#i am a little or a lot inebriated and really wanted to write something so here is this

[readwritealldayallnight]

The first time it happened, you were doing your best to not freak out

How? How could this have happened? How could you have let it happen?

He was finally just starting to feel comfortable enough around your flat, secure enough in your relationship together, confident in this love you share, to take his mask off around you

It was such a huge stepping stone to overcome in this new partnership the two of you were still finding your solid footing in, after having fallen head over heels quickly, for him to not just lift the mask above his nose to shyly kiss you, but to pull the entire balaclava off and toss it aside the second he stepped foot through your door without a second thought

And so how in the name of anything that is good in this world, did you manage to shrink his beloved mask in the dryer?

You hadn’t even known the damn thing was in your hamper until you had already washed it with the rest of your laundry, tossed in the dryer and had pulled the shrunken item out of the pile it had somehow ended up in during his usual weekend sleepover

You were doing your best to not lose your mind, unable to believe you had gone and basically ruined something that was so important to him, borderline sacred when it came to his identity and privacy, the very thing people knew him for, and you had shrunk it to the point it was unwearable

Knowing how important honesty was to him, and simply out of ideas on how to fix this or avoid it any longer, you had come clean to Simon, presenting him with the almost comically small version of his trademark mask, already prepared with offers of buying him a new one, and stitching anything he wanted onto it for him, you could even hide a little heart on the inside of the mask just for the two of you to know it was there, anything to tug at his heart strings and get him to forgive you

Unbeknownst to you however, Simon had dozens of those plain black balaclavas, and hadn’t blinked twice when he tossed his mask into your laundry basket along with all the other clothes he’d taken off of you and himself that same night-

And so finally, by about the hundredth time you found one of Simon’s mask in your laundry, you’d tell him to either leave his stinky stuff out of your hamper, or risk another mask lost to your flat’s in-unit dryer, a sacrifice he seemed always more than ready and willing to take when it meant that that same shitty dryer was in your shared flat, your home together

[campbyler]

i have so many things i want to say about everything but i do remember the moment where mike (playfully) accused will of lying and it makes so much more sense now i thought he was just being smug as hell like “oh ofc you would’ve kissed me two months ago i am just that spectacular” but no. i’m sorry for doubting you michael you DEFINITELY had grounds for that claim. out of focus eye to eye kidnapped my firstborn and left a changeling in its place. lives were ruined in the best possible way.

exactlyyyyy you get it! the way you worded this ask actually made me want to make a little note about why we wrote the reference in, because it was very intentional and there were a couple different reasons for it which i think are both very important !! (but obviously could not mention here before out of focus dropped)

1. obviously it was a Reference, in that we thought this is a big enough piece of lore that it would be weird for it to never ever come up even once, but the whole idea of the companion fic was that it kind of has an ambiguous ending and even mike was not super duper 100000% sure of will’s intentions (due to the #inebriation). so it was unlikely at this point in their dynamic that they were going to have a real fleshed out conversation about it because it would definitely need both of them to be vulnerable in a way they were Not ready to be at the time (will admitting to wanting to kiss mike/mike admitting to having wanted to be kissed? noooo way). mike is kind of testing the waters here (and being annoying on purpose) but from his pov will either still does not remember or does remember but does not want to talk about it, so it doesn’t really go anywhere anyway. but alsoooooo

2. another remnant of the post ch05 era specifically was a lot of people commenting things along the lines of “omg mike is being so flirty” “where did that confidence come from” etc etc which is so true bc poor will got absolutely blindsided by it and it was so fun to write but!! the idea also is that half it was that confidence boost you get after realizing that someone is also into you/attracted to You and i think mike would’ve taken that and ran with it for sureee (esp bc will initiated the ch04 kiss And the ch05 morning kiss mostly) and the other half was mike having information that the readers and will both did not have! a majorrrrrrrr driving force of acswy is the fact that neither of them are ever working with All of the information, hence the unreliable narration, hence the drama and history and them both being so annoying and unserious, etc etc etc. i think that’s important to keep in mind, especially now that we’re in the ch09 era where their dynamic has shifted pretty drastically since their rivals era in the beginning, or even chapters 04/05. 😗😗😗

i’m actually very glad no one Really picked up on this being a Thing when ch07 dropped bc it was supposed to be super subtle (obviously a couple people said 🤨 am i missing something? and we said No 😌) but the reactions we’re getting now have been incredibly fulfilling and have been just what we were hoping to get, which tells us we are writing this story right! sorry for ruining your life and the changeling baby but thank you sooo much for the lovely ask <33

[colderdrafts]

wait, wait!!

the creature is acting and talking in such annoying way that they get in reader's nervous, so the reader starts saying snarky things back and talking about how morgan is the best partner they could over have (and I don't know what else im just giving out ideas im terrible at writing dialogue lol)

(Continuation of another ask! When you finally get Morgan a night out and someone gives you a hard time about it) Love this idea. A little piece for this scenario below. R takes defensive positions :)

The idle conversations have started up around you again. Finally.

It’s always too eerily quiet when you and Morgan first arrive somewhere. At least until people realize that you’re not going to attack anyone. Now, you just need to relax, too.

The inside of the tavern is fairly standard of the common-folk world. Craftsmanship of the facilities are wooden and rustic, having several spots for comfortable seating. There’s a single bar managed by a large hare-woman, a scent of inebriated people and food in the air. The interior is bustling with common-folk utilizing the area for their late night rest, and a well-deserved drink after a long day’s work. From gruff-looking wolves to a sleek falcon, common-folk intend to get their fair share of winding down. And tonight, you and Morgan have joined them.

Well, 'joined', is perhaps generous. You’ve found a secluded corner to sit in, and most others make sure to stay a good distance away from you. You try to pay it no mind; Morgan is not exactly welcome in these spaces, after all. And, as their companion, neither are you. But, you’ve managed to convince the hare at the bar to provide an actual roof over your heads for the night, and food is on the way. That’s something. It might even smell like progress.

It took a lot of convincing on your part for Morgan to even consider spending a night in a place like this. Too many people, too little space to move around. Too exposed. But you’ve paid a hefty sum for a room, having an actual bed to look forward to, and a good meal that’s actually been stewing, and came from a pot. You're not about to give that up.

And so far, your efforts have paid off. Everything's been going surprisingly well, mostly. Even if Morgan's been switching between speaking with you, and keeping an eye on anything and everything moving inside the tavern. It’s an odd mixture. Their confidence might allow them to not be completely on guard, but their constant monitoring of vibrations in the air might make it difficult to stop.

To be fair, most patrons inside of the tavern seems hellbent on keeping an eye on Morgan, too. Perhaps it’s sensible they’d return the favor. Your arachnid companion has their usual unseemly aura in place, like just daring anyone to try and oppose their being here. It might fool a common-folk, but you can see what they're doing. It's a defense mechanism; you can't be hurt if you can't be approached. You really wish they didn’t think this was necessary.

But this is supposed to be a fun night out. You intend to make it so, in any case.

“Could you please calm down your feelers?” you ask Morgan, when they’ve been aloof for a little longer than usually. They’re staring dead ahead at a point behind you. You tap at their front leg with your foot to snap them out of it. “I think we’re fine.”

“Oh, I am completely calm,” Morgan purrs and smiles widely, still not looking at you. They don’t even blink. “That pale lizard over there, however, is clearly not.”

You glance over your shoulder at said lizard. Sure enough, the white scales of his head seems like they should be an angry red, judging by the way he’s glaring your direction.

“Well, obviously he’s not if you keep staring at him like that,” you argue, switching tactics and gently pulling at their hand instead. “Come on, can we just have a calm night? No fights, no threats, no blood, just – I want you to have a good time, for once.”

“Me?” Morgan grins, finally severing eye contact with their opponent to focus on you. Their hand promptly curls around yours. “Since when have you become so nice to me? Not that I’m complaining.”

Ugh. You knew you should never go there with Morgan, but perhaps that’s what’s needed. Give an inch, and all that. You’ll just have to hope they won’t take more than their usual mile.

"I've always been nice," you assert. "You just haven't earned experiencing it."

Morgan laughs, nodding at your hand in theirs. "So, what did I do to earn this?"

“Our dinner’s ready,” you deflect, noting two stewing, deep plates that’s just been delivered at the bar. Excellent timing. The barkeep’s eyeing you a bit excessively, perhaps reluctant to call you up. Simultaneously, she probably does not want Morgan to come collect the food.

Morgan’s eye darts to the bar. “I’ll go-”

“Sit,” you bark at them before they’ve even stretched a leg. The less risk of them bumping into someone, or, gods forbid, someone bumping into them, the better. “I’ll get it.”

You walk away before they can protest, ignoring the feeling of Morgan’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

The barkeep looks relieved when you approach, and hands you your food. She holds onto the bowls momentarily as you grab them, preventing you from leaving quickly.

“Could you please tell your custodian to stop staring at my patrons?” the hare hisses lowly, urgently, ears flat against her head. “It’s making people uneasy. I gave you a room, but I don’t want-”

“YEP!” you interrupt, flashing her a strained smile. “I’ll get right on that.”

The barkeep narrows her eyes at your rudeness, continuing. “And when you sleep here, I don’t want any noise or unnecessary nightly wandering-”

“I know!” you interrupt her again, pulling at the food to get her to let go. You don’t have the time, nor patience, for the usual complaints. You need to get back before-

The barkeep's long ears suddenly stand up straight. She sucks in a startled breath, fixating on a spot behind you. Right. That.

You groan, and turn around, leaving your precious food in the barkeep's hands.

Morgan is unfortunately standing up. And, in front of them, is the very lizard they’ve spent the night staring at.

Said lizard is up in Morgan’s face, spewing words you can only imagine are not words of fondness. Either he's very brave, very good at fighting, or very drunk. Possibly all three.

By contrast, Morgan looks unpleasantly nonplussed, like they're casually wondering where best to grab on and start tearing.

“No,” you seethe. Absolutely not. Not tonight.

You march across the tavern in long strides toward the pair, prepared to put an end to this fight before it even starts.

“-don’t care where, but you’re not staying here!” the lizard’s voice reaches you through the idle noises of the crowd.

Morgan looks up at your approach, still not looking particularly affected, albeit slightly amused when they spot the look on your face.

You force yourself into the small space between the pair, your back against Morgan’s front. You suppress a shudder when you feel their hands softly coming to rest on your shoulders.

The lizard steps back once you do so, narrowing his eyes at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by leaning into his space.

“I spend one night, trying to have a good time, that’s not inside a cave, high up in a tree, or sleeping on dirt, and then you-!” you scold the lizard-like person. “- just had to escalate things!”

The lizard takes the verbal hit silently and stares at you, baffled. Perhaps he’d not expected you would take up this fight. He frowns, regaining composure. “Listen here-”

“No, you listen!” you spit. Morgan's face enters your peripheral vision, a genuine surprised expression minutely replaced by a shit-eating grin full of teeth. You ignore them. “We want to stay in taverns sometimes! Why can’t you let us have that?”

“YOU are alright!” the lizard states with a hiss. He points a clawed finger at the large arachnid behind you. “That monster you’re hanging out with is not!”

“Monster?” Morgan scoffs and pouts, feigning hurt. “Why, you've barely seen anything. That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Not when it comes to you,” the lizard snarls back at them. “You nasty red-eyes especially."

"I think my eyes are pretty," Morgan says.

"Can’t believe you didn’t get snatched," the lizard continues, not listening. "Should’ve nailed you when they had the darn chance. Better off dead than adult.”

A miniscule pause is what changes this entire interaction. It’s not often Morgan reacts to the usual slander people throw their way. And if it wasn’t because of your bond, you probably wouldn’t have noticed it would be any different this time.

But there’s just the slightest little twist of their energy shifting, like being splashed with cold water. The comment hit something. Morgan's face doesn’t falter a bit, expertly holding up the nonchalant, unaffected facade. But their claws are scraping across the wooden floor, their grip on your shoulders tightening ever so slightly. You can feel their energy reaching for you to calm down, almost on instinct. For once, Morgan seems slightly, genuinely, upset.

You step into the lizard’s space again without warning, shoving him backwards and out of your corner. Interrupting your fun night out is one thing. Suggesting your companion should’ve been killed as a hatchling is quite another. You’ve just about had it.

“That monster has treated me better than any of you ever did,” you fume, walking the offender back to his own spot. “You lot have done nothing but cause problems. What gives you the fucking right to be judging life and death?”

Morgan doesn’t intervene, but their presence behind you is heavy and reassuring. Their energy is fluttering around you, leaning into your anger. Letting you know you’re not fighting alone.

“You’re completely brainwashed,” the lizard laughs coolly, waving you off. “As always. It’s filthy, the shit they do to your minds. I don’t know what I expected. I almost feel bad for you.”

Brainwashed?

Perhaps it’s the heated moment. Perhaps it’s just because you want this incredibly hostile person to leave you alone. Perhaps it’s because you just want to have the final word, and prove a point.

But your hands almost acts on their own when you spin around, grab Morgan’s arms, and pull them down towards you. They follow your instruct without complaint.

Without warning, you cup their face, and plant a firm kiss smack on their lips. Morgan’s eyes widen in surprise. Then excitement. You hear them purr deeply as they relax into your grip, reveling in the softness you've suddenly bestowed upon them.

When you let them go their hands are on your waist. They don’t stop chittering as you turn away from them again to face the threat.

“I don’t care what you think I am,” you say to the lizard. “But whatever it is, you still have no reason to treat us like this. Leave us alone.”

The lizard looks flabbergasted at the display. Then it turns to horror. Then disgust. “Unbelievable. Are you really-”

“Go. Away.”

If it’s you or Morgan that says it, you suddenly aren’t sure. Your voice came out like a harsh, guttural whisper, not unlike the way Morgan’s does when they’re angry. Perhaps you both just spoke at once. But the lizard averts his eyes, finally, acknowledging this is not the space to start this fight. He skulks off, leaving you and Morgan in full view of the entire tavern.

You glance around, only now noting the wary eyes of the common-folk. Their stares carry a mixture of fear, repulsion and, worst of all, pity. And it strikes you what has just transpired. That display might have caused more harm than good with this particular crowd.

Crap. You’ll need to leave again, won’t you?

You regretfully look up at Morgan, who's simply looking to you. Pleasantly calm, and dutifully awaiting your next move.

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, and wave the entire tavern off. “We’re going. Have a good evening. Sorry for the disturbance,” you spit the last part, grabbing Morgan’s wrist to drag them outside.

“A kiss?”

Morgan startles you out of your skin with the words, their voice suddenly appearing from the dark. Seems they’ve returned from collecting firewood.

Took them long enough.

The small make-shift camp under the stars offers only a bitter respite from what tonight could have been. Morgan had offered to go collect some fuel, as they can see better out here now that it’s dark. You hadn’t planned to stay the night in the woods again, after all.

“What about it?” you reply, not bothering to hide your sulking.

You’re seated close to the humble fire to keep the night chill at bay. Morgan enters the light shortly after, eyes reflecting it. They set down the branches, casually throwing in a few extra sticks to feed the flame, and seat themself next to you.

Morgan playfully pokes at your shoulder. “Sentry, if I’d known starting fights would get you-”

“Please, don’t even finish that sentence,” you complain. “I didn’t want to fight that guy. I just didn’t like what he said.”

Morgan hums. “You wanted him to not think I’ve control of your mind?”

“Something like that,” you grimace.

“Well,” they lean on you heavily, teasing. They speak into your face with a drawling whisper. “What’s there to suggest that I don’t?”

You snort, and shrug them off. “Bond thing, sure. I can’t go anywhere without you. But I’m pretty sure my head’s still mine.”

“Well, yes. And no. And not quite,” Morgan smiles. “It’s mine.”

“It wasn’t just that,” you continue quickly, before that train of thought develops. “The whole snatcher thing he said. It’s just -”

“Judging life and death?” Morgan echoes you, staring into the open flame. “Sentry, at this point it shouldn’t surprise you. That’s how it works. Their judgment will always favor my death.”

They speak casually, like telling you it’s going to rain. Nothing but a minor nuisance. It brings a bad taste to your mouth just how used to this they seem.

“I know,” you give after a beat, shifting uncomfortably. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. And I really, really don’t.”

Morgan eyes you with a wry smile. “Don’t worry, they’ll be sure to remember that. Well, also after your amazing outburst. Have I ever mentioned I adore your theatrics?”

You frown, ignoring the last statement. “What do you mean, also?”

Morgan leans on their arms, calmly moving leaf litter out of the way of the fire before it catches. “I figured you defending my honor - while efficient, and I am eternally grateful - wouldn’t get the point across fully,” they say offhandedly.

You quickly turn to stare at the side of their face. They want you to ask, and you almost don't want to know. “Morgan. What did you do?”

Morgan turns slowly, and smiles at you, clicking their fangs together. “Well, their ale supply might make the patrons feel bad for a while. Maybe a little cramping? Maybe a little .. un-moving? Is that a word?”

Blood drains from your face.

“If I'm being honest, I have no clue what consuming my venom does to a person,” they ponder. “Actually, we should stick around. I want to see-”

“You went back to-!” You throw your arms out in frustration. “This is why we can never go anywhere!”

“On the contrary,” Morgan laughs. They lean over and curl their fingers around your wrists affectionately. They gently press their forehead against yours. “This is why we can go anywhere.”

[thevanillerose]

INEBRIATE | YANDERE!TIFA x FEM!READER | FFVII

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Author Note: Classic waifu material uses unhealthy drinking to fuel her unhealthy romance.

CONTENT WARNING: Unhealthy relationships / Slight!NSFW (Tifa has big booba, okay?)

“Drink up~”

You were her prettiest regular, and Tifa had a lot of girls who came through Seventh Heaven on a regular basis. But really, you stood out above all the rest. You practically exuded a gentle beauty which she found hard to resist.

Kudos to you though, you knew how to hold down a drink or two. This was why you’d often have nights together like this one, where the two of you would engage in a little revelry, and Tifa would generously let you indulge in the vast array of spirits she had at hand behind the Seventh Heaven bar.

Tonight though, she was finally going to make her move. If you were drunk enough, she felt like it would be so much easier to say what she was going to say. To ask you what she was going to ask you.

She didn’t even know how you would react. Hell, she didn’t even know if you were attracted to girls. She thought so, the signs were there. Usually she wouldn’t jump to conclusions like this but was it really such a leap?

Would you really refuse her when she finally asked you?

She certainly had a whole lot of faith, as she poured two amber colored shots of tequila for the both of you, and slid one delicately across towards you, with a suggestive smirk already curling her plush lips. 

“Go on. You know you want to.”

“Ahhh…”

You reeled a bit in your chair, knowing you probably looked stupid in that moment, but you were starting to get to a point where you were drunk enough to not entirely know which way was left and which way was right. Was it a good idea to keep drinking? The you of tomorrow morning was going to regret it, probably.

But Tifa had a very convincing way about her. You sighed but reached out to clasp the glass, conceding.

“Okay okay…one more.”

And you lifted the cool glass to your lips, taking that shot. It was the last shot Tifa needed to see. She was convinced that you must be ready now. Hopefully you were, because she was about to do it anyway. 

As she turned around to slide the tequila bottle back onto the shelf, she took that precious moment when she was facing the wall to take a deep breath and compose herself. She eventually turned and faced you again, and she finally worked up the courage to say it.

To finally say:

“[Y/N] I-”

“Oh man!” you cut her off as you suddenly exclaimed and threw your brow against the bar counter, heaving out a sigh, “Tifaaa…I really need your advice.”

“O-oh…” a little caught off guard by that, Tifa nonetheless stiffly smiled and gestured for you to speak up, “Of course. Tell me anything, you know you can.”

“...It’s stupid…” you murmured like a child in a huff, and she leaned against the other edge of the bar, chest pressing over it, a feature she had no qualms about showing off in front of you. But you weren’t paying attention to her chest. You weren’t really paying attention to her, period. Because the person on your mind in that moment was someone else entirely.

“It’s…Aerith. I just…I really wanna come out and finally tell her how I feel. Truth is, I really like her, I always have. But it’s so hard to actually be honest about my feelings. I’m worried that she’ll freak out and that our relationship’ll be ruined or something…Am I being stupid? You always seem so put together, Tifa, can you give me some advice?”

No, and not because she wasn’t capable of some solid relationship suggestions. Rather, because she hadn’t registered a single word you had said after ‘It’s Aerith’.

The glass she held in her hand felt like it was going to shatter into smithereens with the pressure she was applying (and Tifa was a tough girl, that was for sure). Why did she even bother? You already liked someone else.

Though she was keeping her cool enough that she could stiffly smile at you, internally she was already a mess. Why Aerith? WHY AERITH? WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY–

Ah but…there’s a solution…

And it was as simple as giving you one last drink.

“Well [Y/N], it’s tough to say. But do you want my honest answer?” she asked you, while turning to fix another drink, not letting you see the powder she slipped into it and swirled around. She didn’t want to have to use this stuff, but desperate times…

“Please, tell me what you really think…” you begged her, teary-eyed. Alcohol always made you over emotional.

“Well…I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

Tifa almost felt bad when she turned back around with her sinister concoction in hand, seeing the look of sudden devastation on your face. But you have to understand…this is for your own good. 

And the tainted alcohol was like the medicine you needed to take.

She watched you swig it without question, too upset to refuse what might take the edge off this hurt. Little did you know, it wasn’t going to just take the edge away. Your consciousness began to slip soon enough, and you blinked with confusion, seeing Seventh Heaven becoming a swirling mess of colors. 

“Woah I…I uh…I think I drank…way too muu…uuch…”

Tifa circled around calmly from behind the bar and helped lift you out of your seat before you accidentally fell and cracked your head open. She tried not to get too excited when she felt your body fall limp against your own, your face practically getting swallowed by her cleavage. Anyone’s dream…

“Let’s get you to bed. I’ll bring you some water.” she said, easily pulling you along and up the stairs. Good thing Barrett had moved into his own place with Marlene, late nights meant having the place all to herself. And with you…

“I’m sorry Tifa…” you groaned sadly into her chest, feeling the after-drinking guilt already, but she just hushed you and told you not to worry about it. Reaching the spare room where Marlene used to sleep, Tifa pushed the door open with the toe of her boot, revealing quarters which had since been tailor-made for you.

She might have fooled herself into thinking she would be nice about it, that you would happily accept her as well, that there would be no need for all this. But the fact that she had prepared it in the first place was indication enough that she had long suspected things might turn out this way. 

You rejected her. Even if not in so many words, the fact you’d confessed you loved Aerith was all she needed to know. It was a good thing after all then, that she’d put in the time and effort to build your cage.

If the others questioned it, no worries. There could be a somber moment when she told them that you’d perished when you both took on a mission together that was too hard to handle. The walls in here were soundproofed. She’d already tested it by coming in here and screaming herself. Even if they were right downstairs, they wouldn’t know you were here.

Nobody would, from now on. 

Laying you gently on the bed, she cupped your face for a moment, exhaling softly, happily. It stung when you’d first said it, but she was happy she knew the truth. Now she could focus on helping you understand her own feelings, day by day, from now on.

As you dozed off, blissfully unaware in your drunken stupor about the spider’s web you were currently trapped in, Tifa kissed your forehead chastely, and decided to save the rest for next time. She wasn’t a total monster, after all.

And she was convinced, with a little coaxing, you’d really come to understand that the right girl for you had been your bartender this whole time.

Walking to the door, she slid every lock into place as she exited, every impossible-to-break bolt that she’d had arranged.

Placing her palm and her forehead to the surface of the door, she exhaled softly…

“See you in the morning, [Y/N]...”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[moonleash]

▄▀▄▀▄ info ▄▀▄▀▄

intro: hi, im moon! or moonlight if were playing :D im an agender lesbian puppy that uses any pronouns and responds to feminine, masculine, and androgynous reference terms ( i.e. good girl, good boy, good pup). this is where ill be putting all my kink stuff thats pet, bdsm, cnc, and ddlg aligned.

limits

(this is not a dni, i dont really care that much.)

raceplay, orientationplay, detrans, pregnancy, null, amputation, scat, and feet i strongly do not want to participate in.

snuff, watersports, more extreme gore, and hands i either do not feel strongly about, or my opinion varies from day to day.

taglist

#pup this post involves petplay! collars, leashes, heats, and barking all go here!

#tied this post involves bondage of some kind! rope or chains, shibari or basic knots, all those that are bound are found here!

#daddy, #mommy, and #little this post involves daddies or mommies rewarding or punishing their littles. coddling, spanking, and treating littles all go here!

#bloody this post includes blood, bruising, or injury. those who enjoy the pain go here!

#muzzled this post includes someone whos been muzzled or gagged. those that get in trouble for biting go here!

#masked this post includes someone whos covering their face. those that wear gas masks, motorcycle helmets, or costume masks while pleasuring go here!

#moo this post contains lactation. those who need to be milked go here!

#non this post contains consentual non consent. those who enjoy a bit of a fight go here!

#intox this post contains inebriation, via #alch or #dandelion. those who love a little stumbling and stuttering go here!

#text this post includes only text. those who wish to read about pups, mommies, rope bunnies, and more go here!

#<3 this post is a favorite of mine. those who want to see all of my favorites go here!

#moonwrite this post includes my own writing. those who wish to see my own words involving the less than savory go here!

#drawn2themoon this post includes my artwork. those who wish to see my illustrations of the lusty variety go here!

#info this post contains information regarding the blog itself. horny stuff doesnt tend to go here, but if youd like to know something specific, youll find it here!

kinklist + preferences

puppy play! this ones a big one for me, i love being both pup and master, but i super love to be tugged around on a leash!! barking and whining are a must, but biting is what i have the most fun with! even if it means i have to get punished for it...

ddlg! i love playing as daddy, mommy, and as a little!! i prefer to play as mommy though, because i love spoiling my little girls <3 for the most part, i like to coddle my littles, but im no stranger to brat taming!

bondage! i am a bit of a beginner with tying knots, but i love to be tied up and tug around defenseless rope bunnies. i love to squirm and watch ladies squirm when all bound up!! i also enjoy wearing muzzles a lot since i cant seem to stop myself from biting...

s/m! one of the only kinks i have a bit of a preference with, as i enjoy masochism a bit more than sadism! i love being spanked and hit with a riding crop, i love getting burns and bruises, i love bleeding and crying from doms that are too rough!! i dont mind a bit of sadism either though... stepping, biting, and spanking are my favorite methods of breaking my subs!

cnc! a more recent addition to my repertoire, so a bit of the more intense play is still a little rocky for me. regardless, i do enjoy the idea of being on both ends of stalking, kidnapping, intox, and somno! though i do lean further towards being the victim!

secret special kink! i have a super secret kink which i only share with a select few... if youre feeling bored, why not try to guess? i wanna see how obvious i make it out to be. some people never suspect it, while others see it from a mile away! drop me an ask! i might make something special for you in return ;}

(DISCLAIMER)

i wont be responding to most dms, as i am not super comfortable talking to strangers directly, especially within sexual contexts. if you want to ask me something, or chat with me about kinks and preferences, id much rather it be sent through an ask! if your ask doesnt get a response, either i havent checked my inbox, or didnt feel comfortable answering. thank you for understanding!

ai art of any kind will not be featured on this blog, as i would much rather support real artists that take their time to give us something beautiful to admire.

this post is subject to change, more may be added if deemed necessary.

thats all for now! now, let's take a walk, shall we?

[highwayorgantrade]

Live A Little

Pairing: (cis)female teacher!reader x Carlisle Cullen

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Smoking, cursing, bad jokes, reader is on that colt 45 (and some very minor sexual situations during that), SO MUCH RECKLESS DRIVING.

Spotify Playlist: Live A Little

Summary: It's common knowledge that one characteristic of the local doctor is his dedication to helping people. When he finds you stranded and inebriated in a parking lot, he helps you to have the night you wanted.

A/N: I'm so happy people liked Art History!! Let's see how long everyone can tolerate Carlisle until I have to write for another character lol. But I will be making a list as to the characters and topics that I'll write for and all that other fun stuff. BUT in the meantime here's this!

A/N pt. 2: GOD I AM SO SORRY IT'S SO LONG. (Also I put links for songs that I thought would fit the moment but they're not necessary for the story :). They're underlined, like this! )

You held your breath as you turned your key one more time, praying the ignition would catch. After a few sputters of your now-dead car, realization began to set in. It was late at night in the parking lot of a grocery store, you had nobody to call, and there was ice cream in the trunk.

Damn it! This was supposed to be night where you actually relaxed! It was a holiday weekend, all your papers were graded, bills were paid, and you had picked up a pre-roll from the dispensary in town. And now, you sat in a broken down car, your hopes for a good night melting away. Time to call a towing service. You shuffled through your bag to find your phone, and your fingers land on something small and plastic. A lighter.

Well? The tow service would take a while, even if you called right now. If you time this right, you can still be in a good mood by the time you get home. And really, who cares? People smoke in parking lots all the time.

You grabbed your zip-up and placed yourself on the hood of your car, facing the road. You know what would make this better? Music. This is all just character development. You lit the end of the roll as the music faded in, and inhaled deeply.

Time seemed to melt away, as you felt yourself begin to get lightheaded. You snubbed out the blunt and put it back into the case, swaying slightly. The face of your phone shined brightly when you picked it up. Damn, only 30 minutes?

