#it takes a long time for the universe to get back to you

[melanated-writersblock]

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.Lunch Rush.⊹˚₊♡⟡˙⋆

[CEO!Husband!Yunho x BlackFem!Exec!Reader]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Where you and Yunho wanted to start trying for a baby, and with a long lunch break in your schedules, you decide to pay him a visit to try your hand at conception.

content: car sex, semi-public sex, thigh riding, cloth-ripping, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl pls), cowgirl, doggy, full fledged backshots, like 2 creampies?

word count: 3.4k

a/n: This fic cost me 5 FUCKING DOLLARS TO MAKE?!?!?! I had to pay to use a fake text generator, so if any of you have a site or app that I can make fake text messages FOR FREE then PLEASE let me know😭. This was self indulgent but I wanna dedicate this fic to all my fellow Hotteoks🫶🏾 And the bitches that fantasize about getting nutted in and getting it poppin’ in the back of the parking lot (in theory of course)! WwaBRiM (if you can’t tell from the fact the reader is rocking soft locs😛)

‧₊˚✩. ˚. ♡ ☁︎

To this day…you and Yunho’s BIGGEST regret in your relationship…is and ALWAYS WILL BE….agreeing to go to the christening of your friends’ 6-month old baby boy.

Everything was beautiful. The ceremony, the cathedral, the way the baby nestled into Yunho’s arms so naturally, and reached out to play with your bangles with such curiosity and wonder. It altered both of your brain chemistries, and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or not.

Your friends didn’t help either, saying things like “Parenthood would look so good on you two!” and “I can’t wait for your baby shower invitations.”.

How could they…….

After you pushed your meetings back to later in the week. After Yunho gave his team a free day when they could’ve been in the office perfecting the play-through on his new game before its release. Two very busy people with very busy work schedules, and you carved out time to come support your friends and their son, and they pay you back with…….

BABY FEVER?!?!

You and Yunho planned your futures out to a T. Go to university, get your respective degrees, join a company that you interned with, work your way up, become the boss, get married, honeymoon in The Maldives and spend your paid vacation days in The Swiss Alps.

Starting a family was definitely in there somewhere, but everything fell in line so well that it got lost. You’re at the top of your games…Yunho, figuratively and literally, with his gaming company being the best in the country and all…and you became the creative director for a top cosmetic brand. It really was all good. But it was lacking. And you both felt it. Ever since that christening.

You felt it every time one of your work partners went on maternity and paternity leave. Every time there were children in the offices on ‘Bring Your Kids to Work Day’. Every time Yunho saw posts or videos of kids around the world dressing up as characters he helped create. Every time your homegirls would send you milestones of their babies taking their first walk, or biting into a lemon for the first time. You two worked hard and accomplished everything you wanted to, everything except starting a family. It resonated for days after that christening.

For Weeks.

Months, even.

The energy around the house shifted. Yunho would steal glances at you as you did the simplest of routines, imagining your belly being round as you sip your favorite tea in the kitchen, waddling from room to room barefoot and pregnant. And you’d watch attentively as he’d play his video games, envisioning a child full of joy as he teaches them how to defeat their first villain. After a while it got to a point where neither of you would hide it. It became all too real, too wanted. And why not? What was stopping you two?

Everything was green lit once you and Yunho put it into the atmosphere and finally discussed it. You both were just about ready to start baby proofing the house and nothing even happened yet, becoming more proactive than you already were. Tracking apps were monitored, routines were tweaked, and everything seemed to be doable…but your work schedules…your jobs were the biggest obstacle. Just when could you slip away for a bit to see each other? When would be the right time to make a ba-

“Hey, I’m picking up my kid so we can go to lunch. I’ll be back in 2 hours!”

Your Editor in Chief pops their head in your office briefly before heading down the hall to the elevator, snapping you out of your rambling thoughts.

…………..Lunch Break.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

You reverse your sedan into the space next to him before hoping out and swishing towards the driver’s door, knocking softy. Your ears perk up at the sound of r&b playing and a silent laugh escapes you. The dark windows of the door lower, revealing Yunho in the driver’s seat, fully reclined with the top buttons of his shirt undone and the silver crucifix you adorned him with for your anniversary gleaming.

“For a second I thought you were backing out on me.” He smiles at you, his voice deeper than usual, evidence of a brief stolen nap. “Traffic was hell, I would’ve been here in half the time otherwise.” The door unlocks and you climb in, grazing over Yunho’s body as he adjusts the driver’s seat sitting up slightly, he grabs ahold of you to help you straddle him and closes the door back behind you. And like clockwork, you lean in, beginning your onslaught of abuse on his lips.

Snaking your hands into Yunho’s hair, he moans, deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing ever so eloquently with yours. “I missed you.” He says breathlessly between kisses, “You saw me this morning before I left boo!” You tease him, fixing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose that slid down in the midst of your passion, “That’s too long.” He pokes his lips out, and you console him with light pecks to ease his playful angst. “You’re so needy, you know that right?” “And you love me for it.”

Yunho starts to undo his shirt more, a sinister smile on the corner of his lips as he looks you over. “Come here,” You lean into him, your hand placed against his bare chest, the rock on your wedding band a flashy contrast to his skin. “Lift up for me baby.” You lift off of Yunho for a second as he helps you readjust yourself, now straddling one of his thighs. The pinstriped black skirt you wore for work today riding up your thighs. You let out a huff, immediately feeling the pressure of Yunho’s toned thigh on your bundle of nerves. Your black tights and panties not serving as any sort of buffer to the sensations. Your pussy lips spread apart feeling the course texture of his slacks. You let out a staggering sigh, reality finally setting in what you were about to do. “That’s right, you’re gonna ride me and come all over my thigh, and thennn~” Yunho begins to rock your hips back and forth on his thigh. You lurch forward, your right hand immediately planting on the interior wall of the Rover, “Damn, feels good right?” “Yeah, yes it does. Fuck.”

You place your other hand on his shoulder, stealing support as you rock onto him quicker, a few front strands of your freshly done soft locs coming undone from the high pony you put them in this morning, to his delight. Yunho enjoyed the sight of you working yourself on him, he loved how neat you looked before you climbed in the suv with him, and is obsessed with the thought of how disheveled and fucked out you’re gonna look when he’s done and you climb back out. Fuck, it’s all he’s thought about since you mentioned it in the texts. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, to touch you, to feel you, to fuck you, to ruin you, to caress you, to make love to you, to put a baby in you……finally.

