. “I just had to check if you were real, Birdie. For a second I thought ‘What if last night was an insanely realistic wet dream and now I’m speaking to a snarky but sexy AI bot’. But you are real.” 

From what you can see on the screen, he’s shirtless too. As he stretches out getting comfortable on his bed, one hand behind his head, you can appreciate his broad shoulders and chest. A flicker of animalistic urge to bite the exposed underside of his arm leaps through you. 

You bring up the keyboard. 

Blackbird: I’m glad last night wasn’t just a dream either x

You watch his face as he reads your words pop up on his screen, blue light reflecting on his glasses. He lights up with a wide smile and it makes your heart leap. You tilt the camera down and gently run your fingers up and down your exposed stomach and tits, your fingertips gently tickling your skin. You hear his breath catch in his throat. You move the phone camera back up to your face and slowly, deliberately suck your fingers and move them inside your underwear to start gently circling your clit. 

Your phone remains pointed at your face so he can watch you sink back into the soft pillows and close your eyes as your movements pick up the pace.

“L- let me see. Please.” he chokes. You shake your head, the corners of your mouth turning upwards in a smirk. You open your eyes and nod towards him. You first.

He removes his hand from behind his head and flips to the back-facing camera so it’s almost like you’re watching from his point of view. He unzips his black kevlar-weave trousers and tugs down his boxers. His cock is hard already. You swallow thickly- you forgot how big he was. Taking it in his hand, he slowly jerks himself up and down. 

How did all of that fit in you? You need to inhale and exhale deeply, steadying yourself. You remember the stretching feeling as he slowly entered you, pressing his forehead against yours and checking you were okay. Oh fuck, the memory makes you speed your fingers up. You move the camera down your body so Adrian can see your fingers working in your underwear. 

“Hold on a sec.”

He pauses what he’s doing and urgently takes off the bottom half of his Vigilante suit. He recentres the camera and lets you see him now fully naked. You can see the strong outline of the muscles on his thighs and decide you’d quite like to bite them too.

“Fuck, I wish you were here. You felt so fucking good last night, the way you took all of my dick in that tent like such a good girl for me.”

You writhe back into the pillows as pleasure begins to wash over you.

“Please… show me how you do it baby. Let me see that perfect pussy again.”

It’s too much, his words make you let out a small moan and - CRACK. The sound of glass breaking. You jump in fright. Fuck! The alarm clock on the motel bedside table is shattered in pieces.

“Woah, are you okay?” Adrian returns to the front-facing camera and adjusts his glasses.

You nod and show him the broken alarm clock. You check for any pieces that might have landed on the bed and he waits patiently.

“Hey at least it wasn’t your phone!” he says enthusiastically. You frown. You should have realised something like this would happen. It’s too dangerous to do this - especially on your own. “C’mon Birdie, it’s okay… I personally think it’s really hot that you could kill both of us by cumming. As far as powers go, you’ve gotta admit that’s pretty OP.”

You give him an embarrassed smile. “Is there somewhere you can balance your phone so you have both hands free?”

You carefully place your phone against the lamp on the bedside table and kneel on the bed in front of it. His eyes look you over from your head to where your knees connect with the mattress.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful,” You blush hot red again and he smiles reassuringly “I can’t believe I get to see you like this.” He is being so sweet and it’s killing you. Last night he was teasing you so much that you’re actually beginning to wonder if he was just getting back at you for being so rude to him the past few weeks. 

You feel exposed, almost the full length of your body is on display on your video tile. The thought of him seeing all of you out so brazenly makes the hairs on your arms stand up. You’re brave in the field but being so openly vulnerable takes a different kind of boldness you don’t get to exercise often.

Heart pounding in your chest, you slip your underwear off and throw them aside. That’s it, nowhere and nothing to hide now. He groans and angles his phone down his body so you can see him stroking his cock, a clear bead of precum leaks from the tip from it. 

You move your hands over your body and watch his eyes follow them. You pinch your nipples and move one hand down to your clit again. “Wait, Birdie, do exactly as I say,” he interrupts “We don’t want you sending a sonic boom through to Harcourt’s room this time.” You bite your lip and nod slowly, it would be embarrassing to say the least, having to explain why the wall between your rooms was rubble if something did go wrong.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” It’s forward, direct but he says it with such confidence that you don’t even think twice about doing so, obediently. It reminds you of the way he effortlessly relays instructions at you in combat. “Now grab that pillow… lay your head on it and put your other hand down between your knees.” You feel your insides buzzing as you lie, literally face-down ass-up, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

“Now use that hand to touch your clit for me.” This is obscene, you think but you do it anyway, your head on one side so you can look at Adrian on your phone. He drags his hand up and down the length of himself more slowly than before, taking his time and enjoying the scene in front of him. 

“When you start to get close you can turn your head into your pillow and let it out,” he says, watching your figure, side-on as your walls start to clench, begging to be filled. You allow yourself to test it out quietly, biting down on the linen and polyester and letting a small cry out. It vibrates but nothing else happens. You hear him let out a small whimper at the sight of you biting into your pillow. “Fuck, Birdie, have you ever thought about OnlyFans? I’d subscribe.”

The jape unlocks something in your brain. Shyness quickly disappearing, you turn your body another 90 degrees so that he’s looking at you directly from behind. You open up your knees wider and adjust the pillow so you can lie your head back down. All he’ll be able to see is your spread legs, ass and soaking wet cunt. Your fingers reach down to stroke your wet folds.

“Hooooooly fuck- that view. Keep doing that. No, wait- just your clit. I want to see your pussy leaking for me.”

Your muffled whine is impatient. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you are for him but you can tell from the way his breathing is getting quicker that he’s getting close, just from looking at you like this.

“Hey, look at me Birdie.”

You turn your head and look past the side of your body, and see him on the carefully balanced phone screen. 

“You know what you are, right?”

You bite your lip. I’m a slut, I’m a fucking slut touching myself on camera for you, Adrian.

“You’re mine. And that beautiful pussy belongs to me.”

Oh. It’s too. Fucking. Much. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop your fingers as they bury deep inside you curling up and tapping a frantic rhythm while the heel of your hand puts delicious pressure on your clit. 

You can’t see him anymore but he makes sure to narrate it for you. “That’s it. Think about me fucking you as you’re doing it, B.” You hear the wet slick of his own hand speeding up too.

You close your eyes and as you curl your fingers inside yourself, you imagine Adrian’s huge cock filling you up. The way he’d grab your hips, smack your ass and bite your shoulder as he thrusted deep inside you. 

“I love this angle. Keep doing that for me. Fuck, you look amazing like this.”

Letting out another sigh into your pillow, you feel the swell coming, feeling immense satisfaction that Adrian is watching you on his phone and furiously pleasuring himself, he too imagining that he was pounding into you deep from behind.

“You’re doing s-so good, baby. Such - such a good girl.” he stutters and inhales sharply.

In response you bounce your hips a little, in sync with your fingers, wishing you were backing up and gyrating into his hips. You take another peek at your screen to see his head leaning back and his Adam's apple moving as he swallows and clenches his jaw. He looks back at the screen and catches your eye “So… f-fucking… hot.” he pants. You feel another jolt of searing heat between your legs. Your pussy desperately clenches around your fingers, wishing it was his cock.

“Say my name when you cum for me. Come on, you can do it. Into the pillow.”

The pillow envelopes your face just in time for you to moan his name.

The whole bed shakes violently this time. You tumble straight into your release as you continue to whimper. It’s hot and wet and desperate, heat radiates from your centre, making your knees tremble weakly as the orgasm rips through you.

“I’m gonna- I’m - fuuuuck.” Adrian groans and you move your head again to watch him finish. His eyes squeeze shut and he shudders, thick ropes of cum shooting out onto his chest and stomach. 

You lie still for a few more moments, your leaking entrance still twitching and exposed to the camera while you eventually catch your breath. You crawl around to grab your phone and roll onto your back, holding the screen above you.

You both stare at each other, flushed and glowing with sweat. Adrian adjusts his glasses, wipes himself off with a towel and lies on his side, one arm propping his head up. You think it would be very comfy to nuzzle into the crook of his neck right now. Maybe you’d trace your fingers over his scars and listen to him talk about how he got each one.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And trust me, I’ve watched a lot of stuff.”

You smile in a self-satisfied sort of way and pull up the keyboard.

Blackbird: I like seeing you too. And hearing you talk to me x

“Okay, so we need to do this again in person next time.”

Blackbird: I’d like that x

“And can you admit you like me yet?”

You give him an indifferent jerk of the head but he reads through you and grins triumphantly.

Blackbird: Okay I DO like you Adrian. But I’m just not sure if we should be doing this at all x

“I get it if you’re embarrassed to be with me - we don’t have to tell the rest of the team.”

You shake your head fervently. Relief washes over his face. 

Blackbird: It’s not that… I can’t let myself fall for someone when I need to leave the country right after this mission x

You also don’t trust Amanda Waller or MI6 right now and don’t want to give them any personal leverage. But you can’t put that anywhere in writing. Even in an encrypted message to Adrian. It’d be too dangerous for both of you. 

“Wait - are you saying you’re falling for me?”

You freeze- your mouth opens stupidly as you reread your last message. Shit.

“Because Birdie I fell for you the first time I saw your burst someone’s head open with your sonic scream. You’re the hottest, most badass person I’ve ever met. And if you feel even sort of the same way, it would be stupid to ignore it- right?”

Blackbird: I think it’s stupid to even discuss it. We shouldn’t get attached when I live on another continent x

“Yeah but you’ll only live there if you actually survive!” he says with newfound enthusiasm “There’s like a really high chance we’ll both die pretty soon.”

Blackbird: And if we’re both fortunate enough to live? x

“Eh,” he shrugs “Sounds like a problem for future us to worry about. No point dwelling on hypotheticals.”

You wrinkle your nose but butterflies dance in your tummy with excitement. Okay, we’re doing this…. and if we both live long enough for me to go home, we can call it a summer fling and move on.

Blackbird: Fuck it. If we’re gonna die we might as well hook up a few more times… :) x

Adrian rolls onto his back and punches the air “Go out with a bang. Literally.” he pauses “Are you going to start putting two x’s at the end of your texts to me now?” 

You pull up your keyboard. 

Blackbird: Yes xxxxx

Chapter 3: The Spy Who Came Out in the Cold

[twilight-deviant]

Fisk in Echo

Wanted to make a long post detailing my personal thoughts on Fisk's representation in the Echo series. I won't comment a lot on the series as a whole. It was good. Not gonna call it my new favorite show or say it breathed new life into an MCU that seems like it wants to die. But a good watch. Even if I did hope it would break more of the MCU mold with its MA rating.

But Fisk! Put Vincent D'Onofrio's Wilson Grant Fisk on my screen, and I'm there, bells on.

This is just... a dumb long post I had to write for me. You can read it or parts of it if you want.

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

1x01

Willie on Willie Violence

They're never gonna tells us why MCU Fisk had Ronin kill Maya's dad. Stop asking. They're not gonna say. No, they're not gonna tell us why Clint did what Fisk asked either. I said stop asking.

They really reduced what could have been an important relationship between Fisk and Willie into literally nothing. Per the comics, he was Fisk's first friend ever, his enforcer. Nothing? NOTHING?! Also they changed his last name from Lincoln to Lopez. (Apparently, heroes can only be born from a married, two-parent household? Didn't know the MCU was Catholic.) "How much agency can you remove from one man?" MCU asks and answers.

I'm not saying the comics knock it out of the park with motive. The reason Fisk kills him is still vague. (Meaning the MCU had the chance to pick up the slack but just left it there.) Vague is still better than ignoring it entirely.

I assume comic Fisk was betrayed by him in some way. And while it doesn't take much provocation for him to kill his employees, I like to assume the motive was a little more substantial for a friend.

This is why these series need to be treated like television (instead of long movies) and given more than a handful of episodes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Maya vs Daredevil

A pretty good fight scene, definitely. Even if it is intercut with special effects instead of practical effects. I've seen people make that complaint, and it's valid. I can't decide if the inclusion of a fight between them is meant to be a bone thrown to Daredevil fans, a nod to their fight in the DD comics with Echo's origin, or both. 🤔 But since this is a post about Fisk and I'm a Fisk/Matt shipper, moving on.

Ehehehehehehe~ 😈

"None of my men have ever held their own with him like that. You did better than even I expected."

So... in preparation for DD: Born Again, I have been (and honestly, still am) unsure of where the canon will be coming from. Disney recently pushed the Netflix-verse as legitimate, but I know it has to have a point where that will break off. There's no way it can be a 1:1 continuation. So while we can be a little more bold injecting DD canon into the MCU, I'm not getting carried away yet.

Anyway, the uncertainty of Born Again has made my shipper heart wonder where/when Fisk and Matt's relationship will be. Until Echo, I questioned if it would be scorched earth, start all over, meet for the first time again. But Fisk's line establishes he is at least aware of Daredevil. They have some form of history. I'm interested and anxiously waiting for specifics to unfold. ✪ω✪

In the meantime, it's nice having confirmation that both Fisk and Matt survived Thanos's Snap and existed in those 5 years. 😈 Not only does that play into the hand of my current fanfic, it doesn't outright contradict it either. In fact, it's kind of fun imagining an AU where Matt works with Fisk and then laying it over this Echo scene. Daredevil just so happens to be at a location stalking Fisk's competition? On the same night Fisk sends in his daughter*? Hm. Suspect. Certainly he's not ensuring her safety by sending no-kill boy. 🤔🧐 Ignore me. I'm making an AU of my AU over here. 😂

*[I actually have a hard time letting go of Fisk's role as an adoptive father in the comics versus "uncle" in the shows. I can't let this go. Maybe even... won't let this go?]

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1x04

2008

So here's a very small nod that even I missed at first. In Maya's 2007 past (in Hawkeye and Echo), she is attending a regular, non-deaf school. Her dad says it's because they can't afford better. (Surely there are programs with grants? Whatever.) Now cut to 2008. Fisk picks her up from school, showing that she is on his radar and he is taking a more active role in her life. A testament to that? Maya is now wearing the uniform (with crest) of a private school.

Fisk isn't the best at love, and there's no denying that. (Look at Richard's life.) But it also can't be denied that he immediately took an interest in Maya and improving her situation. He loves in his own way.

-

Anyway... so this scene confirmed with its "2008" that Fisk has been active in New York for yeeeears. Literally since the beginning of the MCU itself. I won't say it changes a lot since DD 1x01 mentions the Chitauri Invasion of 2012 and how Fisk grew parts of his empire with construction companies rebuilding from it. But confirmation is nice, ya know. And it shows that even though Fisk's name was unspoken in 2015, he had already been in some form of power for at least 7 years.

-

And then, of course, the whole "beat up the ice cream man" thing. 🍿 I mean, again, Fisk's methods are not always right, but he will protect those he cares about and punish those who hurt them. And he will be excessive about it. RIP Anatoly. 💐

I see people, even writers, make excuses for Maya's action in this scene, for kicking the man. "Children watch and copy everything." Sometimes, yes, but children know the difference between right and wrong. Children don't just mimic bad actions. What I'm saying is I'm not going to pretend Maya didn't have a touch of dark side in her with or without Fisk.

There's no denying she is much darker and more ruthless than her comic counterpart. My mouth was quite agape to see her hurt the woodpecker and then lie about it. (There's a certain classification of people who hurt animals as children. 🤔) Not even Fisk was prepared for that part of her. Calling for another jacket, telling her not to be afraid. He thought of how other children would react and got it wrong. He wasn't wrong to think she would have an aptitude for bloodshed in her adult life.

I love Fisk calling her out in this episode, that she always knew what he was and that she killed for him without compunction. There was no remorse in the flashbacks. Per Fisk's own words: "You knew what you were part of at every turn. All the people you killed for me, did you plead for their lives?" There was no disgust towards Fisk until she found out he had her father killed. One of the (I think) producers of the show says he considers Maya a villain. Aight. I think she's more of an anti-hero now, but I wouldn't call MCU Maya an outright hero, I don't think. Remains to be seen what she does with herself.

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2021

Me watching the interpreter taken away: "Not the plastic hallway!" 🙈😂

DD S3 Fisk really found an MO he could live with. lol. No one else can but...

This old man is adorable wanting to have weekly dinners with his daughter. (✿◠‿◠) You definitely leave a girl wondering where Vanessa (even a recast Vanessa) is, but okay. Now invite your other three kids on Sunday. Pfft.

I can't believe the MCU made Fisk switch out his beloved Bach for Schubert's Ständchen. 🤣🎧 (That's okay. I actually like it more. Shh.)

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The Man in Red

Is it such a silly stupid thing for me to grin about the fact that the first time we "officially" see Fisk in the series, he is wearing red? Yes it is silly and stupid. Imma grin anyway. 🙃

Sir, that is... that is Daredevil's color. Sir. Sir! 😆 (Fisk said, "Daredevil wore white in the comics. Something must be done.")

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Fisk Not Learning ASL

Okay so...

I think this is one of my two big sticking points in Echo's writing for him. I've already ranted to my friend about it over several texts. Fisk spoke more sign language in Hawkeye than he did in this series, and it's not like the why is some big mystery. It's sloppy writing, right? Right. It's a shortcut to contrast Maya's family in Fisk versus her biological family. Writers were like, "What's a quick, easy way we can show Maya's family does care for her more than Fisk even though they abandoned her after her mother and father died and offer nothing for it but an, 'I'm sorry'? Ooh, I know!"

Chula hated Willie enough to blame him for Taloa's death and cast him out at the cost of losing her granddaughter. "I'm sorry." Henry left her in NYC after Willie was killed, even knowing he was leaving her with Fisk. "I'm sorry." But everyone still speaks fluent sign language after 20 years, so they're better than Fisk. Did you get that? We want to make it very, very clear so you get that. 🙄

I have trouble conveying my frustration with this writing choice in words. At the very least, it's "tell, don't show." I don't need it spelled out that ordinary people are better than a serial murder crime boss. Neon sign flashing "Duh!" No one needed that spelled out!

And It was bad enough how blatant they were being, okay, but when they had Maya mention it outright at the end, word-for-word conclusion, oof. It's so... novice league. I almost get secondhand embarrassment from their ham-fisted delivery. Geez.

This man speaks Mandarin, Japanese, and some Spanish. For personal interest. He could learn ASL. You can believe the absolute worst in him and still believe he'd learn it as a method of manipulation, to make Maya think he cared. You actually have a larger burden of proof coming up with any reason why he wouldn't learn. "He doesn't care enough about her." Where's that judging cat picture saying "Pathetic"? I mean, I can sit here all day pointing over and over again at the fact he spoke more ASL in Hawkeye. So he... regressed... between series because he cares... less for her now?

Wait... he suffered a gunshot to the head. You don't think... *gasp* Maya hit the exact spot of his brain that held sign language? It's all coming together.