"Pardon me?" Holy shit!

You whipped your head around, to see arguably, the most gorgeous man you have ever seen.

"Dr. Cullen." You responded, smiling at him. Was this actually happening? This is real. Doctor Cullen, local hero, generous father to God knows how many, and standing right in front of you. Did his lips just move? Shit! He asked you something! "I'm sorry, come again?" You shook your head like trying to shake out the distractions, and he cocked his head at you.

"I wondered if you were alright. By the looks of it, your car broke down." He clarified, and glanced towards your car, which now suddenly looks extremely inferior to his.

"I just, uhhh." You hopped off the roof of your car, hoping for an agile, or even cool landing. That did not happen. You balanced yourself and gestured towards your car. "Yeah. It died. I don't know anything about cars, so I was about to call someone." God, you were acting like such an idiot. You bit back a smile as you stared at each other, both trying to piece together the situation.

"Did you call them?" He asked, smiling gently at you. God, he probably thinks you're insane. Wait, did you call them?

"I don't think so." Your voice got quieter.

"You're the new teacher at the high school, right? Do you teach any of mine?"

"No, but I've seen them around school!" Okay, it was staring to get kind of cold. Or were those tremors? "I'm an art teacher."

"Ah." He smiled at you and glanced at his car. "Do you need a ride home?" You immediately shook your head.

"No! I wouldn't want to disturb your night, you probably have someone waiting on you at home." In all honesty, you didn't want to be in a car with him. How are you supposed to act normal? How are you supposed to act like a teacher?

"I only have my children waiting on me at home" He stepped closer to you. Was he reaching out for you? Holy shit, is he reaching for your waist? He was moving faster than your brain could comprehend, and then it was over. "And believe it or not, I think they'll survive." Something shiny flashed in his hand. Were those your keys? Those were your keys! He took your keys from your pocket!

"Seriously, Dr. Cullen, I don't want to impose-"

"Miss (Y/L/N), I could smell the marijuana as soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I will not leave you out here alone. So you can either get in my car, and I take you home, or we will both be waiting out here for a tow truck, which will definitely hinder my night even more." You caught his eyes once more, but this time, his eyes weren't soft and confused. They were determined, and maybe darker? He was right, you shouldn't stay here, who knows who else could come by? Carlisle opened the passenger door of his car.

"Okay." You sighed, and grabbed your bag off the trunk of your car. At this point, your high had disappeared, and you were ready to get home and salvage what you could of your night. Carlisle closed your door, and began to get your groceries transferred from your car to his. He got in next to you, and as soon as he turned the car on, you realized just how cold you were.

"So." He turned the radio up to where you could just barely hear it. "You live in the green house by Lake Pleasant, right?"

"Yes." You narrowed your eyes at him. "How did you know?"

He laughed quietly. "Word travels fast in a small town. May I ask you a question?" He glanced at you, and instantly, your stomach began too coil. wait, why are you nervous? Calm down. "Are you usually hanging outside of grocery stores smoking pot or is this a rare occurrence?"

"Absolutely rare." He just warned you that word travels fast, and while it is legal in Washington, that could still tarnish your reputation. "Pretty much never, it's just-" You sighed and rolled your eyes. "I just thought that I could have the first relaxing night since I moved here. It's been constant unpacking, grading, and now my stupid car broke down, so it's frustrating. I just thought I could try and save whatever nice night I had planned." You ended with a huff. "Oh! And there's more!" You turned in your seat fully to look at him. "I was going to get some ice cream, roll down the windows, scream my favorite song, have a fucking bubble bath! And smoke a blunt because lord knows more people should!"

Yikes. Okay. That came out of nowhere. Maybe you were still a little high.

"Alright, then. Take my phone." Carlisle kept his eyes trained on the road, but handed you his unlocked phone. "It's connected to the car, roll down the window and play whatever you want."

"Are you serious? That wouldn't be... weird or anything?" I mean, you were still the teacher of his kids.

"It's not weird unless you think it's weird. Self-care is very important, and frankly, I planned to have Emmett fix your car for you so you didn't have to worry about a mechanic." As he explained his plan, your eyes just widened, and a dumb smile made its way onto your face. "Also, it's 11:00 at night on a Saturday. You're not at work right now, so we're just two adults helping each other out." He finished on a smile.

"How am I helping you out?" You questioned, looking up from his phone.

"With your absolutely delightful company." He rolled down the passenger window from his side, so you didn't get a chance to respond before the wind and the sound of the rushing car filled the silence.

Fine. You don't know why, but not given the choice to argue with him made you spiteful. If Carlisle wants to play games, you can play games. It's on, Dr. Cullen.

As the song began, you turned your torso towards Carlisle, and leaned your head out the back of the window, mouthing along. As your hair blew in the wind, your eyes were drawn up to the stars, and you felt a rush to your head.

You smiled, and began to really get into the song, completely forgetting about whose car you were in. You were more focused on how the cool air felt on your face, and how the forest smelled after it rained. More of your torso rested on the windowsill, and you began singing along. Loudly. Should you make this more fun?

"Are you a good driver?" You shouted at Carlisle, praying he would hear you over the wind and the music. He glanced at you and his eyes widened a bit.

"I've never been pulled over." He shouted back.

"Arrested?"

"No."

"Chased by cops?" You took off your seatbelt, just noticing that Carlisle never put his on.

"...Not really." Ooh, did he just hesitate? Something to explore later. Whatever. That was good enough for you, and you grinned at him. "What are you planning?" You don't know if it was the adrenaline of Carlisle speeding, the leftover pot in your system, your imagination, or a combination of all of them, but you grabbed onto the top of the open window, winked at him, and leaned half of your torso out of the car as the next song started.

You felt a cold hand grip your knee, and you jumped slightly. Yikes, you knew doctors had cold hands, but this is unreasonable. Carlisle removed his hand when you jumped.

"Please be careful!" He shouted at you, but you knew he was still speeding.

"Live a little!" You shouted back, and the sound of his laugh was clear as day to you, despite the volume of the radio and the wind in your face. His hand found your knee again, this time a little higher, and when you looked down at him, he simply shrugged and smiled at you.

"Live a little!"

Dickhead. You hung your head back and tried to focus on the lyrics, not on the doctor's hand that you swore was moving. It definitely felt like it, but you didn't want to look down and check, because what if he wasn't? No, it definitely was. You sighed deeply, knowing the sound would be lost. There was no way he was doing this on accident, or for protection anymore. Agonizingly slow, his hand continued, until he just barely grazed the apex of your thighs. You were so focused on his grip, so focused on doing whatever it took to keep him there, that you barely noticed the car slowing down. Carlisle turned the radio down and lightly tapped your inner thigh.

"Is this you?" He looked pointedly at the dark green house planted not far off the road. As you dropped back into your seat, Carlisle rolled the windows up, and the energy in the car was suffocating. He said nothing, and the absence of blaring music was slightly jarring. You risked a glance at him, and the hand that was once so close, was now resting on his face, like he was posed a complicated question.

Okay, compose yourself. The car rolled to a stop in your driveway, and you began to wonder if you had just imagined everything: everything he said to you, every time he touched you, and Carlisle's continued silence didn't help your train of thought.

"Thank you for the ride, Dr. Cullen." You spoke, your voice sounding insanely loud, and you cursed yourself for cutting the silence. That's your cue. Get out. You opened the door, and in the span of 5 seconds, images flooded your head of avoiding him at all costs. Oh God, this was going to be awful. Did any of that even happen? What if I need to go to the hospital? The next closest hospital is a 3 hour drive, and there was no way you would ever pay for an ambulance.

The sound of his door opening and slamming shut cut through your thoughts, and you barely had time to turn around before he was in front of you, his face just inches from yours.

“Please.” He breathed out softly, “Please tell me to go home.” His breath on your face made you feel drunk, and your hands found their grip on his bicep, grounding you. “Just tell me that and I’ll leave.”

You definitely didn’t want him to leave. Carlisle brought his head next to yours, lips just barely grazing your ear. His hands rested on your hips, and you found your voice.

"But I really don't want to."

You felt his hand on the side of your neck, thumb lifting your face to his. You felt your back being pressed into the cold door of his car, the force of his kiss pushing you back.

He was rough, way rougher than you expected. The sweet man that helped you in the parking lot was gone, replaced by the man that had you pressed against a car, a bruising grip on your hip. You felt your heart speed up, and Carlisle chuckled lowly at you.

Ah, you got it. You were still playing a game. Testing each other's limits. You smiled into your kiss, and allowed your hands to travel up into his hair, giving it what you thought was a rather strong pull into you. A low groan emitted from his throat, and it only encouraged you even more. Instinctively, you rolled your hips into his. Carlisle's hand pushed your hips back into his car, away from his.

What? Why? No! You whined, but couldn't fight his hold.

"You mentioned wanting one more thing tonight." His voice was low, but it was louder than ever.

"What was that?" You groaned, not really focusing on what he was saying, but on how good his touch felt.

"You wanted a bath. I could help."

You pulled away, and stared at him. Was he insinuating... The slight smile on his face told you that, yes, he absolutely was. Now would be the perfect time for a witty response, but you just... You couldn't think of one.

"Please help me." Okay, you knew you sounded desperate, but that's exactly what you were. You were desperate for him, desperate to do whatever it took for him to continue what he was doing.

"You need my help? He smiled down at you, grazing a thumb over your cheek. Asshole. Was he looking for you to beg? Fine. You could play like this. You reached up to his hand that was on your face and interlocked your fingers with his. Your eyes never left his as you slowly slid his hand down, past your chest. Carlisle's jaw clenched, and you could see the tension settle in his face.

You were definitely winning. When you guided him to your waistband, his hand flexed under yours, and curled into a fist.

"Please." He growled under his breath. "Please don't make me have to take you against a car."

Your stomach jumped, but you continued despite your nerves.

"Still have my keys?"

Carlisle pulled them out of his pocket, and the slightest smile made its way onto his face. God, how could he be so cute and so devastatingly hot at the same time?

"Good." You sidestepped out of his grip, and began walking toward the front door of your house, leaving him behind. "Are you coming?" You called behind you. "I really want to get in this bath!" Your fingers hooked under your shirt and you turned to beam at his dumbstruck face. The shirt quickly came off over your head, and you threw it at him. "Live a little."

His strides towards you were fast, quick, and intimidating, and paired with the glare he had locked on you, downright deadly. Carlisle didn't even slow down as he wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you with him. He made quick work of unlocking your front door, and pulled you toward him one more time.

"Do you know," His voice was rough, and it went straight to your core. "Of the plans that I have for you? What I want to do to you?"

Holy fuck. He backed you into the doorway, and let the door shut behind him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Fuck the ice cream.

[ahundredtimesover]

Hold Me Close | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; (dash of) angst, fluff (sort of), smut

Warnings: foul language, feelings of insecurity, minor accident caused by inebriation, getting drunk, explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!), JK has a hip tattoo and at some point has gray hair (18+)

Word count: 22.6k

Part 2: Hold Me Closer

Summary:  When Jimin hits a crisis, he enlists the help of his older sister - you - and his best friend, Jungkook, to put the pieces back again. That proves to be difficult when 1) Jimin’s a brat and a certified pain in the ass, and 2) Jungkook has grown and suddenly, you can’t keep your eyes off him.

A/N 1: I wanted to write something fun for a change and saw @ladyartemesia‘s brother’s best friend list and thought it would be a nice trope to explore because if there would be an ideal bratty younger brother, it would be Jimin. This was sooo much fun to write but also reminded me again of why I love my baby sister more than anyone in this world. Hope you all enjoy! 

A/N 2: I did a reread and fell in love again with this JK so I wrote a part 2 and did a 2024 version of this one. 💕

Three - the number of missed calls you probably now have just in the last five minutes, the vibrations piercing through your pocket and on your thigh. It might be important, but so is keeping your attention on the department Director to your right, who is complimenting the man to your left, over a proposal that you spent weeks working on. 

You force a smile because in front of your entire department isn’t really the time and place to refute and complain. It doesn’t help that Chul accepts the credit because anything to get ahead, right? 

Just another reason why you dislike this job. Perhaps your boss telling you that you’re too emotional or too soft to be in this industry has gotten to you, but then again, there’s not a bone in you that’s ambitious and competition-craved, unlike your parents. But you try, at least. It’s the least you can do for something that’s expected of their eldest child.

The Director flips a page and turns to you. “Glad you could contribute to this, Ms. Park.” 

He did assign it to you but you suppose your name just flew off his head, but you remind him anyway. 

“Thank you for the opportunity to work on it, Mr. Yoon. I’m truly learning a lot,” you fake a smile and wish for this to end.

Soon enough it does and you bow towards the managers present, one of them giving you the compliment you needed to hear, and excuse yourself before another call comes in. 

Best brother ever, the screen announces, and you curse yourself for still not changing his contact name and for having an easy-enough password to guess. 

“I swear to god, Jimin, this better be an emergency,” you cuss to the person on the other end, already boiling at the thought of him possibly calling to ask how to fix a broken toilet or what kind of oil he’s supposed to buy for frying because he’d done both too many times for you to count.

“___!” The sound of a relieved huff is what greets you, the voice familiar.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hi,” he says. “Uh, we’re at the hospital.”

Your eyes widen and you scold yourself for missing the calls, but then again, you wouldn’t have known because Jimin’s wolf cries precede this moment of an actual emergency. 

“What? Why! Is my brother okay?” You cry out, hands already working on collecting your files and feet rushing towards your desk to pack up.

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirms. “He’s fine. He just—”

“I AM NOT FINE!” You hear your brother shriek in the background, sound a little soft due to distance but you don’t miss the farcical tone of his statement.

“Dude, it’s just a sprained ankle. You’ll live,” Jungkook tells him calmly, away from the phone.

You sigh in relief because Jungkook is definitely the person to believe in times like this.

“From 1 to Jimin, how dramatic is he?” You ask.

“Jimin. Times two.”

“Damn, okay. That actually seems worse than the injury itself huh?” 

Jungkook laughs in agreement. 

“I’m just packing. I’ll go to you guys right after,” you tell him.

“Alright. General Hospital, emergency room. Just follow the tone of the weeping man-child.”

“I feel so empty. What am I gonna do with my life now!” You hear in the background.

You laugh at your brother’s antics because you’ve heard that exact line not long ago after his building owner told him again that he can’t have a pet in the apartment. But who knows with Jimin this time around?

“Got it. See you in a bit,” you say, then head out to hail a cab.

You arrive in the emergency room and follow the sound of the weeping man-child and true enough, you see your baby brother lying on the bed with his right leg nestled on pillows, ice taped on the swollen ankle. You rush to his side and assess if there’s any other part that’s being treated. 

“What the hell happened to you?” You worriedly ask. “Is this because of work? God, Jimin. I told you that company overworks you! You don’t even get enough rest.”

Behind you, you could hear muffled laughter, and paired with your brother’s sheepish smile, you could already tell he got it over something silly. He’s avoiding your gaze, causing your worry to turn to frustration. 

You cross your arms and you give him a stern look. “Park Jimin, look at me and tell me what happened.”

He plays with the hem of the blanket draped over him and with a sickly sweet smile, the one he uses on you to get himself out of trouble, he says, “I may have drank and perhaps had my foot stuck in a gutter and I may also have moved about when Jungkook told me to stay still and well…” Arms laid out before him as if in presentation, “here I am!” 

He’s beaming, as if it’s something to be proud of. You know it’s his tactic but still, your brother’s ability to go from one reaction to another astounds you.

You turn to Jungkook for confirmation and he nods at the accuracy and absurdity of the situation, causing a worried feeling in the pit of your stomach because how the hell are you going to explain this to your parents? 

“You forgot the part about you screaming that you hate men and you don’t want to love anymore,” Jungkook adds. It’s classic Jimin that it actually makes you laugh. 

You, as his older sister and Jungkook, as his best friend of 15 years, should be used to this already, but your brother is plucked from a classic romcom as the hot mess character and that carries with it amusement and unpredictability.

You're about to ask for an elaboration to put more context in the scene that’s playing in your head of a crying Jimin flailing his arms and a bemused but laughing Jungkook trying to shut him up, when the doctor comes in. 

She checks the clipboard then turns to Jimin. 

“Thankfully, there’s nothing broken,” she says, jotting down on a pad. 

She starts instructing how to properly wrap the ankle, prompting Jungkook to stand next to you and Jimin to nip at his fingernails because the brat won’t even pay attention to how to care for his own injured foot. 

After handing you the prescription, the doctor tells Jimin, “We’ll just wrap you up with a cast and give you the crutches then you can head home.”

“So I’m not staying?” He asks.

“No need,” the doctor clarifies. “It’s just sprained but it will take several weeks to properly heal and it will be sore for a while,” she states, then calls a nurse and instructs him to prepare the supplies. 

“You said you’re a dance instructor? The injury was aggravated by previous mild sprains so I require complete rest. You absolutely cannot move. Just stay in bed and follow the instructions I’ve written down.”

You and Jungkook release a sigh of relief, thankful that it’s nothing serious. The concern over what prompted his outburst temporarily sits at the back of your mind. Until Jimin speaks up.

“But, something else feels broken.”

“What is it?” The doctor asks, suddenly worried and checks the board for anything she might’ve missed.

“My heart.”

“Yah!” You smack Jimin’s arm in embarrassment, which he returns with a smack on yours, a common sight for you both and Jungkook who’s bared witness to the violence you and your brother inflicted upon each other growing up.

The doctor rolls her eyes. “She’ll come back,” she says, then heads towards the door.

Jimin scrunches his nose in annoyance. “She’s a he, by the way!” He shouts, causing the others present to turn to him, as if such a situation is scandalous. 

“Do… you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?” You nervously ask. 

While your three-year gap sibling relationship is rooted in violence that’s caused bruises, buckets of tears, timeouts, and your parents almost giving up on making you two get along at many points of your lives, you and Jimin have somehow grown up and have found the right balance of telling each other important things while also staying out of each other’s business. 

The “growing up” only happened midway through his college life, when he realized that even with his best friend next to him, you were still his lifeline in the big city of Seoul and the only other reminder of home. 

Because even with him knowing what it takes to make it in the competitive entertainment industry as a choreographer, in his heart, he’s still the younger child who’s used to being taken care of. That meant regularly demanding your presence in his dorm when he was still studying and then crashing your place when he started working. For food, mostly. The ranting about things just came naturally after.

“It’s Tae,” he shyly reveals, meeting your eyes for the first time and suddenly, he’s your little brother again, the one whose snacks you used to prepare or whose wounds you used to treat when your parents weren’t home or were too tired from work.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah. He left today because he got this photography gig where he gets to travel the world.”

“I didn’t know you had a thing,” you say.

“We didn’t,” he huffs out in frustration. “I didn’t know I liked him until he said he booked a one-way ticket and didn’t know when he'd be coming back. And he was so excited and I was really happy for him but also felt like it was too late. Like, should I have said anything? What if he felt the same way? Would he have stayed?” He sighs, looking sullen this time.

“He may have, or he would still be taking the trip. Regardless, no one should be giving up on dreams for anybody, Chim. That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” you say, not meaning to sound as if you’re reprimanding him, but the look he gives is enough to tell you that he understands. He’s heard variations of that same sentiment before, anyway. 

Jungkook feels the tension in the air and breaks it by stating that he’ll be driving everybody home.

“I’ll be staying with my sister,” Jimin announces, his annoying smile now back, and he knows you can’t say no; by obligation or by choice, you won’t tell.

“There goes my weekend,” you gripe. 

“I won’t be a nuisance, I promise,” he says then crosses his heart, like it actually means anything.

“You’re a nuisance even when you’re not injured, what more now?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m not that bad,” he defends.

“Oh, but you are.” You turn to Jungkook. “You know, I actually tried to push him back in our mom’s vagina because I could already tell he was going to be a problem, but even her uterus didn’t want him anymore.”

“Ouch okay, I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jimin scowls, and you all laugh as he’s transferred to the wheel chair and pushed by the nurse, signaling Jungkook to go ahead and retrieve his car.

You arrive at your apartment with a Jimin-clad Jungkook in tow, the worry of not having cleaned up quickly dissipating because this is your brother, and he shouldn’t complain. 

Jungkook assists Jimin in the bathroom while you set up your bed by piling up pillows for his foot. 

“I don’t have clean sheets for the sofa bed in the other room,” you say, “and it’s not that organized, as I didn’t expect to house an injured child this weekend. Just sleep on my bed first.”

Jungkook guides Jimin to your bed and helps him settle in, with your brother looking all smug with the treatment he’s getting because he knows you don’t give up your bed that easily.

“What about you?” Jungkook asks, seemingly more worried about your inconvenience than the actual cause of it.

“I’m fine with the couch. Wouldn’t wanna sleep here with him and accidentally hit his foot. He might murder me or something.”

“Thanks, Sis. I’m very comfortable here. I think I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” Jimin states, then yawns, drowsiness kicking in from the medication.

You roll your eyes and close the door. You lead Jungkook to your kitchen and offer him a drink.  

“I’m sorry for him, Kook. Did he drag you out of work?” You ask. 

“Just had to call the tattoo parlor and reschedule my Friday appointments,” he says, downing the glass of water. “He was pretty emotional over the phone and wanted to drink at 4PM and well, you know the rest.”

“Ugh, such a pain in the ass,” you mutter, massaging your temples. “But is he serious about the whole Tae thing?”

“Seems like it. I think it just took an abrupt change for him to realize what he felt,” he explains. “But you know him - falls fast, moves on faster. He’ll be okay. You’re here,” he continues, flashing you his bunny smile, the one that used to cause you to pinch his puffy cheeks out of cuteness. 

But that’s when he was a lanky 10-year old with his awkward front bangs. The man in front of you now sports a parted hairstyle, a sharp jawline, tattooed arms, and probably a built figure, if the way he carried your brother as if he’s a feather is any indication of his strength. His bambi eyes, usually scrunched large nose, and child-like smile are the only things that remain from that memory you have of him. 

“You know I can’t stand my brother for long periods of time, Kook,” you pout, earning you an amused laugh.

“He actually already invited me over the weekend and told me to bring my PS5 so we could play.”

“That bitch has to rest, what is he talking about?” You groan.

“Same thing I told him. I’ll just make up some reason that my player caught fire or that I dropped it while running or something.”

You give him a straight face. “The hell would he buy that? You can just not bring it.”

“I’m just gonna match his drama,” Jungkook shrugs, earning him your laugh, which for him is all tones of sweet and soothing. 

A smile forms on his face at the thought of making you laugh like this, something he secretly enjoys. This particular sound would most likely be etched in his mind, among the several others that he caused. 

There was that time when you caught him doing chubby bunny as a consequence and seeing him stuffed with marshmallows made you secretly giggle because 15-year old you didn’t want to indulge in their silly antics. Jungkook heard it, though. 

Then there was Jimin’s 14th birthday at an arcade. Jungkook went over the basketball game’s railing to get the highest score and you alternated between scolding him and laughing your butt off. He snuck the tickets he won in your pile so you would have enough to get the Tinkerbell tea set because he knew of your obsession with fairies.

When you visited home for their high school graduation, you all cooked dinner and he overdid the glazed sweet potatoes, causing them to get stuck on the plate. You tried to hold your laugh but gave up once he started dancing. He was so embarrassed but that’s when he knew he’d willingly make a fool of himself to hear you laugh like that. 

And three years ago, your large group of friends that included him and Jimin went on a ski trip. He was attempting to run up the slope but kept sliding, and even from a distance, he could pick out which laughter was yours. It was probably the only remedy to an otherwise heartbreaking weekend, considering that you were there with your then-boyfriend, Namjoon. 

Reminiscing those causes his heart to feel like floating, like always. Then the words “nobody dates my sister” pulls that heart down to crash into reality, like always, too - the reality being that you’re his best friend’s older sibling. 

You’ve been off-limits since Jimin threatened Jungkook and their other friends about cutting off their dicks if anybody tried to date you when they were 16, but you were probably off-limits even before that. Jungkook mentally shakes his head. 

He doesn’t like being told what to do but then again, Jimin is his best friend, the tiny feisty 10-year old who fought off the bullies who tried to take Jungkook’s snacks. It had been them against the world since then, and so far, the only person he thinks who’d ever come between them is you.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts at your call of his name, prompting him to ask you to repeat what you just said.

“I said, thanks again for being there for my brother like, ever since. If it was just me I would’ve disowned him a long time ago.”

Jungkook chuckles, already used to the drama that is your sibling relationship. He’s witnessed too many wrestling matches, scream fests, and pulled pranks in the last 15 years. While you and Jimin have gone past those, your complaints about each other is something you haven’t really outgrown yet. 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t disown him,” Jungkook says, the words ‘he’s the only link I have to you’ quickly dissipating in his mind. “You know he just craves your attention and riling you up is the way he does it, younger sibling and all. I would’ve done that if my brother wasn’t 7 years older. Jimin tends to be immature around you but he’s the best person I know. I wouldn’t have survived anything if it weren’t for him.”

This brings a smile to your face, their origin story warming your heart more than you care to admit. Your brother is fierce and a fighter, you’d give him that.

“Well, he’s just as lucky to have you, Kook.”

It’s the tenderness in your voice that makes him feel like he’d just won a prize, and he wishes you wouldn't notice the flush of his cheeks. If you do, you don’t mention it, because not long after, you say that you’ll wash up, signaling him that it’s time to go. 

Jungkook drives home that night feeling like his adolescent self, the giddy feeling of when you first pinched his cheeks the same one he feels right now. It’s when he first developed his crush on you - you’d been arguing with Jimin and said you wished he was as behaved and as adorable as Jungkook, prompting your brother to point out Jungkook’s large nose, which you responded to by saying it adds to his charm. 

Petty fights, like always, but it’s when you told him not to listen to what other people say if they’re out to put him down did Jungkook realize that you and Jimin were cut from the same cloth. 

Soon after, every little moment with you, every glimpse of your life outside of being his best friend’s sister became more and more enthralling to him. The fact that you were getting prettier each year just served to solidify his affection for you. And also made it difficult to hide his hard-on every time you’d show up for breakfast in your cloth shorts when he’d sleep over at your parents’ house, or when he’d see you in your pretty outfits in the bars you all frequented once he was in Seoul for college. 

He’d let himself think of you during the times he wasn’t in a relationship, and he’d slowly let go of the bit of hope he’d have every time you were in one, partly because your relationships were usually long-term, compared to his, and also because your ex-boyfriends were nothing like him, which is safe to say that he wasn’t your type. 

Maybe it was the age or the level of maturity. Maybe it was the sense of security. Or maybe he’s just not the kind of guy who could give you what you want, although honestly, he doesn’t know exactly what that is. 

But if Namjoon - your intelligent, upstanding, consultant ex-boyfriend who was also really handsome and kind - and your subsequent heartbreak are anything to go by, then Jungkook is clearly reaching for the stars with you. Not that you’re out of his league, but he’s more like in the outskirts, just lying in the edges, the border between what’s possible and what isn’t, but definitely far from the center of action. Even tonight, the most time you’d spent together in years that wasn’t in a party was because Jimin had been hurt. 

If anything, though, his long standing admiration for you hadn’t really gone away. And he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The weekend with Jimin staying with you wasn’t that unbearable, primarily because he was rendered immobile on your bed and was usually sleepy. You were thankful that Jungkook dropped by to keep your brother company while you caught up on errands and chores. 

With another work week coming filled with meetings and events, you had Jimin stay with Jungkook first. He insisted it wasn’t a bother; his work as a freelance artist and a part-time tattooist gives him control of his time.

It’s the weekend after the incident when you hear a knock on the door, not expecting to see Jimin with his casted ankle and crunches; behind him are three large luggages and a few boxes. 

You’re just about to process the sight before you when he says, “I got sacked from the company when I said I couldn’t get back to work next week. And I can’t afford to pay rent anymore even if I get a roommate and I…” he turns to you, almost shameful, “I have nowhere else to go.”

You sigh because really, your relationship with your brother is hinged on fights you don’t really mean, pettiness that drives you crazy, and an unconditional love that you both deny but undeniably share. So you open the door wider and laugh at his “you’re the best sister in the world” claim and your usual response of “you only have one.”

Jungkook arrives with the last box and you help bring in all the stuff that seems never-ending, making you wonder how these fit in his car and how he managed to bring everything, including your brother.

“Park Jimin, you have so much stuff! You might as well have hired a mover,” you cry out.

“Oh I did,” Jimin answers, pointing to Jungkook.

You cock an eyebrow because obviously, movers get paid. 

“I told him you said you’re gonna make us dinner.”

“Except I didn’t,” you scrunch your eyebrows and turn to Jungkook, amused at his sudden change of expression, bambi eyes widening at his innocence. 

“I swear, he was so convincing,” Jungkook claims, hands held up as if in surrender. He bites his lips and looks at the ground. “I can just go, really. I’ll just force him to treat me to lunch when he’s healed and I can wrestle him if he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, Kook. Stay for dinner,” you crack a smile. You walk to your kitchen and take out the pork belly to thaw. “I won’t make you steak though. That’s reserved for my wine nights when I want to bask in my singleness,” you call out. 

“Also,” you turn to Jimin, “you don’t deserve my steak.”