You watch Yunho as he closes his eyes, deep in thought, mindlessly guiding your hips against him, as if he’s immediately feeling all of the pleasure that you are in that moment. You begin to rock against him quicker, an impending climax moments away. Yunho opens his eyes, watching you as your moans get louder, less polite, more shameless. You lean your head forward trying to compose yourself as much as you possibly can in this situation, and he smiles at the sight. “I’m close………..fuck, I’m close.” Your hand now caresses his face as you lean your head on his shoulder, hunching him like a bitch in heat. “You’re close?” “Yeahhhh~” “Fuck, you’re gonna come all over my thigh like that?” “Yeah!” “Yeahhh, just like that?” “Yes! Yes! Just like that!” Yunho bounces his leg softly as you continue to rake against it, riding out your high as a warm dampness spreads on his designer slacks. He moans at the feeling, damn near coming untouched just from witnessing your pleaser unfold before him.

You steady your panting for air. Embarrassed, you pat at the wet spot you left on your husband, “I did not expect that I-“ “I did, you’re ovulating.” Yunho caresses your cheeks fully heated with shame, and kisses you, laughing into the kiss. “I don’t think you understand how hot that was, don’t apologize my love.” He gestures to the passenger seat, helping you off of him and guiding you there to sit tight and catch yourself for a second. He then leans the drivers seat back fully again, stepping over it to sit in the spacious middle seat. He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way before removing his glasses, tossing them somewhere far in the back seats. He holds one of his hands out to you, patting his thigh sharply with his other, ordering your immediate presence.

You crawl over the front armrest and take Yunho’s hand as he helps you towards him. You start to kneel down in front of him and he stops you, “Nooo no, no, none of that today.” “But I really want to.” “I knowww, and you do it so well, but we’re kind of on a fixed schedule.” Yunho gestures behind you to the time on the soft glowing screen on the dashboard. You sigh in agreement, “I wanted to get you ready too.” “Oh babe,” He begins to undue his belt buckle and pants, his fully hard cock slapping against his lower abdomen as he slides his pants down lower freeing him. “Does it look like I need to get ready?” Your mouth waters, his cock glistening as precum trails down the tip, and you moan at the sight. “Oh my God.” He laughs at your eager demeanor, “Come here baby,” he pats his thighs again signaling you to straddle him once more, your legs on either side of him cushioned by the materials used to adorn the luxury car seats.

Yunho hikes your skirt up higher, sliding his hands underneath to trail down your sheer-tights-clad inner thighs and up to your panties. Your breaths were short, shallow, hesitant. You closed your eyes as Yunho felt you up, getting you worked up again in the process, unbeknownst to himself, or was this all part of his plan? “These weren’t too pricey, right?” He pinches at your tights, “No they weren’t, why?”

****rrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrrrriiiiippp!****

You gasp as you feel the force from Yunho ripping your tights right down the middle, smacking his shoulder. “They weren’t pricey but they were my favorite!” “Shhh, I’ll buy you 10 more.” You lean your head on his shoulder, pouting…until you feel his slender hands move your panties to the side. Your breath begins to get shallow again, feeling his warm tip slide up and down your wet folds. You moan involuntarily, “Awww, come on baby I haven’t even put it in yet.” “I knowww, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” “I do,” You feel him slowly push into you, leaning your head back as you cry out. “This cunt was just waaaiting to get fucked, because today is a little different than the other days,” He picks up his pace, fucking up into you steady but firm, “Today your pussy is a little bit more needy for me,” the recoil of your ass sending vibrations through your lower body as Yunho’s movements are relentless. “Today you’re gonna let me get you pregnant.”

And there it was. Your brain immediately shuts off. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, and so hard-” “Unnnnhhhhhooohhhh my Godddddd!” “Yeahhhhh, yeah let me hear you baby,” You grip the disheveled collar of Yunho’s shirt, completely at his mercy, taking what he gives you. “I’m gonna cum all in this pretty fucking cunt and get you pregnant, I’m gonna make you a Mommy.” “Yunho Please! Pleaseee~” “Please what my love?” Yunho lifts your chin up to meet his gaze, your dark brown eyes staring several miles into his own, communicating beyond a frequency that sound couldn’t even capture in that moment, and he understood every bit of it…but figured it would be fulfilling just to hear it fall from your lips, “Pleaseeee? What.” “Please make me a Mommy~” In seconds, he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he drills into you. “Ahhhhhh!!!!” The sound of your screams, bounce off the interior of the car, and you pray that the seats absorb it all.

“Yesss, yes! Let me hear you Mama. Fuckkkk let me hear you!” “Fuckkkk!” “Uh huhhh~ Fuck! You sound so good taking my dick like this! Ughhhh~” You both were a mess, fully enraptured in pleasure and no longer prisoners to time. You place your forehead against Yunho’s now eye to eye as he continues to lean into you with force, your breathing syncing with his, both chasing your highs. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you.” He asks you with dark eyes, almost as if it wasn’t a request. Suddenly you’re whimpering against his lips, “Yeah you are gonna cum, you’re close, so close for me.” “I’m-“ “I’m gonna-“ He mocks, imitating your whines, “You’re gonna what, cream around me and take this cum like a good little wife?” All you could do was gasp at his sharp remarks, “You’re gonna cum for me like a good little wife? Hm?” “Yeah!” “Yeah? You’re gonna take my fucking cum like a good fucking wife?” “Yes! Yes! Ye- Yes! Yes! Yes!” You gush around him, repeating your words like a mantra against his ear. He returns the favor, “Good Girl” replaying in his surprisingly vulgar vocabulary as he finishes inside of you. You collapse against him for some time. Aligning your heaving chest with his as you both come down. Clammy from the altercation. You swivel around some assuming it may help with the progress, and he moans a little.

“What are you doing?” Yunho laughs at you endearingly, watching you be an unintentional menace. “I don’t know I just thought it might do something.” You giggle some, lifting off of his softening length with your combined messes drooling out of you and down your inner thighs. Yunho takes it all in, shaking his head in amazement at the fucked out state of you. Just as he imagined it, better than he imagined, even. Staring him down, you study his body language, how he looks subtly exhausted but not TOO drained. Almost as if on a bodily timer, your temperature starts to rise again, “You’re plotting.” you narrow your eyes at him. Sucking in a sharp breath between teeth, Yunho helps you up, only to place you over the front armrest.