Uuuuuuuuuuuugh. We all have those bad writing moments we just ignore, and this is one of mine. Echo wanted a villain but they were too afraid of humanizing the one they yoinked from Daredevil. Get on their level, you cowards.

No one will ever touch your perfection, DD S1, my beloved.

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Sunday Thursday Dinner

Do not let this man into your home. 🚫 He will look at your family photos and identify all of your weak spots.

jk I do very much enjoy Fisk's wide wandering eyes as he walks around the house, observing. It's so good. It reminds me (if anyone else knows the overlap here) of Vincent's character in Law & Order: Criminal Intent. Goren goes into a room and immediately studies any picture or book or object he can, learning everything about a person. It's exactly what Fisk was doing here, even if for reasons less than wholesome. I love when you can see the wheels turning in a character's brain.

I can appreciate a subtle flipping of authority between dinners. Fisk at the head of the table with Maya to his right and then the reverse of that. Nice.

Before this, if you said, "Yeah, I think Wilson Fisk would have a floral print picnic basket," you were LYING! No one could have predicted this bag. No one! You might counter with, "Yeah, but he didn't pick it out. A goon just put everything in there and handed it to him." Would you do that? Would you risk your life handing the Kingpin of all crime up the east coast a floral bag? You are so brave. You will be missed.

-

So there actually are a few bits of the show that make me think, "Okay, maybe Echo writers did watch Daredevil." It's The Little Things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ When he brought wine, then Maya poured it out and he asked, "What happened to the Lafite?" I was ready to go "Rawr nooo. Fisk's character is supposed to be almost wine illiterate as a nod to his poor, uncultured origin." But wow, they saved it with his very next line being, "It came highly recommended." Okay, Echo. Echo, okay. For this, you get a point.

-

Handing the knife to Maya, so... mwah. 💋 It's arrogant, sure, and I'd be lying to say I hated that. But more than that, Fisk really is good at reading and predicting people. Forget muscle strength, THAT is his greatest asset. And he's not wrong. Maya doesn't (then or later) hurt or try to kill him again. He knows what it's like to let emotion take hold in the moment. That's why he understands and dismisses Maya shooting him. But he also knows she has a clearer head now. He feels no danger from her, knows she doesn't really want him dead. And he's right.

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Casino

"I can't remember a time... when I haven't loved you like a daughter."

I'm glad someone finally said it. Boo on the uncle/niece bit. Not to mention how many motifs of this series hit better and harder with a father/daughter relationship. Tsk tsk.

-

An interesting exchange here...

Maya: "You isolated me. Told me you were the only one I could trust. But it was all a lie. Even with these contacts, you got them because you didn't care enough to learn to sign." Fisk: "I was there for you!"

✨He is not wrong.✨ Obligatory groan at the ASL mention and... He's not wrong. Like I mentioned earlier, Maya's family abandoned her. Literally the only person who tried to keep up with her was Bonnie (angel), and Maya shunned her. (Which wasn't Fisk's influence because we see her ignoring Bonnie's texts before Fisk had a hand in swaying her one way or the other.) Maya was isolated because her family abandoned her or she cut them off. And Fisk. was. there. for. her. Without him, she seemed intent on ruining her life and getting arrested.

Granted, you'd be justified saying she wouldn't have been in that particular spiral without Fisk killing her father. (Too bad we'll never know why he did it.) But Willie could have died in a manner completely unrelated to Fisk, and her family would have reacted in the same way, not reaching out or being ignored when they do. Do you see what I'm saying? Fisk legitimately was the only person in Maya's life besides her father.

-

I think about... the people Fisk has told the story of his father's death to, speaking as if this is a true continuation of Daredevil. That would be Wesley (not shown but a given). Vanessa when he wants her to understand him and his past. And Dex, as he pulls the man back from the brink in an effort to make Dex see their similarity and how no one else could understand him like Fisk. (Other people know about it, of course, but I'm concerned with those whom he trusted to tell.)

It seems like the motivation swings between intimate trust and manipulation. Or it could be both with Dex. Honestly, who can read Fisk's mind with absolute clarity? Either way, it's a very small group. It's not insignificant that he tells Maya.

-

Love Fisk doubling down on "Maya won't kill me." Tripling down? First the knife. Then leaving himself completely unguarded with the door open while she has a gun. Then giving her the hammer and daring her. It feels less arrogant than with the knife though. He still knows she won't kill him, but it also feels less... certain here. But I like him using it as a challenge, as a "Now or never." Kill him already, or stop threatening it every five minutes. Very Fisk of him. 👌

I can't... articulate what his choice of words means to me, but they clutch at my chest as he says, "Free me!" Killing him will not only free Maya to move forward in her life, it will free him. Babygirl, how much do you hate this life you're in? ಥ_ಥ

I think I need to make another Daredevil/Echo gifset. With Fisk here saying, "Free me!" against him daring Matt in 3x13, "Come on, kill me!" (Wilson, do we need to put you on a watch?)

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The Little Things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I like confirmation that Fisk has a jet in the MCU. There's tiny mention of it in Daredevil 1x11. I want to see the jet. Yes, thank you. I don't know what I'll do with this, but I like having it.

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

1x05

Post Office

I'm sooooooooo normal about that old man. Really I am.

I like this scene. No real reason. But it is nice to watch socially handicapped Wilson try and conduct conversation like a normal person. Helping Chula pick up the mail.

I am VERY interested in a blink-and-you-miss-it line from him here. After Chula mentions losing her daughter.

"Yes, I've lost someone who I loved. It's the kind of pain you never quite get over."

*whom

I am gnawing at my keyboard. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! Is it referencing something we should already know? Is it a nod to something yet to come, something Born Again will expand on? Is he just talking about how he "lost" Maya? Is it about his father? Is Vanessa dead in this universe??? What does it meeeeeeean?!?!?!?!

["Tell me!" Loki gif]

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Attempted Murder Spree

My second big beef.

I'm not gonna argue whether Fisk would kill people unconnected to his criminal underworld in order to hurt the ones that are. No, I think they got that part pretty accurate. Evidence abounds in comics and Netflix-verse. If he wants to kill Chula and Bonnie to punish Maya, I'd only ask why he didn't go ahead and round up Henry. This plan totally plays. (Actually, if we used only existing Hawkeye content for this MCU Fisk, it would be... less likely. He didn't threaten or go after Kate at all to get at Eleanor.)

What I find ridiculous is the notion he would attempt a massacre of the entire festival. Uh... what? Someone find me a single instance (comic or screen) where Fisk attempts such widespread death and destruction of innocents. By that, I mean with innocents as the intended target and not collateral damage.

When he bombed the Russians in DD 1x05, people were hurt, but from fallout, not intent. Though there are injuries, I'm trying to think if we get more than one confirmation of death. I don't doubt there may have been more, but... And you may want to point at the attack on The Bulletin, but, though terrifying, only three people died. And I'd posit the extra two were most likely to obfuscate that Jasper Evans was the real target. Unless we want to say Bullseye (Bulls-eye) missed a dozen times.

Anyway, I think this over-the-top plot point is us witnessing an MCU-ification of Fisk. Something they need to quash NOW. It's like... gah, they admit they want his character and want him to be a smaller scale villain, a "street-level Thanos," but they still want the high stakes of "aliens are killing citizens en masse." Well, no. You don't get it both ways. And it shouldn't be that way. Smaller scale means a smaller scale. Reduce everything but write it well enough that you still get that same feeling of anxiety and dread.

The episode plays exactly the same without that bit of OOC overreach. (All it did was give Henry and Biscuits something to do in the climax.) Like... literally. You can cut those scenes without affecting anything. Does that sound like good writing? No. Just like with the ASL bit, I think the burden lies on writers explaining WHY he would do this instead of acting like it's obvious and natural. And just because Maya turned him down? He'll massacre dozens of people? I, for one, am not convinced.

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The Trauma of It All

I already talked a bit about Fisk's experience being "healed" by Maya in this post. (By the way, was I the only one expecting it to heal his eye too? Ah well.) I could talk more on my annoyance of super powers that just do whatever the writers want them to in any given situation. But I breathe, center myself, and appreciate what I have been given.

I was pretty disappointed in Fisk's writing the whole episode (see point directly above) until this point. They got me back on board. They made a good decision with this final conflict and NOT having it be a physical one. While it makes Echo's writing feel all over the board, dehumanizing Fisk and the humanizing him again, looking at this one aspect feels so good for his character, for anyone who enjoyed his character before this series. Echo, you get... two points.

Visually, I love it so much. Except for the part where I want to take in every single detail of Fisk's childhood bedroom, but they cranked the fog machine too high. I see he is a Yankees fan (But what about those Mets, Spider-Man?) There's a toy helicopter in the window, a toy airplane on the chest of drawers, and a picture of a plane. Was anyone going to tell me little Wilson likes aircrafts or... There's a jar of marbles, jar of little animals. Very normal, cute room for a boy. Despite the disrepair and decay in the walls. This feels like it leans so much closer to Fisk's outright childhood poverty in the comics than just being lower class in DD.

OBVIOUSLY, I *chef's kiss* at the wonderful homage to the white wall/painting. High school English teachers could have a field day examining the symbolism. In DD 1x03, Fisk says the painting makes him feel "alone," and that emotion is perfectly captured here. We hear his parents on the other side of the wall, in the other room, but Wilson is alone in his bedroom, wanting it to stop.

I hate/love the despair and pain Fisk has being back here. I would never trauma dump on the internet. I'll just say Wilson Fisk continues to be a very relatable character for me. He is, all joking aside, very special to me, personally. And moments like this only strengthen the love I have for him. Also makes me want to slap around Fisk haters who refuse to take the time to understand him. Bah.

A small thing I like is that Fisk seems able to fully understand Maya in here. Whether because he just, ya know, understands ASL (she unlocked the sign language he forgot since Hawkeye ◉o◉), or because thought transcends speech inside his head, you decide.

(づ￣ 3￣)づ

I could speak for thousands of words and never finish conveying how much I love this scene. It was a very good call to go this route.

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I Am Petting the Loyal Henchman

The guy who helps Fisk, who points a gun at Maya, pulls him away, and puts him in a car before the police arrive?

This guy?

Give him a raise. He's very important to me, I decided. I'm going to call him Carl.

What are you about, Carl? Are you in it for the paycheck, or are you loyal to the boss? There is a Wesley-shaped hole in my heart that will never fill.

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Mayor Fisk

Obviously excited for Mayor Fisk arc. There are a couple comic plots I've wanted to see Daredevil explore, and that's probably at the top of the list. (There is also Fisk and Matt working together in prison, but I'm less than hopeful we'll ever see it on screen.) I have so many questions about Fisk being mayor.

Do you think he'll still offer the job of Deputy Mayor to Matt??? Can he win honestly, or will he cheat? Can they show Fisk stealing an election without referencing ANY current events in the real world? Will the election be at the start of the series or mid-point, or will they save it (hopefully not) for a finale? Will they use this to set up future plots with Fisk?

I'm all abuzz with anticipation.

Only... over a year to Daredevil: Born Again! ╰(*°▽°*)╯

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

On the very off chance you read all of this post or skimmed it and didn't see me address something you're curious of my opinion on, idk, just let me know. I'll ramble all day. Clearly.

[mejomonster]

I have branched off from Yakuza games and am now playing Judgement

1 this game is so fucking pretty

2 Ryu ga gotoku games are like. 1/3 fun weird do what you want slice of life 1/3 serious deadly angst crime drama 1/3 cutscenesssss (the movies so many movies and I'm used to kingdom hearts level cutscenes but damn rgg games feel like I'm Playing a yakuza TV show sometimes for both good and bad)

3 Yagami wears skinny jeans I'm calling him a millennial (although he may be Gen x and older than me? Depends how much younger he is than kiryu I guess o3o) I just think it's funny I'm playing this adult private detective in a white undershirt a leather jacket and skinny jeans he just looks like me in college lmao. U roll up to the yakuza family who paid ur lawyer degree and can commit crimes while ur fucking Ace Attorney Phoenix Wright who accidentally got a real serial killer acquitted and u look like a bisexual college disaster. Congrats. Ur really rocking A Specific Vibe my dude. Nothing like Kiryus "I'm wearing my 80s suit forever or else a Hawaiian flower shirt" vibe but definitely A Distinct one. It makes Yagami feel way more modern but like... My age group modern rather than the gen z modern kid who probably just turned 18 when this came out

4 Yagami. I'm a gay shdjfj I'm sorry death note did this to me. It's beyond hilarious to me he's got a same last name as Light Yagami thank FUCK this Yagami is an ex lawyer and now private eye. If he'd have been yet another cop I would've well. Dreaded his potential as anything but evil frankly. Even Date, Kiryus bro, quit the force to be a journalist (at least for a while).

5 finally a return to form in the sense there's MULTIPLE CUTE MEN ON SCREEN. Yakuza 0, Kiwami 1, Kiwami 2 all basically gave u hot leads and hot bad guys. Basically if a fucker was hot and not ur best friend then he was gonna be the main villain. Then I played Yakuza 7 Like a Dragon and for the most part very few hotties (saeko, tianyou, the guy with white hair, and maybe ichiban if you happen to like that kinda guy but if u didn't think kiryu was eyecandy then ichiban isnt really either). I'm glad there's now like at least 1 cutie on screen again at all times. Cause I can be shallow sometimes. Djdjf also the pick for Yagamis coworker ex yakuza guy is like nishiki eye candy compared to the kiryu/ichiban variety (which I love with my whole heart but it's not oogle type). His coworker is like akiyama or Tachibana or majima design wise. It's <3 and with a flowery kiryu type shirt but long sleeved and silky

6 I am still reeling that ur basically playing Phoenix Wright if he fucked up and saved a serial killer. But still impressive u know, to win as a defense attorney in Japan with that 99.9 conviction rate (also kudos to the game saying it immediately). I wonder if Yagami has his own Edgeworth? (God but not shinitani his sempai nooo not him he's introduced to early! Tho... u could argue he's his lawyer rival kinda).

7 playing all evening I still haven't found any side missions? I hope this game still has side stories??

8 I actually love the detective portions which I imagine annoyed some people but I love being a little fucking detective figuring stuff out it's why I love Devil Summoner Raidou game and mystery shows and novels and its just fun to me puts a little spice on a murder mystery story shdhd in yakuza games kiryu just hears a bitch dies, now I get to go figure out if the fucker actually killed someone. It's fun to be in like a random outsiders shoes while functionally the same opening to Yakuza 0 happens where kiryu doesn't kill a guy but is suspected. Except instead of playing the suspect, u play the outsider trying to figure out who's actually dropping ppl dead in kamurocho. It's a nice fresh perspective shift on a pretty common plot occurrence in the yakuza games.

[brooklynbear32]

Chapter 2: Confession

Pairing: Chris Evans/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Read the full fic on AO3 or view the tumblr masterlist

Chris is sitting at the table of the trailer's small kitchenette, typing away on a laptop. His eyebrows arch as he looks up from his work, clearly surprised to see you.

"Hey, so, they're not gonna get the rig fixed tonight," you say, glancing at him for as little time as possible without being blatantly rude. "We're not going to get to your scene until tomorrow morning, so you're done for the day now." You finish your news with a long look at your clipboard, as if checking the schedule you know by heart, and turn to leave.

"Wait a second." Chris says before you can touch the door handle.

You turn around and force yourself to make eye contact, wondering if you could get away with looking at his forehead instead. He looks sad, like a kicked puppy.

"Did I do something?" He asks, the words pleading. He closes his laptop and leans towards you. "Everyone talks about how warm and friendly you are, but you barely look at me. If I said something or did something to make you uncomfortable, I'm really sorry."

You stare at the floor, unable to continue looking at the sincerity on his face. For a second, you consider pushing back, maybe saying something like, "Oh, because it's all about you, isn't it!?" That would make him back off. You know it would. But you just can't.

"You didn't do anything." You sigh, looking him in the eye, trying to convince him. "You're fine. Really. It's, uh, there's something going on with me and I've been taking it out on you. It's not fair to you and I'm sorry."

You slump down on the chair nearest the door, your confession taking your last bit of energy away. God, you should have known you couldn't make it through the film shoot without humiliating yourself.

Chris nodded through your explanation, but now he just looks confused. His eyebrows crinkle in thought, exactly in that way you find so irresistible.

"Okay, well, do you want to talk about it?" He offers, unbelievably kindly, especially considering how rude you have been. Your eyes prickle in shame. "My sisters like to tell everyone that they're the reason I'm a good listener, but I'm not anywhere near as good as my mom. Wait!" He's noticed the tears in your eyes and is clearly starting to panic. "I could call her! Whatever it is you're going through, she'd know what to say!"

How does this keep getting worse? Chris is starting to reach for his phone now so you have to stop him.

"No, please, it's fine! I'm fine." You promise, making yourself take a big breath and forcing a smile. "It's stupid. It's really stupid and no one needs to worry about me and in two weeks we'll be done filming and never see each other again and it'll all be fine."

The rambling words came out of you so fast that you had barely processed what you had said when you saw his face fall.

"So it is about me?" He's almost accusatory, leaning towards you like he'd done minutes ago, but with none of the warmth of before. "You said it'll all be fine once we don't see each other anymore. So what's going on, Sunshine?"

Hearing him say your name, but in a voice more like a sneer, breaks you.

"It's about sex, okay?" You admit, your embarrassment so strong it turns into anger, and suddenly you’re yelling, furious. "I've got this stupid, broken body that doesn't respond to anything sexual except you! For years, the only way I've been able to feel the things that are totally fucking normal for everyone else is to look at you or think about you. And that was okay when you weren't in my life, when you were basically just a character on a screen, but having to work with you and talk with you like you aren't the only fucking reason I've ever been able to orga-"

Your voice cracks and you can't say anything more. Chris is shocked, his eyes huge, his enormous body leaning away from you like you slapped him.

The trailer is silent for long enough that you're starting to think about moving to Venezuela and changing your name. Or throwing up. You can't believe that you actually said that. Any of it. Oh God. Maybe you are going to throw up.

And then Chris starts laughing, clutching his chest just like you've seen him do in interviews, and your anger is back.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you snarl. "I'll see myself out now that you know how pathetic I am." You're out of your chair and reaching for the door, but he’s moving, too, and grabs your arm. He's gentle, so gentle, but you still can't look at him.

"Sunshine, I don't think you're pathetic."

You look at him, and all you see is sincerity. He takes his hand off your arm but holds it out near you, like he’s calming a skittish animal, which - okay, that’s pretty accurate right now if unflattering.

"I spent this whole month thinking you were repulsed by me!” He’s smiling now, and you realize that his laugh was out of relief, not scorn. “Everyone on set loves you and talks about how kind and helpful you are, and I've spent all this time trying to figure out what I could have done to make you hate me. When I couldn’t think of anything, I thought you must just be this amazing judge of character that could see something really awful in me.”