Your brother laughs, knowing that it’s your way to mask the kindness you’re showing. 

Later that night, with dinner out of the way and your spare bedroom set up for Jimin to stay, you guide him to the sofa bed and make sure his foot is elevated, bell just within his reach that you instructed him to ring when he needs you. 

“Thanks, ___. You—”

“Are the best sister in the world, I know,” you cut him off.

“I was gonna say you should get some rest and to not worry about me. I’ll be fine,” he smiles.

You nod and head out the room, the worried look on your face not going unnoticed by Jungkook, who’d just finished wiping the dishes.

“Everything okay, ___?” 

You heave out a sigh.

“What the fuck am I gonna do with him, Kook?” You ask, the reality of your injured and now unemployed brother dawning on you. “What am I gonna tell my parents?” 

Oddly enough, it’s when you and Jimin were finally adults did your parents think to check up on you both. Perhaps living under the same roof didn’t warrant that, but with both children now living independently hundreds of miles away from them, they’ve ensured to call every week. Your conversations mostly revolve around Jimin, though, the words “take care of your brother” not having an expiration date, apparently. 

You know the weight of the words - it’s not just because you’re older but because by your parents’ standards, you’re also the more stable and financially secure one by nature of your 9-5 corporate job in a fancy building that requires you to wear corporate attires, in contrast to Jimin’s late-nights in a dance studio busting moves in sweats. 

Your parents are biased towards your kind of work, given that they’ve spent more than half their lives in the same field and always wished you’d both do the same, even if you promised yourself you wouldn’t give in to the world that took so much of your parents’ time from you. 

Much as you want to believe you’re just doing your job as the older child by entering the industry, you were too much of a people-pleaser who just wanted to make her parents proud. 

Jimin, on the other hand, was smart enough to only apply to the performing arts programs of prestigious universities in Seoul and was good enough to actually land a scholarship in the same school as you; your parents were backed in a corner and couldn’t do anything. 

You’d never tell Jimin but you always admired him for that; it takes a lot to stand up to your parents without actually standing up to them. You’re just glad that between the both of you, someone was brave enough to go for what they genuinely wanted.

“Tell them the truth?” Jungkook shrugs. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You act like you don’t know what my parents are like.”

True, Jungkook thinks, but he also knows things have improved on their end. “Well, if anything, they’re more receptive now. They would congratulate Jimin on the choreographies they’d see those idol groups dance. They ask him about work, too.”

You smile at the thought, something your brother never mentioned, but you can imagine how happy that might’ve made him. Jimin, as you’ve found out, is a sweetheart to his friends - affectionate in all ways and very expressive - something he isn’t to you and your parents. The same can be said about you, and you soften at the thought that you and Jimin really aren’t that much different from each other. 

Jungkook picks up on the thoughts going through your head. “He probably didn’t tell you because you know him, he’d go all soft if he does, and Jimin has this persona when it comes to you. And it isn’t the soft one.”

“Goes both ways, I guess.”

“It’s not the end of the world, and he doesn’t seem to think so. He’s going to be fine.”

Jimin, in all senses of the word, is not fine. It took a few days until he cracked. He went from being an obedient patient who followed the doctor’s order of staying in bed, to one who constantly walked around and complained that he had nothing to do. 

Going on dating apps makes him sad, looking at job openings makes him sad, not being able to move and dance makes him sad. And your heart breaks for him, knowing what it’s like to lose your sense of direction and motivation at the loss of something or someone important. You allow him to let out his frustrations, though, listen to him when he rants, feed him his favorite food, and call Jungkook over with his PS5 that isn’t actually broken.

In fact, calling Jungkook has been your go-to, especially when you’re running out of things to say to comfort Jimin. Most times it’s really just so they could play video games together, prompting Jungkook to leave his PS5 at your place so Jimin could stay preoccupied and not feel too down when the job lists come up empty. He tires easily though, and it’s after he’s been tucked in bed that you usually settle for a cup of tea in the kitchen, Jungkook now the one listening to you talk.

It usually starts with the topic of your brother, followed by some memory from your childhood that you and Jungkook become hysterical over, followed by something about your work, and then something about his. His stories are more interesting though. He shows you the digital pieces he makes for clients, and tells you amusing bits about his tattooing gig like memorable patterns and customers. 

Hearing all this sends warmth through you because of how much he’s grown. While you’re only three years older, you met Jungkook when he was a shy 10 year-old, a complete opposite to you and Jimin’s naturally sociable selves. He went from smiling sheepishly to joking around and giving you high-fives in the five years before you went to Seoul to study.

Of course he’s grown when he followed your brother to the same university, having seen him with different girls, going to the same parties because your friends had taken a liking to him, and attending his art exhibitions. He went from greeting you under his breath to calling out to you at a bar while he’s surrounded by his peers. 

This was the kid who used to follow your brother around - even joined the dance club in high school - and would dunk his head in water if you asked him to, but now he’s forged his own path, doing what he loves, and enjoying every bit of his time that he controls. 

Personally, you’re also just happy that he can be available for your brother and for you, too, seeing that the nights you used to spend forcing yourself to sleep are now spent in good conversation with him. 

He’s also gotten way more attractive in the past few years, something you’ve only noticed now. Perhaps it has much to do with the physical closeness when you talk - your kitchen bar isn’t that large, anyway - where you’re able to pay more attention to his defined jawline, his dark doe-eyes that anybody could get lost in, the curve of his nose, and the perfectly-placed beauty marks on his face. 

Come to think of it, maybe Jungkook has always been handsome, but you stop your thoughts before they go anywhere restricted.

It’s one Saturday night when you arrive home, after having drinks with your friends, to a very drunk Jimin and a tipsy Jungkook, gorging on fried chicken. Just thinking of cleaning up is already giving you a headache, which is aggravated by your brother’s drunk singing of classic yet cringey sad love songs. 

“Yah! Look at the mess you’ve made,” you smack Jimin’s arm, pointing at the chicken crumbs on the floor. “And alcohol, seriously? You can barely walk properly and now you’re drinking?”

“I’m injured, unemployed, homeless, and heartbroken. Leave me alone,” is all he says, then proceeds to belt out an insanely high note that pierces your ears and which causes Jungkook to laugh, used to this already and may have been enduring this for some time. 

“He’s been like this for the past 4 hours,” Jungkook says. 

“And you let him?”

At the final high note, Jimin passes out on the couch, body limp over the empty space to his left.

“He wanted to drink his frustrations away, thought it might help,” Jungkook responds.

You sigh in annoyance but think he’s right, too. Jimin was out drinking his frustrations the night he got injured but at least now he’s doing it in the safety of your home. 

“I guess,” you shrug. “Can you take him to his room before he hurts his neck?”

Jungkook laughs but follows. He carries Jimin over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and you pretend to not look hot and bothered at how easily he could carry your dead-weight brother. 

You follow to the room shortly and place an aspirin and orange juice on the side table, knowing it’s Jimin’s hangover drink. You remove the strands of hair that have stuck to his forehead and tuck him under the covers. 

Jungkook looks at you fondly. For someone who always claims you should’ve disowned her brother, you sure have a very affectionate way of showing it.

You step out of the room and take in Jungkook’s tipsy state, red cheeks and glassy eyes giving him away. 

“You should stay,” you tell him. “You drank and I doubt you’d sober up anytime soon, but try anyway.”

He nervously accepts but not for the reasons you think. He’s nervous because aside from those sleepovers at your house when you were younger, this is the first time he’s sleeping under the same roof as you, and that makes him giddy but anxious at the same time. He hopes you don’t catch him mid-dream saying your name; that would be too awkward to explain.

He goes back to the living room post-shower, a blanket and large pillow on the couch and you, tucked in the corner with a glass of juice. 

“Did you want to sleep already? I can go to my room if you are,” you look up at him.

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that sleepy yet, you can stay.” 

He refuses your offer of a drink. Unsure of the appropriate distance from you now that there’s space to go around, he settles on the other end of the couch. You smile at him as he sinks on the corner and he smiles back as you take baby sips from the glass. You both settle in comfortable silence, appreciating the quiet as a reprieve from the mind-numbing noise from earlier. 

You take a big gulp and he couldn’t hold the chuckle at your wide eyes hidden behind the glass. 

“So I’m guessing your hangover drink is apple juice?” He asks, not missing the similarity with your brother.

“Yeah. Jimin hates it so I’m sure he’ll never take it. He used to finish all the orange juice at home and I was mad because I wanted orange juice, too,” you say with a pout. 

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at how adorable you look and goes for an ah, that’s why face because he remembers you fighting Jimin over it before.

“So you just switched to apple juice?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s really good. I thought he’d switch too just to annoy me but he said he really doesn’t like it.”

“Look at you two, being all civilized for once,” Jungkook teases. 

You throw a pillow at him and laugh at his comment, but you don’t disagree.

“Yah! We’ve always been civilized, okay?” 

“Now that is a lie,” he shakes his head. “May I remind you of the time you two wrestled in front of me over a piece of pop tart. You tackled him to the ground and he pulled your hair and the innocent treat was crushed in the process.”

“Hey, I was 15 and I called dibs on the strawberry!”

“Or that time you both wanted to watch different movies and had me choose and I felt like I was signing a death sentence either way? But it didn’t matter because you still got into a pillow fight?”

“His choices were always so boring!” You whine.

“Or that time when—”  

You throw him another pillow. 

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. We weren’t always civilized,” you give up, laughing hard with him at the memories. “You witnessed the worst parts of us, huh?”

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. 

“Well, you were the only one who stayed. The rest of your friends would run out once Jimin and I started going at it.” 

Jungkook laughs at this because if only you knew why he always stayed. He actually liked that you’d let him referee you two. It was those times when he felt wanted. 

“Hmm, it takes a lot to handle the Park siblings, I don’t blame them,” he says.

“Wow, Jeon Jungkook. Calling out your elder. Where is this bravery coming from?” You tease.

“I drank, remember?”

“Not much, though.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know either, but he likes seeing you look flustered. “Enough liquid courage, I guess.”

You deem his answer satisfactory but it does make you recall all those petty fights growing up. 

“Sorry you had to witness all that,” you say, giving him a shy smile. “Our personalities were always just clashing and it was harder not to fight each other.”

“I think you two are just so similar, that’s why.” 

You look at Jungkook, eyes wide at the statement you’d only ever thought to yourself. 

“He thinks the world of you, you know?” He continues, sensing your now serious demeanor. “He used to tell the mean older kids that you’re his sister and you’ll fight them if they hurt him because he just knows you’d protect him no matter what.” 

You laugh and roll your eyes but Jungkook knows you agree.

“For schoolwork, he would always write about you as his role model or the person he looks up to.” Jungkook narrates, not missing how your eyes soften at this. “He never found out that I knew but I’ve read parts, how he wanted to be strong and kind like you, to be independent and smart and hardworking the way you are.”

Maybe it’s the remnants of alcohol, or this apple juice is just fucking delicious but you’re getting emotional.

“And honestly, I don’t think that’s changed. He’ll always look up to you, whether he says it or not,” he adds.

And there goes the water works, as you burst into a sob and cover your face with your hands. This causes panic in Jungkook, and he immediately goes to you, initially unsure of what to do. Noticing your non-movement, he uses the edges of his hoodie to wipe the tears that are flowing from your eyes. He stills for a moment but seeing how you haven’t pushed him away, he continues. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and quivering lips. Somehow you should be embarrassed but something about Jungkook having seen the worst of you and being nothing but a huge help these past few weeks, makes you feel safe. No judgment whatsoever, just an air of understanding and care.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask.

Jungkook feels weak at how you look. He didn’t mean to make you sad but all he wants to do now is hug you until you feel better.

“Because you’ve been so worried and so hard on yourself, as if it’s only your burden to carry.”

You try to object but he cuts you. “Jimin’s an adult. He’s crying and drinking and sulking but that’s normal. He’ll be fine and get himself together. I know that. Even he knows that. You know why? Because it’s what he’s seen you do.” 

Jungkook wipes another stray tear on your cheek.

“Whether it’s a breakup or a work thing, he’s seen you take hits but never back down, never let anybody walk all over you, never let them take away the best parts of you. He’s struggled before, too, but he always got back up.”

“He’s good and strong that way,” you reply softly.

“Like I said, he has a good role model,” he smiles, nudging your shoulder. 

It’s meant to be playful but it’s comforting for you, and you’re leaning on his shoulder before you know it, ignoring the way he briefly stills at your action. 

“You’re a good person, Kook. We’re lucky to have you.”

You’re so close to him and he can feel the heat radiate from you. It’s too quiet that he’s afraid you’d hear the thrumming of his heart, from your words and the affection behind your still head on his shoulder. The situation calls for it, he thinks, so he shifts, lays his hand on your back, then rubs circles on it.

He’ll chalk it up to liquid courage again if you ask, but you don’t. Instead you snuggle closer, chasing his warmth. He swears he could pass out with just this, but he tortures himself more by holding you even closer and he swears, even with his thick hoodie, he could feel your smile.

Over a month since the gutter incident - as you like to call it - you, Jimin, and Jungkook have found a routine of cohabitation, and yes, that includes Jungkook, who’s now become a staple in your household and your life. 

At some point, Jimin had sulked less and would spend his time watching dance videos to remind himself of the feeling, even if it was just virtual. He’d even expanded his choice of employment by checking job openings as a fitness instructor and a ballet teacher for children. 

He’d also done his regular foot exercise once the pain became bearable. Still unemployed and heartbroken though, he’s been shameless in making your place his own home, with most of his belongings now removed from their boxes, and inviting Jungkook over any time, any day. Not that you minded though, since he’s been nothing but a literal angel.

Living in a studio on his own, Jungkook usually has ramen or street food as dinner, which is why Jimin used to invite him over to his shared apartment with Taehyung so that Jungkook could at least have home cooked meals every once in a while. 

It’s why he’s often over your place on weeknights he doesn’t have a shift at the tattoo parlor. That and because Jimin still wants him over to play video games. Jungkook brings food over or pays for delivery though, and you welcome the initiative. 

On weekends, you’re all busy doing your own thing in the living room together, which carries over to movie nights. The young ones pass up on their friends’ invites to a party while you, well, your friends would rather spend their weeknights with their partners instead. So your night of basking in your singleness now means doing so with your brat of a brother and his dependable best friend.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when you get home from doing errands and you find both men in your living room, with Jimin reading a book on some dancer’s biography and Jungkook busy on his laptop. Your brother’s face pops on the screen and you decide it’s not a personal matter so you plop next to Jungkook on the floor and softly rest your head on his shoulder, something you’ve maybe done once or twice before.

“What you up to?” You ask, an impressed look on your face at the snippets of Jimin dancing, some of which you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m working on his application video,” he says, pointing to your brother. “Since he’s not able to dance when he tries for jobs, he thinks sending them a video to show his skills will help.”

“Oh, like a visual resume of some sort?”

“Yes!” Jimin states. “I want them to know what they’re missing out on, and that’s a lot.”

You roll your eyes but mentally agree; your brother is the most talented person you know. 

“Kookie’s been kind enough to work on it for me although he’s been on it for hours,” he continues, a playful smile on his face.

“Give him a break, Chim. He’s done so much for you already,” you say, getting your own laptop and setting it up on the table.

“Nah, it’s the least I can do. He’s helped me so much, ___,” Jungkook points out.

“He fought off your bullies 15 years ago…” You counter.

Jungkook chuckles. “Yes. And more. Helped me with school work, my confidence, my social skills…”

“Gave him tips to woo girls because he was too shy to ask them on dates,” Jimin adds.

“Hmm,” you mumble. “What you gotta be shy about? Just flash them your smile or show them your toned arms, they’ll probably jump on you right there,” you say nonchalantly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s heart freezes at your comment.

“He doesn’t want them to jump on him, ___. He wants them to actually like him, or love, whatever. He’s a romantic, you know,” Jimin declares. “He’d travel to the ends of the earth or fight to the death for the woman he loves, whoever she is,” he says matter-of-factly, unaware of the way Jungkook’s breath hitches because if Jimin only knew.

“Aww, Kook. That’s cute,” is all you say, smile genuine though, he wishes he could see it everyday. But cute, really? That’s it?

He chooses not to dwell on it and instead asks you what you’re up to, to which you respond that it’s a presentation you have to work on. You’re frustrated at your lack of design eye and it looks so bare; you want it to look professional but still eye-catching.

“Maybe I can help,” Jungkook offers.

But of course, you think. You’ve been accommodating an actual graphic designer in your home, surely it’s fair that he helps you out, right?

“Yes please, Kook. I need to blow these people away with my smarts and my non-existent creativity,” you laugh. 

Jungkook sets aside his laptop, adoringly quick to prioritize helping you, and works on your presentation. He knows just the right color and font combination. He even helps out on which details to include, what visuals to add, and how to make it exactly how you want. 

You’re amused at how easily he works on it. He's meticulous, working on the size of the texts and the angles of the patterns. Jimin chides him for his perfectionism but unbeknownst to both of you, Jungkook’s laser focus is a means of distraction with how physically close you’ve been to him the past hour, eyes flicking from him to the screen.

He wants this to last but he also can’t wait for it to be over because of how nervous he is, especially with your constant praises for something really basic, but which he finds so charming all the same. 

Pretty soon he finishes and returns your laptop to you and retrieves his. He’s quick to get back to work and focus on something else. This still proves futile once you remove your sweater to reveal a camisole underneath, and tie your hair on a high bun, exposing more of your shoulders and neck. 

He shakes off the butterflies in his stomach and pretends to be completely unbothered by his attraction towards you that seems to intensify day-by-day. He looks forward to seeing you, and when he doesn’t, he yearns to. He’s been used to admiring you from afar but these past weeks showed that he has all the reasons to admire you even up close. 

You’re just as brilliant, feisty, and funny; sassy too like Jimin but in a captivating way, yet so kind-hearted just the same. 

The three of you settle in a comfortable silence, each busy with your own task at hand. With your knees touching Jungkook’s, your questions on any additions you make on the presentation, and him asking for your approval on the video - which he seeks, oddly enough from you and not from Jimin - your eventual quick agreement on dinner and your teamwork in preparing it, it all feels so familiar. This comfort and simplicity - it makes you feel like it’s home.

The next evening, you find yourself sandwiched between Jungkook to your right and Jimin to your left, who moved from his center seat to lie down, with half of his tiny body settled comfortably on top of you and Jungkook. Your brother insisted on watching “How to Be Single” tonight, like a slap to all your faces.

It’s during one of the scenes with the protagonist’s ex when Jimin randomly asks, “___, do you regret breaking up with Namjoon?”

It may seem like a question out of left field, but with everything that’s happened, Jimin has been quite reflective lately, particularly about love. He’s had his fair share of partners but unlike you, is more a feeler than a thinker - he gets out of relationships as fast as he gets into them and takes it one day at a time, whereas you always have to consider the future. 

You don’t need to ponder on the question; you’ve gone through this multiple times with your best friends but never really with your brother. 

“Sometimes. But there was too much on the line and it was unfair to both of us if we carried on.” You sigh, recalling the moment you both decided it wouldn’t work. “It was something we had to do but doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

Jimin hums, thinking back to the days he’d barge in your apartment and ask for leftovers when really, he just wanted to be near you so you had someone to cry to, just in case. That was over two years ago and it took you a year to finally say that you were over the relationship. He used to note your choice of words - “I’m over us,” never “I’m over him.” 

Next to you, Jungkook is picking on his nails, unsure if he should be part of the conversation. He’d heard about the break up since you have common friends. It was quite the shock, knowing how you and Namjoon were. 

You pick up this nervous habit, aware that he might not know what really happened. It wasn’t a secret but there was more to the story. 

“We just wanted different things,” you say then turning to both of them, “so you two better make sure you’re on the same page with the person you date, talk about what lies ahead, what you want, what you’re willing to compromise and what you aren’t.”

“That’s good advice, yeah Kookie?” Jimin says. 

“Why you focusing on me?” Jungkook frowns. 

“You’re the one focused on dating, not settling. You avoid those conversations,” his best friend points out.

“You don’t want to settle?” You ask, now curious. 

You’ve seen Jungkook with girlfriends but thinking back now, his relationships never really lasted.

“It’s not that,” he glares at Jimin. “I’m more of a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. Thinking about the future is great, I mean, any mature individual does that, it’s just…” 

He heaves out a sigh, hoping he’s not shooting himself in the foot with his statement. “What good is the future if you don’t take care of what you have right now? Isn’t the present more important because it’s what’s assured? The future is literally dependent on that, so the now is what I want to focus on.” 

He rests his head on the couch, nervous of your reaction. He knows you’re a planner, someone who needs to see things far ahead to know what to do. 

There’s no one way to go about life, he acknowledges that. He just doesn’t want you to think he’s not a serious guy. With his developing feelings for you, not seeing him as a potential partner is literally the worst thing that could happen.

Jimin continues with the movie he paused but in your mind, all you could think about was what Jungkook said. If you and Namjoon hadn’t obsessed about the future, would things have been different? Would you still be together? 

The sinking feeling comes at the realization that maybe they still wouldn’t. What if your ‘present’ with him then wasn’t good enough in the first place? That the ‘could be’ was more exciting than the ‘what is'? Suddenly there’s clarity, you just don’t know if it’s the good kind. 

Still, it doesn’t keep you from sinking further down the couch until you’re leaning on Jungkook’s shoulder. And like the few times that you have, there’s a comforting feeling in the act. 

“You must’ve made your ex-girlfriends really happy, huh Kook?” You ask, head shuffling near his upper arm. “Focusing on the present and the moments and all that.” 

You wish it was something you did, but Namjoon was just like you. 

“I guess you could say that,” he answers shyly. 

“But that was just it though, right Kook?” Jimin says. “You made them happy but not enough for you to fall in love.”

This prompts you to look at him, wide eyes full of questions. “How come?”

He turns to you and if he tried enough, Jimin right behind you would blur and there’s just you, overhead light illuminating the best parts of your face which is, well, everything. You’re absolutely breathtaking. 

And at your question - how come he never fell in love - comes his own realization. For all of his talk of living in the moment, tucked in the corner of his mind is the thought of the future he’s only ever dreamed about, the one that he’s always wanted, well, with you. 

“I - I actually don’t know.”

Adopting your brother, and by extension Jungkook, isn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, Jimin is still a diva and annoys you just because he wants to, but he makes you laugh more, compliments your cooking more, and encourages you to go out and have fun. Most times you do, but if you’re being honest, you’ve been enjoying time spent with him and Jungkook more.

Your movie and PS5 nights are chaotic and only egos are harmed. You and Jungkook help Jimin with job hunting, monitor his dancing practice, and watch dance videos with him. Two months since the gutter incident, you’ve gone to the park, the beach, and the river, perfected making choco-walnut cookies, and built fairy houses. 

Your days are more tiring yet satisfying, as if your apartment actually feels like a sanctuary, save for Jimin’s provocation leading to your bickering, but even that has become a welcome addition in your daily life as well.

Jungkook though is altogether a different story. You two have gone grocery shopping together more than once, had spent some mornings on a run, and some weeknights he even picks you up from work then you both grab some of Jimin’s favorite food for dinner. 

Those are on top of the many nights you’ve spent drinking whatever in the living room, bidding him goodnight either out the door or on your couch. You’re not exactly sure what to make of the giddiness but you shut down whatever unusual feeling there is before they start to mean anything more.

It started with a missed deadline, then an oversight of a risk, then your workmate Chul getting the last laugh. Sometimes, no matter how good you think things are going, all it takes is an extremely bad week, made up of extremely bad moments, to make you doubt yourself. You think some more, then you end up doubting everything else.

Am I good enough for this job? Can I really make a career here? Is this what I really want? Is this going to make me happy? Why the fuck am I still single? 

It’s the sudden feeling of uncertainty that overwhelms you, that makes you second-guess, and suddenly you’re not as stable and secure as you thought you were. 

It’s this feeling that you carry over the day after at your friend Jin and his wife’s baby shower. Between their growing family, Yoongi’s hit-making record label, Hoseok’s renewed contract as a travel show host, So-Hee’s PhD, and Na-eun’s engagement to her college boyfriend, you feel so… lost. Like you’re just getting by, just letting time pass until there’s something big and meaningful to look forward to again, whatever that is. 

Of course your friends would never make you feel any less. That’s really on you, which is probably worse.

The party is in full swing. Gifts have been given and time has come for full-on socializing where you all get to talk about how great your individual lives are. Except for you. And maybe Eun-ha on the corner, who doesn’t seem to be happy being here, but that’s not your problem. 

Somewhere near the bar is Jungkook, beer in hand and clearly enjoying himself. He’s a staple in events like this and he fits right in with everyone else - self-assured, content, in control, and maybe on his way to a date, seeing as how that pretty girl hasn’t left his side all afternoon. Not that you were monitoring, though. 

For once, you’re actually hoping Jimin was here so you can whine together, but the group he used to choreograph for invited him to their concert, so there’s that. 

You’re on your third glass of champagne when you head inside Jin’s enormous house, away from the laughter and obvious put-together lives of your friends, when you see him, the man who was once your embodiment of stability, of a “good and secure life,” as your parents had said. 

He sees you, flashes his dimple-bearing smile, and walks towards you, looking extremely good in a white polo and denim jacket, brown hair slicked back. 

“___!” He greets, his arms immediately engulfing you in a tight hug, providing you the physical warmth that you haven’t felt in a while. You sigh into him, your head on his firm chest, his now sturdier frame but a reminder of the time that's passed.

You linger, prompting him to gently stroke your back like he used to after a long day at work. 

“You needed this, huh?” He observes, voice low and comforting. 

You release yourself from his hold and look up at him, his sweet smile a contrast to his commanding presence. 

“Unfortunately,” you sigh.

“Boss still not giving you due credit? Colleagues still not making it any easier? Stress still at an all-time high?” He asks, and it’s either he still reads you so well or your problems, or you haven’t changed one bit. 

“You’re just not your usual energetic self,” he continues. “I mean, I haven’t seen your genuine smile since you arrived.”

He’s been watching you? Somehow that sends heat to your cheeks and quickens your heartbeat. 

“Just tired, is all. Plus, Jimin’s been living at home after a little accident,” you finally respond.

His face makes this charming worried expression. “House already a makeshift wrestling ring?” He laughs.

“You’d be surprised at how little damage there is in my apartment. Safe to say we’ve grown up,” you say, a wide smile finally adorning your face, which he returns. You haven’t felt this light the whole week. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Joonie.”

You and Namjoon find a spot in the large living room. With the two-seater couch being the only one available, the physical closeness makes it difficult not to be mesmerized by his gorgeous face. His laugh is still the same, the feel of his hand under yours is still the same; the attention he gives, his thoughtful and wise words, and ability to make you feel cared for haven’t changed. 

You’re smiling more, eyes sparkling for sure, and you can’t help the way your body reacts the way it does - knees chasing his, hand tucking your hair behind your ear, voice going a key higher.

He’s still the same confident and self-assured man that you fell in love with, that you once saw a life with. It’s almost intoxicating, the way he speaks, the way he sees the world and himself. You could easily fall into this again, into the ideal, the safe and secure, the expected, the could be. You think of the reasons why it didn’t work out, of what you chose when you decided to call it quits. 

His phone rings. He excuses himself but you still hear him. And you’re reminded why.

“I’m sure the gown looks beautiful, love. I’ll leave the party soon and meet you and our parents at the wedding planners’ office. See you in a bit.”

Your heart should be breaking but it’s just your pride that does. 

“I’m sorry, it was my uh—” he says, unsure.

“Your fiancé,” you smile, as if reminding him.

“Yeah it’s… it’s pretty recent and we uh… we’re planning to have it in three months,” he explains, eyes turning sullen, lips curling into an apologetic smile.

“Congratulations, Namjoon. I’m so glad you’re happy,” you say, hoping he picks up the sincerity in your voice. 

He sits across from you again, hand on top of yours, his smile hopeful, and for the first time, you see him struggle with what to say. So you don’t give him a chance to.

“What are you still doing here?” You playfully nudge him. “You have somewhere else to be.”

“You’ll be okay?” 

“Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

He lingers this time. Maybe in another life you would’ve worked out, you would’ve loved each other better, you would’ve fought for each other. But not in this. 

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, absorbing all the words he wishes he could say. I’m sorry. I will always care about you. I hope you find your happiness, too. 

Your eyes follow him as he walks out the door, out to the woman who could definitely give him what you couldn’t. 

From across the room, a pair of eyes follows your movement, too, the way it has since you entered the party four hours ago. 

Whatever worry you initially had about getting drunk at your friend’s baby shower is out the window. You don’t mind anymore, not with your fifth glass of champagne and your three shots of vodka because of course, it’s Jin - he'll never run out of alcohol regardless of the occasion. You laugh along with your friends, although you’re too dazed to process what they’re saying. 

Your jaw is sore from laughing over things you don’t understand so you decide to head inside. You can maybe call it a night and take the drinking back to your place; at least you’d be in your pjs and not in a tight dress and heels.

You’re pulling open a door that just won’t budge and you exert what little energy you have, causing you to trip on yourself only to be held steady by strong hands on your waist.

“That’s a sliding door, ___,” the familiar voice says, tone low but still teasing. 

You turn around and meet chocolate doe-eyes looking down at you and you stare back even in your embarrassment.