You squirm as your stomach and breasts make contact with the cold leather. “See I KNEW you were plotting!” “Oh hush, don’t act like you’re not excited.” Yunho makes light work of your tights, pulling off and discarding what was left of it, and sliding your panties off of one of your legs in order to spread them further apart. Your breathing catches at the gust of air that hits your pussy. Yunho’s cock inches away as he works his hand over it. He reaches his hand around holding it out to your mouth, “Spit.”, and you oblige him. He continues to work himself hard again, one hand bunching your business skirt up your waist, exposing your bare ass. His hand slides down to caress it, before landing a harsh smack, resorting back to soothing over the stinging spot. All marks undetectable on your brown skin, he lands a few more smacks on both cheeks, knowing he’ll be safe. You jolt and whine at the barrage of sharp pain and he leans down to pepper the side of your face in kisses, rubbing your attacked spots to soothe the pain.

“Don’t forget to breathe my love.” You didn’t realize you weren’t until he mentioned it, immediately offloading a heavy breath. Yunho clicks his tongue as he braces one hand on your shoulder to hold you in place, fiddling with the bunched up hem of your skirt. Your body stiffens as you feel him use his fingers to collect your cum and push it back into your pussy. You shudder in pleasure, still recovering from your last high, not too far from another if touched too much. You feel him shift behind you again as his cock teases its way past your entrance one more time. “Mmm, You wore this skirt on purpose Mama?” He glides into you with ease, bottoming out effortlessly, and you sink into the armrest, your moan resembling that of a pornstar’s. “You knew you were gonna see me to get this pretty pussy filled, Hmm?” Yunho immediately picks up the pace, keeping his hand firm on your shoulder, guiding you back onto him. “Ooooohhhhh~” “Yeahhhh? You wore this skirt because you knew you were gonna get knocked up with my babies? Huh?” Yunho’s words started to slur as they turned into shameless moans, “Yeahhh~ keep moaning for me, it’s just us here, keep going, I wanna hear youuu~” even he started sounding pornstar-like, it was music to your already ringing ears.

He began to pound into you with fervor, your tits now hanging over the armrest, bouncing violently as you grip the seating of the driver’s and passengers seat to avoid going headfirst into the dashboard. “Oh fuckkkk I’m gonna cum again, shit- shit- shittttt~” Yunho plants a foot on the flooring of the suv to steady himself as he leans flush against your back, engulfing you. “Yes, yes, yessss~ come inside of me pleaseeee~” Your final plea sends him over the edge, ultimately setting off a chain reaction that makes you cum around him all over again.

You shudder with each thrust as he slows his pace gradually before coming to a complete stop, staying in the same position as he bear hugs you from behind over the dashboard. You laugh to yourselves as you match your breathing once more, an exercise you both had been doing since the start of everything. Thank God workers at Yunho’s job actually took advantage of leaving the facility for lunch, or else your windows definitely would’ve been knocked on. Sure, the 5% tint helps, but you’re sure the car rocking would’ve given enough away.

Yunho peels himself off of you and helps you up, sitting you down next to him in the middle seats. You lay your head on his shoulders, the both of you visibly fucked out, his shirt open and hanging off of one shoulder with a button or two missing, crucifix chain crooked yet still sitting proudly on his chest, even after such a sinful act, your soft locs fully down, and splayed along and running down the side of Yunho’s torso, your skirt and his pants still undone, your blouse surprisingly still somewhat presentable. You both sit in solitude and enjoyment of each other for a little while. Yunho looks down at you lovingly, watching as you pull your phone out to do something. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” “Letting the Editor in Chief know that I’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day? Noo, I couldn’t possibly…” “Oh well that’s a shame…” You look at your husband, waiting, “Because I told the team to take the rest of the day off.” THAT’S why the deck looked so lifeless. “I can’t believe you set me up!” He peppers your face in kisses one last time.

“Alright, let’s get out of here, we defiantly need to change. We’re celebrating tonight.” “Tonight? Forrrrr?” “For theeee…..you know…..” Yunho gestures towards himself then your stomach, and you grin knowingly. “The lunch rush?” “Exactlyyy, the lunch rush.” He says before pulling you in for one last kiss. Yunho helps fix up your appearance before assisting you out of the Range Rover and back into your car. Kissing you for the last time yet again. “I’ll be right behind you.” He starts back to his vehicle, looking over to you, “Oh, feel free to put me in your schedule whenever you have an hour or two for lunch. Just to make sure it takes.” Yunho winks at you, getting back in the car as you both leave work for the day.

‧₊˚✩. ˚. ♡ ☁︎ If you liked what you read, please let me know, it gives me hope. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated ‧₊˚✩. ˚. ♡ ☁︎

[1nthedarknessofthenight]

﴾ you shook me

pairing: college student!seungmin kim x f!reader

genre: one-shot, university au, smut

word count: 9K

warnings: student! and teacher! ⋆ switch!seungmin and switch!reader ⋆ choking! ⋆ hair!pulling ⋆ small!age gap ⋆ jealousy ⋆ possessiveness ⋆ fingering (f.receiving) ⋆ oral (f.receiving) ⋆ cowgirl!position ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: you were captivating, you were in his mind and his soul, taking a bite of it each time you would glance his way, you shouldn’t excite him, you shouldn’t enjoy getting under his skin, it was so wrong…so wrong that it felt good

author’s note: he wants that cookie so bad

request by @khandzilla

──────────────────────

He thinks, he has a problem and you are it. You are haunting him and it seems like you have under a spell. You are so collected, so put together, it makes him feel dirty to have these thoughts about you. You are supposed to be a person to look up to, idol in his life, not his only thing that he wants to have. You are teaching him what to do, but he can’t hear — see anything other than you. Your words are soothing, yet strong, but he can’t do it. He wants to do good, think good for himself mostly as these years are the most important ones in his life, but it seems like it stopped the moment you walked into the room.

Your body clad in fitted skirt and blouse, the click of your heels silencing whatever noise was being made in the lecture hall. He wasn’t the only one. How could he? You are perfect — an intelligent and well behaved woman that knows the power of her own words. You are so good…in a sense of teaching of course. The way you never stumbled over your words, the time you took while thinking over the question the other students around him asked…he felt sick. Maybe it’s the hormones, natural urges that keep filling his mind with filthy, filthy things.

He kept it to himself mostly, but he remembers every one of your outfits. So elegant and unrevealing it made him lose his mind. You weren’t showing anything, other than your stocking clad legs when you would wear a skirt. Those girls in his class looked primitive next to you, so not put together, still figuring things out and that’s maybe why he liked you so much. You were a woman, a little older, yet still fresh. You always held your head high, but you never were prideful. You were a natural, seductive and he wishes you would claw your burgundy nails into his scalp, so you could see what exactly it is on his mind while he is attending your class.