“Yeah, it’s just about the opposite of that,” you manage to croak. Maybe you should sit down again. You’re not entirely sure this is really happening, but you don’t normally feel so sweaty in your dreams. You sit back in the same chair as before. Chris pulls the other chair closer to you, so you’re sitting nearly knee-to-knee. He leans forward, close enough that you can see each fleck of gold around his pupils.

“Sunshine, I'm going to tell you something important: no one has any control over who or what they find hot. You know Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother, right? I once had a sex dream about her. Not Helena Bonham Carter in the new one! The animated Fairy Godmother in the blue cape from the 50s. She’s the least sexual character I can think of but something in my subconscious just –" He trails off, shaking his head, like he doesn’t have the words for how strong and confusing the feelings are.

“Sure, but at least you’re never going to have to work with her,” you remind him because, somehow, he’s calmed you down enough that you’re smiling.

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, “But I’d like to think she’d be cool about it if she found out. Maybe flattered, or even intrigued.”

The gold in his eyes has disappeared. Wait, is he turned on?

“What I’m not as sure about, “ Chris says, biting the tip of one finger as if carefully considering, “Is what I’d want her to do if she found out. Like, would I want her to just be respectful and never bring it up again? Because that would definitely be the professional thing to do. Or – would I want her to ask me about it?”

Your mouth is dry. You can feel your heart pounding. You know this isn’t hypothetical; he’s putting the ball in your court, letting you choose what happens next. But could he really be offering what you think he’s offering?

“It would depend on what she’d ask, I imagine.” You say, slowly. “What do you think she’d want to know?”

Your eyes lock together. You feel powerless, like you’re tumbling towards something inevitable, but somehow you feel strangely powerful, too. This is clearly affecting him. You are affecting him.

“I think she’d have so many questions she wouldn’t know where to start.” Chris answers, his voice deep, sexy. He's staring you down, like a cheetah waiting for a gazelle to move before it starts the chase. Then he smiles, and leans back in his chair. You almost fall forward, like your body was pulled towards his, to keep the distance between you small.

“Ah, I know what she’d say.” He gestures with the finger that had been in his mouth, as if indicating a lightbulb turning on.

“What?” You whisper, no air left in your lungs. And then he answers:

“I want to watch.”

Next chapter

Taglist: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[little-fics]

Bee

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Stucky x Reader; platonic!uncle!Tony

Summary: Reader is teetering the edge of a slip when her buddies Sam and Clint are mean to her, daddy stucky to the rescue

Warnings: age regression, scary bees, bottle, pacifier, anxiety, a little violence, angry!Steve (not at you), mean!sam and mean!clint, I may have missed some, read at your own risk

Word count: 2.2K

A/N: I had fun with this one! I hope you like it!

Disclaimer for my blog!

Life with Bucky and Steve was great, you'd officially been together for about a year, and they'd been your daddies about half that time. You didn't always regress, just when the world got a little too big and you needed to leave it all behind. The avengers didn't know about your coping mechanism, at your own request, save for Tony who has programmed Friday to detect when you're little and were about to do something that babies shouldn't do, such as cooking or showering because babies makes messes and get hurt. It was something you'd kept private and to yourself for a long time, and it took months to feel comfortable enough to talk with Steve and Bucky about it. You weren't always feeling little, and had the capability of being a very vital part to the team, but on your days off, it was easy to find yourself slipping into that headspace.

That's how you got to sitting on the balcony, slowly slipping into that headspace after a difficult mission. You'd woken up between Steve and Bucky, crawling out of the bed quietly, not quite feeling small but you know it's coming. Clint and Sam find you outside, sunbathing and staring at the clouds. Sam is the first one to come outside, Clint following close behind.

"Mornin' sunshine," Sam sits next to you, Clint moving to the other side of you, relaxing in his seat, Sam holding out a glass to you, "want some lemonade? I know that coffee makes you jittery on your days off." You take the glass, smiling at the yellow straw poking up from the top, "Thank you! And a straw!" You twiddle with it gently, pulling it out to take a sip. "Gosh," your shoulders sag and your head leans back in ecstasy, "Clint's lemonade is the best, thank you." Clint pointedly looks at Sam, smug, "Why thank you Y/n, I'm blushing." Sam scoffs, "You wouldn't have even made it if I didn't beg!" Clint shrugs, "I made food," he looks to you, "speaking of," he has you a plate with a sausage and egg biscuit. You tentatively take it from him, "Oh thank you, are you sure?" Clint laughs, leaning back in his seat, "Yeah, honey, me and Sam already had some."

Once you finish your biscuit, you're back to staring at the pretty sky, sipping on your lemonade listening to Sam and Clint bicker back and forth. A bee comes out of nowhere, eliciting a small yelp from you and you're quickly standing from your seat. They're laughing, which hurt your feelings, the fear of the bee causing you to slip fully. You try to go inside but hear Sam speak to the AI, "Friday, lock patio doors under code Falcon," before you make it to the door. When you pull on it the door won't budge. "Sam," your voice is meek, "that's not funny," you whine and shake the door again, getting nervous over the buzzing around your lemonade on the table. "Friday, open the door." Clint laughs again, "It's just a bee, you've been shot before and you can't handle a bee?" A tear slips down your face, and you feel your heartbeat pick up.

You shake on the door, trying to get away from your mean friends, wiping a tear away, "Open the door Sam." He's laughing, he thinks this is funny, "It's just a bee, it'll be gone in a minute Y/n, it's fine." You shake the door more violently, and it's clear Sam wasn't going to open the door. You bring your hand to the bracelet that lays around your wrist, a fail safe if something is wrong, to immediately notify Steve and Bucky that you need them. You find the tiny sun charm, pressing the tiny button that notifies your daddies of your state of mind and that you're in trouble, different from the other charm, a moon, who notifies your boyfriends of an emergency.

Bucky is the first one to hear Friday, "Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers," he groans groggily, "Friday, it's too early for this, what is it?" Bucky reaches over to find just Steve, no tiny baby to love on as he hears Friday once more, "I am sorry Mr. Barnes, but it seems munchkin has requested your presence with signs of distress." Bucky's eyes snap open at the use of the programmed name for when you're in your little space, throwing the covers off and slapping Steve's shoulder. "Bucky, what the-" Steve stops when he realizes that Bucky is already out the door, he's quickly behind him, not bothering to put a shirt on, as Bucky hadn't.

"Friday, where is munchkin?" Bucky spits, FRIDAY speaking up once more, "Munchkin is on the patio with Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barton." Their brows crunch together in confusion, Steve finally speaking up on their way to the patio, sleep still heavy in his voice, "Is something wrong?" Bucky shrugs nervously, "Friday said she was showing signs of distress." The system speaks up once more, "That is correct. Munchkin's heart rate seems to be elevated and she is showing signs of high stress. She notified me by her emergency contact Sun Ray." At this, Bucky and Steve speed up, trying to get to you as quickly as possible.

The bee is still there, attracted not only to the lemonade, but the brightly colored pajamas keeping its attention as it flies back and forth between you and the lemonade. When it flies towards you, you hide in the corner of the patio, screaming, running to the other corner to hide from it when it follows you, a tear streaking down your face. Sam sees the stray tear, immediately his stomach sinking while you're piddling with your bracelet, ignoring the tears on your face, not hearing Sam when he stands and calls out gently, "Friday unlock the doors." Sam's in front of you, "Let's go inside, come on." When he reaches for you, you flinch back from him, causing his heart to break a little. You're now frantically pushing the button on your charm.

"Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, munchkin has sent a distress call 13 times, up to 17, 23," and then they're at the doors to the patio, slinging them open.

Bucky takes in your appearance, you look afraid, tears freely streaming down your face, now surrounded by Clint and Sam, who are violently moved by Bucky. He's lifting you by your thighs, bringing them around his waist, glaring at Sam and Clint before carrying you inside. When you're back inside, feeling the rush of AC, you let loose, heavy thick tears falling with sobs. "Shhh my little bunny, I've got you."

Steve remains on the porch, staring at a shell shocked Sam and Clint, "What happened?" They shrug, "It was just a bee, we didn't know it would scare her so bad." Steve rolls his eyes at the men, following Bucky back to your room. When he gets there, you're straddling Bucky on the bed, hands tucked under you, fists balled up tightly, hiccuping sobs. "'S mean," Bucky is rubbing your back, shushing softly while you try to explain what happened, "wouldn't let me 'nside daddy, I try." More sobs erupt from you, Steve's brow furrowing, wondering what you meant.

"Friday, show me what happened with munchkin on the patio before Sun Ray was activated." He watches as the TV screen starts playing the scene, fury creeping up in his bones, while Bucky continued to console you, but matching the fire Steve has in his eyes. Steve saunters out of the room when the TV shuts off, heading straight for Sam and Clint. Bucky holds you closer when you whimper, "Oh doll, dada will be right back, he's just gonna go get you something to drink." You continue to sob, you refused to take your pacifier, dropping it out of your mouth every time he tried to put it in, sobs not allowing it to stay. "Baby baby baby, you're okay, that little bee isn't gonna getcha in here, only daddy." He tries to tickle you, but you just sob louder. He's thankful for the soundproof walls, knowing you don't like to draw attention.

Steve finds Sam and Clint in the common room with Nat and Tony. Tony stands when he sees Steve, anger on his face still shirtless. Steve comes up from behind Sam and Clint, grabbing their shirts roughly, pulling them up and off the couch, feet dangling a foot above the floor, turning them to face him. They're shouting, trying to get Steve to let go. Tony is trying to pull Sam away from him, Nat trying to hit his weak spots so he will drop Clint but he doesn't budge.

"Did you think it was funny?" Steve spits, bringing his face closer to theirs, "Did you? You think it was funny when she cried? Think it was funny when she screamed and pulled on the door? How would you feel huh? If someone laughed at you because you were scared? If your friends laughed at you?" Tony and Nat are confused, "Steve calm down, what happened?" Steve scowls, overpowering the men easily as he turns them around, still holding them in the air. "Friday, pull up the patio clip and my bedroom feed on the common room television."

"Voice identification confirmed. One moment." The video starts playing, but all they can hear are your sobs, not able to hear the small consoling your daddy is trying or the talk from the patio clip as it plays. "Is it still funny bird boy? Is it still funny when you know you're the reason she's like this? No? Good." Steve throws them down on the couch, Tony is furious, Nat is scolding them, and Steve's on his way into the kitchen.

Tony follows Steve after shutting off the video feed, Nat still scolding the two perpetrators. Steve is piddling around, heating up some milk in the microwave. "You okay man?" Tony asks, placing a hand on his back, when Steve glares at him Tony sighs. "Man you can't go back to her seething like this." Steve lets out a huff, "I've never wanted to throttle someone like I do right now." He grabs the milk from the microwave, mixing some hot chocolate power in it, something that frequently happens when you're having a very bad day. Tony hands Steve a bottle, hidden in a thin cabinet, only unlocked by four people in the tower; Uncle Tony, your daddies, and you. "She's your baby, and she hasn't stopped crying because her buddies were mean to her and she doesn't understand, if you go in there angry, she will think you're mad at her." Tony chides, Steve, resonating with Tony's words, takes a deep breath, filling up your bottle and continuing to shake it. "Want me to come cheer her up with you?" Steve sighs, "Let us calm her down a bit, get her feeling right and we'll play some games later yeah?" Tony starts to rummage through the fridge, "Have Friday notify me." Steve nods, leaving Tony and going back to his baby.

When he opens the door, you're still crying, but when Steve sits he pulls you into his lap, holding you like a baby and rocking you. "Shhh, it's okay baby, I know they were mean, but papa's here now. It's okay," he's rubbing your face gently, your sobs turned to weak whimpers. "That's it baby, you want some milk?" You nuzzle into his chest, Bucky taking a sip of the bottle making sure it's not too hot and gives it back to Steve. He holds the tip to your lips, you instantly wrap your lips around it and hum happily.

"There she is, sweet girl," his fingers tangle in your hair, massaging your scalp gently while Bucky rubs your legs with a feather light touch. You hiccup on the milk, Steve moving it away from you and wiping away a stray tear. Your fingers clutch around his shoulder, whining, "Papa." He coos at you, "Drinking too fast aren't we love?" You let out another whine, your bottom lip wobbling, "Pease papa." He traces your jawline before bringing the bottle back to your lips, "Slower, you hear me dove?" You nod gently, closing your eyes and continuing to drink the bottle.

You're teetering on the edge of sleep, Steve wiping away a drop of milk that finds its way to the corner of your mouth. He takes the bottle very carefully, stopping when you suck on it a little harder, trying to hold it in your mouth. "Bunny," Bucky's voice sings to you, "let daddy have that, okay?" Steve tries to pull it away again, this time with no fight, Bucky pressing your pacifier to your lips, which you take happily. He clips it to the top of your pajama shirt so if you drop it, it'll stay relatively within reach. "Friday, put on munchkins lullaby playlist."

Soft music starts playing through the room, bringing you all the way under, soft snores against Steves chest alerting them to your slumber. "Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barton are outside, requesting entrance." Bucky rolls his eyes as he slides back down into the bed, "Friday, decline entrance and leave us be to nap for an hour." Steve moves you to Bucky, your sleeping form habitually wrapping around him and his warmth. Steve huddles behind you, wrapping his arm over you and resting it on Bucky, rubbing small circles. "She's gonna be a handful today," Steve comments, letting Bucky know that he thinks today is going to be one of those days where you regress further than usual. "She's gonna have such a good time with Tony." Bucky laughs, his eyes flutter shut, "Don't count her daddies short."

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: seven ( 12.3k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The sound of your phone ringing rips you from sleep. You sit bolt upright, confusion and panic dousing you like twin buckets of ice water. You’d been having a nightmare about something, but you can’t remember what. The tattered ends of it are already slipping away, just out of reach. You don’t chase after them.

You fumble for your phone in the dark, fingers groping uselessly at your blankets until they close around it. The bright white light from your screen blinds you as you flip it over and you blink blearily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and trying to answer with the other.

“Hello?” you rasp, mashing the speaker button. “Who is this?”

“Apologies for disturbing your sleep, ma’am.” A woman’s voice crackles over the other end of the line. You can hear exhaustion dripping off every word. “This is Officer Kwon from the Namhyeon-dong precinct of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Force.”

You squint into the dark expanse of your bedroom, a little frown on your face as you struggle to process what she’s saying. “....okay?”

“I’m calling because we’ve got two of your hybrids in custody.”

You blink slowly. “Hmmmm, I don’t think so...” you mumble through a yawn. “They’re all in bed.”

“We ran their numbers through the registry and you were pinged as the owner of both.” You hear papers shuffling and her voice get distant as she transfers the receiver to her shoulder to free up a hand. “We’ve got a rabbit calling himself Jeongguk and a Seokjin who the rabbit says is a deer-” She sighs. “Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here. They won’t tell me where they came from and the phone number of the business they were registered to before you is out of service. They’re hurt pretty bad, worse than what we can take care of here at the station. We can’t get them any sort of medical care without their guardian’s permission, so-”

Your eyes glaze over as you groggily connect the dots.

A deer and a rabbit.

Not canine, not feline.

Other.

Other.

You shove the covers down your legs and kick them over the side of the bed. “I’m on the way,” you tell her, already adding up the distance between your building and Namhyeon-dong. It’d take an hour to get all the bus transfers you needed- your eyes narrow as you squint at the time on your phone. 3:27 AM. You’d have to get a cab. Your stomach twists at the thought of the fare, but you shove the feeling down. This was no time to be thrifty. “Do whatever you need to.”

The officer exhales in relief. You can practically hear the tension leave her shoulders. “There’s a little hybrid clinic in the neighborhood. I’ll see if I can get the vet up and convince them to go.”

“Thank you,” you breathe. She gives you the address and you type it into your notes app, reading it back to her twice to make sure you got it right. She hangs up with a promise to see you soon and your phone locks, leaving you alone in the blue-black gloom of an early morning.

This wasn’t great. This wasn’t great any way you sliced it. You’d thought you’d have an extra two weeks to get the canines settled and all five hybrids to at least not want to kill each other. That’d been the plan, at least, when you’d sequestered yourself in your bedroom without telling Jimin and Taehyung goodnight or doing any introductions. Now the others were coming and you were on borrowed time. You drag your hands down over your face. “What are we gonna do?” Nothing but silence answers you.

When you were a kid and you’d had anything big before you- a massive school project you’d waited til the last moment to start, having to walk yourself to the market because your mom was too sick to go, a hard conversation with a friend- your mom had always told you to break it down into smaller pieces. Make the big thing small; do what you can for now. So, that’s what you do.

You shove your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, tug your backpack out from under your bed and grab a pair of socks. You slide them on as quickly as you can and head for the door. You tug it open and try to rush through, already on the way to your next small thing- but you stumble over a shoulder and go down.

You let out a yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into one of pain as your forehead knocks against the other person’s. Your hands slam down on either side of their head and their own fly up to your waist to steady you. You blink down at them, willing your eyes to adjust to the dark.

Hoseok is beneath you. He’s squinting up at you, his hair in disarray and his cheeks puffy with sleep. “Ow,” he croaks.

You wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing the spot on his forehead your own knocked against on autopilot. He seems to wake up a little at that, eyebrows inching up his forehead. You snatch your hand back. “Ah, sorry. I was worried I hurt you-”

“I’m okay,” he rasps, his voice still thick with sleep. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay.” You disentangle yourself from him and rise back to your feet. He struggles to get up too, mirroring you. The blankets pooled around his hips fall to his feet. You frown at the picture he makes, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and indents on his cheek from the hardwood. “Did you...did you sleep out here?”

His ears fall and he lowers his head a bit between his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did…”

You wrote off a lot of the behavior the boys exhibited that you didn’t understand as just a part of them being hybrids. When Taehyung affectionately headbutted you, or Jimin always hopped up on counters or Yoongi lapped from glasses instead of sipping, you just accepted it and stashed it away to google later- but this was a little more concerning. Did he not feel safe in his room? You’d tried to put him and Namjoon as far away from the felines as you could, but you also knew the cats weren’t thrilled about sharing their space. You hoped they hadn’t made him feel too unwelcome after you’d collapsed into bed.

“Is everything okay?” His ears twitch as the smell of your worry fills his nose. He leans forward and for a moment you think he’s gonna close the distance between you- but he pulls back.

“No,” he answers. You feel your heart sink. “I just...your room is closest to the front door.” You blink at him slowly, not following. You don’t know how his sight is in the dark, but he must see the confusion furrowing your brow,because he continues. “Your room is the only one on the first floor and it’s close to the living room and front door. We all sleep upstairs. If someone broke in, they’d get you first.” He tosses a finger down at the blankets. “I was sleeping here so that wouldn’t happen.”