“I… I think I’m drunk,” you stutter. 

You’re met with laughter. “No shit, ___. Think I didn’t notice that?”

“I…” You say, looking down at the hands still holding onto you. 

He quickly removes them, worry painting his face and you wave him off before he could apologize.

“Let’s go to a bar, Jungkook.”

You reasoned your decreased alcohol tolerance to your friends, which they didn’t buy but waved you off without much fanfare. They probably sensed you were out of it for a while. Or probably saw the exchange with Namjoon, who knows. 

But you’re now at a bar eating chicken wings and fries like you’re about to run out of food, and the guy next to you is chuckling and reminding you to breathe every once in a while. 

You finish your meal quickly and pout when you realize he’s barely touched his food. 

“You’re not eating,” you state the obvious.

“Sorry, too entertained,” he laughs, the child-like sound now so familiar, you’d recognize it anywhere.

He’s just smiling at you and you feel so small under his gaze. He saw you talking with Namjoon, taking shots, and almost tripping earlier. He’s probably wondering who this person is. Definitely not the one who’s been semi-housing him the past few months.

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” you cry out.

“Hey now,” he says, hands gently removing yours from your face. He stops the one tear before it falls off.

“God, how many times have I cried in front of you, Kook? This is humiliating.”

“No one’s counting though,” he states. “It’s your shots I’m counting and I’m thinking maybe you’ve had enough.”

You nod and he orders a can of soda and a glass of water. With light chatter and glasses clinking in the background, you two fall in comfortable silence. He’s quietly picking on his food, eyes roaming the bar while yours flit from him to the space between you, somehow wishing it isn’t as wide as it is right now. 

“I had a bad week,” you finally say. 

He nods in acknowledgment.

“My friends are all accomplishing so many things, achieving their dreams, and I’ve been stuck in the same company for five years where my efforts aren’t being recognized.”

He nods again.

“I’m a 28 year-old who got drunk at a baby shower and flirted with her ex only to find out he’s engaged.” 

Jungkook pretends not to be affected at the confirmation that you were indeed flirting with Namjoon but he nods just the same.

“And?” He asks.

“And? I’m in a bar with you, and I cried, and I’m acting like a baby because I had a terrible week and ended up doubting everything and now think I can’t get my life together. I mean, between my brother I can’t properly help, a job I can’t seem to stand out in no matter how hard I try…” You release a deep breath. “And a relationship I couldn’t keep because I wasn’t enough… I’m so inadequate and—”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he interjects, his tone both reprimanding and worried. “You’re none of those things.”

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids. And Namjoon always wanted to be a father,” you blurt, the words not stinging the way they used to.

This stuns Jungkook. Jimin had always mentioned it was a mutual breakup but never said anything more. Jungkook didn’t think it was because of this. 

“I thought I wanted a family, too. It was so easy to fall into the idea of that kind of life with him because he was the perfect person to have it with. But then one day I just started doubting it,” you sigh, recalling how hard you used to be on yourself for suddenly wanting something different.

“Sometimes I think, what if I gave myself more time, what if eventually I’d be sure?” You take a long breath. “But the uncertainty was too much and it wasn’t fair to him,” you huff. 

There was no blame game; you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“Quite the dealbreaker, huh?” Jungkook wonders.

“Yeah but looking back, the other issues were just bubbling under the surface. The future was so enticing and we talked about it all the time, it seemed much more important than, well, us,” you explain. “It was Jimin who made me realize that I hung onto Namjoon for the relationship, the potential, and what that meant. He was the epitome of stability and I was the same for him but at some point, even that wasn’t enough.”

“So, earlier. Why did you, uhm,” he starts, hoping it doesn’t come out wrong.

“Flirt with him?”

Jungkook nods.

“Being with him used to make me feel like I knew what to do, you know? Like I had it figured out because he did and it was silly but I don’t know, maybe I wanted to trick myself into thinking that by being close to him in any way, I had it together.”

“You don’t need to have it together all the time. You just need to have it together enough,” Jungkook says, his whole body turning towards you.

“You had one bad week. That happens to all of us. But it’s over now, isn’t it?” He continues. “Your friends doing well in their careers? So are you. You know what not to compromise on, what to stand up for, and which battles to fight. I’ve heard enough of your stories to know that there are people at work who respect you and look up to you the way your friends, your brother, and I look up to you.”

Your lips are quivering, as you force yourself not to cry again tonight. He just always knows what to say. 

“That’s really sweet, Jungkook.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be sweet. I was just being honest,” he says. “You’re a lot of good things to people, ___. Isn’t that what matters? Being a little off at work and drinking then flirting with an ex don’t make you any less of a person. Okay? You’re allowed to slip up every once in a while.”

You let this sink in and think of all the times that people turned to you, asking what to do and to be taken care of. And he’s right. You had one bad week and you can allow yourself to cry and feel bad and maybe be a bit irresponsible. 

“Look at you, Jeon Jungkook. When did you get this wise? It’s like I just blinked then you’re all of a sudden so grown up,” you tease in an effort to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Like I told you, much of what I know, I got from Jimin. And what he knows, he got from you. Maybe try listening to yourself, yeah?” He smirks.

You nod, a smile creeping on your face the same way all the heat is rushing to your cheeks. You feel comfortable like this, being vulnerable and sad and doubtful. But Jungkook is holding you close without touching you; he’s making you feel safe with just his presence. In the now noisy bar, your bodies are angling towards each other, and with his tender smile, you feel a type of intimacy you’ve never felt before. It’s reassuring yet enticing at the same time. 

You hate to admit how much this scares you, but you shrug it off, not wanting to deal with the thought, given your not-so-sober state.

You both stay for another hour until you decide it’s time to head home. Jungkook took a cab, too, in anticipation of drinking so you both decide to walk back to your apartment, knowing the couple of blocks would be enough to sober you up.

The streets are still alive with the nightlife just starting but the noise starts to tone down once you reach your neighborhood. The long walk is soothing, as Jungkook leaves you to your thoughts, except during the times he has to steady you because, well, your vodka shots are still in your system and a walk isn’t enough to flush them down. Still, you’re calm, a feeling of acceptance overtaking you.

“Thanks for tonight, Jungkook. I hope I didn’t ruin any potential date or anything just because I couldn’t get the door open,” you laugh. 

He raises an eyebrow.

“That, uh, girl seemed really into you,” you stammer. 

He chuckles, hands in his pockets and cheeks flushed at the implication of your observation. 

“That wasn't much, we were just chatting.” He turns to you. “I could see your scrunched eyebrows from where I was and thought you needed help,” he shrugs.

You sigh. He was always helpful, ever since he was a kid. 

“You know, you were always the good guy,” you smile. “Jimin’s other friends were so rowdy and immature. Won-sik was always sprawled on the couch with his feet up like he owned the place; Sung-woon was always finishing our ice cream, and Jong-in was such a flirt.” 

Jungkook laughs, recalling the times you were scolding all of them for messing up the house and being so annoyingly noisy and eating your snacks.

“You were always the well-behaved and mature one. Like, you barely engaged in their pranks and stupid boy talk. You’d rather watch it all unfold until it was too much then you’d help me clean up their mess. You’d even help me in the kitchen. I remember your glazed potatoes. God, that was so hilarious.”

“That was embarrassing,” he shakes his head.

“It was funny! And adorable. You were always so kind.”

“Thanks but uh, I wasn’t trying to be kind. Well, sort of. I wanted to impress you. And I—” 

He doesn’t know where this is coming from but it’s like word vomit, especially now that you’ve started to walk more slowly, with your eyes curiously looking at him. 

“It was an opportunity to be near you,” he manages to say. “Kinda wanted a lot of that back then. Even now, actually.”

You gulp and look away, unsure of what to feel or how to react. You thought you were imagining his lingering looks, or how his eyes shone a tad brighter and his smile was a bit wider when you were around. But he’s not saying what he’s saying, right?

“I, uh. Well, maybe you look up to me like an older—”

“Do not say sister because I never saw you as one,” he interrupts you, frustration laced in his voice as if the word is venom. “Not when I was a teenager, not in the years after, and especially not now.”

You hesitantly turn to him, his nervous face a contrast to the offended tone of his voice just seconds ago. He nibbles on his lips, a mannerism you noticed when he was a teenager who always seemed shy around you and would only relax after you talked to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just—”

“That was your angry tone?” You tease, your laugh affirming him that you’re not upset one bit, just… unsure. 

You’re flattered, definitely; he is a very attractive man. Still your brother’s best friend, though.

This eases him, but it prompts him to test the waters.

“I’m a gentle boy, what can I say? Most times, at least,” he says, and you don’t miss the playful tone of this voice, his eyes peering down at you, making your breath hitch and your hands clammy.

You wrap yourself with your arms - really to wipe the sweat off because you’re feeling nervous - but Jungkook takes this differently, as anyone would, and immediately unzips his oversized denim top and puts it on you.

You slow on your tracks and you feel even warmer. He follows your pace but urges you to speed up once he feels a droplet on his cheek. You’re glad you opted to wear low heels today, tiring your calves only a little but allowing you to walk fast enough until you’re on the steps of your apartment in time to miss the sudden downpour.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t because as he enters, a portion of his torso is wet, his black shirt sticking on his skin to tease you of his toned abs that you definitely will be thinking about tonight. Between that, his damp hair, and soaked veiny arm, you curse your mind for the images they’re currently making up. 

All he did was indirectly tell you he has a crush on you, right? Or did he? He doesn’t seem as bothered as you expected him to be if that was the case so maybe you misinterpreted? 

You can’t stand this wet version of him so you say you’ll get him a towel. But your mind is still hazy and you’re also now quite flustered, so you hit the wall as you turn towards the bathroom, eliciting a loud “ow!” 

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, still drunk I guess,” you lie. 

He smirks and probably knows you’re lying. 

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry,” he says, as he quickly enters the bathroom and grabs a towel to dry himself. “Go wash up and get ready for bed.” 

“Are you ordering me around?” You ask, trying your best to reestablish yourself as the one in authority because you can’t take how this man is making you feel nervous and unsettled and not in control. 

“Do you want me to?” He counters, flustering you even more. 

What is with him? 

You roll your eyes and trudge towards the bathroom to clean up. You’re technically sober but with Jungkook’s looks, the sudden flirty tone of his voice, and his innuendos, you might as well be drunk again. 

You open your door and seconds later, he’s by your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand and apple juice in the other. The bottle of aspirin is tucked under his arm by his rib and he asks you to get it. You think he's evil for testing you but you take it and act unbothered. He follows you to your room and you don’t stop him. 

Glasses now on your bedside, you tuck yourself in. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“For what?”

“For staying with me? Listening to me?” You test the waters, too. “For caring for me?” 

At this, his smugness disappears. Before you is a man, all strong and tough yet his smile is the tiniest, softest you’ve ever seen on him, and even from where you are, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. 

“I really appreciate everything,” you conclude, and you mean it.

He gathers himself before he looks you in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it. Anything you need, just tell me,” he says, his voice low and raspy but you know he also means it.

All you’re able to do is nod. 

He turns to you before he closes the door.

“Sleep well, ___.”

You don’t sleep well. In fact, even with the rain pouring outside, you feel so hot, you end up shedding your shorts. 

The closeness with Jungkook has been gradual and if anything, it’s been comfortable. You convince yourself what he has is probably just a little crush; convincing your heart to still is a different story. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, can’t stop smiling. He was testing the waters tonight, gauging how you would react to his flirtation and teasing. It was partly the alcohol but then you’d gone all shy and flustered; he thought it was worth a shot.

He was half expecting you to scold him like you used to do with Jong-in, or berate him like those guys at work but you did neither. You don’t seem to hate him, even with his indirect confession to you, and that’s really better than what he’d hoped. 

You wake up dissatisfied with your sleep and take your hangover necessities; dealing with Jungkook last night did add to your inebriation. 

You head out to the kitchen to prepare some beef bone soup to help with the headache, hands trying to remove the sleep from your eyes. You move like you’re on autopilot like most post-night out mornings and then you hear someone gasp.

“Shit, woman!” Jimin shrieks. “Learn your manners and put some clothes on!”

It wouldn’t have been bothersome had Jungkook not been here but of course, he is. Next to your brother, eyes wide and definitely trying not to look at your bare legs. It dawns on you that you indeed removed your shorts because of that very man and your face contorts in shock and embarrassment.

“Fuck. Jimin! Grab me my shorts on my bed, please!!!” You cry out and stand behind the counter.

Your brother is too scandalized to complain so he rushes to your room and you feel so hot all over. You avoid Jungkook’s face at all costs, which apparently is what he’s also doing.

Jimin throws your shorts on your face. “Get yourself together, jeez,” he scowls.

“You’re the one invading my space, okay, both of you,” you bite back. 

Jimin’s making faces like he always does when you scold him and Jungkook sits next to him, chuckling. 

“I shouldn’t have welcomed you, you brats. I’m used to walking around my apartment in my underwear so this is a lifestyle change.”

“Oh god, shut it. Nobody wants to imagine you without clothes on,” your brother cringes.

For some reason, your eyes find Jungkook, who visibly gulps. You glare at both men, and Jimin responds with an evil smile.

You return to what you were meant to do and start getting ingredients. Jungkook starts to feel bad and mumbles to Jimin that he’ll just help. 

Jungkook stands next to you. “Did you mean that?”

You sigh. “I didn’t. Of course you two are welcome here.”

“I was referring to the other one,” he says with a low voice.

Your eyes widen and you smack his arm. “What is wrong with you? Stop teasing,” you loud-whisper, but he doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and you get flustered even more. 

You’re a 28-year old grown woman getting scandalized over playful comments by this ridiculously good-looking younger man and you feel so pathetic because you can’t deny that it’s exciting you. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone flirt with you and pay attention to you like this, make you all giddy and entranced as if you’re an adolescent getting her first love letter or being told by her crush that she’s pretty.

There’s playfulness there but affection, too. You see it in the way he stops the teasing and smiles to himself, then proceeds to help you cook, looks at you with fondness while you eat, then forces Jimin to clean up with him. 

This continues for the next few weeks. Jungkook’s lingering looks on you are more flirty now and he smirks when you look away and try to hide your flushed face. His tone of voice when Jimin is nearby is lower, as if he’s telling you a secret. 

He no longer stiffens when Jimin moves to the corner of the couch and kicks you closer to Jungkook so that your brother can make space for himself. In fact, it’s the opposite now, with Jungkook finding ways to be near you - when the three of you are on a grocery run, when you’re all on the couch for movie night, and especially when Jimin opts to sit on the floor - shuffling closer, knees grazing each other’s.

You keep your head to yourself, fighting the urge to rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder and he definitely notices this, so he’s started to edge you, in a way. The once lingering finger touches when he hands you something are no more, so are the “accidental” elbow brushes. 

He stands close to you just enough for you to feel the heat off him but not enough to feel him. His arm over your chair leaves his hand thisclose to your shoulder and you swear you can feel the sensation even then. 

You promised to stop smacking him after the time he flexed his bicep and you started to imagine how good those arms must look.

You, however, found out exactly how good those arms look shortly after. He and Jimin convinced you to join them in the gym because Jungkook had a voucher to a free yoga class since a client of his is a teacher. It was safe to say she wasn’t happy when he popped in the studio to say you were taking his slot. Jungkook and Jimin did a workout though, with your brother already in a better condition.

After the session, they made you wait as they finished and Jungkook really had to remove his red hoodie to reveal his stupidly gorgeous toned and tattooed arms in a black fit sleeveless top. He caught you ogling and the devil crossed his arms to fucking flex and smirk when the conversation he was having with one of the trainers didn’t even seem that amusing. 

Of course, his outfit just sent your mind into another dimension with the images of what could be underneath that black top and again, you find out one morning exactly how glorious it is. 

It’s one of those post-bar night mornings - you’ve allowed Jimin to enjoy the nightlife again as long as he had chaperones, which essentially were you and Jungkook. 

You wake up and groggily get out of bed. You stop by the hallway at the sound of someone gasping and you look up from where you are, slack jawed as you watch Jungkook pull his shirt off from the back of his neck with one hand, coffee-stained clothing lying on the counter.

His black sweatpants are hanging low on his hips, with the band of his Calvin Klein boxers peeking out. His tiny waist spreads out to his muscular back, and when he turns, his sculpted chest almost blinds you; pecs just the right perk and torso so taut but not intimidating at all. 

It’s... beautiful. It looks so smooth and captivating; your eyes can’t help but trail down south and— is that black ink that’s peeking underneath the waistband? You gulp at the thought of Jungkook having a hip tattoo because what the fuck? Is he trying to kill you? And his—

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He asks, and you jerk from where you’re standing. 

Your eyes turn to the appropriate body part they should be focused on and he’s smiling like he’s an angel, as if he literally didn’t just try to murder you with his exquisite bare body. 

His smile is so sweet and you know he’s playing you because he totally caught you drooling at the sight of him. Your throat is dry and suddenly you can’t speak, which really isn’t surprising by now because he’s also taken away your ability to form coherent sentences. 

“I, uhm. I’ll get one of Jimin’s.” 

“I don’t fit in his clothes. Don’t you have large ones?”

He knows you do, and you nod, unclench the thighs you didn’t even realize had betrayed you, and retrieve one of your oversized university shirts and approach him. You stay at a safe distance - any closer and you might fall into temptation - and you throw it to him. 

He chuckles and turns to his side to slowly put it on because of course there’s a fucking dent down there that he wants to show off.

You turn and trip on your foot because god knows how dizzy you feel from the show he just put on.

“Careful,” he calls out and even with your back turned, you just know he’s smirking.

He beats you to the bathroom shortly after and he takes his time. You don’t want to imagine what else he could possibly be doing in there.

You decide to wait with your brother who’s been so ecstatic over an audition he landed for a fairly new and small entertainment company as a choreographer for a hip-hop group. 

They told him his contemporary dance background and versatility are just what they need and you soften at his joyful face; he says he feels like a new person again. You listen to him excitedly and give encouragement.

You perk at the sound of the bathroom door opening because you really need to clean the wetness down there. You trudge out of the guest room so you could finally shower, slightly upset at Jungkook’s clothed form. 

You groan. “Ugh, that was so long,” you mindlessly say, only meaning to complain about the time it took him to get himself clean.

“Oh it is.” 

His smirk is back and you are pissed. You bang the door and pull your hair out of frustration. 

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to be a whimpering mess. He knows it. And you’re in trouble.

Jungkook will be busy for the next two weeks, as he shares that he has a couple of on-site art installations outside of the city and a tattoo piece that will need more than one 5-hour shift. You try not to seem affected when Jimin teases him since it’s going to be on a woman’s breast this time. 

“This the same one who had her vagina tattooed? The one who asked you out after?” Jimin asks.

Your eyes burn your phone screen because you absolutely cannot be affected, so you feign interest and go through Instagram and pretend that other people’s lives are more interesting than the conversation you’re currently privy to.

“Yeah,” Jungkook laughs. “That was fun.”

Jin calling you is your saving grace, and you spend the next hour in your room, talking to him over nursery room ideas because Hoseok couldn’t make up his mind over a bright green or a fuschia pink wall and Yoongi wants dark gray because “babies can’t even identify colors,” which you know is true. And so Jin needed you as the one with a more palatable taste, as is often the case in your friend group, so you convince him to go with beige walls and outer space artworks. 

You’re immersed in your conversation, but you do hear Jungkook knock to say goodbye, which is more than his usual yelling. Still preoccupied, and perhaps still too bothered, you ignore him, and you notice him linger before you hear his steps walk away from your door. 

It’s day five since you’ve last seen Jungkook when you realize why you’ve been so grumpy. And you hate the moment that it dawns on you - you miss him. You’ve gotten so used to seeing him every few days - picking you up from work, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine who’ll choose dinner, laughing at his high-pitched child-like laughter, and talking to him about work and other things. You admit to yourself that you even miss his flirting and teasing. 

He’s been such a staple in your life these past months, and not just to referee between you and Jimin. Jungkook, with his listening ear, his heartwarming passion for his work, and ability to soothe and comfort you in the silence, just feels so stable. And not in the way you used to think. He’s so laid-back and just there, always dependable, like you’re sure that whatever it is you’re feeling, he’ll just know what to do or say. 

Jimin used to say that Jungkook was always the person he needed for anything and now you understand why. He emits a certain calmness, joy, and consistency, like whether you’re flying or drowning, he’s the pillar grounding you or keeping you afloat. 

You’re always tempted to send him a message but you two don’t text and it would be weird to just start now, although it doesn’t help that he doesn’t text you either. You shrug it off and convince yourself that what he feels for you really might just be a silly crush, one he acts on when he’s around you but one he probably forgets when he isn’t. Or maybe he went out with that girl, who knows?

On the day that he arrives, he's set to drive Jimin to the audition and watch him, too, while you’re just happy to be able to do errands and clean the house on your own. 

The doorbell rings and Jimin, whom you’ve reminded to shower so he won’t be late, answers the door. You try not to look intrigued when you hear him rambling about how good Jungkook apparently looks because how else can he look better?

With ash-gray hair, that’s how. You can’t help it. You take a peak and turn your head before he could turn to look at you.

You’re currently by the kitchen counter, tiptoeing to try to get the cereal box on the top shelf to check if you need to buy another or if it would suffice. Or if it’s even still edible. You’ll be off for a quick grocery run once you get this stupid box out.

You’re heaving, as you try to get this over with, until a large hand touches your lower back and the fresh scent of detergent fills your nose. You stiffen as an arm is raised to easily grab the cereal box you’ve spent the past five minutes trying to get and— fuck do you miss his touch. You miss his scent that you realize is just as comforting as his soft sweatshirts. You miss the way you feel a jolt of electricity even at the slightest brush of his body on yours.

He places the box on the counter. “You should’ve asked,” Jungkook says, his voice low.

“I can do it,” you respond, finding the courage to look at him and your lips betray you at how they part because he looks so good with his new hair. 

“I know. I just like it when you ask.” 

He tries to keep his eyes on you but they keep falling to your lips, the one he’s been imagining the feel and taste of. But your eyes lock on his, letting yourself be hypnotized. 

You feel his touch drift away from you and you stop him, as your hand finds his and keeps it on your waist, and it signals him to grip tighter and pull you closer. And you let him. You angle yourself so you’re standing chest to chest, you could almost feel his heart beat just as fast as yours.

“What else do you like?” You ask.

You want to indulge yourself because you just wanna know. You've missed him and you can’t reconcile the flirting with his recent silence.

Jungkook bites his lip, knowing it’s his signal to tell you how he feels.

“I like it when you say my name, when you listen to me talk and take me seriously,” he answers. “I like it when you don’t make me feel bad about the things I do and the things I choose for myself.”

His free hand glides through your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It settles on your cheek and you bet he could feel just how hot it is.

“I like it when you pout and when you smile with your eyes,” he continues. “And I like it when you need me because then I know I’m not the only one, because fuck do I need you,” he moans, both hands pulling you closer to him until his breath grazes your mouth. 

“Want you so much,” he mumbles, before he eliminates the distance and you feel his soft lips on yours, moving tenderly, carefully, as if the purpose is to seek validation that you feel the same way, to ask your acceptance of the overwhelming affection he has for you. 

Your lips move gently like his, languid yet electrifying and euphoric and you hold onto him for support, just so you won’t lose yourself even more than you already are.

This now feels surreal. You’re not thinking about anything else - not the before or the after - just the feel of him at this very moment and how it’s making you feel alive, carefree, unbound. And you wonder if all your other kisses had felt this good before. Or maybe just different. 

You and Jungkook keep your steady pace, focusing on the soothing feel of each other’s lips, of the sensation of something sensuous and tender.

The aggressive pull of the bathroom door jolts you awake from a dream it seems, and you duck down in panic and crouch on the floor behind the counter before your brother notices anything amiss. Jungkook’s surprised but holds his laugh at how scared you look, the first time he’s seen you be afraid of your brother.

“Kook, has my sister left for the supermarket?” He calls out from his open room, probably dressing as he speaks.

Jungkook looks up to check on Jimin. “Yeah, she just left,” he answers after deciphering your hand gestures from underneath him.

“Ugh, I forgot to tell her to buy my cereal. I think the one on the top shelf isn’t edible anymore.”

Jungkook smirks, thanking the heavens that Jimin didn’t tell you, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have had the best kiss of his life. 

He felt you. You moved with him. You felt him. And he can’t be happier.

He has a chance with you. He really has a chance with you, and even at the risk of being caught, he’d do this with you over and over again.

“Let’s go,” Jimin calls out. “I’ll just text her.”

“I’m sure she knows,” Jungkook smirks then heads out, leaving you with a dazed feeling and a heart that won’t slow its beating. 

Your time alone with your thoughts only served to confuse you even more. It felt nice. He felt nice. You never really considered Jungkook as anything more than, well, your brother’s best friend, even if he’s the one you preferred out of all of Jimin’s friends ever since. 

His well-behaved nature and boyish charms were always endearing to you and even when he grew up, his confidence and compassion just amazed you. But it was always from afar. You think it’s the same with him; his affection may just be a little infatuation born out of his idea of you growing up. You’ve learned enough that the idea of a person, of a relationship, of a could be isn’t always enough.

Another thing you think about is that Jimin is very protective of his friendships. You know that more than anyone, when you dated Taemin in high school. 

You were both seniors and had gotten close because he was Jimin’s dance captain and mentor, someone whom your brother looked up to and admired. Your relationship ended during your first year of college, with both of you saying things you eventually regretted. Safe to say it was your first heartbreak, one that resulted in Jimin's as well, as his friendship with your ex-boyfriend was also affected.

You and Jimin barely talked about it, seeing his own disappointment because of the resulting strained relationship with Taemin. You thought that the elder would at least maintain a friendship, but he didn’t. 

The most Jimin said about it was when he told you, eyes downcast but tone quite angry, to “keep off my friends and don’t date any of them, please.” You were home for a break and he stormed out of your room before you could apologize. You realized later on that his heartbreak was worse than yours; you told yourself you don’t want to be the cause of that pained look on his face ever again.

His friends are off-limits, he made it pretty clear. Taemin was a mentor but one Jimin eventually did without. But Jungkook is his best friend, his brother. They’ve looked out for each other for more than half of their lives; you can’t even imagine what would happen if you and Jungkook get together and then fight, or break up. 

You wouldn’t want Jimin to have to give up a friendship that means more to him than anything. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t want to lose Jimin over something that might not mean as much anyway. 

You stick to the latter thought, especially when both men arrive home and Jimin is beaming, his smile something you’ll never admit actually makes your heart feel all sorts of fuzziness and pride. He’s so excited and you feel it, too, moreso because he informs you that he got the job.

“They really liked me! They said I can really mentor the group and their team is so creative and passionate…” 

Jimin goes on, narrating every single thing that happened right as he entered the studio. You’ve never seen him this elated, not even with his previous company that was at the top of their game. 

“And they said I don’t have to work right away! They’ll wait for my doctor’s clearance but I can go to work to observe and get to know the group more.”

Your eyes moisten because not long ago, you saw the joy in your brother wither away, his passion deteriorate, and his plans go on a standstill. But now, it’s like he didn’t go through a slump or moments of weakness, like he didn’t go through a depressive mode when he thought he’d lost everything. He’s really a fighter, and you truly look up to him. 

“I wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for you two,” Jimin continues, pulling both of you in a three-way hug because of course your brother wouldn’t hug just you.

This prompts Jungkook to wrap his arm around you, hand gripping your waist while yours settles for mere pats on his lower back. 

He tries not to dwell on this minimal contact, or on the way you purposely avoid his gaze. He tries not to think too much when you actively lean towards your brother more during your dinner out, or how you jerk away when any of Jungkook’s body parts comes in close contact with yours.

He’s thinking maybe you’re not in the mood for his playful antics or maybe, he really pushed too far with the kiss earlier. It sends him in an internal panic mode because just as his hope of starting something more with you was blooming, it quickly gets shot down just like that. 

It’s when you pass up on games and drinks in your living room when you get back so you could just stay in your room does Jungkook think that he may really have blown his chance. And he doesn’t know what to do about it.

You try to be subtle in your avoidance of Jungkook but it’s harder than expected, especially since Jimin still invites him over. With the excitement of the new job now steadying, Jimin announces his checklist for getting through a crisis - healed foot, check; new job, check. That’s pretty much it, really. 

“But I still need you two,” he proclaims.

Jungkook comes over and you notice how he tries. He attempts to catch your gaze, goes near you, engages you in conversation, makes jokes, lingers before leaving… only to be met with eyes that don’t seek him, short answers, forced laughter, and cold goodbyes. And you absolutely hate it. 

He’s around yet you miss him even more than when he was away, but you can’t fall into the things that made you feel something for him in the first place. 

Living with Jimin made you appreciate him so much more, and you’re glad you get to be this close with him for the first time, and you don’t want to jeopardize that. 

Jungkook has much to do with the newfound attachment with your brother, yet it’s exactly why you’re hesitant to give Jungkook a chance. Their relationship is sacred, similar to how yours with Jimin is. What you and Jungkook have is a by-product of those, and it’s not the priority. Somehow you think all three can’t coexist; you can’t have it all, really.