It really angers him that a simple pencil skirt and a fitted sweater make him so dazed. He swears that he shivered when he saw the red bottoms of your shoes, his favorite, because they perfectly showcased your success in life. You were unreachable, untouchable. The worst part was that you never acknowledged him that much. Just few glances, always making sure to rise his hand high when you were making attendance. You were so good in what you did, teaching, listening. He remembers the time, when he saw his name in your handwriting while you were giving back tests to the other students. He forgot to even write his own name down, too caught up in your pursed lips while you were going over some papers. His name in your neat handwriting never looked better.

It is so unfair — looking like that and also being so unforgiving. His eyes are staring at the paper in his hands, bright red marks all over the whole page. He sometimes wonders if you get pleasure from giving these tests every two weeks. It was for a greater good, you were just making sure that everyone knew what was going on, but this one — this test was the most important one and he didn’t score high…he never did. He wants to say it is because of you, but it is mostly, because of his own mind.

Sighing, his hand runs through his hair, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He feels his friend leaning over his shoulder, a low whistle blowing against his cheek. “That’s not good.” Says, the long haired blonde, making him look at his paper and not to his surprise he did better than him.

His eyes go briefly to you, but his vision is blocked by a bunch of student who are already making their way out of the auditorium to their next class. He always likes to stay a little behind, because it gets stuffy sometimes and mostly he just likes to wait for you to possibly bump into you…on an accident. However like all those times you are way too quick for him, already packing up your things and putting them back into your worn out luxury bag, it only highlights the distended between you two. How could you do this to him? No, how could he do this to himself?

His hand stills in his short, black hair, fingers a little sticky from gel, nails digging into his head. “I just keep getting distracted—“ He mumbles to himself, though his friend catches it quickly.

“I get it — because look-“ Felix gestures to you just as you put your bag over your shoulder. “How can you pay attention with a thing like that.”

He wants to ignore his friend’s words, but it is the truth. You are so distracting and you don’t even do it on purpose, it’s all him. “I’m gonna ask for a redo.” He sighs out, finally moving to put his things away. The blonde immediately smacks his lips, shaking his head at his statement.

“I don’t know, man. She’s kind of strict, doesn’t give second chances.”

Trailing his eyes over your slowly distancing figure, his lips lift up slightly into a smile. “Watch me—“ Standing up, Felix only raises his hands in a shudder, letting him do whatever he wants.

He wished that he could, so many things. He ignores how his heart beats just a bit faster at the thought of talking to you alone. You always spend your small break in your office — was he distracted by you that much? In every other class he thinks he does a pretty decent job, every class other than yours. And yours was to his luck the most important one. He wonders what you looked like in his years, what kind of student you were. A nerd or a party girl? No, you are too uptight for that in some way and it only reminds him the difference between you and him.

The corridor is quiet, other than the few distant voices behind the close doors he passes by. The clicks of a clock makes him count just how much time he spends thinking through his words. You are not strict, you are just great at your job, but he needs just one more chance to prove you that he is somehow the same as you. He could never be as smart as you, but he wants you think of him — think of him. His feet drags him to the door of your office, black, cursive of your name and titles glaring at him. Even just staring at the door, he can feel your energy. Knocking on the door, his hand shakes a little when he hears an immediate ‘come in’, your voice piercing through him.

Your office is a perfect reflection of you — dark, put together, but somehow screaming. Your figure is sat behind your desk placed in the middle of the room, those glasses you sometimes wore on the end of your nose, eyes staring through the lenses right at him. You look like a liquid sex to him, so naturally alluring he has to wonder if you are a siren in disguise. You are definitely leading him slowly to his end, to you. You lick your brown, matte lips, straightening your back and making your breast press against your sweater that perfectly outlines your curves. “Seungmin…here because of your test I presume?” You can read him like a book.

Nodding, he exhales through his nose by hearing his name coming from your luscious lips. Of course you know his name, you have everything memorized, but still the excitement rising in his chest is immense. He is still standing in the same spot. However you are calling to him to come closer, but he thinks if he did, he would do something really stupid. “Yeah…why did I get such a low score?” Seungmin knows why, because the reason is right in front of him. He feels stupid to even ask such question.

You drink in his frozen state, tilting your head just a little at his words. “In the test, I asked all of you to include both your explanations and the sources where you found these answers in the books I assigned you to read — and you didn’t do that.” You keep your voice low, almost sounding like you were scolding him, but he doesn’t seem to picked it up.

Seungmin points at his head, long index finger pressing into his temple. “Here’s my citations—“ Your lips pull into a smile of amusement, the move making his already raised eyebrows hit his hairline.

“It doesn’t work like that, every information comes from somewhere and you knew before hand.” He enjoys your attention that you are giving him right now, but the tone you use makes him embarrassed. “Next time keep that in mind.”

You end the discussion very quickly and when you turn back to your papers, he feels himself taking a little step closer to you. It does make you glance back at him, raising an challenging eyebrow at him. He is getting desperate. “Isn’t there a way I can redo it or something? Please—“ You wonder if he realizes how much his voice got whiny at the end. You almost coo at him, but the way his face scrunches up in frustration, makes you think twice about your decision.

A short, but heavy silence spreads around the room as your unmoving stare stay at his fidgeting figure. “No.” Is your answer firstly and you take a short breath to gather your thoughts, while his shoulder start to fall in disappointment. “I do not except redos, but you can write an essay regarding this topic.” A big wave of relief washes over him, already nodding his head at your request. His enthusiasm does quiver a little at your next words. “You have till Friday.”

“But that’s like in four days—“

You don’t even shrug at him, already going back to your work, but you do hold yourself not to correct his tone with you. Seungmin should feel greatful, but you still had to make it difficult for him. You know about how tight his schedule is, but that really isn’t your problem. You dismiss him by just a quick wave of your hand, flashing your long, manicured nails at him. He watches you for a second longer, before he walks out of your office, releasing a long sigh. He already is starting to feel tired, because he knows he has to do his best in such short amount of time. However he realizes that you have given him something that you have never given before — a second chance.

────

Seungmin’s eyes were droopy, head pounding, dark circles under his eyelashes. He spend these past few days working and working and for a short while you were put into the back of his mind. He had to do good to secure his grade and the memory of your disapproving face made him work even harder. While writing, trying to get every information that was supposed to be in his head already, it in his exhausted state felt like you were looming over his shoulder. Like a phantom, he can’t lie — there wasn’t a minute that he didn’t think of you while working on the paper.