“Nobody’s gonna get me, Hoseok,” You soothe, trying to assuage his fears. “I’m nobody-”

“You don’t know that,” he argues back. “And you’re not ‘nobody’ to me. I waited my whole life for you. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to make of that. You’d known Hoseok had been trained specifically to protect the person he’d eventually be sent to, but you hadn’t expected him to be so adamant about it. After all Namjoon grew up in the same place- No. Your expression sours as the thought stops you. No he didn’t. The wolfdog hybrid had been locked away for most of his life and interaction with others had come only in the form of meal delivery. He wouldn’t have had the director’s lessons drilled into his head everyday in the same way Hope had.

Still, no one has expressed this level of care for you since your mom died. You’re not entirely sure you deserve it.

“I was gonna wake up before you did and go back to my room,” he mumbles, kicking gently at the blanket and not meeting your eyes. “I promise, I was. I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his ears drooping more and more the longer you look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hoseok,” You tell him and his ears perk up a little. It was true, he hadn’t. His actions were sweet, if a bit misguided but you were more worried about him than anything. “I don’t know what the director told you or what you’ve heard, but I promise there’s no one after me.” He frowns at that, lips twisting into a little pout. He goes to interject, but you speak again before he can. “If you’re worried about anything, just tell me okay? If there’s anything you need to do to make yourself feel more at ease here, just tell me.” You implore him softly.

Hoseok nods slowly and you see his tail give one small wag. You nod back, and turn to go, but his voice stops you. “I think it would help a lot if I could sleep down here.” Your brow furrows at that.

“This is the only bedroom on this floor, though?”

He whines and looks like he’s about to explain- but a soft voice purring in your ear cuts him off. “He could sleep on the couch,” Jimin supplies, his arms entwining around your middle as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s quite comfortable...Y/N-ah, do you mind dogs on the furniture?” His tone is light, free of the haze of sleep and a little teasing. From the way Hoseok’s ears droop and the way his shoulders curve in, you could tell Jimin hadn’t crept down here for a bit of good-natured ribbing. Your scent sours as your expression does, irritation with the leopard hybrid pricking at you. He lets out a little disgruntled murr in protest as he noses at your neck, trying to get you to soften for him. You tilt your head away from him and disentangle yourself from his arms. It’s three in the morning, you have to cross the city to deal with the fallout from God only knows what, and your neck still aches from the bruise Yoongi had left on it. You have too much on your plate to deal with Jimin needling his new housemate.

“Leave him alone, Jimin,” You exhale, side-stepping the leopard hybrid and heading down the corridor for the door. “Hoseok, you can sleep where you want. I’ve gotta go.”

The doberman takes a step forward. “I’ll come with you-” the icy look Jimin shoots him has him slowing but it’s not until the leopard hybrid bares his teeth at him that he stalls entirely. The sound of his whimper has you whirling around, but when you do, you find Jimin looking at you, blasé and Hoseok eyeing him with uncertainty

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” you toss back over your shoulder as you slide your feet into a pair of shoes. “Please, just...if you can’t be friendly, just do your own thing ‘til I get back.” You lace up your sneakers as quickly as you can and duck out the door. “Text me if you need anything; I’ll call on the way back.” And you’re gone, leaving the leopard and the doberman in the dark.

You are not at all confident in their ability to maintain a truce while you’re gone. You’re almost certain that if you hadn’t shoved your way between Namjoon and Yoongi last night, they’d have come to blows right there in the lobby last night. You punch the button for the ground floor and slump back against the railing of the elevator, exhaustion settling heavy on you now that you were alone again. You’d known Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung weren’t thrilled about sharing their space, but you hadn’t expected this kind of fallout from bringing new hybrids home. You don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make things a little easier, but you want to. Sighing, you resign yourself to more research. You pull out your phone and start typing.

why are my hybrids freaking the fuck out

You backspace. Venting at google wasn’t going to help you figure out what the sharp looks Jimin kept throwing Hoseok while he thought your back was turned meant or why Yoongi had been so furious the other hybrids’ scent was on you.

why don’t my hybrids like each other

Just like all your other searches, this one turns up millions of results. You thumb over the links but none of them are helpful. They’re dealing with puppy hybrids bickering and cat hybrids hissing at each other. None of them cover cross-species beef. None of them deal with exotics. You sigh, lock your phone and tilt your head back to stare at the soft yellow lights in the elevator’s ceiling. You were out of your depth. You’d known that from the moment Mr. Seo turned you into an heiress with a wave of his fountain pen. You get the urge to run, that old niggling feeling that settled like a stone in your mind and made your palms itch.

It’s been years since you last felt the need to pull a disappearing act. You don’t think you’ve done it since the one year anniversary of your mom’s death. The foster home you’d been sent to was a shit show. You found out the woman in charge had been pocketing the money you gave her every month for your mother’s columbarium fees and her urn was in danger of being thrown out. You’d shoved everything you owned into your school bag and walked across the city to get her. When the police found you, you were striding down the side of the highway, her urn clutched to your chest, determined to go anywhere but there.

You hadn’t known where you were going then; you still didn’t now. All you’d had was the urge to flee and fire under your feet. All you’d had was a singular focus on the road ahead.

The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft ding, the automated voice letting you know you’ve reached the lobby. You step out and shuffle across it with your head down, careful to avoid eye contact with the receptionist watching you warily from behind her desk.

It’s a cold night. A blast of frigid air hits your face the second you’re out the door. You curse under your and fold your arms around yourself in a futile effort to keep warm. You should go back upstairs and get the coat Yoongi made you buy. You shift from one foot to the other, weighing your options- and decide against it. If the conversation you’d had with Hoseok was enough to wake Jimin and send him slinking toward you, you running in and out of the penthouse would almost certainly wake Yoongi up. Memories flash in your mind: his hands gripping your hips tight, his rough tongue laving over your neck, that self-satisfied smirk he’d let spread over his mouth. You pinch yourself, trying to stem the heat you can feel crawling out the neck of your sweatshirt. It had upset you, there was no denying that. The warm feeling that’d bubbled up in your stomach at being touched didn’t wash away the fact that him marking you had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with warding off the canine hybrids.

Yeah, you decide, quickening your pace down the ice-slicked sidewalk. You’d much rather face the cold than him.

You make quick work of the walk from Haneul Tower to the streets of the club district. It’s only two blocks up and one over, but by the time you get there, you feel like a giant icicle. You’re out of place in a sweatshirt and scuffed up sneakers among the glitz and glamor of the club-goers, but you don’t have time to deal with your imposter syndrome. You duck into the first taxi you find, pass the old man the address Officer Kwon had given you and settle back.

He complains nearly the entire time about how far out of the way you’re making him go. You apologize as much as you’re able and promise him return fair back to Gangnam if he waits for you. He huffs and puffs, but he still takes you. Forty minutes later, you’re standing on the sidewalk outside of Happy Tails Hybrid Clinic, rapping urgently at the glass. After two minutes that feel like twenty, someone finally answers you.

You think she’s in her late twenties but the dark circles under her eyes she keeps rubbing at make her look older. She’s dressed in the typical winter police uniform, minus her jacket. The pale blue sleeves of her dress shirt are rolled up above her elbows and are blotchy with pale red marks she’d tried to scrub out. Blood. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

She unlocks the door and pokes her headout. “Y/N L/N?” She asks, eyes narrowed against the glare of the street lamps.

“Yeah,” you answer, giving one short nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Officer Kwon; we spoke on the phone.” She opens the door for you fully, stepping back and ushering you in urgently. “I’ll be honest,” she says once you’re safely inside and the door is locked back tight again. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”

You frown at that. “Why wouldn’t I have shown?”

“Most of the time when hybrids run, it’s an abuse case.” She drops into one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room. Her head falls back with a thunk against the yellow plaster. If it hurts, she shows no signs of it, just stares up at the fluorescent lights. You settle on the lip of the chair next to her, feeling awkward and anxious. “The rabbit broke into an Olive Young to steal antiseptic and bandages,” she supplies without you having to ask. “He said he did it for the deer. When he showed me he was…” Officer Kwon exhales sharply and tips forward to rest her head in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you insist softly. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” she answers, voice muffled against her palms. “I pulled your name and ID picture from the national database and the rabbit didn’t recognize you. Even if you didn’t do it, I didn’t think you’d wanna deal with it.”

Your anxiety spikes at her words. What had happened to the hybrids before she found them? Who’d want to hurt them that badly? Your mouth feels dry, but you force it to move. “Do you know who they were running from?”

Officer Kwon shakes her head and drags her hands down her face. She lets her arms fall to her knees as she hunches over in her chair, back bowed with exhaustion. “Whatever the rabbit knows, he’s not sharing,” she exhales. “-And the deer’s in no position to speak up. He’s been unconscious since I found him.” As if sensing you tense, she adds, “He’s on the table now. I think Dr. Cheon put him under sedation.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure if there’s anything you even can. You have a million questions buzzing around in your mind, but so heavy is the weight of them on your tongue that you can’t find the strength to ask a single one. You’re saved by the doctor coming out from the back.

The door right next to the counter that reads STAFF + PATIENTS ONLY swings open and a middle aged woman in cat print scrubs comes out, shoulders hunched in like she’s got the weight of the world on her back. You can’t blame her; she looks every bit as tired as you feel. She stops just short of you and Officer Kwon, peels off a pair of blue medical gloves, dyed sticky red, and tosses them into the garbage can behind the reception desk. “Well,” she huffs, dragging her fingers through the greying wisps of hair that’d escaped from her braid. “It’s done.”

“How is he?” The police officer asks before you can. Dr. Cheon grimaces and leans against the counter.

“If you hadn’t found him in time, it could’ve been much worse.” You think she’s trying to put you at ease, but you don’t want compromising optimism. You want the truth. “An hour or two later and we’d be dealing with a very different situation, medically.”

You swallow and force yourself to speak. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

Dr. Cheon turns her attention to you and blinks slowly, like she’d just noticed you were there. “...this is the guardian?” The police officer nods. The doctor takes you in, eyes roving from the mess of your hair twisted into a bun atop your head, to the scuffed rubber toes of your sneakers. She’s judging you, you know, trying to find something that’d mark you as the reason for the pain and suffering of the hybrids she’d helped. She finds none. “It didn’t happen to them,” she sighs. “Someone did this to them on purpose, likely over the course of several hours.” She tugs the office chair out from behind the desk and sinks into it, her limbs going to jelly the second she’s seated.

“Jeongguk won’t tell me what happened, but I know the signs. Puncture wounds around the entirety of Seokjin’s ankle, remnants of both sedatives and epinephrine in both of their blood, what looks like a bullet graze wound on Jeongguk’s side and he’s got a broken arm,” she rattles off symptom after symptom, each of them making the knot in your belly wind tighter and tighter. “The worst of it is Seokjin’s head. Hairline fractures all along the top of his skull and lacerations on his pedicles. They took his antlers from him.”

You feel sick to your stomach. You knew there were people who hurt hybrids, just like there were people that hurt animals and other people. You just hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with the fallout of one such incident. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Cheon allows. “But he’ll need to be monitored closely during these next few weeks. They were hunted. If they decide to come with you instead of going to the shelter with Officer Kwon, you’ll need to be cognisant of the fact that the trauma from that could manifest in unexpected ways.”

Hunted. They’d been hunted.

You knew hunting was illegal in South Korea, you had that little tidbit tucked away in the recesses of your grade school memory along with the list of provinces and their capitals and the names of all the sailor scouts. It’d been outlawed in the fifties with the rash of hybrid centered legislation after a hunter up in Chungcheongbuk-do had shot a black bear hybrid he’d mistaken for a real bear. It was determined that since humans couldn’t distinguish between regular animals and hybrids shifted down into animal form, hunting had to be outlawed to prevent any accidental killings.

“Were they shifted down?” You ask. “Did someone not realize-”

“No.” Dr. Cheon’s answer is swift and final. “They knew. This was a choice.” The disgust in her voice is palpable.

“There are places that...Some centers cater to people that want to hunt.” Officer Kwon cuts in. “They have hybrids as employees and they let people rent airsoft or paintball guns to come hunt them. It’s supposed to be more ethical than actual hunting. No matter how distasteful I might personally find it, if they have a permit, there’s not really much the police can do unless a law has been broken. ”

“And without any information on where they came from, we can’t prove that one has,” Dr. Cheon finishes. “The most I can do as a vet is submit a report to the police about a possible abuse case and hope it makes its way to the hybrid crimes unit.” You hear the words she doesn’t speak, the meaning behind them. There’s nothing more we can do. They’ll get away with it. This is the end of the line.

Dr. Cheon drops her palms against her knees and forces herself to stand “Jeongguk’s injuries should heal just fine outside of the clinic,” She sighs. “But Seokjin-” she clicks her tongue against her teeth and gives a single shake of her head. “Cervine hybrids don’t shed their antlers like real deer do. There’s no telling if his will grow back or what they’ll look like when they do. All we can do is keep the wounds clean and pray.”

You nod numbly. She gestures for you to follow her and you do, making your way around the reception desk and through the staff door with her.

It’s dim in the back. The overhead lights are off and your path ahead is illuminated only by what light spills over from the reception room and an exam room up ahead. There’s only four of them, but the door to this one is slightly ajar. “Wait here for a second,” Dr. Cheon instructs, slipping through the door and leaving you alone in the corridor. You can hear her speaking softly to someone inside and them answering in even quieter tones. You have to strain to pick up the edge of their voice and even then, you can’t understand what they’re saying. “Would you like her to come in here, or would you like her to stay outside?” You hear her ask. The response is too soft for you to catch but a second later the door swings open.

Dr. Cheon steps out and gestures for the shadowy figure behind her to follow. “It’s alright,” she assures them. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Slowly, they shuffle out from the back.

It’s Jeongguk. There’s no denying what he is, not with the black velvet ears you see poking up out of his mop of wavy, dark hair. They’re alert; they prick toward you when your breath hitches. His eyes are dark and wide and the tip of his nose twitches when he looks at you. You muster up a smile you hope is reassuring and this right foot taps once against the linoleum. Yes, he’s a rabbit- but he’s also fucking huge.

What little research you’d managed to do in between apologizing to your taxi driver and keeping an eye on the fare had been straightforward: rabbit hybrids were naturally timid, needed a lot of attention and were small. Most sources you’d checked seemed to concur that they very rarely cleared 5’5. Jeongguk is pushing 6 feet and he’s built like a professional athlete. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life running for it.

He’s wearing a teeshirt that’s too tight on his chest, the logo of the Seoul police force stretched thin, and a pair of grey sweatpants that are too short for him, both obviously on loan from Officer Kwon. His feet are bare, but there are bandages wrapped around both of them. True to what Dr. Cheon told you, his arms in a cast and wrapped in a sling. There’s scrapes on his knuckles and bruises blooming on the right side of his face. He looks like he’s been through the wringer. Still, he doesn’t slouch or shrink before you.

“Jeongguk, this is the woman we talked about,” Dr. Cheon tells him. He nods, but doesn’t move his gaze from your face once. “You’ll be going home with her-”

“Only if he wants,” You interject and she nods in agreement, quickly adding that caveat in.

“-only if you want.” He nods again and swallows, his bare foot giving another little tap against the floor.

“What about Seokjin?” He asks you.

“If he wants to come too, he’s welcome to, but neither of you have to if you don’t want to.” There’s a little frown on his face as you answer and he finally looks away. You can’t help but think that’s a bad sign, that he thinks he and his friend would be safer in a shelter that they ever could be with you- but then he asks another question.

“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?” You frown at that. Why was it that every hybrid in the city was suddenly so concerned with your marital status? Hoseok had asked you in the car last night and now Jeongguk seemed worried about it as well. Sensing your confusion, he clarifies. “Do you live with any men?”

You wince. “Oh! Yeah, I live with five.” You see his expression darken as his ears sag. “They’re mostly predator-”

“If they’re hybrids, it’s fine.” He interjects, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “I can live with them.”

You relax too. From what you’d seen, most shelters weren’t nice places. They were overcrowded and underfunded. If the news was any indication, some of the worse ones got treated like grab bags by fighting rings, who’d shell out a couple thousand won for a canine hybrid and turn him into a prize fighter. You didn’t want that for them, not if you could provide an alternative.

But was it one though? He said he could live with them, but could they live with him? You think back to Yoongi and Namjoon snarling at each other last night, about Jimin’s little jabs at Hoseok. Yeah, you’d need to have another house meeting when you got home if this was ever going to work. Jeongguk had just been through hell and back; the last thing he needed was a territorial bobcat trying him.

“You can change your mind any time,” You tell him softly. “If you get there and feel like it’s not a good fit for you and Seokjin, you can go, okay?”

He dips his head. “Okay.”

“I think Seokjin can decide for himself.”

Your eyes rocket just over Jeongguk’s shoulder. There’s a man leaning heavily against the doorframe of the room the rabbit hybrid had come out of. He’s in a blue exam gown, his feet bare except for a plain white cast on his left leg. Every part of his head from his eyebrows up is bandaged, but you see soft tufts of red-brown hair poking out from between the layers. He looks human. You’d almost think he was if it weren’t for the oblong pupils in his hazel eyes and supple ears you see twitching as he observes you.

“What are you doing up?!” The alarm in Dr. Cheon’s voice is palpable. “Those sedatives should’ve kept you out ‘til morning.” She takes a step like she’s going to rush to his side- but stops short when he tenses and tilts his chin to his chest. Just for a second, it looked like he was preparing himself to square off against her- like he was brandishing something that wasn’t really there. His antlers, you think. He was trying to protect himself with his antlers.

Seokjin forces himself upright, his knees wobbling as he tries to stand on his own. He looks off-balance, and it’s not just because of the cast. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to stand now that a piece of him is missing. His legs are trembling. “What can I say?” He huffs, sounding like he just ran a marathon. “I like to surprise people.” And then his legs buckle underneath him.

He hits the floor with a heavy thud. Jeongguk and Dr. Cheon rush to his side but he waves them off, eyes closed and brow knit in frustration. “I’m fine,” he insists, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to struggle back to his feet. “I’m fine, I just…I just need a moment-”

“You need bed rest.” Dr. Cheon goes to latch on to his arm to help him stand but Jeongguk catches her wrist, gives a single shake of his head and she drops it back to her side.

Seokjin manages to get himself back standing, but he sways precariously. “If this were a hunt, I’d already be dead.” He swallows and inhales shakily through his nose, doing his best not to gulp down air. “You should have left me, Jeongguk. You know the rules. One falls, but the herd rises-”

“The herd is gone, Seokjin.” The bitterness in the younger hybrid’s voice takes you aback. It’s a black wave, threatening to drown all four of you right there in the corridor. Seokjin stares at him, his jaw slack and pretty brown eyes wide.

“What do you-”

“They’re gone.” The rabbit hybrid’s bruised fingers clench into a fist and he fixes his glare on the tile. “All of them.”