Whenever Jungkook makes an effort, Jimin’s plea to keep off his friends rings in your head. You know, too, that Jimin gave his friends an ultimatum - date my sister or keep your dicks, something like that. It was funny when you heard of it, but it’s definitely not a laughing matter now. 

Those words were said years ago yet they still hang above your head. You wish Jungkook would just make it easier for you, but why is it that when he stops trying does your heart break, as if you’re losing something you never had in the first place?

It’s easy to reason you feel sick and tired; you’ve been spending later hours at work so spending more time in your room and asking the boys to make dinner instead seem reasonable. But tonight, Jimin isn’t having it.

“We’re celebrating, stay here,” he says, pulling you to the couch next to him. 

Jungkook is on his right, his once tendency to stiffen around you back again, and you’re saddened at the thought because he looks so uncomfortable.

“Celebrating what?” You ask, grabbing the beer being handed to you. 

“I’ve been working for two  weeks and I haven’t reinjured my foot,” he says, his smile blinding you.

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his shallowness but you just agree and mindlessly sip the beer, eyes veering off in the distance.

“Is it a guy?” Jimin says out of nowhere and you try not to choke. “You only ever get this sulky when it’s about a guy. Is it someone from work?” Jimin asks with furrowed eyebrows. “Oh! Is it one of your co-managers who’s been trying to ask you out but he’s the ex of one of your friends?” 

You try to remember when you told him about that but it was definitely a months-ago issue. 

“Or did you have an epiphany and realized you actually like Yoongi? Or Hoseok? Or maybe Jin but he’s married?”

“What the hell, Jimin!” You say, smacking his arm. 

Your eyes flit to Jungkook who’s focused on the TV.

“The first one,” you lie to satisfy your brother. 

“It’s kind of a code, you know? He’s So-Hee’s ex and she really loved him and I don’t want to ruin my friendship over something I’m not sure is worth it anyway.”

And with your answer, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench. He knows about So-Hee and the manager; they were merely a fling, so he knows you’re lying.

“How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t even tried?” Jimin asks, incredulous.

“I don’t know, it’s just… So-Hee’s my friend and I don’t wanna mess up a friendship.”

“Seems like you don’t trust your friendship with her enough, then,” Jimin states like it’s a fact. 

This hits you more than it should. Do you really not trust in your relationship with your own brother? Surely you have a basis to be hesitant, but if it only it were that simple.

Jimin picks up on your silence and asks again. “How are you and the guy like? Do you have moments with him?”

“Lots of them,” you say, your eyes finding Jungkook just on the other side of the couch, and he’s never felt farther away. “And for the first time it’s like I get to savor them. Whether it’s something sweet that he does, or if we’re just together in silence, or when he’s being flirty.” 

You don’t see it but Jungkook catches you smiling at the thought and god does he wish you’re lying about this one unless it’s about him. He wishes it is.

“Sounds like a keeper if he gets you to enjoy moments, don’t you think? For someone like you?” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Like me?”

“You think too much, you know? You plan, you analyze, you manage risks… I mean, yeah sure they help I guess, but this isn’t a job, ___. There’s no profit to be earned here, no losses,” he points out. “The only loss is you, missing out on something good because you’re too focused on what could happen, and not what’s actually happening, right now.” 

He's told you a variation of this before, but somehow this hits differently, and more than it should.

“Did you teach that to Jungkook, too?” You ask, a smile creeping up and you digress because you need anything to stop you from walking to Jungkook and holding him close to you.

“No, he taught me that,” Jimin states. “I know it seems like I teach him a lot - well, all I really told him was to never let anybody dictate what he wants and deserves in life, and I stand by that, but to be clear,” Jimin turns to you, “I learn just as much from him. He’s his own self; nobody tells him what to do.”

It’s all meant to be assuring, comforting even, if only Jimin knew. And if only it were that simple. The tension is suffocating but your brother breathes easy. You love him more than you can ever say and his happiness has meant more to you than you ever imagined. You just wish your own didn’t come at a cost.

A few days later, Jungkook is back at your place. You had quite the reflective week and opted to stay in your room, and you can hear them talking and laughing outside.

Some days you just want to bask in your own thoughts; absorbing yourself in your own emotions helps in figuring out what to do, you’ve realized. You’re still a thinker and a planner - that’s probably never gonna change - but you’re starting to at least let yourself feel and enjoy the now, or something like it. You just wish the person you want to spend your now with hasn’t changed his mind.

It’s almost midnight when you decide to head out, your early dinner long digested and you feel hunger creeping in.

You exit your room and stop in your tracks at the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen, all alone. You definitely weren’t ready for this.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were still here,” you say, regretting it immediately because you didn’t intend on sounding disappointed.

He looks up, alarmed at your presence because he wasn’t expecting this, too.

“Jimin fell asleep on me but don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” he responds, eyes not meeting yours. 

“He’s also gonna be coming over to my place from now on since he’s able. Don’t want you to feel like a prisoner in your own home,” he says, motioning to your room where you’ve been hiding recently. “Since you’re avoiding me and all,” he continues, and you don’t miss the hurt look on his face. 

You mentally give yourself a pep talk because you definitely want him to still come around and you’re definitely being stupid. 

“I… I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, blocking his way by the couch as he’s about to reach for his jacket.

He stops in front of you, ensuring some distance. 

“Yeah, I guess you weren’t. I mean, you were just not minding me and making sure you stayed as far away from me as possible.”

He’s trying to sound bitter but you’re his weakness and he will always go soft on you because his tender eyes are definitely not a match to his bitter words.

“I just didn’t know what to do. You didn’t exactly say what you felt and—”

“I kissed you, ___,” he interjects, his tone suppressing frustration. “I told you I need you, that I want you. And you kissed me back. The way you looked at me that day, the way you held me… it meant more, I could feel it. So I don’t know how you could just act like none of that happened, like it didn’t matter,” he continues.

“Jungkook… you’re my brother’s bestest friend. And he’s very protective of his friends, of you.” 

And it’s ironic, Jungkook thinks, how Jimin is the reason why you two had met and gotten close; how Jimin’s what got you together but is also who’s keeping you apart.

“He’s also the one who constantly reminds me to go for what I want, to never let anybody tell me what to do,” Jungkook counters.

“Yeah but this is different. I don’t want anything to come in between you two, the same way I don’t want anything to come in between him and me.”

“So it’s okay for him to come in between us? You really think he’d be okay with that? That he’d keep the two people he loves the most from being together? From being happy?”

And you hate that he’s right.

“What Jimin is to us is out of our control,” he states. “But that shouldn’t be why we can’t try, right? Because god I’ve wanted you since I was 15 and and I’ve waited too long for this and I’d either fight for us or keep us a secret, I don’t care. Just don’t lie to me, please.”

By now he’s standing in front of you, eyes focused on yours. He could pin you against the armrest if he wanted to but he’s keeping his hands to himself, fists clenched at the control he’s trying to maintain because of his intense feelings for you. He’d make you feel it all too, if you just let him.

You can move away if you want; there’s definitely space for it. But you don’t. Jungkook bared everything to you, braving through just to be with you; the least you could do is be honest. So with your own strength, you look up at him. 

“You made me fall for the moments, Jungkook. You made me fall for you, and there were so many things to consider and I—”

Your rear hits the armrest, as you’d reflexively walked back as he started to move towards you, slowly eliminating the distance. His arms, caging you, are propped on the couch to support his spread out frame, his face now leveled with yours. You’re burning with how he’s looking at you with so much hope and yearning.

“Go on,” he says, voice low, his eyes wandering all over your face and you feel your heat dampen with just his gaze. 

“I didn’t know what to do with what I’ve started to feel for you because you were off-limits but that didn’t keep me from wanting you and—”

His lips graze the side of your neck and with your breath hitching, he proceeds. Open-mouth kisses trail your skin, with just enough wetness and just enough heat to leave you wanting more. You angle your neck for more access, prompting him to smirk at how you’re slowly giving in. 

“And what?” He urges you, mouth focusing on the other side of your neck now, head nudging yours to adjust. 

“And I avoided you because—”

You grip the couch for support, as you unravel with his hot breath on your skin.

“That seemed easier than to keep at what we were doing, knowing that—”

He licks a sensitive part by your ear and your strangled moan spurs him on. 

“I couldn’t have you the way I wanted to.” 

At this, he stops. 

He focuses his gaze on you again. Jungkook holds onto the tiniest shred of self-control he has left just so he can savor you like this, with your emotions unraveling and your body falling apart before him. 

“How exactly do you want me?”

You steady your breath and as much as you want to give in to your carnal desire and attack his lips, you want him to know how much this means to you. You’re still scared but being with Jungkook steadies you; he makes it all feel worth it.

You’re crossing this line now, and you’ll stick with him whether you’ll both come clean or keep it a secret. He wants you enough right now; you’ll figure out what to do eventually. 

Your hand finds his face and your fingers trace the scar on his cheek. You let yourself drown in his beautiful eyes, knowing on clear nights you could see galaxies as beautiful as this. 

“I want you close, Jungkook. I want you to hold me - when I’m sad, happy, angry, confused. I want to hold you that way, too. I want to savor every moment and let you know how much I want more of those with you, everyday.”

Your featherlight touches on his jaw send shivers all over his body and he hums at the sensation. You caress his lips before he could bite them again, palming him with your thumb and feeling its softness.

“I want you to fall apart under my touch, want to make you feel good, kiss you like it’s always the last time.”

Jungkook thinks he deserves a prize for how well he’s keeping himself together and not yet taking you on this couch like his dick is telling him to. But he needed to hear all that, needed to look in your eyes while you said them.

Then you smile at him, eyes filled with desire, and that’s all it takes for him to lose his resolve and plunge into you, your plush lips against his soft ones, melding together again like a literal dream. He straightens his stance so his hands can cup your face and he feels you smile in the kiss, relishing in the care and attention he’s giving.

It starts tenderly then quickly turns heated, his eager hands trailing down your arms and waist, and your own entangling his hair, pulling the strands as he nips your lips, prompting them to open. 

Your tongues explore each other’s mouths, his lingering taste of root beer somehow making him more addictive. You swallow each other’s sounds, both of you still having half a mind to tone down, knowing that only a wall separates your wanton moans and your sleeping brother.

His grip around you tightens and you pull him closer, your hands now around his neck, fingers thumbing his cheeks and you’re losing yourself to him, as the past few months of undeniable attraction and sexual tension climaxing at this moment where you finally give in to what you’ve been trying to suppress.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels a sense of calm even with his hard dick and his thumping heart because he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of you, and you’re here wanting him, too. All the memories of watching you from afar, blushing at how beautiful you are, missing you when you were away, heart breaking at how happy you were with someone else, fly by him like a movie because he’s got his ending - you. 

He’s lived for moments most of his life and always knew to savor them, to bask in them because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to have those again. But nothing comes close to right now with you and he decides to make sure he’ll have you like this everyday. 

Both your actions continue, hands stationary but mouths eagerly moving against each other, stopping momentarily for air but smiling, laughing in the kiss.

You give in first, fingers slowly trailing down to graze at his chest and he shivers, curses mid-kiss and you giggle. He’s on cloud 9 again, realizing he can hear the beautiful sound that is your laughter everyday. 

Suddenly it’s all thoughts of what’s ahead for both of you, imagining what that would be like - feeling, holding, touching each other. You’re so lost in your little world, your mind traveling from now to tomorrow and it’s exciting, so incredibly alluring to be savoring this moment but also thinking about the next. 

You’re light-headed now because kissing him is like a drug, soothing yet exhilarating at the same time and you’re aching to feel him. 

“Jungkook…” You whine. 

And then.

“HOLY SHIT,” you hear a gasp.

Your eyes burst open and you feel Jungkook stiffen before you try to push him away. You both still, looking at each other, some distance now between you, and you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it is, the tension so thick that you’re afraid to move. 

You knew at one point you’re gonna have to tell Jimin but it definitely wasn’t going be right now and definitely not in the middle of a fucking make-out session.

“Is this a hookup or are you both finally out of your asses and would actually like to properly date because god knows it’s about time?”

You and Jungkook slowly turn to the side, eyes wide at your brother who’s leaning by the wall, checking his nails as if he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

“WHAT?” You ask.

“Jungkook’s been into you since forever but he never had the fucking guts to do anything.” Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes at the man. “You’re not exactly subtle with your staring.”

Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around what's happening because his mouth keeps moving but no sound comes out.

“Neither are you,” Jimin eyes you this time. “You forget I’m good with reading people. And also, I’m literally friends with So-Hee. She doesn’t even remember that guy,” he laughs because of course Jimin would know. 

You feel so stupid; you should’ve known your sassy brother was trying to catch you in a lie when he asked if your sulking was “because of a guy.”

“So you’ve always known?” Jungkook finally finds his voice.

“About you, duh. She’s recent,” Jimin points to you. “It’s like, one moment you’re friendly then you’re flirty then it’s like you can’t stand each other. Get your shit together, people. I’m literally right here.”

God, you and Jungkook were definitely not subtle. You both underestimated your brother, too.

“So you’re not mad?” You confirm.

“No.”

“But… you said you were gonna cut my dick off,” Jungkook stammers.

“And you told me to keep off your friends because of Taemin,” you add. “You stopped being friends because of me,” you remind him, voice almost a whisper.

Jimin takes a deep breath because now he has to come clean.

“We stopped being friends because of him. He hurt you, ___, and you didn’t deserve that,” he admits, avoiding your questioning gaze. “I heard you crying to Jin about what happened and I got angry and wanted you to stay away from my friends because they were all assholes.” He continues, jaw clenched at the memory. “Well, except for him,” he cocks his head towards Jungkook. 

“He was the only good guy. I never really minded if he went for you because... Iknowhe’lltreatyouwellandyoudeservethat,” Jimin says.

And you’re not gonna lie, you feel like crying. Jimin’s been trying to protect you all this time. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, isn’t taking this all too well.

“You said you were gonna cut my dick off…” He says again, tone low and unbelieving.

“That didn’t stop you, did it?” Jimin counters, earning him a sigh of defeat because he has a point. 

“I just wanted it to happen naturally,” he explains. “I mean, I didn’t plan on getting heartbroken, injured, unemployed, then homeless all at once but it happened and you both helped me and that unintentionally brought you together and I…” 

He turns to you both. “I realized how good you are together. Not just in taking care of me but in taking care of each other, too.”

By this time, Jungkook has found his feet and is now standing next to you, his fingers intertwining with yours. You let out a laugh because this whole time, Jimin wasn’t in the dark. But then again, he’s a smart ass, too, and he would’ve figured it out at some point.

And would also push it. “I actually got over Taehyung months ago so like, I’ve been okay for a while,” he shrugs.

And just like that, he gets on your nerves again because that’s how he’s been getting his way, by reminding you of his “broken heart that’s still hurting.” 

“You little bitch! Do you also have a new apartment now and you’re not telling me?!” You shriek, and Jungkook next to you is finally laughing. 

“Oh no,” Jimin responds. “I’m really still homeless.”

And he smiles his sickly sweet smile and you can’t help but mirror it. Your brother is really something, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

Some seconds pass and you’re just all basking in this moment because for the first time in months, it really feels like things are looking out for all of you.

“So in that case,” Jungkook turns to you, “would you like to go on a date with me?” 

With hopeful eyes staring at you, he feels the weight lifted off his shoulder now that he doesn’t need to hide anything from his best friend. He can just focus on falling in love with you and making you do the same. 

“Yes,” you excitedly reply, hand trailing up his chest again. “And in that case, would you like to continue this in my bedroom?”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch. “Fuck, yes.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to sleep on the couch now,” Jimin groans, but you don’t miss his playful tone. “You’re both welcome, idiots.”

You’re pushed to the wall right as the door closes and Jungkook’s lips meet yours immediately. It tastes much sweeter knowing there’s no need to hide nor to be careful. It’s liberating and it’s making you feel more.

He kisses you harshly as his hands make quick work of your shirt. He pulls them off then slowly kneels down in tandem with his mouth sucking, licking, and kissing down your breasts, then your torso, causing your chest to heave at the pleasure from just his mouth.

His hands aggressively pull down your bottoms and his tongue finds your clit before you can even process his action. He’s nibbling your bud and laving at your lips and pumping his fingers in you all at once, you don’t know where to focus. 

You feel the desperation and intensity with every move, the sensation overwhelming and eliciting lewd sounds from you. He alternates between moaning and cursing on your cunt and that just adds to the pleasure.

“Eager, aren’t we?” You ask with a smirk.

“You have no idea,” he responds, head buried between your thighs, one of which is currently resting on his shoulder. “Some of my wet dreams may have been because of you.”

“What the fuck Jungkook!”

“I was a growing boy with raging teen hormones!” He says in between breaths. 

But he doesn’t relent. Fingers curling in your hole, tongue swirling on your clit, and hand squeezing your ass, he’s determined to make you cum now, and with a hard suck, you do. 

You jerk away at the oversensitivity with his mouth still on you and you pull him up to give him a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

At the sight of you bare, eyes half-lidded and steadying breath, he stills.

“Is everything okay?” You ask.

“Yeah I just…” He starts, stepping back a bit, and his eyes roam your body, a soft smile forming on his face. “I never thought I’d get to have you like this. I always admired you from afar and you always felt so out of reach and I…”

“Jungkook,” you stop him. “I’m here with you right now, barely any distance. I’m not your best friend’s sister, okay?” Your hand reaches out to him and he takes it, letting you pull him closer. “I’m the girl you like, the one you’ll take out on a date after you fuck her senseless. Got it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, a shy laugh escaping him. 

You kiss him softly. “No need to admire me from a distance anymore. You have me, right here.”

“Okay.”

And before he can attack you again, you lead him towards your bed. Your fingers pull the waistband of his sweats as you sit on the edge and look up at him, wide eyes eager for something.

“Shirt off,” you say, and he follows.

Your eyes meet your hands that are slowly ridding him of his remaining clothing and you swear you could come again at the sight of the tiger lily tattoo resting on his hip. It curves with his defined v-line, the stem trailing downward, like some pathway to his throbbing dick.

You take him in your hands and he bucks at the feel of your soft skin around his length that’s aching to be inside you. Your eyes stay on the tattoo; something about it is so hot and you kiss it, your lips then exploring the expanse of his hip and up to the part of his torso that you can reach, feeling the ridges of his definitely smooth abs that are now tensing at the sensation. 

All the while, your hand is stroking his thick member, up and down as you continue kissing and licking his pelvis and just like this, he already tastes so good. He grunts with your movements, his head falling back at the intense pleasure. His hands fall to your hair as you take him in, your tongue traversing his dick, causing your heat to clench at the salty taste of cum and the feel of his veins as his shaft twitches in your mouth.

At the vibration caused by your moan, he stops you, removes himself from you and then lays half your body down on the edge of the bed. 

“My turn,” he says smugly.

You’re about to protest but he swirls his tongue all over your cunt again, the pad of his thumb flicking your nub and you moan his name instead. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm yet but he seems determined to give you another one. He’s eating you like a man starved, as if he plans to slurp you dry.

“More, Jungkook,” you breathe out.

Before you know it, he’s removing himself for you, pumps his dick, then after seeking consent, he thrusts into you, raw. The stretch overwhelms you but it’s so, so good. 

He quickly adjusts and spreads your legs open for his easy access and the view. He growls at the supple flesh that's taking him so well. It’s so erotic, watching himself go in and out of you like this, then hearing your deliciously hypnotic moans get louder as his hands start kneading your breasts like it’s some dough he’s molding to his liking, with his fingers flicking the hardened nipples.

“You feel so fucking heavenly, ___,” he pants. “Fuck, fuck. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“All yours, Kook,” you respond, delirious now because his movements are sending you to another dimension. “Fuck me harder,” you beg, and he follows. 

He adjusts again, flushing your legs against your chest and the angle in which his dick hits your sweet spot causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

You’re screaming expletives and it’s just urging him to go harder, deeper, faster, his sweat trickling down his temples and forming on his chest.

“Come for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he huffs. 

He’s in a frenzied state and he’s losing himself in you, his mouth now parted as he joins your filthy wails that are in tune with the sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You feel your body spasm and you call out his name before you give in, your heart stopping for a moment. 

He feels the stream of your cum coat his dick that’s he’s just savoring a bit more. But you clench and it’s all it takes, his own seed spurting inside you. Your back arches as he comes down from his high, and he languidly kisses your breasts, one hand around your lifted waist and the other, intertwining your hand. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So much better than I imagined,” he utters, sounding so winded at the intensity of his orgasm.

He’s too tired to even move, his body now resting on top of you, chest heaving and bated breaths escaping him. You massage his head and he moans even at that and you laugh but soften at the intimacy of it all.

He finally gets himself off you and you chuckle as he sneakily opens the door and tiptoes to the bathroom, careful not to be caught naked by your brother. He returns with a wet towel, wipes you, then lays next to you, his arm secured around your waist.

He’s smiling so fondly, lips now peppering kisses all over your face. “You’re stuck with me,” he states.

“Nowhere I'd rather be,” you reply, your own soft kiss now turning greedy again, and you think it’s gonna be a long night.

You wake up tired but you’re not complaining. It was quite the evening, after all, and you’re reminded by the fluff of gray hair adorning your chest. Jungkook likes to cuddle, you’ve learned, and he couldn’t sleep without a part of his body touching you. 

You release from his hold and head to the kitchen after washing up, not expecting your brother to already be eating his cereal.

“Oh my god, can you wear shorts?” He huffs. 

“Bitch, you’re in my apartment,” you bite back, laughing at the face he makes. 

Your front is to the counter when Jungkook approaches and unlike before, he heads to you, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, then places a kiss on your cheek. 

“Good morning,” he greets.

His voice is hoarse and you hold back a moan. It just brings you back to last night when, after you came the second time, he fucked you softly for your third, then fucked you hard for your fourth, then softly again this morning for your extended fifth. God, this man will be the death of you. 

He nuzzles your neck and you giggle.

“Manners, you two. You’re like teenagers,” Jimin scowls.

“Well, I am living my teenage dream,” Jungkook announces. 

Jimin grimaces but softens at the look of his two favorite people looking so happy. “Okay, this is gonna take some getting used to.”

You and Jungkook playfully nod in agreement.

“Also,” he turns to Jungkook, who’s now managed to tear himself away from you. “Are you gonna be here again tonight because you know, I kinda wanna sleep on a bed and all. Couch is great but like, not again.”

“You better find your own place soon if you don’t want to keep sleeping there every night,” you reply smugly.

“Okay, now gross!” Jimin, dramatic as always, pretend-gags at the implication. “I’m gonna look for places. Jungkook, you’re still my best friend. We’re going apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“But…” You start.

“No. Nuh-uh. You had him last night and you’re going out on a date today. You need to share my best friend.”

And you all laugh at him throwing a tantrum. He and Jungkook start to bicker and you walk towards your room to grab shorts because it really is awkward without it when your brother is there. 

The doorbell rings as you’re about to walk back and you open the door, the sight before you causing a surprised look on your face to form.

“Hi, is Jimin there?” The person asks.

You head back to the kitchen, your guest in tow and you call out to your brother.

“Chim, someone’s looking for you.”

Jimin looks up and almost falls off the chair.

“Taehyung?” He says, trying to mask the nervous tone of his voice. “I…”

“I have something to confess,” Taehyung cuts him off, his eyes nervous but hopeful. “Can we, uhm, maybe talk somewhere else?” 

Jimin nods and quickly follows him out.

You walk back to Jungkook and he tugs you close, hands back to your waist. “What’s that about?” 

You bite back an excited squeal as you think back to what Taehyung told you at the door. 

“Let’s just say, you might not need to help Jimin look for an apartment anymore,” you respond. 

Jungkook smiles and pulls you in for a hug, reveling in this absolutely perfect moment. 

“You Park siblings drive me crazy, you know that? And you two make me so damn happy.”

masterlist

[starsscarmyceiling]

Welll, HEY guys here we are. I explain this in the new chapter of QWICH, but ellllo we got a bonus scene for y'all! I'm dropping nuggets for you guys because I love you and well come on...any opportunity to write about our idiots. So go read the new chapter and come on back here to read what dino nugget I got for ya! 🥰

Admitting to himself that he was extremely inebriated at his point was a little difficult to deny. Cal couldn’t even recall what he had done in the last few minutes, let alone what his current venture was.

“Huh?” Cal asked dumbly.

“I said I think you’ve successfully drank your problems away tonight,” Prauf claimed, and Cal looked up at him.

“Oh, right! Right, that’s what I was doing,” he said as he leaned on the bar, lifting his beer with his other hand, “yeah I like don’t even care anymore that that barista was so rude to me.”

“Yeah I can tell,” Prauf confirmed with a chuckle, “you haven’t mentioned her in like…ten minutes.”

Cal watched Prauf start to organize all of the open tabs of the evening as it was probably near the end of the night, and he widened his eyes, “Oh no! Am I talking about her too much?”

Prauf shook his head as he placed his hand on the bar and leaned in closer to Cal, “Not any more than any other person in this place who’s hung up on someone.”

He scoffed, “I mean I—I don’t know…about that Prauf.”

The bartender chortled again, clearly entertained by Cal’s antics as he went back to his work, “Alright, whatever you gotta tell yourself Cal.”

“I do tell okay!” He exclaimed, pausing for a moment before he spoke again to take another gulp of his beer, “She’s just—ugh, you know? And also like, so annoyed with me, and…I don’t know why and she’s so pretty.”

A few more seconds passed and he sat up all the way, horrified at his admittance, “I mean, she’s like—you know, um…”

Prauf gave him an expectant expression and raised one of his thick eyebrows.

Cal sighed, “Okay, okay, fine…but you can’t tell anyone.”

“You should know by now that bartenders basically have their own HIPPA standards Cal,” Prauf explained.

“Right, okay,” Cal said, looking around him and then leaned in, “she’s like…really pretty,” he elucidated, and held his hand parallel in the air, “here’s like other pretty people, you know?” He kept his hand there and then he raised it as high as he could, “And here’s her. I mean, like her like as in Merrin. Her name isn’t actually her…it’s Merrin.”

Prauf let out a humored scoff, “Jeez Cal,” he stated with an actual laugh and a shake of his head, “just calm down with all of the salacious details.”

“Well,” he defended, “I am not supposed to think that you know? I am a police officer that was first on the scene when her store got trashed, and and—she hates me.”

“Hm,” Prauf hummed, “you sure about that?”

“Yes, of course I am!” He exclaimed, “You should have seen how much she glared at me, and I…I don’t even know if she remembers me or anything.”

Prauf waited a moment before responding, “Do you want her to remember you?”

He sighed, looking into his glass, “I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

“Oh Cal, I think it does,” Prauf said to him.

Cal’s eyes flitted up to the bartender’s sincere stare and he slightly nodded at him. Exhaling all the way, he then grunted and rubbed his hands over his face, “You know…I forgot about her for so long because like…I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle remembering her or her pretty face or her sad eyes or when I—”

His fingers were still over his face, and he just thought about how many scars were laid underneath them.

“When you what?”

Lowering his hands to surround his glass with them now, Cal again sagged with the overwhelming emotions he was feeling, “This is something that I don’t like to talk about Prauf, but…” he paused as his eyes landed on his beer, “I don’t know why my life has sucked so much. Like…a lot…and I don’t know what I did or why, but I’ve had so much shit upon shit pile up on me but for like just a second back then…” Cal looked back up to Prauf and he actually seemed rather engaged in what Cal was saying, “it didn’t…suck…so much because she,” he sighed, “she just got it.”

Prauf crossed his arms, looking like he was weighing what he was about to say in his head, “And this was when you were with her?”

Cal’s head sank and he closed his eyes, feeling so utterly feckless and unresolved. Because how could he even begin to properly relay—especially while exceedingly drunk—it was the one time in his life since all of his tragedy that he ever really felt understood?

“It sounds pretty pathetic doesn’t it.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Prauf said gently, “look Cal, you’re a young guy. And I’ve seen you come in here, time after time, always smiling and having drunk stupid fun with just about every cop in this city. Hell, even some of the firefighters that come in here. Even your own ex girlfriend doesn’t have anything bad to say about you,” he explained as Cal lifted his head to him and the bartender crossed his arms, “but I have never seen you like this.”

Cal breathed out, holding both his hands to his chest, “It’s—” he tried, knowing he was never great at explaining himself, “it’s the part of me that shouldn’t be there. It’s—it’s all the ugly parts that I don’t like showing people because it’s sad and pitiful and ri—ridiculous.”

“Cal—how could you say something like—”

“Hey there you are my favoritest ginger in the world!” Zeb’s voice came barreling over as he wrapped his arms around Cal’s shoulders and slammed his head against his chest.

Cal breathed in and out, ready to feel other emotions than these gross nasty ones, “Really? I’m your favorite?”

“Mhmmm,” Zeb hummed as he released Cal, “like above Carrot Top and everything.”

“Wow,” Cal grinned, “what an honor.”

Zeb sat down next to Cal and looked at Prauf, “Is he talking about the barista again?”

Prauf shrugged, “Only on a near constant basis.”

“Hey!” Cal defended with a finger raised in the air, “I’ve had a rough day, alright? It started out shitty, and then she was rude to me, and then now,” he motioned with both his hands around his head, “all this drudged up shit is just swirling around in here and I’m having a hard time even remembering some of it and I—I just didn’t ask for this okay. She just—”

Instead of even trying to finish that sentence he grunted and buried his face in his arms.