Something that helped him keep his head high was his friend’s facial expression when he told him how you did give him a second chance to prove himself, though the tiredness around his eyes wasn’t unseen. When Thursday came around Seungmin couldn’t take it anymore. He knew that he was too tired to even pay attention, so was it even necessary to be in school anymore? It was the last lecture of the day and he already had a plan to just skip the next day to finish his work. However even in his hazy state, he wouldn’t be able to make up what he saw when he left the room.

The soft click of the door shutting behind him was quiet, hallway usually filled with students now empty other than your standing figure and the other. Professor Bahng was chatting with you, awfully close to you, the pointed tips of your shoes slightly touching his polished ones. You were smiling…he has never seen you so bright before. Your voice was soft as ever and your eyes strained on the man before you, not even catching his presence. He still made his moves minimal, just not to be caught, but even if he tried really hard, he couldn’t hear anything of the conversation. Seungmin couldn’t fight the jealousy from seeing you being so close to someone and when he saw Professor Bahng’s hand rubbing softly at your arm, he had to sneer.

Gritting his teeth, he almost bites his tongue at those shared secret whisper between you two. You were too out of his league, even if Professor Bahng was successful as well he could never handle you. In Seungmin’s eyes no one could possibly deserve such an amazing woman like you, but he himself could try, he thinks. Your painted lips stretched into a smile, mirroring the man before you, before you with a small flip of your hair turn around to walk the opposite way. The man stood in his spot for a minute longer, watching you walk away and Seungmin is sure that he was looking at your ass with that big, stupid smile on his face.

The glare on his face is hard, eyes moving from you to Professor Bahng who walked pass him, not even acknowledging him. In some way, one side of him didn’t want to know what you two were talking about and the other almost made him kick his Professor’s feet so he would fall face first, hopefully wiping that stupid smile off his face. He didn’t of course, too blinded by the waves of different emotions to be able to do anything.

This small encounter made it a bit harder for him to focus, but with the last bits of strength he had left, he made it. When Seungmin send you the email with his work, he felt proud, but still just a little anxious about what you might think of it. He knows that you like to keep your work organized, he knows how quick you are with everything, he knows from the other students how you would always answer in a record time, but…you didn’t. Maybe it was the hour he send it at, but something is telling him that you are basically glued to atleast one device. You were everywhere, but now, it was like you disappeared. He knows it’s nonsense, but you not responding made him rightfully nervous. He kept refreshing his email, but nothing. He couldn’t sleep, whole saturday ruined for him, because he just couldn’t even breathe without your answer. So it made him do a very stupid thing…

A simple knock was all that it took, the noise was loud to his ears, making him snap back into reality. He can’t fight against his own thoughts anymore. This is all inappropriate, borderline creepy of him to do and when you open the door, your face full of surprise, it makes him think of all possible consequences. Your hand is around the door handle, air getting slightly knocked out of your lungs, but you quickly find your composure. You stare in shock at the man before you, eyes going up and down his lean body.

“Seungmin…” You don’t know what to say for a second and by that he slowly starts to regret showing up at your house. “What are you doing here?” You are a little alarmed by his presence and appearance, but by the look on his face it seems like he is surprised himself.

“You didn’t reply to my email.” The words fly out of his mouth, gasping almost.

Your lips parted, body invisible behind the slightly open door to your home. Big red warning sign blares in your head, though your curiosity is taking over. You are rarely surprised by something, someone and him showing up at your doorstep did make you almost double over. His question, more like a statement, hangs heavy in the air and the small hidden meaning behind it is obvious to both of you. You should feel creeped out, maybe frightened, yet excitement rumbles in your tummy. “I was busy…” You trail off, going back to your almost monotone voice, leg just barely peaking out of door. The movement makes his eyes travel down briefly to your stocking clad leg, but it is hidden again quite quickly, atleast he can still see your face. “How did you know where I live?” You finally ask, red painted lips slowly moving around your words.

Seungmin shrugs a little, trying so hard to play it cool. The truth is that finding out where you live was rather easy and he wished that he knew it sooner. “Felix told me.” His answer makes your features form into realization, eyes going briefly behind him to look into the direction of the small house few minutes away from yours.

“Of course…” You mumble lowly, squinting your eyes at him in the darkness. He is for sure bold to show up like this, unannounced, it’s highly inappropriate — that’s the only word that can summon up this whole situation.

When he sees you closing the door a little at his answer, he immediately puts his foot in the small gap left in the doorway, preventing you from closing the door. “No, wait!” There’s a big desperation in his voice and the looks shared with you are slowly turning into something way more different than before. You should scream at him, at least look a little angered, but you are still as ever. You only look at him, blinking slowly and he at that notices your dark eyeshadow, perfectly outlining your siren eyes. “Please, Miss can you look at it? It won’t take long, I promise—“

There’s a shift in the air. Your stare is hard and piercing. Seungmin thinks that he just dug up his own grave by being so disrespectful and maybe he should have just waited for you to answer a little longer, but the waiting is already eating him up. You don’t say anything, but as you open the door wider that is the only answer he needed. However no relief washes over him, on the other hand, cold sweat starts to gather at his hairline when you let him see you fully.

He has never seen you without your so called uniform, but this…he wonders if these kinds of clothes are just permanently glued to your figure. Your usual skirt however is shorter, ending just at the middle of your yummy thighs that are pushed together as you twirl around. It is like you want to show yourself off to him, a large lump forming at the back of his throat, because he knows that if you would bend over he would see everything. You let him get a short glimpse of your overly tight blouse, few buttons undone at the top. Not to mention your darker make up and pulled up hair — he doesn’t regret coming at this late hour to your house at all anymore.

Stepping in your home he gets a whiff of you, the strong, spicy, yet sweet scent you always wear. He is shaking inside, when he closes the door to your house behind him, leaving you all to himself. One thing that is definitely the most inappropriate is your outfit. He just can’t get over it and he drinks up the view of your naturally swinging hips, leading him further inside your clay home.

Seungmin almost trips over his own feet, while taking his boots off, not wanting to disturb your perfectly polished floor. Following the sounds of your heels clicking, he wonders what exactly got you all dressed up at this late hour. There’s no way you actually prefer staying in your work clothes, nor wearing these high shoes in your house. When you lead him through the small corridor to your lightly lit living room, he sees a coat thrown over the couch, your handbag laying on your black coffee table.