Silence rings in the corridor. Dr. Cheon’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t press for details and neither do you. She’d been right. They’d been hunted. The thought of it turns your stomach. Seokjin closes his eyes, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks as a muscle tenses in his jaw. He’s thinking. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is settled on you. Your heart jumps as your nerves get the better of you, and one of his ears flicks back.

“You’re taking us?” He asks. You swallow.

“Only if you want me to.” An unreadable look passes between him and Jeongguk, the younger’s nose twitching.

“Speaking strictly as your doctor,” Dr. Cheon speaks up, interrupting the hybrids’ telepathy. “You need time to rest and recuperate-”

“Is there any special reason I have to rest and recuperate here?” He asks. You can’t help but notice the slight challenge in his voice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches.

“No, I suppose not,” she acquiesces. She doesn’t look particularly pleased about the prospect of letting her patient go when he was still in the danger zone, but if the look of determination in Seokjin’s eyes is any indication, she doesn’t have much choice.

“Then, we’ll go.” The tone of his voice is final, letting everyone present know that he’s done talking about it.

That's the last that’s said to you or anyone else about it. Jeongguk falls in line with his orders easily and so doesDr. Cheon after she manages to get him to accept a pair of crutches she’d foisted upon him and passes off a prescription for pain meds and both of their check up schedules to you.

“It’s important that they don’t miss these dates,” she tells you at the reception counter, tapping the sheath of papers with one clean, blunted nail. “A single one of them. And make sure they don’t shift ‘til I’ve given them the all clear. Hybrid injuries are tricky, but they’re aggravated by the shift.” You nod, hanging onto every word she says, forcing your tired brain to take mental notes. “And-” she cuts her eyes at Jeongguk and Jin, both of whom are lingering in various extremes in the room, the deer hybrid sitting ramrod straight in a chair in the far right corner and the rabbit pretending to browse informational pamphlets. Once Dr. Cheon’s deemed it safe, she leans closer to you across the counter and gestures for you to come closer as well. You blink in confusion but acquiesce. “It’s important that your current hybrids be made to feel secure with the new additions coming.” She tells you, voice gravely serious. “Do you know about scenting order?”

After a beat, you nod. “Yeah. I mean, I read about it online but-”

Dr. Cheon tuts her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Online sources are shaky at best, wildly inaccurate at worst- particularly forums.” Your stomach flips. Had all your research been for nothing? “What did they tell you?”

“Um…” your brain boots up slowly as you try to recall the hours of research you’d done. “Uh, dominant hybrid first, then in age order?”

The corner of Dr. Cheon’s mouth quirks in an odd way. “That’s certainly a simplified way of looking at it.”

You wince.

“Hybrid group dynamics can be…” She searches for the right word. “Messy to start out with, especially with hybrids who don’t know each other who find themselves with an inexperienced handler. They’re all going to be trying to figure out where they fit in the pecking order as well as how their relationship with you works. There’s likely to be a lot of posturing, not just in order to impress you, but to solidify their place as well.” Dr. Cheon drags a hand down over her face. “Seven male hybrids under one roof...It’d be a miracle if no one’s missing fingers by the time the week’s out.”

“Is there any way I can stop them from being mean to each other?”

“I’m not a behaviorist,” The doctor sighs. “But I’d suggest you start with a conversation.”

You slide into the back of the taxi a little after 5:30 AM and pull out your phone. You’d promised to call on the way back and you don’t want a repeat of what’d happened the last time you’d forgotten. You scroll down your contacts, thumb hovering over Yoongi’s name and you hesitate. You remember warm lips, a rough tongue. You remember hands gripping your hips tight and a possessive growl in your ear. You press Taehyung’s name instead.

The tiger hybrid picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” His voice is slow and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

“Hey, it’s Y/N-” Almost immediately a happy rumbling starts from his end of the line. You can hear the sleepy joy in it and it makes your face warm.”A-and I just wanted to let you guys know I’m on the way home.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, a low, musical sound. “Where’d you go?”

You bite your lip as nerves spark up in you. Well, all things considered, it was probably better for him to find out now rather than later. “The last two hybrids my uncle got…they were hurt and I had to come get them.”

The line is quiet for a moment and you gnaw at the bottom of your lip. Finally, Taehyung speaks. “Ah.” That’s all he says. Somehow, that’s worse than whatever Yoongi growling at the new hybrids or Jimin icing them out.

“I’ll be home in about another forty-five minutes, okay? Could you have everyone get together in the living room for me? We need to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, I can.”

You wince. There’s an almost imperceptible change in his voice. You swallow. “Taehyung, are you upset?”

He hums again like he’s considering it. “No,” he answers after a moment. “I don’t think i am. At least, not with you.”

That does little to allay your fears, but you force yourself to sound upbeat when you tell him, “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The line clicks off and you drop your head against the headrest. A conversation. It should be a simple thing, but you spend the entirety of your taxi ride back to Gangnam with your stomach in knots. If the thought of introducing your two (very injured, very vulnerable) new hybrids to a house full of predators wasn’t enough, you have to try to allay Jeongguk’s inexplicable fear of the taxi driver. The middle aged man isn’t thrilled about ferrying hybrids across the city anyway, but between Seokjin swooning and Jeongguk thumping his foot so hard the whole car rattles whenever the man so much as looks in his rearview mirror, he’s almost ready to put all three of you out on the side of the highway. You have to promise him a 50,000 won tip just to get him to relent. He rolls up the partition, but even that doesn’t put Jeongguk at ease.

The rabbit hybrid is curled up in the corner of the backseat, his back against the door, his injured arm cradled close and his knees pulled up to his chin. His ears are on high alert, twitching at every passing car or stray siren. His whole body is tensed up like there’s a current running through it, like if he lets himself relax for a second, he’ll disperse into nothing. He’s glaring daggers at the partition, but you know he can’t see the driver. The car rolls over a speed bump a bit too fast and he flinches, hand shooting out for the door handle.

You watch him, concern coloring your scent. It’s not your place to ask, you know, and you feel almost stupid doing it, but the words slip out of their own accord. “Are you okay?” It’s a ridiculous question. You can still see the bruises blooming on his cheekbone, see the angry red of his split lip in the stray light of street lamps. His dark eyes flick toward you, round nose twitching.

“How do you know he’s taking us somewhere safe?” His gaze shifts from you, to the partition, to Seokjin, dozing fitfully on your otherside. The deer hybrid had finally surrendered to his pain meds not a second after you’d helped buckle him in. He’d been out cold before the driver had pulled away from the curb.

“Because that’s what I paid him to do,” you tell him, truthfully. You’d never given much thought to how much trust you placed in taxi and bus drivers to not kidnap you before. You certainly had to now, especially when Jeongguk seemed hyperaware of the fact that you’d entrusted all of your lives to a stranger. The rabbit hybrid swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. He gives a little shake of his head.

“He could take your money and still take us somewhere bad. He could take us up into the mountains and Seokjin and I wouldn’t be able to do anything because we’re hurt and-”

“That’s not going to happen, Jeongguk,” you say in as soothing a voice as you can manage to muster up. “It’s really unlikely that that’ll happen, but even if it did, I’d do my best to protect you.”

He snorts, ears tilting back. They brush the roof of the car as they do and he shrinks himself, shoulders hunching forward. “What can you do?” His tone is derisive. “You’re only human. You’re not as fast as us or as strong-”

“I’d try,” you insist, some strong, unnameable emotion tightening your chest at the thought of them in danger. “If if came down to it, I’d still try to protect the pair of you-”

“You don’t even know me.” Jeongguk’s voice is edging somewhere between disgust and disbelief. You look away from him then and at your hands, gripping your knees.

“I don’t,” you agree easily. “But I’d like to. Even if I don’t- even if I didn’t, people should still help each other when they can. We owe each other that much.” The taxi is quiet for a moment, only the sound of tires rushing over the slick pavement and other cars zooming by filling the empty air between the two of you. Finally, the rabbit hybrid exhales shakily.

“I’m not a person.” He sounds resigned to that fact, like he’s accepted a burden far too heavy for him. “I’m not even an animal. I’m a-”

“Just because you aren’t human…” you start off hesitantly, very much aware that you might be crossing several invisible lines. “...doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You have your own thoughts and feelings and emotions. You deserve to have them heard. I know I’m not as fast as you or as strong, but the least I can do is listen to you, right?” The car is silent again. You’re too nervous to look at Jeongguk, worried that you’d gone too far- but then there’s a warm weight against your side. It starts slow at first, just your shoulders brushing against each other, but before you know it, Jeongguk’s leaning his whole body against yours. He’s slumped over with his head tucked beneath your chin like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Jeongguk-”

“I’m afraid.” He admits in a whisper, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “Everything in me tells me to run all the time, but I can’t anymore.” His ears droop and his pretty dark eyes slip shut. This close, you can hear his heart beating at breakneck speed in his chest, feel how he shudders with every shaky inhale. “I’m so tired of running.” He’s terrified. You wouldn’t have guessed from his posture. Maybe the reason he held himself so tight was to stop himself from shaking apart.

You watch in surprise as the rabbit hybrid links his fingers with yours and drops your hand on top of his head, right between his velvety ears. “Help me like this.” You’re frozen, unsure what to do with a six foot tall man practically crawling into your sweatshirt with you. Was this really okay? He’d just been through something traumatic, the details of which you know nothing about. You hadn’t thought he’d want anyone to touch him, much less you, a virtual stranger. You don’t know what to do. The car jerks to a quick stop and the taxi driver leans on his horn, curses jaywalkers. Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens and he flinches so hard you’re surprised he didn’t knock his head into your teeth. He exhales shakily, tilts his head up and brushes his nose along the underside of your jaw. “Please,” he asks in a voice so small you know it’s killing him. “Just ‘til we get there, please just let me be weak.”

That breaks something inside you. Despite how awkward you might feel, he’s sure to be feeling worse. You wrap your arms fully around him, hesitant until you feel him go lax in your arms. You slowly stroke the back of his head and he buries his face in your clavicle, his eyes squeezed shut. “We’re almost there,” you assure him gently as he fists his good hand in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “You’re almost home.”

By the time the three of you arrive back at Haneul tower, the sky is lightening in the east and the first wave of office workers are making their way from your building into the streets of Gangnam. It’s not even 6 AM yet, but the city is stirring.

It takes you a good ten minutes to rouse both the boys and get them out of the taxi. After you’d let Jeongguk cling to you, the rabbit hybrid had fallen asleep quickly, the exhaustion from his turbulent day finally catching up to him. Even in sleep he was latched on to you, a small crease between his brows and his nose wrinkled up. Seokjin hadn’t fared much better. The cocktail of meds Dr. Cheon had given him had rendered him dead to the world for the entirety of the drive back. Even now you were having trouble rousing him.

“Seokjin…” You shake the sleeping stag’s shoulders but the only response you get is a slight hitch in his snoring. “Seokjin, please wake up, we have to go…” You can practically feel the glare the taxi driver is giving you in his rearview mirror. Yeah, the meter is still running, but you’ve taken up enough of his time as it is. “Seokjin, come on…” Jeongguk is standing behind you, staring bleary-eyed up at the apartment building, his free hand fisted in the fabric of your sweatshirt. If he’s cold in his thin tee-shirt and bare feet, he makes no mention of it.

Without warning, the taxi driver leans on the horn. Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, fear making his body tight. Jeongguk jerks so violently you think he’s going to rip a hole in your sweatshirt. You stumble back a few paces, trying to steady the rabbit and stop the pair of you from tumbling into the street. When you manage to right yourself, you slam a palm against the roof of the car and glare in the window at the driver. “Yo, what the fuck?”

The man glares back at you and waves you off. “I don’t have all day!” He shouts. “Get your animal and get out!”

You want to argue with him, you want to make him apologize- but the sight of Seokjin disoriented and afraid stops you. He’s looking at you with hazy eyes, his whole body stiff and his chest heaving. It’s for his sake alone that you hold your tongue. You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, buddy.” You say. “I got you.” He looks from your face to your hand and finally, slowly, places his own in it. His fingers are long and elegant and his hand dwarfs your’s. You tug him from the backseat and he leans heavily on you, hopping awkwardly to avoid walking on his broken foot. You pass him his crutches and he takes them, wobbling awkwardly as he tries to set himself to rights. “Can you stand?” You ask him. He nods and starts limping for the glass doors of Haneul Tower. He’s doing his best to look strong. His back is straight and his head is high, but you don’t miss the tremble in his fingers or the way he winces whenever the wind blows over the top of his head. You shove some bills at the taxi driver with a final, disapproving look, usher Jeongguk up onto the sidewalk and head inside after Seokjin.

The moment the three of you breach the double doors, Jeongguk drops his hand from your sweatshirt. His eyes rove over the glass and granite, round nose twitching at all the scents and his ears standing at attention on top of his head. He pauses, a little furrow between his brows. You’re halfway to the elevators, hovering a foot behind Seokjin in case he falls, before you notice the rabbit hybrid isn’t following you.

You cast a look back over his shoulder and find him gawking up at the hanging lights, mouth slightly ajar and starry-eyed. The corner of your mouth twitches. He’s cute, you decide. The thought leaves you almost instantly when you see Mr. Park powerwalking over to him, a sunny smile on his face. Jeongguk takes notice of him only a split second after you do and his eyes wide. You see him tense up, watch the fingers on his uninjured hand curl into a ball.

“You need to get him,” Seokjin says, sounding like he’s out of breath. You turn your attention back to the deer hybrid. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches and his face is pale. “You need to get him,” he repeats, nodding at Jeongguk. “That man gets any closer and Jeongguk will kick him.”

You whip back around. Mr. Park is closing the distance between them, seemingly unconcerned by the look of distress on the rabbit hybrids face or how his foot seems to be tapping a mile a minute.

“Excuse me!” The older man says, reaching out to put a hand on the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder. “Where’s your-”

“Mr. Park!” You practically sprint over as fast as you can, sliding between the receptionist and the hybrid just as he’d started winding his leg back. Mr. Park blinks, surprised to find you so suddenly in front of him. You offer him a tight smile. “He’s with me.”

“Oh! Ms. L/N, I apologize. He didn’t have a collar, so I assumed he was a stray.” The statement pricks at you, but you know he means nothing by it, so you try to stamp down your irritation. “It’s rare but we do occasionally have them come in in the hope someone will take them in.” He clucks his tongue against his teeth. “Such a shame really.”

You feel Jeongguk’s hand fist in the fabric of your sweatshirt. He wants to go. You nod emphatically at what Mr. Park says, already heading back to the elevators. “Yeah, totally,” you agree, shuffling the rabbit hybrid in front of you and putting some distance between him and the elderly man. “Well, have a good morning! I’ll see you later!”

“Ms. L/N, I actually need to speak with you-”

You wave him off and duck into the elevator Seokjin had called in your brief absence. “We’ll talk later!” You tell him, pressing the close door buttons as quickly as you can and willing them to shut before he can catch up.

“But it’s about your-!”

The doors click shut and you’re blessed with silence. You exhale in a short puff, press the button for the penthouse and slump against the cool metal wall, finally letting yourself relax for a moment. The elevator starts rolling and Jeongguk flinches beside you. He duck his head like he’s going to crouch down- but he stops himself, grips the railing instead.

“It’s okay,” You soothe. “It’s just-”

“I’m fine,” he insists, forcing himself to stand up straight and release the death grip he has on your sweatshirt. “I’m fine; my time’s up.”

It’s just like he’d said in the car. Just ‘til we get there, let me be weak.

The rest of the elevator ride passes in silence outside of the automated bell dinging as you pass each new floor and Seokjin panting quietly. He’s in a bad way. He’ll need another dose of pain meds soon. You arrive on the top floor, punching in the key code and pull the door open. “Let me get Seokjin settled, Jeongguk and I-” You run directly into someone.

Their arms wrap around you, covered in a brown cable knit sweater. It’s soft and they smell of vanilla. They press their cheek against the top of your head and exhale, a little rumble kicking up in their chest. “You’re back.” Taehyung.

“Hey, buddy.” You pat him on the back gently and peer around him. Yoongi and Jimin are both sprawled on the couch, legs kicked out so there isn’t room for anyone else to join them. Namjoon is sitting on the stairs shooting daggers at the back of Yoongi’s head and his arms crossed over his chest.Hoseok is lingering in the no man’s land between the living room and kitchen looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. The atmosphere is tense to say the least.

Taehyung dips his head down. “I got them, like you said,” he whispers, lips brushing against the tip of your ear and his breath warm. You have fight off a little shiver, but if he notices it, he doesn’t react. “I don’t think Hyung and Jiminie like the others very much.”

You give a little nod of acknowledgement. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all just need to get to know each other a little better.”

Seokjin hobbles through the door, past the tiger hybrid and drops himself onto a stool on the kitchen with a heavy exhale. “Well, I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes at most before these meds catch a second wind, so let’s get this over with.” He’s doing his best to sound cavalier but he’s pallid. You don’t miss the thin sheen of cold sweat on his face and neck. “Seokjin. Twenty-eight. Red stag.”

All the other hybrids are staring at him in a mix of confusion, irritation and, in some cases, open dislike. It seems like they don’t know what to make of him. It’s Yoongi who speaks first. “If you’re a stag,” he drawls and you already feel dread welling up in you at what you know is going to follow. “Where are your antlers?”

Seokjin fixes him with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only put them on for special occasions.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands together trying to diffuse the tension you can feel building. “New house rule: let’s not ask each other about injuries past or present unless we’re asking how to help.” Yoongi looks miffed, but he settles. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have expected him to say something snarky back to you. He’s trying not to push his luck after last night, you think. “Yoongi, why don’t you go next?”

His ears flick in annoyance, but he does as you ask. “I’m Yoongi, I’m twenty-seven and I’m a bobcat-”

“I’m Jimin,” his junior pipes up before he’s hardly had time to finish. “I’m an amur leopard and I came here with Yoongi-hyung and Tae. We’ve been with Y/N the longest.” He says it like it’s an important piece of information for everyone to know.

Beside you, Taehyung lifts one hand, palm up. “Hi,” he says calmly. “I’m Taehyung. I like the color purple.” Everyone watches him to see what else he’s going to say, but the tiger hybrid is finished. You give him a little nudge with your shoulder.

“Tell them how old you are and what your hybrid is,” you suggest.

“Oh,” he lifts his eyebrows like the thought genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m twenty-four and I’m a tiger.” Suddenly remembering something, he tilts his head forward in a little bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” A sour look takes over Yoongi’s face and Jimin rolls his eyes, gestures for the youngest of their group to come sit beside him.