“Aww, Calvi, don’t get upset,” Zeb tried to comfort, hand on one of his arms, “please, hey—who’s my favorite ginger?”

Cal sighed with his face still hidden away as he answered in a muffled voice, “I am.”

“Who’s my favorite ginger?”

He finally lifted his head, “I am.”

Zeb punched at his shoulder, “That’s right you are. Like, even above Prince Harry.”

A small smile graced him, and Zeb wrapped an arm around him again, “And my favorite ginger is also smart and resilient and cool—”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far,” Cal interrupted.

“He is cool, in like the most adorkable way possible, and old ladies love him, and he is like the nicest, most sincere person I know, and he’s hot and he’s got a great smile,” Zeb concluded.

Cal turned to him and bore both sets of teeth in an exaggerated grin.

“See, pssh, what a knockout that barista would be lucky to even find herself on the other side of that toothy chaotic mess.”

A sigh now escaped him as Zeb let go of him, “Oh come on now, we have to go back to that? I don’t like—like like her…like that.”

Zeb asked Prauf for one last refill before he responded to Cal, “I cannot wait to give the speech at your wedding where I talk about how much you were in deeeni—alllll.”

“No, no! I am not! It’s kind of hard to marry someone who hates you Zeb.”

“Oh ho ho,” he jittered, accepting his drink from Prauf, “so it’s only because of that?”

“Because of what?”

Zeb gave him such a smug grin after he drank from his glass, “Admit ittt, you want to be Mr. Hot Barista one day.”

“Okay,” Cal held out his hands, “first of all, she has an actual name, Merrin Ses—Sestric—Ses—it’s too hard to say while I’m drunk—”

“So you want to be Mr. Merrin Sestric Too Hard to Say Hot Barista Man.”

Cal just gulped at his drink and looked away from him, “I hate you so fucking much.”

“Ohh, you don’t mean that! Come on now we’re just joking around Cali!” Zeb exclaimed.

He looked over at his friend and narrowed his eyes, “I don’t believe you.”

“Alright come back to the table so you can keep complaining about your hot barista lady friend,” Zeb insisted.

“I do not—ugh!” Cal exclaimed.

“Look who I found whining to Prauf,” Zeb revealed as they sat back down.

Regardless of all the teasing aside, Cal gave one last look to Prauf, who seemed to be giving him a dubious expression, but the two walked back over to the booth they were occupying.

“Still complaining about your hot barista lady friend?” Ezra asked him.

“No!” Cal shouted, “Not at least…for a few minutes. Everyone else keeps bringing her up now I’m not even talking about her anymore.”

“Okay kay kay kay Cali, be honest with me,” Ezra interrupted Cal’s tangent.

Cal gulped at his beer, “What?”

“So you really wouldn’t sleep with her?”

Bristling from the rookie, Cal knew he was projecting some kind of offended expression, “What does that matter?”

Ezra smirked and pointed at him like he’d caught him in some elaborate scheme, “That wasn’t a no!”

“See what did I tell you? You want to be Mr. Hot Scary Barista Guy!” Zeb added in as well.

“Ugh!” Cal exasperated as he sat back in his seat, resting his head on the back of the booth, “I am just going to stop talking because everyone just keeps telling me how much I want to bang the hot barista.”

“So that was a yes you do want to bang her?” Zeb asked.

“Oh my god leave me alone!”

“I think we’ve put him through enough ribbing now dear,” Kallus spoke up.

Cal lifted his head, “Thank you Kallus.”

“Yes, he already knows how much he wants her we don’t have to keep pointing it out,” he concluded.

Grunting again, Cal threw his head back to where it was and swore he wouldn’t look up again until the world made sense again.

Which, it never did.

Cal wasn’t even sure how long they’d been in this booth, but everyone eventually and finally shut up about his hot barista—Merrin, everyone shut up about Merrin. Somehow, they’d gotten to the point where Ezra had his arm around him and they were singing “Allstar” by Smashmouth.

They paused when they didn’t know what happened in the second verse.

“There’s something about this,” Cal said as he held up his left hand onto his forehead, “it’s like with a shape of an ‘L’ on her forehead…and then…I forget after that.”

“Yeah,” Ezra agreed as he smiled, drinking his beer, “wait, why were we singing this?”

“Because it’s like that green guy’s favorite song,” Zeb added.

Cal’s eyebrows furrowed, “Green guy? You mean Shrek?”

Zeb pointed at him, “The green guy! Wasn’t he singing it or something?”

“No it was just at the beginning of the movie,” Alex pointed out, “that’s why we started singing it.”

“Oh right,” Zeb said along as he laughed.

“I still can’t believe Donkey banged that dragon,” Ezra said, “that is something I’ve always wondered about. Like…how did that even work? Like, sex wise?”

Cal patted Ezra’s hand over his shoulder, “I don’t think we’re supposed to know…nor should we, really.”

Zeb held up his glass, “To life’s greatest mysteries!”

There were general sounds of cheer as they all clinked their glasses together, and Cal really thought this should be his last drink of the night.

At some point, Cal got up to go to the bathroom, and he knew it was bad because he had to lean his hand on the wall above the urinal to keep himself upright.

“Wooo, I am drunk!” He shouted to himself, “When the fuck did that happen?”

He washed his hands and then leaned on the counter with them as he peered into the mirror, narrowing his eyes.

“You have so many stupid scars and freckles all over your stupid face,” he declared to his reflection, “no wonder Merrin hates looking at it…she—she’s probably always hated looking at it,” he said aloud, not sure if that was more of a new sort of sinking observation more than anything else, “…not that that’s…important, anymore.”

He was beating up on himself for a few more moments until he welcomingly started smiling a bit.

At least he was someone’s favorite ginger.

With that thought, he stood up and exited the restroom. At the end of the hall, Zeb was there walking in his direction.

“Helloooooo, my favoritest gingerrrr?”

“Mm, that’s me,” he said as Zeb put his hands on Cal’s shoulders.

“You betcha! Like, more than The Little Mermaid,” he elucidated, “listen, I think it’s time to go home now.”

“Yeah,” Cal agreed, “yeah, probably.”

“Come on!” Zeb encouraged as he grabbed at Cal’s arm and started quite literally dragging him to the exit.

“Wait! I gotta pay my tab with Prauf! That would be like such a dick move to just leave before I do that,” Cal acknowledged.

“Oh yeah!” Zeb expressed, “Okay Cali, Alex and I will be outside.”

He nodded at the large man before he walked over to the bar.

When he was closing his tab, Prauf looked at him with concern on his face, “Hey, you gonna be alright?”

“Me? Oh yeah, like fuck yeah I’m gonna be so good,” Cal said as he wrote in the largest tip for Prauf having to deal with his drunk ass.

“Alright, well make sure you get home safe okay?” Prauf insisted and Cal nodded.

“Yeah yeah, oh yeah it’ll be like so safe!” Cal assured.

When Cal stepped outside, he stumbled on his step and he had to concentrate on standing still.

“You know, IIIII don’t think I should drive home because like,” Cal started, placing his hands on his chest, “if I were to pull over myself I’d all be like—woah sorry officer, you caught me I’m drunk! Not even gonna try to hide it.”

Zeb put an arm around him again, “Well duh, we know that Cal! That’s why you’re gonna share an Uber with us!”

“Aww, that is so nice!” Cal exclaimed, feeling genuine affection and gratitude for his friend at that moment, “Wait, where’s Ezra?”

Just when he asked such a thing, Ezra came bounding out of The Yard with one of his arms raised in the air, shouting triumphantly, “Hello everyone outside people!”

“Ezra!” Cal bellowed back, “Oh my god I was just wondering where you were!”

Ezra smirked as he appeared to be rather gratified with himself, “Well you don’t need to wonder any further because I am right here!”

“Woo hoo!” Cal exclaimed, also raising his arms in the air, “You know,” he paused for a thoughtful moment, “you guys are like fucking assholes and I hate you, but…I also love you guys.”

“Aww, hey, I love you too!” Zeb exclaimed, pulling Cal and Ezra into a hug.

There was a chuckle next to them.

“There is like a great number of declarations of love going around right now,” Alex said as he came up to this three way hug.

“Honey!” Zeb pulled away and moved to place his hands on Kallus’ shoulders, “I love you too did you know?”

And the blonde man smiled, touching his face, “Yes you giant drunken imbecile. I love you as well.”

Then they just kept smirking at one another as Cal was having a difficult time keeping himself still without swaying slightly back and forth again, so he ended up leaning his arm on Ezra’s shoulder.

Yeah, his friends sucked, but at least he knew these people had his back. Especially—

“Oh!” Cal sounded as he tried standing up on his own again, “You know who I also love and think is really cool?”

“Your hot barista ladaaay?” Ezra posed and Cal rolled his eyes.

“No, no besides her—I mean—I don’t love her—god!” Cal stated before he shook his head, “No, like…Kanan, you know?”

“Aw, yeah Kanan is like the best,” Ezra agreed.

Cal stood there, smiling a bit to himself and not really knowing why.

“You know what? We should tell him that!” Ezra exclaimed as Cal’s eyes widened.

“Oh that is such a good idea,” Cal agreed as he started fishing for his phone out of his pocket.

Cal unlocked his phone, just staring at the screen for a few moments, temporarily forgetting his purpose, “Oh!” He let out when he remembered, pressing to Kanan’s number in his contacts.

“I bet he won’t answer, but we can leave him a voicemail,” Cal said as he was already raising his phone to his face.

It rang through, of course, and then there was Kanan’s voice telling him to leave a message.

“Hey hey hey hello good morning, since I know I bet you’re gonna listen to this in the morning,” Cal began after the beep, “this is not Prince Harry…who isn’t even Zeb’s favorite ginger, by the way.”

“It’s you!” Zeb said in the background next to him.

“See? Did you hear that? It’s me, I’m his favorite isn’t that nice?” Cal inquired as if Kanan could answer him, “I just wanted to call you to tell you that—you know, we shouldn’t be bogged down by toxic masculinity or any of those stupid standards because that’s just baby shit,” he elucidated, “so I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and you’re my best friend and…I love you. Oh,” he smiled as he paused for a second, “I said that already, but it’s true! I am so glad I made you be friends with me in the police academy and again, I don’t even care that barista was like so mean to me today—”

“He totally cares he’s lying!” Zeb shouted.

“Nuh uh Zeb! Ugh, can you believe this guy?” Cal protested with a huff.

“Hey, I wanna say something to Kany!” Zeb expressed, so Cal handed him the phone.

“Hello Kany, you’re my favorite Kanyyyy, and don’t worry, we totally took care of your boy tonight and let him drink his hot barista problems away!”

“Hey!” Cal took offense.

“See, I am sure by tomorrow he’ll forget allll about this!” Zeb explained, “Anyway, love you Kany, bye!”

Zeb turned back to Cal and handed the phone back to Cal as Alex chuckled at them again.

“Well now it’s my turn!” Ezra expressed, so Cal handed him the phone too, “Hello, this is your rookie, it’s me, Officer Ezra Bridger, and even though you guys are all old fogies I still like hanging out with you!”

Both Cal and Zeb made scoffing noises at him. The rookie waved them off.

“Anyway, I hope this message finds your ears tomorrow, and I love you talk to you later!” Ezra finished before giving the phone back to Cal.

Cal put it to his ear one more time, “Well yeah, I just wanted you to know all that,” he said before he took the phone away, but then quickly put it back, “Oh! And Hera too tell her I love her too! Okay, well bye!”

He hung up this time and for some reason felt extremely satisfied over his actions, hoping Kanan would enjoy the message they left.

“Hey, did any of us actually get an Uber or have we all just been standing here?” Alex asked eventually.

Whoops.

“Oh my gooood, we forgot! Look at how smart you are,” Zeb said, pointing a finger at Alex’s forehead, “see guys this is why I am dating this man his thoughts are so hot.”

Cal smirked, “Hot thoughts.”

“Nice,” Ezra added.

They all just stood there again.

“The Uber!” Alex shouted.

Zeb smiled now, “Here,” he stated as he shoved his phone into Alex’s chest, “you get it hot thoughts man I bet you’ll like be so good at it.”

Alex smiled as he shook his head, looking down at Zeb’s screen.

“This is why everyone says the nine nine is ridiculous.”

...

A/N:

So yeahh, there ya go!!! I know I am insane. And yes, expect to sporadically some more nuggets like this as the fic progresses. But they all love each other and we love to see it! Okay fr I gave you a long enough a/n on the chapter, but I just want to thank you again if you came here to read! Again, hope you had a wonderful new year and I'll see you in the next chapter!

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hey there! I wasn't sure if this was something you're comfortable writing, so if not, feel free to skip! I couldn't find anything in your faq but I just wanted to make sure!

Can I request a reader who never really drinks getting a little tipsy after a particularly stressful day? Just acting kind of giggly and clingy to their s/o? Nothing dubious ofc just some fluff 🥰 for Diluc, Xiao and Kaeya?

^ This made me laugh. I am a LIGHTWEIGHT, so I tend to get drunk after like ... one beer - haha! Anyway - enjoy ;) 

Tipsy, Touchy

Warning -> flirty, touching, fluff, mentions of alcohol, and getting drunk

Includes: Diluc, Xiao, Kaeya

Character x GN Reader  |  Anthology

Diluc

He’s a bit shocked when you go beyond your normal one drink, in fact, he’s a little surprised at your demeanor in general - normally you only had a drink if the event warranted it, but today, you seemed to be throwing them back all on your own 

“Did something happen?” he asks you, his attention on the third glass you’ve begged him to pour. 

“Today,” you groan, your words already slurring a little, “was … not. good.” He can see the alcohol already making an impression on your skin. Your cheeks were flushed and you kept fussing with your hair, little strands making their own decisions as if in defiance of your touch. 

“Hmm, well don’t go overboard.” 

Once you reach your fourth drink, we gotta cut you off, too drunky. And worse, you were starting to get a little handsy with the people around you. You’d already given a few of the female patrons a hug goodbye, telling them you were the designated “send-off committee”

In fact, you were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself especially when it came to Diluc. When he forcibly switched you from wine to water you grabbed onto his arm, or tried to convince him to lean in close so you could share with him a secret - he wouldn’t 

You thought everything was funny, and he often caught you giggling to yourself or chuckling after the small conversation you and he shared 

He wasn’t really on board with your ostentatious behavior, but he did enjoy seeing you smile in the grandiose way you were - unreserved and relentless 

As the evening beings to slow and patrons leave the bar, you were trying to work out a thought in your head. It had been floating around for a while and you weren’t doing a good job keeping it off your face. 

“Hey,” you finally speak up. You wait to finish your thought until Diluc looks at you. He’s been gathering the final glasses from the tables so he takes a bit to react to you. “Come here.” You beckon, uneasily, with your finger for him to walk closer to you. 

When he does, you wave him down so his face is close to yours. 

“You.” You point your finger at him, “are my favorite person.” There is a smirk on your face and playful energy in your eyes. 

He scoffs at you and tries to retreat but you grab his face in your hands, “Wait. Wait. Diluc Ragnvindr ... “ he’s so close to you, his face, his eyelashes, his lips … it’s too much and in defeat you let him go, dropping your head in your hands. “Ugh, you are much too attractive for me right now.” 

“You are a lot of things right now.” You peek your eyes out from over your arms and see him rubbing the back of his neck, his head turned to the side. There is no doubt in your mind he is blushing. 

“You’re blushing!” you shout. The excitement of his reaction is too much to handle. 

“Shut up.” He tosses a towel your way and disappears into the back office. 

Diluc makes a mental note to not let you drink that much in public again, not only is he worried you might do something dumb, but he worries how he will keep his composure

Xiao

Xiao would have no idea what to do with alcohol. He doesn’t touch the stuff, so he wouldn’t really know the common behaviors of inebriated people 

He’d probably take whatever you were drinking and dump it out in front of you the drunker you became - he could barely handle normal humans, let alone a drunk one 

“What are you drinking anyway?” He looks at the bottle, turning it over in his hands. 

“I don’t know, I picked it up on the way out here.” You rub your hands over your face, the wine hasn’t fully hit you but you know with the amount you drank it’s only a matter of time. 

“Is it normal for humans to drink so much, all at once?” 

“Meh, maybe? Today was the worst though, so I’m giving myself permission.” 

It’s hard to tell if he would have any reaction to your tipsy behavior other than being exhausted by it

The way you laugh at things, that to him, aren’t funny or how you try to ask him really silly questions about things he wouldn’t know anything about 

Xiao is prickly, so you’d have to push through a lot of spikes to get to the gentle core he’s given you flashes of, so don’t get offended if he reacts to your clingy-ness in an irritating way 

He just doesn’t let people in very easily, and even though you two are together, and you’ve been physical before, this level of touch might be overstimulating for him 

You look at him from the floor of the inn. He is sitting on a pillow with his eyes closed. There were many nights you spent with him where you just fit yourselves into each other's space, like pieces of a puzzle nestled tightly together. He looked so regal, and you wondered how he would act if you poked at him. 

Carefully, you crawled your way over to him with wobbly limbs. When you got close enough you whispered his name. 

“Xiao…” He opened his eyes and is startled by how close your face is to him. His arms launched to his sides to steady himself as he leaned back away from your proximity. The reaction made you laugh.

“What?” 

“Nothing, I just wanted to get closer to you.” you desperately want to touch him: his cheeks, his forehead, his collarbone, his arms and hands, you wanted to touch them all. The alcohol emboldened you. You scoot closer to him, your sides practically touching, and, in an instant, you wrap your arms around his. The grip you have is possessive. 

He sighs but doesn’t push you away. So you tread onward. You slide behind him and wrap your arms around his chest, each of your legs on either side of him Rubbing your face against his back you breathe him in, he smells like rain after a thunderstorm. 

“I like you.” You place a kiss on his exposed shoulder before resting your cheek against him. 

It’s quiet for a time, all you hear is his beating heart and slow breaths. You don’t expect him to answer you, or say anything, you know he likes you by the way he lets you cling to him like this. That’s all you’ll ever need him to say. 

“Are you always going to be this clingy when you drink?” the question breaks the silence. 

“Mm, possibly, I don’t normally drink this much. Why.” You return his question with your own, slightly tilting his body to the side so you can strain your head to look at his face. 

“No reason.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see the blush on his face. 

Kaeya

Kaeya finds your behavior hilarious. He’d be so enamored with the way you were acting and amazed it happens with only a few drinks of alcohol in you

“You’re putting those away,” he’d muse over his own beverage. 

“Well,” you’d say as you empty yet another glass. “Today sucked! So i’m drowning my stress in sweet, sweet alcohol.” 

“Cheers to that!” 

When you laugh he melts, when you giggle he nearly passes out, and he’s having a hard time not fainting right now. Everything he says to you sends you into a fit of laughter and he just can’t stop himself - he’s obsessed with you and when he can see something new that he’s never noticed before he is filled with pride 

For instance, he didn’t know that when you laugh when drinking that you shield your eyes and nose and let out breathless laughter. He didn’t know that when you had several drinks you started to get louder and louder - which may have annoyed others, but he found it endearing

“... and after finishing the bottle he passed out for three whole days. And that is why our aloof bar owner doesn’t drink.” You can’t help but laugh, you’ve heard this story already but it makes you chuckle every single time. 

“Kaeya, how many times are you going to tell that story…” Diluc warns from behind the counter, his hands dangerously wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle. 

“Oh, come on. Look at how happy it’s made them.” 

“I’m cutting you both off.” 

“Hey!” Even with the cap on your drinking for the night, you couldn’t stifle your laughter. 

Normally, Kaeya is the overly touchy one. His hands cannot keep themselves from your tempting body. So when you cling to him he finds the action rather refreshing 

Wrapping your arms around his, leaning your head on his shoulder or digging it into his arm. Scooting closer to him, practically sitting on his lap, he finds it all a riot - don’t be shocked if he helps you into a comfortable position on or between his legs 

“Kaeya,” you look at him, your head bobbing around, your cheeks the color of pomegranates, and your hair falling out of place. 

“Yes, lovely?” He helps steady you, a possessive hand wrapping around your lower back and his other moving from your shoulder or lower arm, whichever one needs the most support. 

You giggle, and the sound pulls at his heart, “Do you know that you’re handsome? Like, really, really handsome.” 

“I’m glad you think so.” 

“No, listen, it’s kinda ridiculous how attractive you are. LIKE … WhO do you think you are with this face?? hmmM?” You wave your hand in front of him as if to drive home your point. You aren’t sure what answer you wanted from him, but his laughter seems satisfactory enough and you join in shortly after. 

He finds everything you do to be adorable, but multiplied by ten when you start drinking - he will always make sure you have a good time, and as long as you are safe and happy he will be there to join in on the fun

[trixree]

ObiMaul -

Body, remember not only how much you were loved,

not only the beds on which you lay,

but also those desires which for you

plainly glowed in the eyes,

and trembled in the voice -- and some

chance obstacle made them futile.

Now that all belongs to the past,

it is almost as if you had yielded

to those desires too -- remember,

how they glowed, in the eyes looking at you;

how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body.

- Constantine P. Cavafy

Maul spends quite a lot of time looking at Obi-Wan like he's stupid.

Obi-Wan misplaces his keys to the apartment and Maul's eyes give him an unspoken: really? Obi-Wan doesn't notice the little smear of honey left on the kitchen counter from his tea and Maul makes an unnecessary amount of eye-contact while cleaning the spill: look at the idiocy I am tolerating from you. Obi-Wan calls Maul's favorite jacket gaudy and Maul shoots him a scathing look that communicates, in short: I will not be taking fashion advice from a man whose wardrobe is a study on different shades of beige.

There is a great diversity in the ways that Maul can communicate with only his eyes that Obi-Wan is an idiot. Which is, in part, why the present moment is so jarring.

Obi-Wan is not used to Maul looking at him like this.

It isn't uncommon for Maul to come back to the apartment injured. Coruscants' underground fighting circuit is not exactly a pinnacle of ethical conduct and honor in combat. Maul's years training as a Sith-assassin-that-almost-was have left him with a talent for combat that is nearly unmatched. He's skilled in a lot of things--things Obi-Wan never really expected him to be skilled at when he fished him out of a popular area for body-dumping in Coruscant's lowers. Maul can cook, Maul can write brilliantly, and Maul is fantastic with machines of all kinds. And yet, Maul still insists on making his living by fighting.

He is sprawled out on the couch, a study of muscle in red and black. It is hard to see bruising on a zabrak as boldly patterned as Maul, but Obi-Wan knows how a person in pain carries themselves. Maul is laid out on the couch like every possible position is painful, and when Obi-Wan comes out of his room--it isn't really his; this safe-house has long since become Maul's home more than it is Obi-Wan's anything, other than a reliable base for some of his undercover work. When Maul looks at him, there is something different in his expression.

Pain, yes. Surprise to see Obi-Wan, yes. And something else, too. If Obi-Wan didn't know any better, he'd say it was, well.

Wanting.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. "What happened to you?" he says, a bit awkward.

Maul scoffs at him, somehow managing to seem haughty while reclining on a bag of frozen peas. "Make an educated guess," he drawls.

"Anything broken?"

Maul grunts, noncommital. He hasn't once looked away from Obi-Wan. There is pain in his eyes, yes, and underneath the surprise of having seen Obi-Wan when he wasn't expected there's... Is it relief?

"Did you take anything?"

Maul waves his hand in the direction of the coffee table where indeed there lies a prescription bottle of pain killers, cap off. When Obi-Wan turns the bottle over, he sees it's a rather high dose, too.

Perhaps that's it. The look in Maul's eyes is inebriation. Obi-Wan hadn't recognized it because he's never seen Maul take anything outside of those early days when Obi-Wan had just saved his life and Maul wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to kill him about it. He hadn't known enough about Maul back then to categorize his different looks beyond murderous and extra murderous.

They were both so young. They hadn't known much of anything.

Obi-Wan sits gingerly in the small, vacant space at the end of the couch where Maul's feet don't quite reach. The look instensifies.

What do you want from me? Obi-Wan thinks, pinned under the unusual stare. What is it you're trying to tell me?

Obi-Wan places a hand on Maul's bare ankle. At the very least, if Maul reacts with anger, the unfamiliar look will certainly change into something Obi-Wan knows. They will return to equal ground. All hail the status quo!

Maul's eyes close with a soft, hardly there hum of sound. He stretches like a tooka, feet pushing into Obi-Wan's space.

On any other being, it would be a demand. Comfort me. Touch me. I want your hands. On Maul, it is a mystery. Uncharted territory. Drug-fuelled mania, or desires free from inhibitions? Obi-Wan doesn't know.

Obi-Wan takes Maul's feet into his lap and is pleased to find that he is not kicked. Instead, Maul hums again, head lolling on the arm-rest of the couch, peas crinkling as he shifts, and goes still.

Obi-Wan places both hands around his ankles and settles in for a long night.

[usercelestial]

Heyy I don't know if you take prompts still but could you write something about Mickey loving on Ian a whole bunch <3 Thanks

This wasn’t the plan. Not in the slightest.

When Tami asked Mickey to go out and get drinks with her, he wasn’t expecting to get this shit-faced.

Nevertheless, here he is, swaying back and forth in a bar he doesn’t recognize, knocking back beer after beer, only thinking about one particular red-head.

“Mickey!” Tami shouted over the loud music, drunk herself, “Mickey! I hav’ta go to the bathroom, ‘k? Watch my shit,” she stumbles away to the bathroom in her three inch heels while Mickey watches her carefully, making sure no men are creeping on her.

Then he notices a guy staring at him. His immediate inebriated reaction is to sneer, assuming the man wants to fight. Then that little Ian that lives on his shoulder tells him to turn away. And he’s about to do so when he sees a glint in the man’s eyes.

The man walks over to him, sliding into the seat beside him. Mickey slaps his palm over Tami’s drink and pulls it towards him.

“Hey, I’m Michael,” the man juts out a hand.

Mickey eyes him but eventually takes it, “Mickey!” He shouts though he realizes that the music got significantly quieter when the man winces.

“That short for something?” Michael leans onto the table.

“Uh-huh,” Mickey doesn’t elaborate, he just sips his beer while keeping his palm over Tami's cup.

“So, what brings you here?”

Mickey isn’t sure how to answer that, “Well, my friend had a baby, and her boyfriend-partner? They call themselves partners. Anyway, her baby daddy doesn’t drink but Tami-my friend's name is Tami, she’s gorgeous, you probably saw her. She’s super tall but she’s wearing heels so it makes her even taller, it’s insane. She went to the bathroom so I’m watching her stuff so no one like you,” Mickey points his finger at him, almost touching his nose, “does anything creepy.”

Michael stares, “Right, so you’re out with friends-”

“How’d you know that?” Mickey tilts his head, it feels heavy.

“Doesn’t matter. Your friend isn’t my type-”

“No way!”

“You on the other hand, check all my boxes,”

Mickey gasps, he’s not sure what he means but something far away tells him to say, “I’m gay, too!” He laughs and tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

“Really?” Michael says like he’s discovered something new.

“Ian told me I’d meet other gay guys here. He’s been here before!” He vaguely remembers Ian telling him about it. He told them both to be safe, pecking Mickey on the cheek and taking Freddie from Tami’s arms to babysit him for the night. He also remembers thinking about how cute Ian looked holding little baby Freddie close to his chest like he was the most precious thing in the world-

“Is Ian your friend as well?” Mickey’s not very happy that his thoughts were interrupted but he giggles.

“My very, very best friend. Even better than Tami but shh, don’t tell her that,” he puts his finger to his lips and looks around for Tami again, “Or Ian for that matter. Issa secret.”

Michael chuckles, “My lips are sealed. Have you come here before?”

Mickey shook his head vigorously, “Ian has though, he’s been to a lot of places but that makes him sad so he doesn’t like to talk about it. I don’t like it when he’s sad,” Mickey suddenly feels very sullen, his lips pouting, “I hope he’s not sad right now.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. What about you? Are you having fun?”

Mickey nodded but started to pull out his phone, “I should check in with Ian. He told me to check in with him when we got here. How long have we been here?” He asks Michael, who shrugs.

“You’re not very useful,” Mickey bites his lip and sends a quick text to Ian.

“I can be,” Michael slides closer to him, Mickey thinks his breath stinks. He also thinks back to Ian, cooking dinner right before Tami picked him up. He’s so good at cooking, he’s been getting better at it ever since he started his own garden. He’s good at that too. He’s good at a lot of things.

“Ian’s great at cooking!” He shouts again, Michael’s face scrunches up. Mickey takes it to mean he doesn’t believe him, “It’s true! You should fucking taste his cooking, he’s amazing at it. He grows tomatoes and basil and shit in our garden. He has the greenest thumb on the South-err, shit, Westside. He can cook anything, I mean it!” Mickey nods, sure of himself.

“That’s nice. Uh, so-”

“He’s so good at so many things! He used to be an EMT, did you know that?”

Michael shakes his head, “I did not,” his face falls, like he’s disappointed. It reminds Mickey of something else.

“He’s good at making people smile, too. Not just laugh, like a real smile. It’s like-like,” he burps, “A gift. He’s like sunshine! Or a puppy, or cake. Oh! He used to be an EMT, real official and shit, he used to save people! I didn’t get to see it, but when he talks about it, his face lights up and gets so happy, you know?”