“Do you—“ Seungmin trails off, following you with his eyes as you stop at a small desk with a computer. You do take your work home in some way. “Have any plans…Professor?” Watching you pull out a chair for yourself to sit at the table, you finally look at him. How are you so good at making him feel so unseen, while also making him completely drunk of your presence alone?

There is a subtle smirk on your face, that he thinks is only imaginary, when you turn to your computer, your hand under your chin blocking his view. “That doesn’t concern you.” Your voice sounds unbothered by his small prying, but it still pokes at his heart.

“Just trying to make a conversation.” Seungmin says, though he starts to grow concerned about what you might be doing after you dismiss him. All dolled up, surely it’s not only for yourself. His own thoughts are soon answered, just as he goes around your couch closer to you.

You click away on the screen, watching him by the corner of your eye how he goes to sit at the edge of your grey cushion couch and he almost falls backwards with your next words. “Yes…I’m going on a date.” You say it so smoothly and unbothered, while he on the other hand freezes in his seat.

His worries were just confirmed. His hands form into fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands. The raging jealousy fills his field of vision and if you would turn your head to glance back at him, you would see it in his eyes. Were you surprised by him, just because you were expecting someone else? Someone else to talk to you, listen to your voice — touch you? It’s sick, you are older than him, you have the whole right to go out and have fun, then why does he feel so absolutely betrayed. His lips are set into thin line, stare unmoving from you and he already forgot about what is and what is not appropriate. Well, he was just trying to make a conversation…

“With whom?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, tasting your lip gloss. Your fingers move across the mouse, eyes going over the text before you. He is so easy…you have to bite down at your tongue. Your small silence is making him shake and you thrive in it, enjoying it a little too much. Your eyes, body is facing the computer, eyes flying over his work like you haven’t already read it, however he has your full attention. You feel Seungmin’s eyes on your lips, watching you release your bottom lip from your mouth. “Professor Bahng.” Your lips move slowly, tongue rolling and with his eyes, he sees the answer before he hears it.

Heavy coat of rage falls over him, suffocating him with such jealousy he has to hold himself back. The fact that what he saw in the hallway really was something more than just a friendly conversation is making his blood boil. You were smiling at him, agreeing to go to dinner at such a late hour. It is obvious why, but he just doesn’t want to imagine his filthy hands and mouth all over you. “Mr. Bahng? He is like forty!” His voice is loud, but he doesn’t really care about his behavior.

You click your tongue at him, tilting your head into his direction and flashing your glimmering eyes at his fidgeting figure. “And? Age is just a number.” You are inviting him in, with your change of expression and posture. Was his mind already playing tricks on him or were your words laced with a deeper meaning?

Seungmin trails his eyes over you, but you don’t tell him enough to know that he isn’t imagining it. Are you flirting? Maybe it’s just you, he knows that even a simple word from you makes him shake. He hates it, just as much as he loves it. “Maybe it is…” You look back at him briefly, but you don’t give him much of your attention. You are making him go crazy with your unbothered behavior, you for sure have to know the power you have over him. “But you realize that he just wants to fuck you, right?” The words flew out of his mouth so fast, he almost cringed, but to his surprise you don’t scold him.

You actually laugh, the sound short yet real and he melts into the material of your couch. “Yes, I am aware — that’s why I’m going.” Of course his own cheerful demeanor doesn’t last long, because you just love to play with his emotions. The fact you are letting him use such language, letting him in your own personal life is big for him. He thought you would be more careful about what you say, but when you let him in your home, something changed about you. You are no different, still somewhat cold and collected, but with this light burning in your eyes.

“So…you are really just looking for a booty call, Professor?” Humming, he finds it hard to keep it together. His words are not meant to disrespect you, but they are still really, really bold. Such a question to ask your teacher…The whole situation, how you are letting him talk to you like this, made him for a second forget about his jealousy, because you look very much unmoved by the fact that you were getting ready to get bend over. Seungmin feels spit gathering in his mouth at the thought. Your hair pulled back by his hand, makeup smeared across your face, drool running down your cheek — he really is done for. “I thought, you were not the type.” You do look like a proper lady on the outside and with you being his mentor it shouldn’t bother him what your preferred way of having sex was. You are however captivating, he just can’t help himself. He lost the control over his whole body moments ago.

Your clicking stopped a long ago too, just staring blankly at the last passage of his essay, reading the same sentence over and over again. Looking back at him, you think about what to say next. You want to play with him a bit more, maybe embarrass him, but that seems unlikely. Seungmin never once was truly embarrassed by the choice of his words. Even if he looked spooked a little by his own statements, he still was confident and stood by what he said. Maybe he is just lying to you and to himself. His lean body is hovering a little over you, even if you are sitting a little far away from him, but you both know you has the real power here.

You let your own curiosity win again, putting your hands before you on the table and the subtle push of your breast is instantly noticed by him. “What type did you think I was?” Pursing your red lips, your hair falls slightly into your eyes, but you still see the small flash of bashfulness in him.

Shrugging, he tries hard not to tremble at your stare. “I thought you would be already dating someone...” He swallows the lump in his throat, even though he looks quite collected, it’s like you can still see right through him. You watch him closely, how he swings forward and then backwards in his seat, like he will jump into your direction at any moment. He looks a little lost in thought — well, lost in your cleavage. “Also…I think you need something more than a quick fuck—“

You can’t lie that you didn’t look forward to your little date, but it was more of a conference with a promise fling right after. You also can’t lie that Professor Bahng isn’t attractive and yummy in his round glasses, but you are not too into him. The young man before you is basically offering, but still subtly. Your crossed legs tighten around each other a little, you can’t play blind for that much longer. “Language, Seungmin. You are in my house.” You warn him, but the small smirk on your lips is telling him that it doesn’t mean much. “Besides…everyone has needs that they need to fulfill, even if it’s not in a preferred way.” The light coming from the screen of your computer reflects in your glasses, so he is unable to see your small awaiting look.

Seungmin does make you look at him again as he sits up, putting his hands in his pockets. It seems like you are always waiting for something. He loves your mature tone that you always use, even when you have a smile on your face. Your sultry voice is taking over his body quickly and he has to make fists in his pockets to hide it. He shouldn’t feel so hopeful after hearing you say that you are single. He is naturally surprised, but also not — you are a maneater. “You are saying there’s no one?” He voices out his words slowly, emphasizing on that one specific word. He loves having your attention, even when you would get quiet, he is drowning in your aura. He is already shaking with the possibility that is growing right in front of him. He has to remind himself that maybe you are actually the one making a friendly conversation — but then why are you letting him take a few steps closer after his statement.