Hoseok is the next one to pipe up. “I’m Hoseok!” He seems to perk up a little when you turn your eyes to him, his docked tail giving as much of a wag as it’s able. “I’m a Doberman, I’m twenty-six and Joonie and I came from the same pla-”

“My name is Namjoon.” The wolfdog cuts off the other canine with a growl. All the wind goes out of Hoseok’s sails and you don’t miss the way Seokjin freezes up at the dark sound, suddenly alert. You weren’t sure if prey hybrids still avoided predator hybrids like their animal counterparts did, but you’d need to learn and fast. Namjoon leans back on the stairs, his jaw clenched. “I’m the same age as him-” he jerks his head at the Doberman hybrid. “-so I guess I’m twenty-six too.” He makes no mention of his hybrid and you don’t press. You don’t know how sensitive a subject it is for him yet, but you don’t want to find out the hard way.

Hoseok looks back at you and cocks his head to the side, his gaze fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”

Five pairs of eyes follow his. You turn around. Outside the apartment, still in the corridor, is Jeongguk, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide as he surveys the mixed bag of hybrids spread out in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Do you wanna come in?”

His gaze flicks from you, to the cats, then to Hoseok and finally to Namjoon. It’s only when he sees the wolfdog hybrid that he moves from the wall. He takes halting, jittery steps one after the other until he’s planted by your side, his eyes on his bare feet. Every move he makes makes it look like he’s fighting against his own body, forcing himself to tamp down his instinct and move.

“Can you introduce yourself?” You ask him softly. “Or do you want me to?”

His good hand clenches into a fist and forces himself to look up. He meets each of the other hybrid’s eyes evenly. “My name is Jeongguk.” When he speaks, there’s no shake in his voice. “I’m twenty-three years old. I came from the same place as Seokjin but we don’t know each other that well. I’m a Flemish Giant Rabbit.” So that was why he was so big. You’d never seen a Flemish Giant in real life, but you’d happened across the odd youtube video of them once or twice in your suggestions. They were huge.

With introductions out of the way, you feel a little tension melt out of your shoulders. That was the biggest hurdle. Maybe now that they all at least knew each other, they’d be a little more open to being around each other. You let out a little exhale. “And I’m Y/N. I’m also twenty-three and this is my uncle’s apartment. He’s the only that bought all of you but I only found out you were coming a little over a week ago, so please forgive me for being unprepared.” You rub your palms against your eyes, trying to combat the exhaustion you can feel crawling over you. “I don’t know that much about hybrids, but I’m trying to learn. A lot of things you’re gonna have to help me with. I’m not expecting you guys to be pets or best friends or anything, but if we could all try to get along I’d appreciate it.” You offer all seven them a weary smile. “Thanks for getting up early to do this, guys, I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, literally anything, please don’t be scared to ask-”

“Um, Y/N?” Hoseok is looking at you like he’s been dying to say something for the past five minutes. You turn your attention to him and squint as you try to focus on what he’s saying. “I did a sweep of the apartment earlier-” That was concerning. You make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to do security sweeps anymore. “-and there’s only four bedrooms.”

You blink at him in confusion.

“There’s eight of us.”

Oh. Oh. You drag your hands down over your face. You hadn’t accounted for lack of space being an issue. When you first moved in, Oliver’s penthouse seemed like it went on forever. “Okay,” you start, crunching some quick numbers. “Some of us are gonna have to double up.” There’s a disgruntled mrow from the couch and without looking, you know it’s Jimin. “Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung are already sharing so they’re exempt, but Seokjin needs his own room- at least until he recovers.”

“That’s fine by me,” the stag chimes in. “But that leaves Jeongguk without a-”

“Hyung, can I stay with you?” The room goes quiet.

“Seokjin really needs his own room-” You pull your face out of your hands to address the rabbit hybrid, but he isn’t looking at the stag. His eyes are fixed on Namjoon who’s looking at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. The wolfdog looks from the rabbit to you.

“I saw a camp bed out in the greenhouse while you were showing us around last night.” He says, standing to go. “I’ll sleep out there.”

“Namjoon, you don’t have to sleep outside-”

“I like it out there.” He calls back over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “I can see the sky.” Then he’s gone and the six of you are left.

“Well,” Jimin purrs, rising and crossing the living room to you. “Best of luck.” He rubs his cheek against yours, folding you into a loose hug. You think he’s about to pull away, but he whispers in your ear, “If you want to share with us, you know where we sleep.” And then he’s gone, sauntering up the stairs with Taehyung and Yoongi in tow. The bobcat tosses a look at you, but you look away quickly, missing the way his ears sage when you do.

Now, the only ones left are you, Jeongguk, Hoseok and Seokjin who’s rapidly fading. “I’ll take the couch,” you volunteer. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but right now, the stark white cushions look like heaven to your sleep-deprived mind. “Seokjin can have my room-”

“He can have mine,” Hoseok interjects. “And, if it’s okay, could I stay with you?” There’s a light whine on the end of his words and you don’t miss the way his ears prick up in anticipation of your answer. “It’s what I wanted to ask you earlier.”

Oh. When Jimin interrupted him, that’s what he’d been trying to say: he wanted to sleep in your room to be closer to you. To protect you.

“Yeah,” you agree easily. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Sharing beds wasn’t a big deal for you. You’d grown up in a flat with your mom and had shared a bed with her til she’d been taken from you. Then in foster homes with too many kids and not enough resources, you’d had to double- and sometimes even triple- up. It was a matter of convenience and space.

Hoseok’s tail gives a little wag and he nods, happy with your decision.

“Great!” Seokjin cheers weakly. “Now can someone please help me lie down.”

It’s Hoseok that helps the stag hybrid up the stairs and into bed. He’s stronger than you and taller, so it only makes sense. You show Jeongguk to his new room and stay with him for a few minutes while he feels it out, making sure it’s safe. It’s only once he’s sequestered himself under the covers and dismissed you that you leave, closing the door quietly behind you as the rabbit hybrid settles down for some much needed sleep. You turn to head back for the stairs- but you find Yoongi at the other end of the corridor, staring you down. You stare back. He swallows.

“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice quieter than you ever remember hearing it.

You give a little nod. “Yeah,” you assent. “We need to.”

He meets you halfway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers and his gaze anywhere but on your face. The seconds stretch out and you exhale, closing your eyes. “Yoongi, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interjects. “About what happened in the elevator. It was disrespectful and immature. I won’t do it again.”

You balk at him. You’d honestly expected him to tell you you were being childish for reacting so strongly to it when you’d told him he could mark you whenever he was ready. But he hadn’t. He shuffles back a few steps, his head still low.

“Well, that was all I wanted to say to you, so-”

“Do you understand?” You ask him. He stops short. “Do you understand why I was upset?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you see a little furrow between his gray eyebrows. “Because I marked you.”

“No,” you insist, emphatically. “I was upset because it didn’t feel like you were doing it for me.” He does look up at you then, yellow eyes unreadable. “It didn’t feel like you were marking me because we’re friends or you wanted me to be a part of your group. It felt like you were doing it to show off in front of Namjoon and Hoseok.” You swallow. “And that hurt my feelings.” It feels good to say. It feels good to talk about.

He lets out a little chirp of distress. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. “I just-” He rakes a hand back through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck, I just felt like if I didn’t do something right then you’d get bored of me and send me away. I thought you’d replace me with them.”

Your heart twists. You know the feeling more intimately than you’d like to admit. You reach out, hesitantly and squeeze Yoongi’s arm. “Yoongi, I’m not gonna send you away. Ever. It’s important to me that you know that. Unless you wanna go, you can stay. There’s room enough for all of you.”

“No there’s not, that’s why we’re sharing rooms,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and let out a little chuckle. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The corner of his mouth curls up at the playful insult. After a moment, he speaks. “I don’t, for the record,” he says. “Wanna go, I mean.” He stares down into your face, yellow eyes intense. The seconds drag on and something between the two of you grows tight. He leans down, face nuzzling the soft spot between your ear and your jaw. He huffs. “Bunny scented you,” he mutters, tail flicking in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re relieved.

“He was afraid in the car,” you answer softly. “I think it helped.” Your hands slip from his arms around his back and he purrs. It’s the first time you’ve heard him make that sound. It sends warm vibrations through your whole body and you giggle. Yoongi smiles against your skin and your heart leaps. He’s never smiled around you before. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. You know it’s there. “Do you want to try again?”

Yoongi exhales, his breath warm on your neck. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head to the side for him. “You can.”

This time is different, you can feel that from the onset. His fingers wrap gently around your hips and he nuzzles into your skin. He nips lightly at the skin below your ear, the corner of your jaw, all down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where it joins your shoulder. He hums, wraps his arms around you fully and pulls you flush against the hard line of his body. Your breath hatches and you can practically hear your heart thudding traitorously in your chest.

It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself as he laves his rough tongue against your feverish skin. It’s not a big deal; marking isn’t sexual. This isn’t a big deal, there’s no need to be nervous or get- the points of his teeth scrape over the mark before he laps at again and you have to bite back a whimper. Your knees feel a little weak- that is, until Yoongi slots his thigh between them, keeping you up while he finishes his work. Your hands ball up into fists in the fabric of his t shirt and you grit your teeth together with the effort of keeping quiet. He pulls off your neck with a wet pop and you swear you’re imagining it when he presses a final kiss to his mark. He noses your ear, still purring and you think he’s gonna mark you more- but then his warmth is gone and his standing before you, eyes a little hazier but no worse for wear.

He reaches up and flicks you in the forehead. You grumble at him, covering the spot up with your hands before he can do it again. A lazy smirk spreads out on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he drawls. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading back to his shared bedroom. “Don’t wipe this one off this time, okay?”

You nod mutely after him as he disappears, your hand cupping your mark. “What was that?” You wonder. You descend the stairs in a daze, your mind whirling. None of your research had told you creating a mark would be like that. You’d thought it was a quick thing and Yoongi had just been showboating for the canines. Even in the videos you watched, the hybrid had leaned in close to the human, given then a few quick swipes with their tongue and moved on. Then again, those hybrids had all been domesticated dog or cat breeds. “Are exotics different?” You muse, turning the handle to your bedroom- and promptly tripping over someone.

This time, you don’t go all the way down. You make it halfway before Hoseok catches you. “Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N!” The dog hybrid whines, fussing over you as he sets you back to rights. “I’ll do better about staying out of your way, I promise-”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, trying to stop him from fretting. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” You survey the floor of your bedroom. It seemed like in his security sweep earlier, Hoseok had found the linen cabinet and made use of the spare blankets. His pillow and a comforter are set up in a little pallet on the floor in front of your door. It seems he’d been putting the final touches on it when you’d stumbled over him. “Hoseok…” you start slowly. The Doberman looks at you, ears pricked up. “Hoseok, I wasn’t expecting you to sleep on the floor.”

He cocks his head to the side, doglike even in his confusion. “Then where…?”

“The bed is big enough,” you say, gesturing to the queen sized bed dominating the center of the room. “I don’t mind sharing if you’re comfortable with it.”

His adam’s apple bob’s in his throat as he swallows, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it.”

You nod and pat him on the shoulder, passing him as you head to bed. “Come on, then.” You collapse onto your bed face-first and slip back under the covers with a groan. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap before I’ve gotta get up and deal with stuff…”

The room is quiet, but somewhere in it, you can hear Hoseok shuffling around. “Maybe I should check to make sure everything is safe one more time?”

You exhale, your eyes slipping shut. “Hoseok…”

“Did you lock the front door after you came in? I think the rabbit...Jeongguk was the last one in? I don’t remember him locking-”

“Hope, bed. Now.” He doesn’t say anything else, but a few seconds later, you feel the far side of the bed dip with his weight. You sigh as he shifts to get under the blankets and you snuggle down further into your pillow. “Sleep well, Hobi.”

He mumbles something under his breath about security being a serious issue, but you don’t catch it. You’re already halfway to dreamland.

[jungkxook]

—out of the blue. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut 

⟶ words: 5,204

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.

⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung​ because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks​ and @stanrandomthings​ for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?

Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.

He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.

You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.

Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.

Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.

“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”

“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”

Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”

Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.

“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”

He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:

uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight

oh shit run bro

f in the chat for jk’s hair

get him y/n!!!!

“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.

“And when he’s bald, then what━”

“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”

“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”

A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”

Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.

He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.

And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.

It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?

At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.

He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?

As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”

Wrong.

Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”

“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”

“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”

“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”

“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”

“I’m not sucking your dick.”

He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”

You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.

“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.

You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.

He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.

At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.

Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.

“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”

He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”

You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.

“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.

He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”

You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”

“Do you really hate it blue?”

“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”

At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”

“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”

Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.

“Hot, huh?”

“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, what do you want from me?”

You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”

“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”

He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.

“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”

“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”

“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”

“That’s even better.”

You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”

“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”

Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.

Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”

A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.

“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.

He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.

“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”

His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.

You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”

“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”

“Jungkook━ Fuck━”

He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.

His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.

“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”

Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.

“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.

“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”

Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.

“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”

He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”

“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”

He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.

“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”

He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.

“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”

His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.

“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”

Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.

“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”

You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.

“Close, baby?” he hums.

You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.

“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”

But you can’t finish your thought.

You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.

When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”

You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.

It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”

The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.

Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.

Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.

“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”

You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.

“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”

And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.

“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”

Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”

“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”

The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.

“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”

“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”

You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.

“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”

“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”

The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.

“That’s a good boy.”

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[etherealeeknow]

the fwb rules

• rated m for mature

• pairing: fwb!hyunjin x fem!reader

• wc: 4.559

• tw: explicit language, light characterization of an insecure reader, unprotected piv sex (stay safe, lovelies!), fingering & oral (f), nipple play, cream pie— i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: last time i said long fic isn’t my forte and this time i’ll still say the same hahahahaha. but still, i hope i don’t disappoint 🥺 please kindly note that english isn’t my first language. therefore, i apologize for any mistakes. feedbacks are always appreciated because i’d love to grow! thank you for waiting and enjoy 💞 pretty banner made by my bestie!! ilysm 😽😽😽

• tag list: @charlieshelves @es-kay-zee @formidxble @oh-my-sparkle @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @lyralurexrattle @hyunsluvv @healinghyunjin @sailorhyunjinz

—

what happened to the rules?

it didn’t start off like this. you can’t remember when exactly you started wondering about the five word question. all you know is that you were one bite away from gobbling a spoonful of jisung’s ice cream when it struck you: since when did you and hyunjin stop going by the rules? he’s been occasionally texting you out of the blue lately just to know what you’re up to, and today he even asked you to stay the night at his, and as much as you want to believe they’re all normal, again, it didn’t start off like this. from the beginning, you and hyunjin have come up with three rules so your relationship can work: one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking. but look at you now, lying naked and out of breath under his blanket while facing his ceiling, driving yourself insane over the haunted question. you have to get it off your chest somehow, but how? 

“hey, why so serious?” asks the culprit behind your overthinking, causing you to jump slightly over his sudden appearance and your hands instinctively pull up the blanket to cover your naked chest, which as a result, makes him chuckle. cute. “here. it’s my cousin’s,” adds the topless man as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands you a white shirt that even under the dim light, you can already tell won’t fit you.

“your cousin? the model? hyunjin, she’s tiny,” you utter, hands still gripping onto the blanket. “i’m—“

“you,” he cuts you off, placing a hand on top of yours while carefully glancing at you to make sure you there aren’t any signs of discomfort. “are fine, y/n. now hurry up. i’m sleepy,” he adds before letting go, leaving behind a lingering warmth on your knuckles.

nodding, you turn your back on him to change, and the room falls silent, causing you to hear how fast your heart is thumping even more than it should have. is it because you had too much coffee this morning? or it can probably be because the shirt is too tight that it’s cutting off your air circulation, right? right, of course. you tell yourself because as much as you dislike both reasons, they are still far better than having hyunjin as the cause.

once you’re done, hyunjin already has his back lying against the bedhead, his head tilting slightly to the side, avoiding the light coming from the night lamp on the bedside table, while his eyes bore deeply into yours. unbothered that he’s been caught staring, he averts his gaze downwards till they reach your chest and spot how your nipples are sticking out through the thin fabric.

“see? it fits you just fine,” he says, turning his vision back to your face as he opens his arms and motions them at you, only to have you remain in the same position with your increasing heartbeat.

“aren’t you gonna, uh, wear something?”

instead of a proper answer, all you get is his laugh—hyunjin’s contagious laugh that usually always succeeds in making you laugh too. but today hits differently. has his laugh always sounded this lighthearted before? no matter what the answer is, one thing for sure is that despite how sweet hwang hyunjin and his laugh are, they have never made your cheeks burn like this before, and this is forbidden. it’s against the rules.

“an hour ago we were naked while sucking each other’s face, y/n,” he finally answers after a while. “besides, i always sleep like this. now, come on,” he adds, repeating the same gesture, except this time his hands are open wider, eager to have you near him again because the space around him is starting to make him feel lonely.

complying with him, you fall into his embrace and hyunjin immediately lets his hands travel to the exact places of where they want to be—one around your head and the other around your waist. despite the room turning less cold with his warmth directly passing onto you, your heart and cheeks conditions remain the same especially since you can hear how hyunjin’s heartbeats are beating just as fast as yours when he lets you lay your head on his chest.

“hyunjin,” you call out, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“y/n,” he replies, replacing the collar with his fingers instead, intertwining them with yours.

what happened to the rules?

“do... do fwb do these?” you ask, the bravery in you finally decide to show up, even just for a little.

“do this?” he asks back while squeezing your hand with all his might, as if he’s nervous.

no. not ‘this’, but ‘these’. not only the hand grabbing, but also the fact that he asked you to stay the night, that he’s cuddling you to sleep, and that you’ve been getting unusual symptoms over them until this very moment.

“yes, this,” you nod and hyunjin becomes muted, but his heartbeats are growing louder, and his grip on you has become tighter.

after what feels like forever, he whispers, voice slightly cracking, and hands getting a little colder, “yes. yes, they do.”

then the two of you become muted, but both heartbeats keep growing louder, and everything stays that way until sleep eventually takes over.

—

as a homebody, you’ve always against the idea of sleepovers. you believe home is the sweetest place and your own bed is the comfiest even when your mattress is older than a decade and your favorite plushie has had too many holes here and there. but waking up in hyunjin’s bed has broken your stigma—never in your whole life that you’d have thought someone else’s bed can provide you twice the comfort.

“looks like someone had a good sleep,” chirps jisung as he sits beside you, causing you to wipe off the smile on your face before going back to your laptop.

“wow suddenly my best friend’s a psychic?”

“hey, that’d actually make a great drama title!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes. “please do spill the tea though. what happened?” he adds.

“what happened?” you ask back, eyes still on the screen, but the corner of your lips are on the verge of breaking into the smile, knowing full well he’ll complain—which he does by lamely calling you a meanie.

laughing, you tell him nothing happened, but the way he rolls his eyes is a sign he’s not taking any of your bullshit. you are telling the truth though. besides spending the night with each other, nothing really happened, right? it was just another casual fucking session. yes, it was amazing, but that’s no news for jisung. the guy’s practically your wingman—setting you up with hyunjin was his idea because he believes you should, “live your life. have that dreamy college sex orelse you’ll regret it like my old man changbin!”

right on cue, a notification popped out on your big screen, and the sender’s name makes your heart pop too.