Michael nods, “So what do you do for work?”

Mickey shakes his head, “He’s trying to get his job back. I mean, he doesn’t want to tell me that, but I know, you know? I’ve known the fucker for eleven years, of course I know when he’s sad. I don’t like it when he’s sad.”

“So, you’ve said.”

“And-and I want him to get the job back but-we work together, by the way-I don’t wanna stop working with him. But you should see him-he’s so happy. Do you wanna see my favorite picture of him?”

Before Michael can decline, Mickey’s pulling up a picture on his phone. It depicts Ian, topless, laying out by the pool underneath the sun. He’s scrunching his nose up and peering at the camera, smiling,“I love this one. Oh, I have other good ones, too, but those are just for me.”

Michael nods, “That’s great-”

“Hey!” A loud, familiar voice rings through the air. Mickey turns to see Tami, throwing an arm over Mickey’s shoulder, “Are you ready? I’m ready,” Tami pulls on her coat.

Michael shrugs his shoulders and perks up, “Hey, do you think I could get your number?” Maybe we could hook up sometime?”

“Gross!” Mickey screams, looking around to Tami, who snickers.

“Sorry,” she says, also obnoxiously loud, “This one’ssss taken.”

“Uh huh, by my stupid redhead,” Mickey closes his eyes and leans on Tami for support, “He’s so stupid, and petty,” he giggles again, “And smart and charming. And strong, did you know he can fucking pick me up?” Tami shakes her head in disgust, “Ahh, he can and it’s so hot. Bet Lip couldn’t do that.”

“Call Ian to pick us up, I don’t think I can walk,” Tami pulls back and tugs Mickey with him.

“Bye,” Mickey waves back at Michael who sits slumped over and frowning.

Mickey dials Ian, who picks up immediately, “You picked up!” Mickey says fondly into the phone.

“Course I did, you sound drunk, are you okay?” Ian’s voice, while hushed, raises slightly, “I’m at Lip’s right now, dropping off Freddie. Do you need me to pick you up?”

Mickey nods and when Ian doesn’t answer, Tami says, “You need to speak into the phone, idiot. He can’t hear you nodding.”

“Fuck off, asshole. He can, like, read my mind, can’t you, Ian? Cause you’re better than Tami’s stupid life partner or whatever the fuck.”

Tami punches his shoulder and he punches right back. They continue play-fighting until Ian speaks again, “Stay where you are. I’ll come pick you guys up, alright?”

Mickey nods again and Tami rolls her eyes.

They wait almost ten minutes until Ian drives up to the side of the street, “Need a lift?” Ian walks over and helps them both in the car. Mickey gushes over how sweet Ian is for picking them up while Tami asks about Freddie.

“You’re so pretty, did you know that?” Mickey asks, tracing Ian’s jawline as they drop Tami off.

“Gross,” Tami says as she gets out of the car.

“You’re just jealous cause your boyfriend looks like a frog,” Mickey says, a bit rudely even in his own opinion.

“God, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Ian sighs.

“Am not!” Mickey crosses his arms, “Fine, whatever, you’re ugly, too,” they wait a few beats in silence, “No, wait, I’m sorry, don’t be mad.”

“‘M not mad, baby,” Ian says gently.

“Mhm, love that about you,” Mickey closes his eyes and reaches over clumsily, grabbing at Ian’s hand and playing with his fingertips, “You’re so sweet, too sweet sometimes but that’s okay. I like it, it suits you, like you were made to be nice and shit,” he’s not sure what he’s talking about but he doesn’t want to stop, “You were made to be an paramedic or whatever the fuck. You were made to help people, and be kind to them, and be happy ‘cause, like, you make me happy, you know that?” Mickey looks up to Ian, he’s tearful and biting the inside of his cheek.

“Why are you crying?” Mickey hugs Ian’s hand to his chest, “I don’t like it when you’re sad, please don’t be sad.”

Ian laughs breathlessly, “I’m not sad, honey, I just- I love you, Mickey.”

Mickey smiles, squeezing Ian’s arms tighter, “‘Love you, too, Gallagher. Love everything about you.”

[salsdemise]

Can I request a Sally face x reader fic? Possibly a confession and first kiss an da party or something like that, thank you!

Hey anon, sorry if this is bad, I'm assuming you meant sal, and if not just lmk and I'll re-write this for another character if you want.

Warnings: Underage drinking, underaged smoking, parties, y/n used in place of your name, really awkward with the confession part? idk how to write those

word count: 1479

other: gender neutral terms used, sal's speech is in blue bc sometimes its unclear whos talking bc i didn't know what to put between the words spoken lol playlist listened to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5SMv6Go27KIcbfL07wkQ4m

This party wasn’t where you wanted to be right now. Hell, you’d rather be at school, getting pushed around by the kids in the hall right now. Anywhere was better than this loud, flashy,party filled with the smell of cigs, weed, alcohol and sex wafting off of every teen you passed.

Why you had come to this party in the first place had slipped your mind, as now you were more focused on not getting backed into a corner with a potted plant by a group of your peers. Maybe it was because your friend Larry wouldn’t shut up about how fun it was going to be, maybe it was because you would have felt bad saying no, or maybe it was because you certainly weren’t going to pass up on an opportunity to potentially hang out with Sal Fisher, your long time crush and close friend.

Holding your now empty red cup, you navigated your way through the crowd of drunken and dancing teens, most who were nice and giggly as you passed, slurring apologies at you if they bumped you.

While you weren’t all sober yourself, you had enough remaining cognitive ability to form full thoughts, and the only one on your mind was finding one of two people; Sal or Larry. You had no doubt Larry was off smoking with gods know who, so that left one option, and if your brain wasn’t mistaking you, you had seen the electric-bluenette near the door to the backyard in the kitchen not too long ago. So that’s where you set your sights.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you were happy to know that you were indeed correct on where you had last seen Sal, just outside on the patio, sitting hunched over a cup, the bottom straps of his prosthetic undone and dangling. Murmuring a few ‘excuse me’s at the teens you passed on the way, you made your way out to the back, opening and exiting the door and catching the bluenette’s attention. Seating yourself next to him, you said nothing, not sure of what to say.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show. Lar said you were coming, but I thought he was bluffing again,” Sal spoke, sipping on his drink.

You laughed at this, “yea, no, he actually convinced me to come. Not sure how, but he did. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you here either. You always talk about how much you hate parties, especially ones that have inebriating drinks,” you set your cup down next to you, and a small breeze knocked it over as soon as your hand left it.

“I don’t, hate em. Managed to get someone to get me something non-alcoholic, though. What have you had to drink?” He motioned to your, now rolling, red cup to emphasize.

“Oh, nothing too strong. They had a punch bowl in there so I took some of that,” thinking back to it as you spoke, it was odd the hosts of this party put a punch bowl out at a party with no need for it. However, you and Sal both seemingly shrugged it off and continued talking.

Conversation between the two of you had always come so naturally, switching between topics and tones, talking about people, your home state, his home state, and the likes.

“Man, I cannot believe he did that! It was like, super awkward between us for a week,“ you laughed, finishing a story about how Larry had tried to ask you out when high. Luckily the guy wasn’t too upset and took no for an answer.

“Hey, y/n, about asking people out...have you ever done it?” Sal questioned, messing with his sweater sleeves now that his drink was gone and his cup had also flown off.

“Oh, uh, not like, here at Nockfell, but in the past I asked a guy in my grade to go to a valentine’s day dance with me. Why?” you responded, tilting your head at him.

“I want to ask this person out, but I’m not sure how.”

“Oh. Well, what do they like? How long have you known them? And how close are you two? You can’t just ask out a random person you barely know, it won’t go well.”

“Well, they like a lot so it’s...kinda hard to put into words. I’ve known them for years now, and I’d like to say we’re pretty close.”

Thinking, you went quiet. As much as it hurt you to know your crush liked someone else, you were going to help him as best you could.

“Well, I’d give them a note, personally. I’d probably piss myself if I tried to tell them upfront. But it depends on how you wanna do it.”

Sal quietly thinks for a few seconds before standing up and fixing his mask, “Thanks for your help dude. We should get going, I’ll go find Larry and we can get out of here.”

You nod, standing and following Sal back into the house, heading for the front door while Sal went off to find Larry. With your mutual friend acquired, you all left for home, depositing Larry at his place and heading to your own beds, tired now that the social buzz had worn off.

Over the next week, you and Sal talked less and less, notes popped up in your locker, and small things like patches, stickers, pins and snacks appeared with them. You were confused to say the least. You loved everything this admirer gave you, and the notes were adorable, even if they were typed and printed rather than hand written, but you wondered why Sal had stopped talking to you as often as he did.

As the weeks progressed, you had started to like the secret admirer that was leaving you small gifts and notes reminding you how much they liked you. But the most recent note, which you had gotten on a sunny and warm Wednesday, really caught your attention. This time, it was handwritten in blue pen ink, the handwriting surprisingly neat, completely eliminating who you thought it was.

The note read: “y/n, meet me in the courtyard during lunch/break time. -<3”, and not wanting to disappoint, you waited with an uneasy shake until lunch came around where you went straight to the courtyard. Seeing no one, you sat on the ground by a tree to wait until your secret admirer got there.

10 minutes later, the heavy doors opened and closed with a thud, catching your attention and causing you to look up where you saw Sal, mask in hands, and looking down.

“Sal? Are you the one that wanted to meet me here?” You were..puzzled to say the least. Sal had hardly talked to you in weeks, and you thought he liked someone else like Ash, but it seems you were mistaken.

“Uh, yea, I am. I know you’re..probably upset at me for not talking to you in the past few weeks, but I didn’t want to say something stupid too soon. I hope you’re not too mad..”

“Sal, I’m not mad. I thought you were busy trying to get your mystery person to like you..and I guess I was right, but I didn’t think it’d be me..”

“Who else would it have been? You and I are as close as Larry and I are, we like the same things and I’ve known you since you got here. Hell, I’ve been pining over you for years now, but last year when Lar told me he was gonna try and shoot his shot, I tried to get myself to like Ash so I wouldn’t feel like shit if you said yes.”

“Oh, Sal. I thought it was Ash, you talk so much about her sometimes, I thought you actually liked her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t. She helped me with this, actually. Which reminds me, if its not obvious already, I really fucking like you. Like, you make me feel happy and just thinking about you makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.”

Smiling at his words you stood to go over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders so he would look up at you, “I like you too, Sal. Like, a lot. I have for a while, and when you asked how to ask someone out,I..it hurt a little bit.”

Saying nothing at your words, Sal moved forward and wrapped you in a hug, his mask landing in the grass behind you two. Before you could return the hug, Sal backed up and his hands grabbed your face pulling you in for a kiss. Giving you time to react this time, you kissed back, your hands placing themselves over his.

Now, sitting at a college party with your boyfriend, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.’

[the-iceni-bitch]

I Fear We’re Facing A Problem

Pairing: Carol Danvers x enhanced!Fem Reader

Words: sorry, laptop is still being a bitch so it’s another mobile

Summary: You convince Carol to join you on a night out and a good time is had by all!

Warnings: WLW, explicit language, explicit sexual content (spanking, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of using a dildo), violence (but nothing too gory, just standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Another from my WIP folder and my second WLW fic! (Which I really need to write more of btw cus this was a real treat). I also may have accidentally stumbled on a little something that I had never thought of before but that is most likely going to be coming in the future, see if you can pick up those hints! 😉

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

Carol dodged a beer bottle as she stepped into the bar, cursing to herself before scanning the room for additional threats.

And boy were there a lot of them.

When you had drunk dialed her 20 minutes ago, noting your intention to start a fight with some chauvinist assholes, she hadn’t really believed you. But there you were in the middle of a full on brawl, punching some idiot in an army uniform in the mouth before grabbing a pitcher and breaking it over his head.

Carol moved forward as one of your victim’s companions grabbed you around the middle and lifted you off the floor. She tossed aside some moron in a leather jacket easily as he came at her with a broken bottle before wrapping her arm around the neck of the jackass that had you in a hold.

He choked and released you, his hands scrabbling at Carol’s forearm. She ignored him as you launched yourself over the table and kicked another of the army boys in the face before turning and shooting her a grin.

“Hey Danvers!” You said, grabbing another assailant by the back of the neck and tossing him across the room with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Y/N, what have I told you about drinking by yourself?” She said, dropping the man she was holding with a thud as he had finally passed out. She ducked as someone across the bar threw a stool, catching it in midair and hefting it back at him.

“I wasn’t by myself.” You said as you ripped a leg off one of the tables and cracked it across some guys back. “Thor was here, and he brought some bomb-ass mead.”

“That asshole left you here by yourself after getting you drunk on Asgardian mead?” She was going to have to have a talk with that idiot next time she saw him.

“Unlike someone, Thor knows I can take care of myself.” You said with an eye roll before breaking a beer bottle and plunging it into the thigh of some new moron.

“You’re not the one I’m worried about, sweetheart.” She scolded as she caught the leg of one of the idiots and threw him across the room.

“Oh, it’s sweetheart now?” You said with a snort before head butting someone.

“I am so not having this discussion with you right now.” She said before punching some asshole in the ribs.

“We gotta have it sometime, though.” You laughed as you caught a fist in your palm and drove your other hand into the idiot’s elbow until you heard a snap.

“Well maybe if you tried asking me out when you were sober, we’d get somewhere.” She said sarcastically, dodging a punch and throwing the puncher one handed into the ceiling.

“What?!? Y/N, I leave to get you sustenance and you start a fight?” Thor thundered, absorbing a couple of blows before picking up one of the army brats with one hand and striding towards you, hefting the grease soaked bag above the fray.

“Thorsie baby, you got my burrito!!!” You said giddily, tossing the man who was trying to stab you aside as you hopped on a table and pounced on the Asgardian, making grabby hands at the food.

“I can’t believe you left her unsupervised after giving her mead.” Carol said as things finally started to calm down as the bar patrons eyed the god who had just strode in with wariness. She slapped down a giant wad of cash on the bar, hoping it would be enough to cover all the damages.

“She was hungry and getting insistent, I didn’t think she could start anything in half an hour.” He said with a bit of a pout as he ignored your eating, your legs still wrapped around him as you moaned around your burrito.

“You’re a fucking enabler, Odinson.” Carol said with a shake of her head. “Did you forget about Helsinki?”

“Ha, that was a good time!” You said around a mouth full of burrito.

“It was an international shitshow, Y/N.” She said as Thor guffawed. “Poor Nat had to do damage control for a month. What am I gonna do with you?”

“You could make me your housewife.” You said teasingly before taking another giant bite of your burrito, slowly unwrapping yourself from Thor as you arrived at Carol’s Jeep.

She rolled her eyes at you as you gave her the most ridiculous doe eyes she’d ever seen. “You’re so fucking manipulative.”

“Please, I’d be a damn amazing housewife.” You grumbled, waiting for Thor to crawl into the backseat. “Isn’t that right, Thorsie?”

“Her pancakes are delectable.” Thor said with an appreciative nod.

“See?! I’d make you pancakes everyday baby!” You whined as you buckled yourself in.

She just shook her head at you as she started the engine and pulled out.

You stuck out your tongue at her before turning to Thor over your shoulder. “Well, since Danvers here has a fear of commitment,” you said, ignoring her scoff. “ you want to make an honest woman out of me, Odinson?”

He threw his head back and laughed heartily before clapping a hand on your shoulder. “I would be honored to have you for my queen, Y/N.”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Carol growled. She was starting to get annoyed with your antics.

“Oh, are you jealous?” You said as you turned back to her, grinning like an idiot. “Cuz just say the word babe and I’d leave Mr. Asgard in a heartbeat, sorry Thor.”

He just chuckled at the two of you as Carol finally pulled into the compound, a scowl on her face.

“Let’s get you back to your room, Y/N.” She said resignedly, climbing down from the front seat and shaking her head at you.

“Are you gonna take advantage of me in my inebriated state, Danvers?” You teased as you stumbled out of the vehicle, Thor catching your arm and steadying you as he followed. “Cuz I’m down.”

“I’m gonna sober you up so you’re ready for the shitstorm that’s coming your way once your little bar brawl hits the news.”

“Ugh, lame!!!” You said with a roll of your eyes as you followed after her.

The three of you made your way to the living quarters, Thor holding you steady as you wobbled on still drunk legs, grinning and laughing with him as Carol marched in front of you. She shook her head at you two as you reached the door to your room. You leaned against the wall with a huff and a pout as she worked on unlocking your door.

“I’ve got her from here, Odinson.” She said as she got the door open, swinging it onwards and giving him his own look of reproach. “And don’t think your getting off easy, I already apprised Rogers of your role in this fiasco.”

“Ha, the Captain doesn’t scare me!” He said, doing a piss poor job of hiding the flash of worry that crossed his face. He turned to give you a grin and a kiss on the forehead before turning to leave. “Have a good night ladies.”

You turned to give Carol a knowing grin before she shoved you inside and followed after you, slamming the door behind her.

She finally let her face split into a massive grin now that the two of you were alone, a hearty laugh ripping from her chest that you reciprocated as she stepped into you.

“So, Thor knows then?” She said as she ripped off her leather jacket and tossed it aside, working on unbuttoning her flannel.

“Of course he knows, babe.” You said as you wrenched your tee over your head, moving to unbutton your jeans. “Pretty sure he figured it out as soon as it happened.”

“You didn’t tell him then?” She asked you with a cocked eyebrow as she stepped out of her boots and kicked them aside.

You rolled your eyes as you bent to untie your sneakers. “No, I don’t know why you want to keep it a secret though.”

“Mmm, I just like knowing that I get to do all these filthy things to you and no one has any idea about it.” She said as she watched you straighten back up, wearing nothing but your bralette and thong. “Now bend over the couch.”

“What?!?! Oh c’mon babe, we weren’t serious when we made that deal!”

“I was absolutely serious, sweetie. Now bend over and take your punishment like a good girl.”

You pouted and did as you were told, supporting yourself on your elbows as you presented your ass to her.

“Spread those legs further.” She ordered, tapping her toes against the inside of your ankle until you complied. “There she is. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous, we’re only gonna do 10 tonight, since you managed to keep your antics local.”

“Yes ma’am.” You said grudgingly, a shiver running up your spine as she ran her fingers up the back of your thigh.

The first smack jolted you forward suddenly, almost sending you tumbling over the couch as you dug your hands into the cushions. Carol ran her hand soothingly over the red handprint that she’d raised on your left ass cheek before bracing her other hand over your back and grinning down at you.

“That’s one.” She said, her fingers brushing over your clothed core and making you whine before she slapped your other cheek just has hard. “Two.”

She made the same soothing gesture over your right cheek before spanking you directly above your clenching pussy and making you scream.

“Ooh, three.” She said, biting her lip as she rubbed her hand in a big circle over your sex, feeling the dampening cloth of your panties with a satisfied smirk. “Fuck, baby.”

She gave two more slaps to each cheek in a quick succession that had you whimpering and sinking into the sofa, your knees starting to give out. Her next smack was over your core again, and you whined as a fresh rush of arousal flowed out of you and started to leak down your thighs, the fabric of your panties now soaked completely through.

“Love how wet my baby gets.” Carol cooed before shredding your panties with a quick twist of her wrist and flinging the ruins aside. She sucked in a breath as she got a look at the mess between your legs; plump swollen folds flushed with heat and pulsing with need as juices flowed out you. “Just two more. Think I can make you cum from just a spanking?”

Her ninth slap was right over your entrance and made you twitch as she kept her hand curled over your mound, just pressing against you as she felt the muscles of your core throbbing under her fingers. She took a layer of slick with her when she withdrew her hand, and you peeked over your shoulder to watch her suck your arousal from her fingers.

“Carol...” you whined, your breath coming in needy little pants as you waited for her to give you your last spank.

“Such a needy little baby. You better ask me real nice sweetie, otherwise I might just tie you up and leave you all frustrated. Maybe I’ll make you watch me fuck myself on that stormbreaker dildo you’ve been keeping secret. Would you like that?”

“Fuck, Carol! Please, please fucking spank me! I promise I’ll be your good girl!” You moaned, trying to press yourself back into her hand, desperate for release.

“Aww, but I don’t want you to be a good girl.” She said.

Her final spank was a direct hit to your clit, and you screamed as your entire body spasmed. Your fingers dug into the couch cushions as you squirted all over Carol’s hand, your knees finally giving out as you sobbed with pleasure.

“Oh, I knew you could do it baby.” She said as she started to press soft kisses down your back, her hand still in between your legs rubbing in big, slow circles over your pussy with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. “Love making my bad girl fall apart. Don’t you dare start behaving now.”

“Yes ma’am.” You sighed into the cushions as you came down.

Carol ran her lips and tongue over the swollen marks she’d left on you, her hand an your core starting to press into you harder. You gasped when she suddenly pulled you apart, her fingers spreading your folds and barely giving you a chance to adjust before her tongue ran over your slit in a heavy stripe.

“Shit!” You cried as you thumped your first against the sofa, your cunt clenching around nothing as Carol lapped at your sex like it was the first drink she’d had in weeks.

She grinned against you, slipping a finger inside you and making your keen as her lips wrapped around your clit. You had to fight to stay upright as she slipped in a second finger, scissoring them inside you and stretching you open as she suckled at your tiny button, making you clench around her.

You let out an inhuman shriek when she added the third finger, thrusting yourself backwards into her face and fucking yourself on her hand as her mouth still worked at taking you apart. She shook her head to bury her face even deeper and you lost it, sobbing as your body tried to curl in on itself as your orgasm crashed over you.

Carol brought both hands to keep you from collapsing at the same time she pressed the flat of her tongue over your pussy, moaning as you throbbed against her face and she caught your release as it squirted out of you, swallowing it greedily as her lips wrapped around your sex.

Your body finally stopped shaking and she stood up behind you, curling over your back and turning your head so she could press her lips against yours. She teased your lips with your tongue and you opened up to her, whining into her mouth as you tasted yourself.

“Mmm, how you feeling baby?” She asked with a grin as she pulled away from you, taking your breath with her.

“Pretty fucking fantastic.” You said, beaming back at her. You flipped yourself over until you landed on the couch with a huff, making her roll her eyes at you. “Really wanna make you feel good too, beautiful.” You said with a wink.

“Yeah? How you gonna do that?” She said as she watched you reach under the couch, searching for something.

“Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea.” You said as you straightened back up, placing a long black box on your lap. “I don’t know how you found out about this, but it’s gonna blow your fucking mind. Say hello to the stormbreaker.”

You opened the box to reveal a massive, pretty realistic looking dildo and Carol let out a guffaw as you wiggled your eyebrows at her suggestively.

“I love you sweetheart, but I’m not letting you fuck me with a dildo based off one of our best friends!”

“Don’t be such a square, baby!” You said, standing up to chase after her as she headed into the bedroom. “He’d be flattered!!”

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[strangeinternetwasteland]

Music Note- Hawks/Keigo Takami X Fem! Reader

A/N: This is for @haikyutiehoe and her pain tolerance Collab. I enjoyed writing this a lot!

Warnings: Fluff… Pro Hero AU

Word Count: 1.2 k

It was really a very stupid idea thought up in the blur of drunkenness. The two of you were very stable in your relationship, and honestly, how could he even resist your face. Your eyes were shining with hope and you looked so innocent. So when you brought up the idea of getting tattoos he of course said yes. He laughed at your excitement as you danced around happily. It didn’t cross your mind again for a few months. It was a rare night when your boyfriend wasn’t working and neither were you.

So you met him at the back of a hole in the wall bare where the entrance is located off the main street and in the alley. It was a quiet place that catered to the Pro Heroes specifically, and since you were dating one of the top ten, you got to enjoy the benefits too. He had ordered you a fruity drink, one to match his. When you entered you gave a bright smile to the bartender and a few regulars. You hadn’t eaten much today, so you knew you needed to be careful about how much you drank.

A few hours, you were singing awfully at the top of your lungs, very clearly drunk, but happy. Hawks had the look of a proud boyfriend plastered on his face, as he was a little tipsy. As the two of you walked home, you passed by a seedy-looking tattoo parlor. Your eyes lit up with excitement, as you made a pouty face at him. He laughed heartily and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“You are much too drunk for this. If you remember this in the morning, I will get a matching tattoo with you.” He said as he placed his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You gave him a look and walked right into the tattoo parlor. He shook his head at your antics, knowing you’d never really listen, but followed you anyway.

“HI! We’d like a tattoo!” You said trying not to slur your words, and you were very sure you sounded very confident and not drunk at all. Unfortunately for you, you were talking to a statue in the sitting area.

The tattoo artist gave you a quick look of concern but chuckled a bit. “Hi, sorry about her, she's very inebriated. I was trying to walk her home, but...here we are.” Hawks tried to offer an explanation.

“It’s not a problem, it happens all the time, honestly. At least once a night.” He told Hawks. While they were talking you stumbled your way to the counter, where a few choices for tattoos were available to look at.

“OOOH! I WANT THAT ONE!” You shouted as loudly as you could pointing to a music note. Hawks tried his best to clamp your mouth shut as quickly as possible. He gave an apologetic look to the tattoo artist.

“Sorry, little missy. I don’t do tattoos on anyone who is drunk.” The tattoo artist said to you. You didn’t want that at all. You decided if you weren’t going to get what you wanted you’d pout.

“First of all, I am not little. Secondly, I am not your missy!” You pouted as you stomped your foot. Hawks bowed apologetically.

“I am so sorry for all of this, we will leave your wonderful establishment now.” He spoke as he pulled you out of the door. He just clucked his tongue at your behavior.

A smile grew on his face and your mood soured. Within a minute, he was dragging you down the street. He had the look of complete excitement plastered on his face. When he was like this, you couldn’t help but be excited with him. While waiting to cross the street, he gave you his infamous smirk, which meant whatever he was thinking about was going to be fun.

After a few more moments of walking, more of you stumbling behind as your boyfriend pulled you behind him, you arrived at this dimly lit shop. There was no indication of anyone being inside. Hawks wrapped his knuckles on the door sharply, within a few seconds the door was unlocked and the two of you stepped inside.

“Hey thanks, man.” He greeted the man inside. “Dabi, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Dabi. He’s an old friend and tattoo artist.” Hawks introduced the two of you. You smiled at Dabi, noticing the way his arms were covered in tattoos that were so intricate and interwoven you weren’t sure where one ended and another began.

“So, what can I do for you dollface?” Dabi asked you and Hawks narrowed his eyes. You chuckled a bit at the nickname. You felt your face grow warm.

“I want to get a matching tattoo.” You spoke a little bit too loudly and slurred your words a lot.

“Sure thing, do you know what you want to get and where?” Dabi’s cerulean eyes darted between you and Hawks. It seemed to you as if Dabi’s eyes held a fire in them. You were slightly entranced. Hawks cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“I think she wanted a music note. I believe we wanted it on our wrists” Hawks told Dabi with a slight edge to his voice. You nodded and smiled at Hawks.

“That is an interesting choice. Is there a reason why?” Dabi asked not really caring but cleaning your skin as he got his tools ready.

“Nope.” You told him as he got to work. You didn’t really feel the needle on your wrist and you knew you were too drunk to care. You watched Dabi a little too intently for Hawks liking, and he did everything to get your attention, but there was something so mesmerizing about the way Dabi worked you couldn’t look away.

After a half-hour, Dabi was done with you and was switching needles for Hawks, and cleaning his wrist. You sat down in the chair next to Hawks, and when your boyfriend turned to look at you with his golden eyes, all you could do was say the first thing that came to your mind.

“You’re so pretty, and I am in love with you.” You blurted out before you put your head down on Hawks’ free arm and fell asleep. Hawks couldn’t help but smile. Dabi finished up with Hawks in silence. Hawks threw a wad of cash at Dabi, thanked him, picked you up and brought you home to sleep comfortably in his bed, where you slept in his arms. You arose the next morning not remembering much of the night before.

A few days later, after the tattoo had healed, and the gauze pad had been removed. You were meeting your boyfriend for a few hours before his night patrol when your eyes saw the matching tattoo. Your heart swelled at such a small thing. When you saw the tattoo, you once again blurted out, “I love you, Keigo.” To which he replied, “I love you too, my little songbird.” Then, he repeated the forgotten drunken night to you. A story that was told many more times throughout your life together.

[brattyfics]

drunk dialing | writer wednesday

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!OFC

Summary: Angel's ex-girlfriend gives him a call one night when she has too much to drink.

Tags: Angst, Toxic!Angel, Unresolved Feelings, Alcohol Consumption.

Word Count: 1.5k

1:16.

“She doesn’t need anymore.”

The words barely register over the hustle and bustle of the packed sports bar. Basketball reruns play on the television, old school r&b blaring over the loudspeakers. The bartender takes one look at Summer and the way her frame is slumped over just slightly, the way her dark brown eyes have glazed over, and nods his agreement. From their places on barstools, her friends thank him, not-so-subtly sneaking glances at Summer from the corners of their eyes. She can’t bring herself to care. They don’t understand. She’s drowning in the liquor but also an ocean of misery. The waves steadily pull her down further at each turn.

No one understands, so she takes special care to savor the dark amber liquid as it burns her from the inside out.

2:29.