You look up at him a little, eyes glaring at him through your glasses. He is already closer than ever before, even back in your office, even when you opened the door for him. He never really realized the distance between you two til now — till now when there is almost none. Your voice stops him from leaning on the table, standing before you with eyes staring right into your open shirt. “Your work…it’s good.” You say, looking between him and the screen. “Atleast from what I’m reading—“ You are not necessarily denying that his other passages are not good, you just can’t help yourself.

The fact that he went to your house mainly because of his essay is long forgotten, but he still feels relief wash over him. “Thank you.” Both of your voices get quieter and it’s chilling. The tension can’t be ignored anymore, he knows you feel it too, there’s no way you don’t.

His brown eyes travel over your body, at your pushed up breast and then your legs. The skirt you are wearing is almost at your waist, because of your crossed legs. Even in the dark he can see your muscles spasming just how tight they are pressed against each other. Seungmin mouth is dry, when he looks back at you. You are battling your eyelashes, your pretty, glossy lips looking good enough to eat. He doesn’t hold back anymore, it’s now all clear to him — you want him to make the first move.

You are still sitting in your spot, when he walks around the table to stop right at the corner. He is still leaving some space between you two and he swears your breathing started to got a little faster. This is all becoming so difficult for him and even you — why does the most forbidden things taste the most delicious? You have him wrapped around your pretty little finger. The smile you are wearing is anything, but innocent and the way you twirl around to face him fully is making it hard for him to even breathe. Seungmin leans closer to you, hands still in his pockets and he has to wonder if you can tell why exactly he is doing that. “Are you still going on that date?” He asks and he somehow knows that even this thing and marking his work already flew over both yours heads.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You think something changed my mind?” Your eyes are droopy, tilting your head at him. He has to laugh drily, because you are starting to drive him mad with your tactics.

“Fuck — stop playing with me…” The smile disappears from your lips, but you don’t look any moved, on the other hand you look even more amused. There is something about how you shuffle a little lower on your chair that really sets him off.

You really are just playing with him and he lets you regardless, however he has enough of it. Your breathing is heavier, lips parted, while he watches you uncross your legs. His hovering body over yours didn’t make him feel like was the one above things. Seungmin gasps softly at the sight of your inner thighs, skin still covered by your black stockings, the dark material masking everything to his displeasure. He truly is the one who made the first move, but you make the first touch — with your leg outstretched, you poke at his thigh, heel perfectly piercing his hand in his pocket.

The move makes his knees buckle, sweat gathering at his hairline when you lay your foot flat, pushing right into his bulge. You swear you can feel him pulsating under you. The one prominent vein pressing against the thin skin of his neck is telling you all that you need to know. He’s been hard since the moment he saw your mini skirt, his cock leaking and making an absolute mess. The groan that leaves him is loud, cutting through the thick air in the room. His eyes momentarily close at the relief, cock jumping from your touch, but when he looks back at you, it makes you stop.

Your leg falls down, your touch leaving him way too quickly. Your movements made your skirt just barely graze your upper thighs and he knows if you would open your legs, he would see your soaked cunt. In his hazy state, he has to stabilize himself with a hand on the table, so close to yours. You smack your lips together, him following your eyes that are staring right at the prominent imprint of his cock. “Well, look at you…” Your voice is breathy, feeling your arousal coat your skin from the sight of the dark spot on his pants.

He is trying to catch his breath, fidgeting in his spot and he is using all his might not to touch you without your permission. “I will make you feel good, better than him…I promise, I will not stop till you say so—“ He just barely leans forward, but you stop him with your leg again, now heel digging at his stomach preventing him from coming closer to you, but it is enough to catch a whiff of your perfume.

You are shaking inside from the look on his face. His usual styled hair is fluffy, soft looking and you can’t wait to run your hands through those strands. “You boys, think you will have a woman at your mercy with a small promise?” His eyes close for a second at your tone, knees buckling under him.

“Please, let me…please…” He hates how much control you have over him, but he soon will realize how much it is the opposite. If it meant to finally feel you, oh he will even beg…

You smile at his whine voice, leg moving up and down his lower tummy, heel catching at his belt. “Never thought you would be the type to beg, Seungmin, but it does look good on you—“

Shaking his head, his gaze is slightly hidden behind by his short hair, but it still feels intense as ever. “I can be anything you want, need…” Seungmin is getting desperate, looking like a hurt puppy, but still like a man that is willing to do anything to please a woman.

There’s so much that a person wants, but you want only one, simple thing. “I just want it to be you.” You say, voice clear and letting him hear the permission he so desperately needed.

His legs are already weak, so when he falls to his knees before you, it feels like the only right thing to do. His move makes you gasp softly, leg that was once on his stomach now on his shoulder, but still your legs are closed. “You won’t say anything—“ You say it like a demand, but there is a genuine concern in your voice. This is all so wrong, being attracted to each other — so forbidden. “You don’t want me to lose my job, do you?” The risks you are taking are high, he knows that and he is more than willing to take this whole interaction to his grave.

Seungmin shakes his head, the risk of getting caught is awfully arousing to him in some way. He would do anything to show your date just how much you love someone younger taking over you. He watches you slowly part your legs, the soft light of the room, making your basically uncovered pussy glisten. His mouth falls open at the sight, nothing other than the thin material of your stockings is his way. “Fuck…no way you were going to walk out like that.” He sees your eyes darting away from him and his cock jumps at the small move. You are both gasping when his hands travel up your legs, nails creating tears in your stockings and you don’t feel even a little frustrated. His hands are hot, warming you up and making you melt under him. His long fingers stop at your pubic bone, eyes meeting, just as he tears the middle part of your stockings.

A groan leaves him, mixing with your sharp gasp at his action. His eyes are drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt, left hand that is wrapped around your leg digging into your skin. “He could never deserve you.” With his words his mouth stays open, leaning closer to your center and the only thing that stops him before he could lick a long stripe up your folds is your hand his hair.

“You think you do?” There’s a genuine smile on your lips, feeling you play with the short strands of his hair.

“I’ll work for it.”

With that said he leans to catch the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth. The material of your stockings is tearing around his teeth that nibble at you. You sigh in pleasure, head rolling back as he makes his way up your leg, right to your cunt. You feel your juices sliding down your ass, creating a pool under you and he can’t help but grab his covered cock. He is making a mess just like you and he doesn’t waste any time, finally licking at you and moaning at your raw taste.