“aha, see!” jisung points at it. “y/n, where are you?” he reads out loud, earning yourselves all the eyes from every other student in class.

“oh my god, jisung. shut up!” right when you’re about to log out from the chat app, hyunjin sends another one.

“can i call you?” jisung reads once more and you’re only one second away from smacking his head, but your vibrating phone holds you back.

shooting jisung a glare, you make sure to close your laptop before leaving the class, answering hyunjin’s call even when you’re still half way through the door. right when you’re about to greet him hello, hyunjin beats you to it—his voice a bit raspy, but the softness in his tone still lies within, and it creates endless questions in your mind.

has he just woken up? so is this how he sounds in the morning? why is he calling?

and the list goes on because this isn’t like hyunjin at all. sure, he’s not validating the rules, but he’s breaking his character despite already alarming you to anticipate morning booty calls from him at times. he’s never actually done that though. 

“hi,” you reply, startling yourself with how small your voice came out.

“you left,” says hyunjin and you can hear him sighing from the other line, which somehow causes a slight pang in your heart, wondering if perhaps he is disappointed. “can you come back? wait, actually, let me go to you instead.” he says and you can hear the rustling sounds coming from his side.

“hyunjin, i have class. that’s why i left. i—” should you apologize? but why should you? casual, no strings attached, and no fucks given, remember? “i’m sorry.”

“oh.” hyunjin stops on his track before plopping back down onto the bed, smiling. “i’ll pick you up after class then. when will you finish?”

unconsciously, a smile creeps up your face too, but the realization hits you right after, then followed by the five word question, and you know—you know this is your guts telling you that now’s the time to ask him about it, but your heart hates confrontation. plus, wouldn’t it be rude to reply to someone else’s question with a question? “hyunjin, are you, uh, horny?”

just like yesterday, hyunjin laughs, and with the raspiness in his voice still present, he doesn’t fail to make you laugh along, but at the same time waking the butterflies in your stomach and makes you rethink your decision. mayhaps, you should’ve left him a note or told him that you’ll leave early in the morning; or even, you should’ve ditched classes today and stayed so when he wakes up, you can get him a glass of water, not leaving the boy uncared for like this. but who are you to do so? 

“isn’t it normal for a guy to have a morning wood?” he jokes before quickly adding that he’s not horny. “i just want to see you so let me go get you.”

pressing your lips together, you contemplate on whether you should let him. if you do, won’t you be turning whatever the two of you have right now into something far more complicated? but it’s only until hyunjin adds a desperate “please?” that all of your dilemma disappears, as if you’re being cast into his spell—“okay.”

—

while heading to the gate, you have the biggest urge to book a massage appointment. dodging jisung’s questions and running away from him after the first period was draining, but having to spend the day running back and forth between two buildings because thinking that volunteering as the lecturers’ teaching assistant was draining on a whole new level. other than feeling like your legs are gonna come off, your mind also feels like it’s gonna blow off—you can’t stop recalling all the things you need to start working on as soon as possible, but stepping into hyunjin’s car turns everything to 180 degrees.

you’d like to think that it’s because of the faint lavender aroma coming from his car freshener along with the heavenly cool air conditioner, but no. you know full well it’s because of the way hyunjin’s smile lit up, his eyes disappear into two small crescent moons, and his blonde hair which is becoming one with the warm orange sky that brings peace to your heart.

“hi,” he breathes out the moment you close the door, and you do the same except for looking at him, which causes hyunjin to furrow his eyebrows while speeding away.

the way home is silent, just the way you like it, but you know full well that it’s not hyunjin’s cup of tea. he doesn’t need to say it, his action is showing it all as he’s been fidgeting non stop, wiping his sweaty palm along his jeans while occasionally licking his plump lips. hyunjin’s a very vocal person. he’s talkative and loud—including in bed. you press your warm cheeks over the realization of your own thoughts, embarrassed. you can’t possibly suspect hyunjin for being horny in the morning when you yourself are being like this in the afternoon. it’s uncalled for.

noticing you from the corner of his eye, hyunjin calls out, asking you if there’s anything wrong, totally catching you off guard. what should you say? lying is not your forte, but being honest clearly isn’t the best option right now, at least, not before you shower and appear presentable in front of him—but wait, since when did that matter so much? a few months ago, you even fucked after you ran a marathon.

“y/n?” calls hyunjin for the second time.

“look, hyunjin, really, it’s okay if you’re horny. you can pull over and i can, uh, relieve you and i can just take the bus home after,” you spit out shamelessly while looking at him straight in the eyes, eager to get far away from hyunjin as fast as possible before you go out of your mind.

just like the night before, hyunjin laughs. and just like the night before, his laugh hits differently and it does nothing other than burning your already burnt cheeks for the worse.

“i swear to god, y/n, i’m not horny. i genuinely want to take you home. nothing more,” explains hyunjin, head straight at the road but eyes repeatedly stealing glances at you. “and nothing less,” he adds, voice barely audible but you caught it.

“o— oh.” is all you manage to respond before the ride quickly turns quiet and hyunjin’s hands begin fidgeting again, all the while you’re trying to decode what he has just said—what does he mean by genuinely wanting to take you home? do fwb do this too? what happened to no fucks given?—and it goes on until hyunjin hits the break in front of your old apartment building.

“we’re here,” says hyunjin, breaking the silence by unlocking the car door.

“we’re here,” you repeat after him, already opening the door and setting a foot out. “uh, thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” hyunjin shoots you his signature smile the moment you lower yourself to meet his eye level from outside the car; this time, you have no choice but to fall under his spell.

“hey, uh, you wanna come in?” you ask, biting your lower lip as a way to punish yourself for being so indecisive. one second you want to run away from him and the next second you want to be near him. come on, get a grip.

as if the punishment isn’t enough, hyunjin declines your offer, all while chuckling with his head thrown back. “for the third time, y/n. i’m not horny. go in and rest up.” 

“if you say so.” you shrug, giving him a small smile before turning around, making sure not to look back, only to fail when you hear the engine driving away.

—

you can’t quite tell—no, you can’t tell. you don’t get it. there’s an unexplainable empty space in your heart that is caused by hyunjin’s rejection. is it because you’re just not used to see him without having to fuck him? or is it because you’re hurt over the fact that he’s not in the mood to touch you? is it because of last night? is he finally sick of your flaws? things would probably be different if you had retouched your makeup or at least combed your hair before seeing him, would they? either way, you’re fully aware you shouldn’t be torn over your friend with benefits, yet your aching heart says otherwise.

and so when the doorbell rings only a few seconds after you get in and the figure you see through the peephole is no other than the man in question, you spare no time to swing the door open. hyunjin, in return, spares no time to lock his lips with yours right after he utters a brief apology. just like the way hyunjin sneaks his playful hands down your ass, you sneak your tongue in his mouth, and your action makes him smile into the kiss as he leads you back into the room and kicks the door shut with his long legs.

the way to your bedroom is actually pretty short, but with your tongues moving in sync, bodies pressing—glued, even, and eyes continuously closing in pleasure, the short way to your bedroom consists of endless stumbling, tripping, and bumping the door. once inside, you break the kiss and are about to undress yourself when hyunjin beats you to it, settling you down on the bed as he begins taking off your attire one by one ever so effortlessly. and in just a matter of seconds, his lips are back on yours again, floral scented hair falling and brushing against your cheeks, leaving you no time to wonder over the fact that it’s the first time hyunjin has ever undressed you. 

as the kiss continues, you can feel yourself gushing more and more that you start grinding on him mindlessly, needing to feel more than just his bulge poking you. your hands leave his blonde strands to tug on his hoodie, only to have him stop you—one hand around your grip and the other rests on your hip.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“need you. need to feel you,” you mumble, desperation so visible through your cracked voice. 

“what happened to the girl who was all flustered to sleep with me last night just because i was shirtless?”

autumn nights aren’t supposed to be hot, but hyunjin has proven he has the power to make the impossible happen just with his words and mocking smirk. but the rising heat on your cheeks is nothing compared to the emptiness you feel below, clenching around nothing surely isn’t the best feeling.

“please, jinnie,” you whine, tugging on his hoodie once more, hips moving against his hold.

“fuck.” is all he manages to say before getting off the bed to disrobe himself—hoodie and track pants thrown across the room, now showcasing his toned body and thighs altogether as he hovers over you.

“please take this off too. it looks suffocating,” you say, index finger running faintly through the bulge forming from his tight boxer, making it stand up even more and hyunjin has no choice but to obey you. “put your hair up too please,” you add just when he’s about to dive right back in, and again, your wish is his command.

biting to pull off his hair tie from his wrist, hyunjin smoothly ties his hair back and you’re only given a few seconds to admire his feature before his plump lips coming in contact with your hardened nipple while he toys with the other using his fingers—rubbing and pinching, making your breath hitch over the sensation, fingers digging into his bare shoulders because you don’t want to mess up his hair, and hyunjin’s low grunts pretty much indicate he’s loving it.

“more, please. give me m—”

hyunjin retreats his hand and tongue away from your breast, moving them to your naked pussy,  drawing circles on your outer labia with his middle finger. he teases you just enough and quickly slides in his digit and at the same time sucks on your clit right before you’re about to complain, making you tingle from head to toe.

“you hear that?” he asks, voice muffled, the effect of being too tongue tied from licking every part of your heat, but finger working its magic perfectly, creating loud wet noises from your fluid. “drenched. my pretty y/n is drenched,” says hyunjin, and as much as you want to comment on him for the pet name, you’re too caught up on how his lips vibrate against you the moment he starts palming himself with his unoccupied hand. if he keeps it up, you know you would come undone there and then, and you don’t want that—not yet. so you ask him to stop and he instantly does as told.

“what’s wrong? did i hurt you?” there’s fear written across his expression and heard from his tone, but you’d like to believe your eyes and lips are just playing tricks on you.

“n— no. i just,” you pause to avoid his gazes, but something within you pulls your attention back on him. “i wanna cum with you inside me,” you confess, voice barely audible due to embarrassment; all this time, it’s always been hyunjin to say such things, but perhaps, all the strange tension lately has finally gotten the best of you. you hear him mutter a low “fuck” while his pupils shakes for a brief moment before they somehow appear a shade darker. licking his lower lip, hyunjin pulls you by your legs and rests them on his shoulders, and proceeds to align his tip with your entrance, once again teasing your throbbing core.

the moment you whine is the moment hyunjin pushes himself inside ever so gently, but the stretching still has you throwing your head back, while hyunjin letting our airy moans upon your walls clenching around him. none of you can tell how it’s possible for your vagina to remain so tight after all the countless fucking session for the past half year, but hyunjin doesn’t find that troubling. in fact, he lives for that and it shows from the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he begins thrusting in and out of you—slowly but steady, veiny hands secured on your hips, vision goes back and forth from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

hyunjin leans down to kiss you for a couple of seconds, and when he lets go, he quickens his pace—leaning down once more so his length can go deeper in you, hitting your g-spot. at that very moment, you mentally praise yourself for placing the bedroom mirror right across the bed. it presents you with the magnificent view of hyunjin’s rounded, firm ass bouncing rhythmically whenever he snaps his hips, and placing your hands around them, squeezing them, nearly makes you drool over the sight. with hyunjin constant thrusts, the familiar knot in your abdomen starts to bubble up.

“oh my god,” the two of you whimper in unison as hyunjin begins to lose his tempo, moves also grow sloppy, but never once misses your spot.

“y/n, i— ah— i’m so close. fuck,” he breathes out, sweat forming on his forehead, wetting his baby hair down to his neck and chest, and you can only drool helplessly at the sight.

“me too. please cum inside me, cum with me, hyunjin, please, please,” you beg, voice a pitch higher, almost sounds like you strain your throat, and it stays the same. when you feel hyunjin twitch inside you, your hands automatically reach for the bed sheet again, but it only lasts for a second before they’re being taken by hyunjin’s own hands—he has never done this. while intertwining your fingers, his cock twitches again and his eyes roll to the back of his head, jaw falls open as he calls out your name—you naturally do the same, fingers pressing flat against his white knuckles

“hyu—”

“cum, baby,” he cuts you off, averting his hazy eyes on you, and that’s all it takes for you to break—your orgasm washes over you like waves and you cum undone around hyunjin, shaking and mewling altogether while feel the wet coldness around your inner thigh. hyunjin follows right after, shooting his hot cement inside of you; the man can no longer keep his eyes open as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, his choked moans bring music right to your ear all a while his hot breaths bring goosebumps to your unrecovered body.

after riding out your highs, none of you move. hyunjin stays on top of you, his chest rises and falls according to your hard breathing. somehow, it’s calming you down, but it shouldn’t.

“hyunjin, you’re heavy.”

“oh, sorry,” he chuckles and even without looking, you can tell his eyes are smiling too. with his remaining strength, hyunjin pushes himself up and rests on your thighs to pull his dick out of you, momentarily admiring the mixture of his juice and yours dripping down your cunt before fixing his eyes on you to study your face—also something he has never done before. 

“i’m sorry,” he mutters a few moments later, eyes now on you.

tilting your head, you sit up, resting your upper body with your hands on the bed. “all of a sudden? i came? you always make me feel good.”

“that’s what i’m sorry about. i— i didn’t mean to— i mean, i—”

you reach out to him, gently patting his thigh. “hyunjin, calm down. this isn’t like you,” you whisper the last sentence, knowing that perhaps, now’s the time to talk things out, to stop whatever is going on, and go back to how things are used to be, maybe? your heart’s just been restless for too long and apparently, hyunjin seems to be in a similar situation too.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to keep using you like this. i genuinely meant what i said. i only wanted to take you home, but we ended up here and—”

“isn’t that what fwb do?” you pull your hand off his thigh, and a frown painted across his face as if he’s questioning your question. “that’s what we agreed on. we have our fwb rules, remember?”

“one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking,” says hyunjin, proving he has memorized every words to the back of his mind.

nodding, you carefully bring back your hand to his thigh, repeating the same movement you did before. “exactly. so you don’t have to be sorry. don’t worry, i’m not feeling used at all.” you end it with a smile.

hyunjin mirrors you, he smiles too; his eyes fall to where your hand is. “but what if i’m breaking them? the rules,” asks the boy whose cold hand is now on top of your warm one. “what if i like you?” his eyes find their way back to you, and that’s when you know. the difference between your temperatures; the difference between your smile and his—the sadness that lies within.

that’s when you understand. everything finally makes sense; every one of hyunjin’s unusual acts. the constant texts and calls, the undressing, the pet names, the facial expression, the hand holding.

what happened to the rules? feelings. that’s what happened. to hyunjin, it’s his feelings over the rules.

but you, what about you? the butterflies, the irregular increasing heartbeats, the flushing cheeks, the overthinking, the disappointment at some point.

“y/n,” hyunjin calls out and you don’t get to get back to him because he’s already an inch away from you, momentarily eyeing your lips before he closes the distance. once again, his blonde hair falls down, brushing against his cheek before meeting yours and it tickles you, but not in the same way as how his kiss tickles your heart; giddy.

what happened to the rules? unwanted feelings. that’s what happened. to you, it’s the unwanted feelings against the rules. and for now, the unwanted feelings are too strong for you to push him away, so you pull him close instead. for now.

—

gen’s masterlist

repeating this!! special note: HUGE THANK YOU for my awesome bestie for the banner 🥺💞💞 ily, bish!! thank you for being my beta reader too 😽😽😽

[missgeniality]

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna​​ is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this!   This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy! 

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods. 

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning. 

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold. 

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity. 

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully. 

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.” 

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?” 

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation. 

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?” 

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious. 

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well. 

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight? 

BTS is on your flight? 

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography. 

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger. 

BTS who? 

Biggest boyband who? 

You only listen to Frank Sinatra. 

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally. 

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours. 

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help. 

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved. 

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could. 

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back. 

Aw, you are in trouble. 

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face. 

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true. 

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth. 

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you. 

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you. 

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all. 

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile. 

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.  

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean. 

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.” 

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..” 

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in. 

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb. 

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.” 

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.  

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told. 

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep. 

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began. 

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you. 

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you. 

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you. 

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family. 

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen. 

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request. 

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement. 

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.” 

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck. 

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart. 

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him. 

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon. 

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.” 

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence. 

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car. 

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you. 

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him�� felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that. 

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of. 

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far. 

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode. 

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma. 

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this. 

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong. 

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do. 

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall. 

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!" 

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!” 

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor. 

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so. 

But you’re not anyone else. 

He isn’t just anyone.  

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two. 

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours. 

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century. 

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind. 

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours. 

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation. 

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end. 

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark. 

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.” 

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible. 

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken. 

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him. 

The elevator door opens, and people walk out. 

But that’s not where your attention is. 

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm. 

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad. 

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present. 

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.” 

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile. 

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too. 

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space. 

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!” 

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed. 

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again. 

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.” 

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”. 

The punctuation was not vocalized. 

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself. 

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there? 

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna. 

So far, no sign of him. 

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far. 

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode. 

And then you hear it. 

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but. 

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck. 

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight. 

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight. 

 “Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement. 

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is. 

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart. 

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.” 

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first. 

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own. 

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes.  “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.” 

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter. 

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?” 

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight. 

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger. 

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware. 

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer. 

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue. 

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch. 

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates. 

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?” 

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air. 

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative. 

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?” 

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress. 

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured. 

“On your knees.” he commands.  

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.” 

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on. 

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm. 

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head. 

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise. 

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly. 

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him. 

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.” 

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over. 

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench. 

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening. 

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod. 

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum. 

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you. 

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him. 

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss. 

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair. 

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt. 

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room. 

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom. 

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you. 

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention. 

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought. 

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret. 

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch. 

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth. 

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way. 

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face. 

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs. 

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem. 

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-” 

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him. 

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason. 

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard. 

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him. 

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making. 

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls. 

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat. 

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it. 

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response. 

“Go on baby, ride me.” 

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better. 

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!” 

“That’s fucking right, only me.” 

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away. 

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve. 

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full. 

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high. 

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face. 

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!” 

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.” 

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way. 

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole. 

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs. 

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core. 

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours. 

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.” 

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon. 

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart. 

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.” 

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness. 

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy. 

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance. 

He finds none. 

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go. 

You inch closer. 

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his. 

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win. 

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words. 

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst. 

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows.  You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him. 

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far. 

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up. 

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement. 