Last call in the state of California is 1:30 am for any establishment that sells alcohol. Businesses like the bar that so graciously hosts Summer and her friends can stay open later, and they usually do. Most patrons abide by state law, using the time to sober up by stuffing themselves with greasy foods-- pizza, fries, chicken wings. Instead of drinking, they make plans to come back and meet up with the strangers they have become fast friends with or say goodbye to their college buddies in town for the weekend.

If You Think You’re Lonely Now plays as patrons began to shuffle out. Summer hums along.

If you think you’re lonely now, huh

Wait until tonight, girl (If you think you’re lonely now)

I’ll be long gone (You just wait until tonight girl)

And you’ll never find another man that’ll treat ya’ right

And then there are the lonely.

The ones at the bar every evening without fail, using it as home in place of the one they lack. They slide the servers bribes, crisp and crumpled twenty dollar bills across the bar top. She watches with tired eyes as they slide shot glasses back in exchange. Summer thinks she would try her luck if it weren’t for the mother hens watching over her with careful eyes. Her friends-- Aliyah, Jasmine, and Nia already think she’s a ticking time bomb. The last thing she needs to do is give them the ammunition they need to call her an alcoholic.

3:34.

It takes a while for the bar to clear out. Nia has to use the bathroom at the last minute, complaining about it being filthy when she returns. Jasmine mutters an obviously while Summer pitifully sips the last remnants of her drink. The melted ice cubes ruin it, she can’t taste the bourbon at all, but every little drop counts, right?

Summer refuses the hand offered to her by Aliyah as they stumble out into the parking lot. Aliyah hovers with her arms poised to catch her just in case. Nia absentmindedly plays a card game on her phone behind them, and Jasmine heads up the group, her keys noisily jingling as she swings them back and forth. She’s the designated driver and the only one sober enough to drive.

It’s a typical summer night in California, dry but cold and windy, so they quicken their pace. With every step, Bobby Womack’s crooning is stuck on replay in Summer’s mind. The lyrics resonate with her…

When it’s cold outside who are you holding?

...and she’s about to voice her thoughts when she sees it.

“Is that a phone booth?!” The words come out more hysterical than probably they should. Sure, it’s been like ten years since she’s seen one in person, and she didn’t know they still existed, so she’s a little excited and a lot drunk, but it’s just a phone booth. One that’s narrow and brightly lit in the midnight blue of the night. Aliyah, who forgot her glasses at home, squints at the white blob until she can make out its shape.

“I think it is.” She sounds a little mystified herself, and that’s all the encouragement Summer needs in her state. One minute she’s cheesing wide, and the next, she’s sprinting across the street towards the phone booth, giggling and tugging her short dress down the whole way.

The girls yell after her, but she tunes them out, snatching the ice cold phone off the hook. She’s even more enamored when she pulls the heavy metal to her ear and hears the dial tone.

It works!

High heels click loudly behind her. Summer turns just in time to see the girls come to a stop behind her, out of breath and unamused. Jasmine leans over and rests her forearms on her knees. “What the hell?” She hisses, glaring daggers at her friend. Summer ignores her, punching the chunky silver buttons like she’s in a trance. Even inebriated, she knows them by heart. One number after the other, she dials the one person she knows she shouldn’t.

Angel Reyes.

She vaguely registers her friends telling her to put the phone down. She knows that she’s making a mistake, but the armor she wears to protect herself from the world is too heavy. She strips it away, her inhibitions lowered. All she wants is him.

Ring...

“She’s been drinking. We should do something.” Sweet Aliyah is always the voice of reason. Nia sounds bored and over the situation. “This is so dumb.” Jasmine tugs on her arm. “Come on. You’re drunk.”

Ring…

“There’s no harm in a phone call, right?” Aliyah says, but her voice is shaky. She’s wrong, and they all know it.

Ri--

“Hello?” The reception is shitty, and the volume in the earpiece low, but with one word, Summer’s hooked all over again. She doesn’t say anything for several moments, the sound of her harsh breathing the only thing that transmits. There’s a long, tense moment where Summer tries to convince herself to hang up, but then Angel says, “Baby, is this you?” She hates the sob she releases into the phone from the simple words. She draws her bottom lip into her mouth to quiet the sound. Her girlfriends freeze, unsure of what to do.

“Y-yeah, it’s me.”

“You been drinking, mami?”

“Maybe.” Summer sways, and Aliyah is there, using her arm to prop her best friend up. It’s a silent act of support, a reminder that Angel isn’t and shouldn’t be the center of her universe. She has supportive friends, a loving family. She doesn’t need him.

“Where you at? I’ll come get you.” She doesn’t need him, but she’s tempted to tell him to meet her back at Jasmine’s place. It’s only a ten-minute ride from his place, five minutes if he speeds the way she knows he does.

Speeds the way he did when she caught him at Vicki’s with Adelita. He had been acting shady for months, whispering on the phone, keeping odd hours. She had felt like a crazy woman when she put the tracker on his bike, but her intuition was validated when she saw his location. She followed him, expecting to find him with one of Vicki’s girls. Instead, she found him there with Adelita and her protruding belly, rubbing it with his large, ringed hands like a doting father. Like they were some happy fucking family.

Summer had nearly lost her mind, knocking over furniture, breaking bottles from behind the bar. Luckily for them, EZ caught her wrist and restrained her. The sight of Angel shielding that woman, protecting her when he hadn’t protected her feelings, was ingrained in her mind. Realizing that all the men she regarded highly and looked up to as older brothers and uncles had been lying, and helping Angel hide his cheating, was something she would never forget.

Being betrayed like that should have been enough to make her stop loving him, but... it just wasn’t. Summer often found herself wondering what was wrong with her. Why did she pine after a man that hurt her so badly? Sure, Angel’s handsome, and funny, and sweet, and really, really good in bed, but he’s not good. Not for Summer.

She sniffles into the phone, “I don’t want you to. I don’t want you.” She tries to will the words to be true, but the tears gliding down her face tell a different story.

“Why call me then?”

“Too much liquor.”

He snorts out a laugh but then pauses as if considering something. “Yeah, me too.” Summer swears she can make out the sound of Gilly shouting something in the background, but maybe she’s so drunk that she’s imagining things. Maybe she’s making it all up in her head because she longs for their relationship back. She always finds herself back at square one when it comes to Angel, wishing things could go back to how they were, that she could erase all the bad and keep all the good.

You see the night's the time when the needs come out

When your needs come out to breathe

And the jonesing starts and there ain't no way you can sleep, ooh

“You hurt me.” Summer doesn’t bother to hide her bitterness. She knows Angel won’t acknowledge the words because the only pain he can recognize is his own.

“Summer, why are you calling?” His voice has an edge to it this time. He’s daring her to make a decision, pick a side. Either she wants to be with him, or she doesn’t. His gruff tone, the callousness with which he says the words should make her want to turn away from him.

Instead, it makes her heart lurch.

She feels desperate to hold onto him, so she says, “'Cause I-I...I love you.”

Notes: The prompt is from @autumnleaves1991-blog Weekly Writing Challenge. Summer Walker - Drunk Dialing...LODT & Bobby Womack - If You Think You’re Lonely Now inspired this fic. Let's all pretend you don't have to pay to use a pay phone lol. Do you like to see moodboards/covers for fics? Please let me know. Hope you all enjoy!

General Taglist:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

Angel Reyes:

@claytoncardenasbabymama @adaydreamaway08

[huihuiheart]

Spiked - Minho

Part of @clandestine-lixie ‘s Smutmas Collab and a great excuse to get some more Minho on my page! 

Summary: It’s pretty much tradition at this point that Changbin spikes the eggnog at the annual Christmas party. What happens though when secrets slip through drunk lips and aren’t forgotten the next morning? At least not forgotten by the very person you confessed to. 

Pairing: Minho x F! Reader

Warnings: Drinking (not drunk when having sex), drunken confessions?, cursing, some angst in the beginning, smut, lovemaking, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), oral (f! receiving), lots of petnames, moments where Minho is kinda smug, lots of praise, it’s sugary sweet, mild sir kink for a moment, fingering, some playful teasing.

I sincerely apologize but I haven’t had time to edit this yet, so...please excuse any errors and stuff I’ll be getting to those when I have some time. I wrote over half of this today with a migraine so we’re working on fumes here. Also if something seems off I apologize, I’ve never celebrated the holidays before so I honestly don’t know what Christmas is like....sorry.

Word Count: 4,992

“Awe don’t tell me you’re already finished taking bets? I haven’t even got mine in on how long before Changbin tries to get us all drunk.” You tease the rambunctious group in the living room as you remove your shoes by the door. Christopher joining you a moment later to help you with your coat, hanging it up for you as he often did. 

“Hey, don’t look so glum. Felix was just getting to the interesting wagers now anyways. Bets of any kind are in Minho’s care this evening. Gifts for tomorrow morning under the tree as always.”  Chris caught you up with where the ever excitable boys had already impatiently gotten up to, before stepping away with your coat so you could join the others.

“So what did I just miss then? You know the topic that had you all in a giggle fit?” You raise a brow as you claim a spot in their circle, between Minho and Hyunjin.

“Oh we were just discussing the last bet. Not that you’d be able to participate anyways seeing how it was about you.” Jisung smirks wickedly until you match his gaze with your own that was just as devious, making him fold in an instant, or so you think, “Just betting on whether we thought you’d stay the night or not this year.”

“That’s not interesting though, I stay practically every year cause I’m too drunk to go home alone and none of you will take me.” You chuckle shaking you head, “ A better bet would be who will get drunk the fastest, my money’s on Hyunjin.” 

Minho took your bet money counting it out before the other boys made their wagers too, writing them all down as more and more bets danced through your group. Both those typical for the Christmas party and those unique to this year for whatever reason. Debates starting up over a few of them as they always did.

“No I’m telling you Y/N will be the first one to admit it. She always gets loose lipped when she drinks.” Jisung teases despite the validity of his statement, something you’ve proven true to them at more than just the previous Christmas parties. 

“Still who she likes is the secret she guards more than anything else, she’d have to be so shitfaced for that to come out it would be ridiculous!” Changbin counters, “ My money is on Felix, he was practically giving it away unprompted last year. It wouldn’t be too hard to get it out of him if we really tried.” 

“Maybe that’s just cause Y/N doesn’t trust some of you to keep your mouths shut.” Christopher shrugs as he takes a seat, though all eyes are on him not because of the motion, but because of his words. Giving away that you had already confessed your crush to at least one person in the room. 

“Wait. So you told him, but you didn’t tell me? What do we even gossip for? Let I’m lowkey offended right now.” Hyunjin whines used to being your partner in crime when it came to exchanging secrets about your group, even the things you’d never tell anyone else. Trusting the other to lock it down tighter than even their own secrets, even if you exploited that information at times. Like when Hyunjin conveniently ended up paired with his crush for every game of the spring break party.

“In my defense I was distraught and looking for you when it slipped. Chris was just the only one around, so he’s the one who got that information.” You counter knowing there wasn’t any taking it back at this point anyways, Hyunjin barely accepting your answer with a grumble. You were somewhat glad that it was the case though, he’d surely exploit the information tonight if he had it. In this case you should be safe, or so you thought before you noticed the subtle smirk on Christopher’s face before he glanced between you and the very crush you’d revealed to him....Minho.

“Hey, the boys sent me to see if you needed any help.” Minho steps into the kitchen watching as you moved to pull something out of the oven. Most of the food had already been prepped before you arrived so you offered to be the one to actually cook it. This being the fourth time in an hour and a half that Minho had been sent to check on you, each time he showed up besides you though he announced himself with those same words....the boys sent me. Them digging a little deeper into your heart whenever you’d hear them again. It implying that that he never actually chose to come to you of his own will, only coming to you since the boys told him to.

“I’m fine Minho. You can go back to the others.” Your words were sharper than you intended and it nearly made you wince, even if he didn’t return your feelings he was still your friend and you shouldn’t be so harsh to him. Sometimes your feelings managed to rear their ugly head before you could stop them though, something you’d feel regret for later

“Rose....your thorns are showing again.” Minho’s gentle voice says the familiar phrase as he moves to stand at your side. His nickname for you with a subtle announcement of the fact that your emotions were slipping out quicker than you often registered, something he always managed to stay calm through no matter how snappy you sometimes got, “I don’t know what riled you up, and I don’t have to. You should go take a minute to calm down though. I’ll watch the food.”

The way he spoke to you was enough to calm you down enough to regain your composure, but not wanting to be so close to him and unintentionally get worked up again you conceded. Slipping outside into the frigid air for a few moments to collect yourself before finding the others in the living room again, sitting besides Christopher now.

“The eggnog spiked yet?” You question with a soft sigh as you lean against his shoulder, causing him to chuckle and nod, “Good, cause I’m going to need a drink to make it through the night.”

“You drunk yet Y/N?” Changbin teases as he pours you another glass. Internally cursing him out, he knew damn well he put something stronger in the eggnog this year without any warning. Knowing that you and Felix at least would try to keep up with everyone else despite being two of the light weights of the group. The others in that category smart enough to stop before they could make a fool out of themselves, even accidentally.

“Not drunk enough to lose to Felix or spill any secrets yet, if that’s what you’re asking.” You call him out, brow quirking as if to challenge him to tease you again. The alcohol buzzing through your system making you more confident in challenging them, even if it slowed your wit slightly. 

“Nah just wondering if you’re drunk enough to at least confess you’re spending the night? Well officially anyways. We thought of a way to determine who you’re going to stay with tonight.” Changbin brings his own glass to his lips, hiding his smirk knowing that Christopher had come to him and Hyunjin with a plan to rig it so that you’d end up with Minho. 

“Fine, I’ll confess to that.” You chuckle not catching onto their schemes, “So how are we figuring it out then? What’s your big, genius plan?” 

The sarcastic way you’re carrying yourself makes Hyunjin snicker, leaning towards Christopher, “Oh if only she knew...” He shakes his head slightly before shaping up, to hide any suspicious acts from you, “Simple, you’re just drawing the name out of a hat. You know the deal though, you only get to pick once and that’s who you’re stuck with.”

“Yeah, I know the deal.” You sit up further waiting for them to bring the hat over, the liquid courage running through you making you feel really good about your odds. It was only a 1 in 8 chance that you’d end up picking Minho, you were most likely safe from your crush. Well the possibility of embarrassing yourself while alone with him anyways. Or so you thought until you managed to pull his name out of the hat.

“Well.....I guess I’m rooming with Minho tonight....”

"Alright I think that's enough for one night." Minho takes the glass from you before you can get it refilled yet again. You'd lost count three drinks ago, hoping you'd get passed out drunk instead of having to face him. Luck wasn't on your side this evening though as Minho still had his wits about him and he refused to let you do something dangerous to your health.

"But Minho, if I'm not drinking what am I going to do?" Your whine is only added to by the small subconscious pout adorning your drunk face.

"We've both had enough and are going to bed now. It's 4 fucking 37 in the morning and you know someone's gonna be waking is up too goddamn early hangover or not. So if you wanna drink something it'll be water on the way to bed." Minho insists moving to help your inebriated form up from your seat on the floor and towards his upstairs bedroom.

"You can use the bathroom, I put some clothes in their for you so you can sleep comfortably." Minho sits on th edge of his bed, pulling out his phone to scroll through seeming almost entirely disinterested as you wobble off to the bathroom. Not getting far though before you have to pull the door open with a blush, your shirt wedged half on with only one arm successfully out.

"M-Minho I got stuck, c-can you help me?" Your words held no room for any hidden implications, especially not when panicked tears started to well in your eyes.

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'm gonna help you and you'll be just fine." Minho coos trying to reassure you, not knowing your panic was partly due to having to face him like this. His warm hands gently in the way they helped untangle you from the shirt you'd somehow managed to get trapped in.

"There you go, all better. Now go get those warm clothes on and get in bed before the cold settles in too much." He insists gently wiping away the last of your tears before you returned to the bathroom.

Silence filled the space when you returned, saying nothing as you switched places with Minho. Sliding into the bed while he was in the bathroom. It wasn't like you'd never slept there before, staying with the boys frequently meant that you'd slept in all their beds at some point but never since your feelings for Minho had developed so much had you stayed in his. Never after you'd felt like you'd embarrassed yourself beyond repair in one evening either. Not realizing you were sniffling with a fresh batch of tears until Minho returned.

"Hey what's wrong rose? You've been upset all day. Please talk to me, we don't like when you're upset." Minho's brow furrows as he uses the paw of his sweater to gently wipe away the tears again.

"I-It's just so hard Minho. I don't know if I keep doing this." You feel exhausted from the alcohol, the excitement throughout the evening, and now an emotional breakdown too and yet you needed to get this off your chest or even that might not be enough to let you get rest tonight.

"What is? What's hard? What can't you do?" Minho asks feeling his heart bleed at your distress even if he was able to stay as calm as he was.

"L-Loving you...."

You had passed out nearly the moment those words had left your lips, but Minho couldn’t, not after your confession. It had been the last thing he’d seen coming after trying not to look desperate to you all day. Yet you’d confessed to him of all people and it weighed too heavily on his mind for the next two hours to even consider getting any sleep. Only getting maybe two hours in before an excited Jeongin bound in to try and wake you both up so everyone could come downstairs for Christmas. Though Minho ensured he never got to you before he shoved him out with hushing sound. Slipping down behind him to grab some water, coffee, and pain meds for when you’d wake up. Telling the boys you’d had a rough night, probably drank too much, and should be left alone to sleep as long as you needed. Not expecting you to already be shifting awake when he returned to the room. 

“Hey, you can sleep more if you want. It’s alright.” Minho gently brushes the hair out of your face as your eyes slowly blink open, leaning into the warmth of his touch without realizing, “I brought you meds and coffee if you’re felling hungover.”

You accept his help to sit up and take the meds, willing your fuzzy mind to clear enough to recall what happened the night before, “Minho...d-did I do anything last night? I-I can’t remember.”

Minho froze debating how he should answer that, he wanted to be honest with you, but after seeing how upset you were the night before he didn’t want to embarrass you at all, “W-Well, umm....”

“I-I said something didn’t I?” You could read his face for once, the calm demeanor gone and it telling you something had happened. The way his eyes widened at your question was enough to confirm what you thought as panic bubbled up and made your throat feel tight, “W-Whatever I said I didn’t-”

Minho cut you off by pressing his lips to yours quickly, feeling his own panic, “P-Please don’t say that you didn’t mean it. I think I would die if I lost the hope that you actually loved me back.”

The panic stopped almost instantly, feeling it dissipate as you processed his words, “L-Love you back?....Y-You mean you love me too? B-But you were acting like I was such a bother yesterday.”

Minho sits on the bed, pulling you into his arms before you could cry again, “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I-I just didn’t want to look desperate when I couldn’t think of a reason for you to love me too.” 

“You’re an idiot, I was literally like so obvious.” You whine softly and he chuckles though his focus seems to shift as his gaze falls to your lips, “You can kiss me again you know....a-after all we both just confessed so it would make sense to...”

Minho’s eyes flick back up to yours as a smirk forms on his face, but he makes no smart comment as he gives in to what both of you are wanting. Leaning in to kiss you again, less panicked this time as his lips softly meld with yours. Though the both of you were pouring too much emotion into it for it to become anything less than desperate. Now that you had each other you needed that more than air itself, it remaining sweet despite the way you both chased after each other as if afraid this would all disappear if you separated for any real stretch of time.  You feel the faintest trail as Minho’s hands move from holding you against his chest to cradling your head as he lays you back onto the bed. 

“If you want to take things slower then just say so. I-I just don’t want to let you go.” Minho’s voice comes out so light you wonder how you hear it over the beating of your own heart, especially with how it races when his lips press a fleeting trail down your jaw between his words. 

“Y-You don’t ever have to slow down Minho, I’ve wanted this.....wanted you for too long to do that now.” You insist with a low moan as his lips press a little firmer against a sweet spot on your neck.

Minho hums against your skin too caught up in you to care about words when he could show you how he felt better anyways. His hands gripping at your sides, thumbs rubbing soft circles as if he’s afraid he’ll break you by being too firm. So you decide to make a larger move, reaching to grip the hem of his sweater and pull it off him, letting your hands and eyes roam his newly exposed skin. The feel of his warm skin beneath your fingertips heating you up inside, the flame of desire flaring up faster than you would have thought possible if the person before you had been anyone other than Minho. Minho’s hands gripping yours before looking up at you for permission, hesitating even as you nod.

“You sure you won’t be too cold?” Minho’s fingers peak under the hem to rub gently at your skin beneath it.

“Well if I am then I guess you’ll just have to warm me up.” Your words seem to light the same fire in Minho as he doesn’t hesitate a second longer to his sweater off you. Hands running over your stomach to squeeze your breasts through the bra, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Guess I will.” Minho speaks against your lips, tone deepening as he lowers again moving to rid you of your bra as his lips trail towards your chest. You nipples pebbling slightly from the frigid air and his advances, but noticing the unpleasant chill that runs through you he presses against you more, letting his warmth radiate onto you. His warm mouth closing around your one nipple as his hand toys with and warms the other, switching between them with a new path of kisses to make sure they get equal attention.  Until he gets impatient to show his affections elsewhere and his mouth lowers while adding soft nips between kisses to reach the hem of the sweatpants he gave you to wear. His fingers nimble as they work on the tie, though he doesn’t do more than that until he has permission from you to pull them down and leave you in only your panties.

“Oh the thoughts I had while helping you get untangled from your shirt last night my flower, and to think now a few of them are becoming reality.” Minho places a kiss to your hip, as his hands gently spread your legs, loving the way he’s able to fluster you so easily, “I’ve been dying for a taste and you’re not making it any easier for me. May I?” 

The way he drags his thumb over the wet patch of your panties makes it hard to respond when you’re moaning and focused on that surge of pleasure, but the thought of getting something more urges you to form words, “Y-Yes please, I’ve been wanting to feel your mouth.”

“All you had to do was ask precious.” Minho gently blows against the wet patch making you squirm before kissing your thigh and slipping off your panties and lowering himself between your legs, placing the gentlest of kisses to your clit. The way you whine impatiently makes him chuckle against your core only making you squirm, his thumbs rubbing softly against your plush thighs as he grips them firmly to keep them open instead of impeding his work. He has no intent on tormenting you with teasing, not this morning anyways, but he still wants to savor the moment. The way he licks through your folds slow yet firm enough to spark delicious waves of pleasure through you, enough so that you can’t complain too much about his pace. Minho’s tongue and lips working everywhere to get every last drop of you that he can, while also focusing on your reactions to find what makes you feel the best. Knowing that his own patience will wear thin soon enough and he wants to know how to throw you over that sweet edge with more intensity than you thought possible, wanting to make all of you feel as amazing as his heart did upon hearing your confession. 

“M-Minho please, I want to feel all of you.” Desperation bleeds into your words and actions as you squirm against his grip, hips trying to roll against his mouth and it has his eyes darkening with a new surge of lust. Nearly giving into you pleas, but you’re his first priority and it has him pulling away slightly making you whimper.

“Shh pretty girl, shh.” Minho coos softly, grip loosening as he runs his hands over your thighs and hips trying to get you to relax some, “Calm down, don’t get so worked up. I’ll give you what you want, I promise. You just need to calm down so that I can get you ready for me. We’ve waited a long time I know, but you can be good and wait just a little longer can’t you?”

This time a simple nod isn’t enough for him as he’s a little firmer with you in this moment, pinching your thigh lightly as he demands your words, “Y-Yes sir, I can be good for you.”

Minho has to take a deep, shuttering breath when he hears the word sir fall from your lips so perfectly, now was not the time to lose control, not when he wanted to show you every emotion he’d had trapped inside for so long. Not when he knew there’d be plenty of time for that later. Yet, it does have him snap a little as he dives between your legs again with more purpose. Lips suckling and kissing your clit like his survival depended on it, eyes locked on your face as he feels your fingers weave into his hair. The soft tug you give has him moaning against your clit, only adding to that pleasure as he eases a finger in, though it’s not long before he’s able to add another. Curling them with each thrust in search of the spot that would have you trembling against him, thriving off the pleasure he’d able to feed you right now, nothing else in the world mattering more than your cries for him and the way you lose yourself to the sensations. He knows he’s found that spot, when you’re clenching around him, practically sucking his fingers in, thighs shaking as your edge hovers so close and yet just barely out of reach. 

“Minho, please I’m close. Please make me cum or give me your cock, I-I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Your pleas sound magical to Minho, it being enough for him to give you what you want, speeding up his fingers as his tongue flicks against your clit as he brings it between his lips again. Willing to throw your over the edge for the first time, so that he can have you losing his own patience as your nails drag lightly over his shoulders. The was you fall apart beneath him is like a work of art, the most beautiful Minho has ever seen as he slips his fingers from your spasming core to gently lick over you and ride you through the pleasure until you come back to him. Kissing you briefly before licking his fingers clean while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“You’re sweeter than I ever could have imagined my flower.” Minho hums in approval, his smirk almost showing more in his eyes than on his lips. You’re quick to respond though not wanting him to drag it out any longer.

“I bet we’d taste sweeter together, but there’s only one way to find that out now isn’t there?” You purr back as your fingers work to untie his sweatpants, gripping both them and his undergarments to impatiently push both down at once. Freeing his beautiful, hardened length to you finally. Not giving him to to ask for your permission before you rub his tip through your folds, leg locking around his waist to urge his hips closer. Your actions seem to be enough as he places his hands on either side of you, slowly pushing in and leaning in as he gives you a moment to adjust to him.

“You were awfully loud earlier flower, if you don’t quiet down then all the boys will know what we’ve been up to. Do you want that?” Minho’s question is somewhat serious, but it also holds a teasing to it as he’s proud of the fact that he can make you feel good enough to be so loud. You getting him back by rolling your hips against him and earning a groan from him. Hands slipping around his neck to tug him down and tease his lips with your own.

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” Your words are almost daring and they have him crashing his lips messily against yours as his own hips start to move against you. The patience between you both is gone as he finds a quick pace and yet he’s not manhandling or overly rough in his treatment, the erotic scene still one of passionate lovers. Baring their emotions to each other in the most desperate of ways despite not being able to handle a slow pace any longer. It being everything you could have asked for and more, right now you didn’t need the soft, slow lovemaking. You need this the desperate lovemaking, the kind that showed that Minho had been longing for you just as much as you’d been longing for him. The kind that showed that you were his now and that he would show you that in every way possible for as long as you would ask it of him. Where every move he made was to find what made you feel best, because you were what he most cared for in this world and where it was so much better than he could have imagined that he wasn’t sure if he could hold off. Though he was intent on your pleasure coming first as he angled himself to perfectly hit the spots he found brought you the most pleasure with each drag of his cock, thumb rubbing quick circles into your clit as his other hand tangled into your hair to keep your lips pressed against his. Taking in all of your moans as your pleasure explodes once more, the feeling of you cumming on his cock enough to send him spiraling into his own high as he moans into your mouth in response. Slowing his thrusts as he rides you both through your highs. Hands gently tracing shapes over your heated flesh, finding you glowing in the aftermath of your climax.

“Come on my flower, I’ll help you shower before we join the others.” Minho kisses your forehead softly before scooping you up to take you to the bathroom. Getting you in the steaming shower as quickly as he can so that you won’t have to face the cold while bare for too long and so that you two can be quick enough to be able to get some food in before the others ate everything. Not that he wouldn’t cook you up a good breakfast if it came down to it. Willing to shower you in all affections imaginable after what you both had just done. Though before long Minho had you both cleaned up and in warm fresh clothes, going down the stairs to join the others.

“Weren’t you wearing something different this morning?” Jisung questions Minho slyly as if they hadn’t all heard what you two had been up to earlier. Minho knew what he meant, but still didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah well I took a shower, so I put on something else.” Minho shrugs pulling out a seat for you, before taking his own so you two could eat breakfast as well.

“Oh did Y/N shower too? Her hair is all damp still.” Jisung innocently inquires taking a bite of his pancake trying to hide his smug expression. Minho gently moving your damp hair away from your bare skin so that it wouldn’t get too chilled.

“Well then you obviously know the answer.” Minho rolls his eyes adding his portion of whipped cream and other sweet toppings to your plate instead of his own.

“Hm I just find that interesting considering we only heard one shower running.” Jisung smirks at you both as the others snicker and chuckle, teasing you all through breakfast while exchanging knowing looks. 

The teasing had died down some later as you all gathered around to exchange gifts. Feeling your heart stutter as you hold Minho’s in your hands, the man seeming flustered as you go to open it. Finding a small necklace inside one that looked like a lifeline with a heart at the end, flipping it over to find his initials on the back besides yours. 

“So if things had been different this would have been when I confessed.” He admits in a soft whisper into your ear,  a blush adorning his cheeks so beautifully as you laugh softly.

“It’s alright I liked the way things turned out much better anyways.” Minho admits before the guys pretend to gag and whine at all the pda they were witnessing.

“Alright enough of the mushy stuff, you have to open mine next.” Hyunjin dramatically insists shoving his gift in front of you, a pretty envelope sitting on top and beckoning you to open the card first. Your attention immediately drawn to a special little note at the bottom...

PS. Minho’s name was the only one in that hat.

“Well guess I ruined your little plan huh?” You tease, flustering along with him as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek in front of everyone.