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis & Green Lantern, Sittin' In A Tree. K-I-S-S-I-N--Wait, Is That Our Sister? PT. 1

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Aye, looks who's back at it again with a fic like this! IT'S ME! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The creature was coming at him a lot faster than he’d thought it was, and he barely had enough time to form a wall before it slammed into him. Even then, the force of it hitting the green construct sent him back a hundred feet and into the side of an abandoned skyscraper.

Pain wasn’t really felt when in the suit, but man, it still threw him for a loop and he groaned as he picked himself up off the ground, shoving glass and concrete away from his body. He could hear the rest of the Justice League fighting outside and as he started back towards the hole his body had made, the creature came in.

And this time, he didn’t have any to react, and the glowing magenta beast was coming right at him—fast. He lifted his arms and started to will a construction when a low sound came from his hand and with wide eyes, he watched the glowing neon green ring faded dull.

“Shi—”

His suit faded instantaneously and the next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the wall. It cracked under the pressure and his skull felt as though it’d been split when it connected with the concrete. The creature’s giant clawed hands wrapped around his throat, starting to choke the life out of him and he scratched at the magenta skin, to no avail.

“He—lp!” he gasped. “Som—on—e hel—p!”

Black started to edge from the corners of his vision and a haze began to settle over his brain as his lungs stopped receiving air.

I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die like this. Someone, anyone, help!

Something cold splattered across his face, and suddenly the steel grip around his throat went slack. The weight of the creature fell away from him and he dropped to his knees and collapsed onto his back, gasping in lungfuls of air to his deprived organs.

When his head stopped spinning, and he found the strength to move, he rolled onto his side and immediately, he recoiled with a shout of fear. The creature’s big ugly head had been decapitated and was leaking a fluorescent blue blood—that’s probably what splattered on his face and he reached up, wiping a hand across his skin. He pulled his hand away and there was the neon ichor painting his palm.

“You’re weak, Rayner,” a voice commented disapprovingly.

He craned his neck up to see a woman who looked about his age wiping the neon blood from a silver sword before she sheathed it on her back, her white slit eyes finding his.

“You almost died because your ring ran out of power.”

Kyle huffed and unsteadily stretched his legs. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the woman that saved your life.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Thank you,” he said, casting one last look at the creature before looking back at her. “So, who are you again? You obviously know me?” he took a moment to examine her suit. It was black, with silver stripes and in the middle of her chest was a silver symbol, that of a Greek helmet. But what got Kyle was the bat wings that outstretched from the sides of the helm.

“Are you apart of Batman’s troupe?”

She grunted and tapped at the glowing screen on her wrist. “Yeah. Name’s Silver Sentinel.”

“Oh, I know who you are!” he grinned. “You’re Dick and Jason’s sister!”

“Yes, please, tell the world who my younger brothers are.”

Kyle’s face heated and he glanced down at his hands. “Sorry.”

She tapped a button and waited, then a voice came over the comm link.

Talk.

Her eyes found Kyle’s and she replied, “Rescued your Green Lantern about two klicks from your position.” A sneer came over her lip. “Fool let his ring run out of power.”

He stared at his hands as embarrassment crawled across his skin, flushing from his neck up to his cheeks.

Hmm. Can you get him back to New York?

“I could be persuaded.”

Sentinel.

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, whatever. I’ll take him back to NY.” Walking over to the hole in the wall, she saw a beam of light. “Need a hand down there?”

Negative. We’ve got it under control.

“Ten-four. Silver Sentinel out.” The line went dead, and she looked down at Kyle. “Well, are you going to keep sitting there on your ass or are you gonna get up?”

He scrambled to his feet, an apology rolling off his tongue. “Sorry.”

She merely grunted in return and started off towards the exit, him following rather quickly. As they got to the entrance to the floor, she walked over to the elevator and pried it open, and Kyle had to fight to not be impressed by her sheer strength. She placed some type of device between the open doors and clicked a button, and it spread, keeping them apart.

Next, she pulled out what looked like one of the grapple guns Kyle had seen her family carrying around, and pointed it at the ceiling of the elevator, pulling the trigger. It hit the top with a clink, and she gave it an experimental tug before looking over at him.

“Come here,” she commanded, and Kyle blinked as something tight shot through his gut at the tone she carried—one of force and complete authority. Something told him that she was the type of woman who did what she wanted and expected people to fall in line behind her or else. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve been aroused or terrified, but it was probably a mix of both as he walked over.

She curled an arm around his waist and tugged his body up against hers. “Put one of your arms around my shoulder, the other around my body.”

“I—uh—I don’t feel comfor—” Kyle stuttered as his cheeks turned scarlet and she glared at him.

“We’re not going to dry hump in the elevator like horny teenagers, Rayner.” She pulled them nose to nose and he tried not to wince as the black nose of the cowl pushed into his skin. “If you’d rather us grapple down the side of the building where everyone can see, then let’s go.”

He swallowed thickly and did as she’d said a moment earlier, putting one of his arms around her shoulder, the other wrapping snug around her back. “N-no. We can do this,” he agreed, and she grunted.

“Listen carefully, this is going to be scary because you’re not used to it, but the second our feet come off this floor, don’t panic. I’ve got you and I’m not going to drop you.”

Though her voice was harsh, he could feel the security. “And the claw holding us up?”

“Has a gripping force of two tons.” She looked at him and inched towards the opening. “We’ll be fine.”

Kyle stepped over and looked down into the cold and dark shaft, immediately feeling his heart-rate pick up and she sighed when she heard the sharp intake of breath.

“You’re such a baby,” she scowled and pulled them into the shaft. His arms tighten instantaneously and even his legs tightened around hers. “Gonna try and climb me, Rayner?” she teased.

“Shut up,” he hissed and buried his face in her shoulder pad. “Just hurry and get us down.”

She snorted and clicked a button, allowing them to descend at a faster pace than he would’ve liked. “I thought Green Lanterns were supposed to be fearless?”

“Usually when I’m somewhere I could fall to my death, I’m powered up.” He retorted, still burrowed in her shoulder. “This is a little different.”

“Relax, Rayner. I’ve got you.”

Kyle pulled his face away from her armor and stared at her, though all he could make out was the white slits. “How are you this strong? I know I weigh at least one-eighty.”

She grunted. “Yeah, I can tell.”

He blinked. “Are you calling me fat? That sounds like you’re calling me fat.”

“Your muscle mass could be better.”

“That wasn’t a no,” he griped and when she chuckled, it sent shivers down his spine.

“To answer your earlier question—”

“The one where you called me fat?” he interrupted, and she scowled at him.

“The one about how strong I am. I work out daily, Rayner, and I can lift a lot more than my weight.”

“How heavy—” he chuckled nervously when she glared at him. “I’m not gonna finish that question.”

“Good idea, Rayner. Might save you from being dropped.”

“Hardy-har-har. You’re hilarious,” he retorted, and suddenly his feet his something hard. He looked down and saw the elevator, and she shoved him back from her, clicking the button on the grapple gun.

It recoiled in a matter of seconds and she tapped a button on the side of her cowl as she stowed the gun, then she moved to the corner of the elevator and brought her foot down as hard as she could. Kyle winced when the hatch gave way and he wondered how powerful she was to kick through a metal latch in one hit.

She looked at him. “Come on. I’ll call the Batplane when we get outside.”

“I thought only Batman was allowed to do that?” he asked, and she scoffed.

“Let’s just say I’m the one who’s allowed to do whatever she wants, and things don’t get fucked up.” She disappeared down the hatch and a moment later, he heard the elevator doors being pried open. “Are you coming, Rayner? I’d be more than happy to leave you here without a ride home.”

Kyle hurried and squeezed down the hatch, grunting when his tennis shoes hit the floor. The elevator rocked and creaked and she made a noise that sounded a lot like the one Batman made when he was annoyed.

“Hurry up and get through the doors.”

He ducked under her arms and out onto the floor and she followed, letting the thick metal doors slam behind her. She strode ahead and tapped at her screen.

“Alfred, are you there?”

A moment later, an older voice came over the line.

Yes Miss Wayne. How can I assist you this evening?

“I need the Batplane at my position. Could you send it?”

At once.

“Thanks Alfie.”

Of course, Miss Wayne.

As they waited in the lobby of the skyscraper, she murmured, “If you’re not going to ask whatever you’re thinking about asking me. Stop thinking. It’s annoying.”

Kyle blinked. “How’d you—”

“Oh please.” she rolled her eyes. “You’ve opened and shut your mouth eight times in the last two minutes.” She gazed at him. “Just ask.”

“You’re really Bruce Wayne’s daughter? (Y/N) Wayne?”

“I am.” (Y/N) replied. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno…it’s just kinda hard to believe that a famous model doubles as a vigilante at night.”

“Why’s that so shocking? My dad’s a multi-billionaire playboy by day and Batman by night. Are you telling me a woman can’t do it too?”

Kyle’s green eyes widened, and he shook his head. “What? No! That’s not what I meant! I just meant that with back-to-back photo shoots, it must be hard to make time to do all this.”

(Y/N) hummed, turning her gaze to the street, a blur of red went by and she knew it was Barry Allen. “I run on my own schedule, Rayner, not anyone else’s.”

“Wow, you really are the woman in charge, aren’t you?” he remarked.

And she turned her eyes onto him again, this time narrowed in amusement as she teased, “Trying to see if you can find out what it’s like to be in charge for the night?”

Kyle’s mouth opened and snapped shut. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, swallowing nervously.

She crossed over to him in one step, getting up in his personal space again as she cooed, “Oh, you don’t?” he nodded and she reached up, trailing her silver armored fingers up the front of his white shirt and he was incapable of fighting how his muscles twitched at the pressure.

“I think you do,” she flirted. “Come on, Rayner. Don’t you wanna see what it’s like when you’re the man in charge? How much fun it can be to take all that control?” (Y/N) leaned close, her face barely an inch from his. “To be the one who holds all that power over a woman?”

He couldn’t breathe. His head was swimming with R-rated thoughts that if she really were a mind reader, she’d probably break his jaw, but all he knew was that his mind was so far into the gutter it wasn’t funny, and he swore she could hear his heart pounding.

She pulled away. “You should break out on your own instead of working for a design company. Then you’d have better control over your own schedule.”

Kyle blinked, stunned silent, then he said, “Wait, what?”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“What was,” he gestured wildly. “All that just now?”

Placing a hand on her hip, she asked, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Rayner. All I said was that you should get on your own.”

A deafening sound shook the floor and Kyle stared at the black plane settling down in the middle of the street. (Y/N) walked out the doors and to it as if it just hadn’t pulled a “J-turn” at twelve G’s.

“Let’s go, Rayner. I’ve got better things to do than babysit you,” she called, and he ran after her. She helped him climb into it, then scowled. “Move over. You’re in my spot.”

He shimmied in the tight space to the other seat and strapped in, watching curiously as she tapped at the buttons and flipped switches before grabbing hold of the steering device.

Kyle snorted. “It’s even shaped like a bat.”

(Y/N) huffed. “Yeah, that’s how we do things in our family.” She tapped at the screen. “Batman, this is Silver Sentinel. Come in.”

Read you loud and clear, Sentinel.

“Green Lantern and I are in route to New York.” She paused and directed her gaze to the screen, watching red dots surround a group of blue ones. “You’ve got enemies incoming. Do you want backup?”

Negative. You and Green Lantern get back to New York. We can handle this.

For once that night, Kyle watched as concern crossed (Y/N)’s face and she replied, “Dad, I think—”

I gave you an order, Sentinel.

(Y/N) glared and looked at Kyle and he about shrunk in his seat form the withering stare; she tossed him a helmet and ordered, “Put that on and don’t puke in it.”

“Don’t what?” he inquired as he put it on and the only answer he got was the sudden kick of the engines and he was pulled back in his seat. “Holy shit,” he whispered breathlessly as the Batwing took a U-turn in the air and headed off towards the fight.

Sentinel, we’re fine.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe that,” (Y/N) retorted and in a matter of moments they were flying over the rest of the Justice League. She tapped at the screen. “You’ve got incoming hostiles from the north, east, and west.” (Y/N) flipped a few switches above her then pressed a button on the steering wheel. “Heatseekers and nanite missiles deployed.”

Kyle watched her go between the screen and the switches. “Hostiles in the east and west quadrants have been eliminated.”

What can you tell me about the north?

“You’ve got multiple hostiles coming in. Got a big guy too. Got any tips?”

They’re vulnerable to sound waves. Take him out and we’ll do the rest.

“Ten-four. Happy hunting.”

(Y/N) turned the steering wheel and directed the Batplane towards the north part of the fight, grinning when the giant creature came into view, while Kyle looked like he was going to crap himself.

“Merry Christmas, ugly. Kiss my ass,” she quipped and pressed a button, and a black tube the size of a fire hydrant shot to the ground, and with a thunk, sunk in.

“What’s that supposed to do?” Kyle asked and she grinned.

“Watch and learn.”

The device popped up, blue and armed and she hit the screen. Immediately the windows of every building and car in the mile radius shattered and to his amazement, Kyle watched the creatures screech and grab at their heads before they exploded into piles of neon blue goo.

His jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That was cool.”

(Y/N) smirked and checked the map once more. No more hostiles inbound and she hit the comm link again. “Justice League you are all clear. I repeat, Justice League you are all clear.”

Good work, Sentinel. Now do as I told you and take Green Lantern back to New York.

“Is nothing I do good enough for you, father?” she griped, though Kyle could see the humor in her eyes.

Get off the comm link.

“Make me.”

Sentinel. Get. Off.

“Fine, fine. I love you too.” (Y/N) pushed at the screen once more then reclined in her seat, shutting her eyes.

“Don’t you have to fly this thing?” Kyle asked as the engines picked up again.

“Nah. It’s got autopilot.”

“I gotta get me one of these,” he whispered, and she reached over him, pulling out something from a drawer. (Y/N) opened a snack bag and popped a cookie into her mouth.

“You could probably construct one with your ring,” she offered, then held out the bag.

He took one with a ‘thank you’, then said, “Yeah but there’s nothing like owning the real thing.”

“HA! Give my dad a couple million dollars and he might be willing to part with one.”

“And on that note, I’ll stick to constructs,” he chuckled, and the rest of their flight was filled with easy banter, where (Y/N) found herself teasing Kyle a lot more than he was comfortable with—only because he found himself lacking a comeback for every remark she gave him.

***

“You really gotta get a new apartment. This place is way too small for a grown man,” she commented, and he snorted, picking up a pair of shoes that were laying haphazardly on the floor.

“I’m not exactly on the billionaire’s credit card, (Y/N). I live on minimum wage and whatever I can get out of commissions.”

She observed Kyle as he recharged his ring and when he was finished, she asked, “How much do you charge for commissions?”

He blinked and looked up at her. “Oh, well it depends on what the commissioner wants me to do.”

“Give me a price range.”

“Uh…between eighty and two hundred. That’s usually what I charge.”

(Y/N) thought for a moment. “Mind showing me some of your best works? I’ve been thinking about hiring a graphic artist for a new project I’m working on.”

Kyle felt a giddy feeling rise in his chest and he practically tripped over himself to his desk to grab his sketchbook. His cheeks were warm when she giggled and took it from him, flipping through it in silence. And that wracked his nerves because without the cowl on, he could see just how scrutinizing her gaze was.

After a moment she passed it back to him and when she didn’t say anything, merely frowned, he couldn’t help but deflate a bit. “I guess it’s not what you’re looking for, huh?” he tried to sound light, but it came out a lot bitter than he meant.

(Y/N) hummed. “It’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

“I can get you in touch with a better artist at the—” he stopped mid-sentence and gaped at her. “Wait, what was that you said just now?”

She snorted. “I said your work is exactly what I’m looking for.”

He couldn’t fight the shock coursing through him. “Really? It is?”

Suddenly her smile was replaced with a scowl and she bit out, “Quit making me repeat shit and listen the first time.”

Kyle nodded. “Right. I just…wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“I know,” she replied cockily, then took out her phone and tapped at the screen before showing it to him. “I know you’re a graphic designer and not a clothing one, but you’d be really helpful with the new line of clothing and jewelry I’m planning on making.”

He took her phone gently and swiped at the pictures. “Justice League themed?”

(Y/N) tipped her head. “We’re doing an exclusive line for Gotham’s vigilantes first. If it pays well, we’ll go from there.” She took her phone back and stared at him. “I’m willing to pay you up to two grand for every design you give me.”

Kyle’s eyes practically popped out of his head and his jaw went slack. “Are you—are you being serious?”

She nodded and stowed her phone. “On one condition.”

He nodded. “For two grand a design? I’ll do anything for you.”

The corner of her mouth rose in a smirk and he realized his words too late as she purred, “Well I would love to see you on your knees for me. So, I’ll keep that in mind, Rayner.” Waving a hand, she added, “But besides that, if you want the job, you have to come to the manor.”

“Wayne Manor?”

“Mhm. I’ll provide everything you need to create and design.”

His dark brows furrowed. “I can do that, but why?”

A solemn look came across her face. “You almost got yourself killed tonight because you let your ring power down.” She placed her hands on her hips. “If you want this job, you’re going to take combat lessons from me and you’re going to start working out more.”

Kyle’s face pinched. “You want me to work out and get my ass kicked for a job?”

“More like so my brothers don’t lose a best friend.” She shrugged. “But, if a freelance artist like you can find better money elsewhere, I’d be happy to let you go and—”

“I get it!” he scowled and looked away for a moment before sighing and turning back to her, his hand outstretched. “Fine. It’s a deal. You pay me and I’ll do your designs.”

“And?” she questioned with a smirk.

He groaned, his muscles already feeling the pain coming. “And I’ll take lessons from you.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’m so glad we could come to an arrangement.” She shook his hand. “It’s going to be a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Rayner.”

Kyle swallowed thickly as she pulled away and walked to the fire escape. “Likewise, Miss Wayne,” he replied lowly, knowing that with each sway of her hips, he was getting more and more screwed. Not only was she his better, she was also his best friends’ older sister—hotter and badass older sister.

She opened the window and paused, looking back at him. “This’ll be a three-month project. Are you okay with that, Kyle?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.” (Y/N) seemed to be thinking about something and he could tell. “Is something on your mind?”

She pulled on the cowl and gazed at him. “I’ve half a mind to tell you to pack a bag and spend the time at the manor while we do the project.”

“Pay my rent and I’ll consider it,” he snorted and then she blinked and shifted her gaze down to her wrist then tapped at it.

After a minute, she said, “Alright, your rent and utilities have been paid for the next three months.”

“What?”

“You said pay your rent. So, I did.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Kyle begged—he didn’t want to owe her like that.

She smiled. “Pack a bag Rayner. You’re moving in.”

“Seriously?”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop making me repeat things?”

He sighed heavily, moving to pack. “Yes ma’am.”

“Ooo, call me ma’am like that again and I might not let you leave when this is over.”