Seungmin is pent up and just as much he wants to make you feel good, he wants to make you tremble in the same way you do with him. His muscle lays flat against you, running it over your hole, lips, before stopping at your twitching clit. The soft sounds you make are like honey to his ears, making him slurp all of your sweetness into his mouth. The nasty sounds are making you moan louder, tugging at his soft hair, just as moves his tongue from side to side over your bud.

“Seungmin…” He moans with you, watching just as your head rolls back to meet his gaze. He wants to take his time with you, but seeing your glassy eyes is too much for him. “Oh!” You hum in pleasure when his fingers follow the sticky trail left by his tongue.

His rings click against each other, middle and ring finger circling around your hole. For a woman that made him fall to his knees, you sure are becoming a complete whimpering mess. Your glasses are falling from you nose, red lipstick a little faded from your nonsense biting at your lips. His neck is hurting a little from this position, but the pain is all worth it with the whorish moan you let out when he finally slides his fingers into you.

You are warm, dripping, sucking his digits right in and he can’t wait to fuck you on his cock. He needs it, you have to let him fuck you — he has to prove it you. His fingers curl up, scissoring and trying to find that one spot that makes you shake. He can feel your nerve endings pulsating in your clit as he wraps his lips around it, sucking just right, making you slide down your seat. You help him with his neck pain by putting your leg onto the table, pushing your hips up and he doesn’t even move away from you as you change your position.

His mouth is glued to you, fingers fidgeting till he hear a soft whimper, as his fingertips press against the squishy softness inside you. Your nails dig into his scalp, rutting against him, when he starts to quicken his movements. Your mouth is open, eyebrows furrowed, completely impressed by how good he is at reading your body. “Keep going — just like that, fuck!” He never heard you talk so loud and your curse is echoed, when he feels your walls contract around him.

Seungmin is letting his spit mix with your pleasures, drooling all over you. Your erratic movements are making him dizzy, eyes unmoving from you. He is so lost in you, he literally nibbles at your mound and to his surprise you only pull him closer to you. The squelching noises coming from your cunt every time he would move his fingers is making him ache, his other hand palming at his rock hard cock. A drunk smile spreads across his face when with a particular suck at your abused clit he hears you moan wildly.

You are so close, tasting your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. His fingers are in you so deep, fucking you with them so hard that you feel them in your throat. When a small whimper leaves him, your leg falls down off the table, ass lifting from your seat, your trembling legs wrapping around his head. The sound of your moans is slightly muffled by your thighs, but thankfully he still sees how your eyes rolls into the back of your head. He feels how your pussy tightens around his fingers, how your clit jumps between his lips and he has to take his hand off himself not to cum with you.

Your release coats his face, your legs and the hand in his hair pushes his nose right into you and he just takes it. You are shaking in your seat, moan getting caught in your throat at the waves of undying pleasure. You can’t get enough of it however. Your walls are sucking his fingers deeper, almost reaching your cervix and when your legs fall from his red, ringing ears, it’s clear than you are yet not done with him.

Your hand tugs at his hair, his mouth leaving you with a pop, heavy breaths tickling your soaked center. The look on your face is pure ecstasy, your hair messy, glasses fogged up. You glance at each other for a second longer trying to catch your breath, but then you abruptly stand up on your shaking legs, him slightly helping you find your balance with his hands digging into your thighs. He has to hiss when you tug at his hair again, his scalp stinging, when you pull him up to his own feet. “Sit.” The demand makes him groan, letting you twirl him around and push at his chest to only fall into the same chair he just eat you out on.

Seungmin manspreads on instinct and you bite your lip at the sight of him. He looks so dirty and so ready to let you do anything to him as long as he got to touch you again. You don’t keep him waiting for long, when you go to sit down on his inviting lap. “You are so hard…does it hurt?” Cooing at him, his mouth falls open at the feeling of your bare cunt on his clothed cock.

“Fuck me…” Groaning, his hands immediately find your hips, helping you ground on him. His face is leveled with your tits, before his eyes look up to you, watching you take deep breaths through your lips. His eyes linger on them, looking up at you with big eyes.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?”

It’s evil how you smile so sweetly while moving on top of him like this, each thrust growing harder and harder, the material of his pants rubbing at your swollen pussy. He can feel you soaking him, fingers going up to your waist to hold you closer to him. He would loved that actually — he will lose his mind otherwise. Your perfectly pouty lips are so close to him, breaths mixing together, but you don’t lean in. “I’ve been good…” His voice is soft, swallowing harshly by the addicting rolls of your hips. He can feel everything — your taste on his tongue, your pussy leaking and soaking his pants, your manicured nails piercing his shoulders…

You can’t help it, but moan too, your hand caressing his cheek, thumb pulling at his bottom lip. “Yes…you are.” Your praise is silenced by his lips on yours, tongue already pushing into your mouth. It’s all spit, loud smacks of your mouths echoing around your living room and you think you would be satisfied with just that, but there’s nothing you want to see more than his face when he is finally inside you.

Seungmin’s hands fly to your face, palms pushing and squishing your cheeks as he deepens the kiss. Your glasses dig into his nose a little, hands hungrily grabbing at you while yours do the same, stopping at his belt. Your nails click on the metal and the sound wakes him up a little, helping you unbuckle it. When he feels your hands on the skin of his stomach he is already gone, though something comes over him. “I don’t have a condom—“ Seungmin pulls away from you, trying to catch his breath.

You don’t even stop pulling at his pants, tickling him a little with your touch. “It’s alright, I’m on the pill.” He puffs out air, small shock striking him at your words. Seungmin is literally trembling, not even thinking twice before he lifts you up from his lap slightly to let his cock to spring free. The cold air kisses his leaking tip and he hopes you are liking what are seeing when your eyes travel downwards.

You can’t see much of anything, but wrapping your hand around his length told you everything. He is long, veiny, hot to touch and the short trimmed hairs at the base makes you wonder if this was his plan all along. You however can’t really think straight with the faces he is making already and the painful ache in your core, makes you level his mushroom tip to your entrance. You are so fucking hot right now, it’s suffocating you. Just smearing his precum over your hole has you shaking, gripping tightly onto his shoulder as you slowly slide down on him.

Seungmin chokes at how tight and perfect you feel and he knows that he won’t last long. However that makes you even more aroused. Something about him not being able to handle you, already looking so overstimulated just by feeling you slide in and out of you is so good. “You are so fucking hot—“ His eyes are big, going all over you, while leaning back into the chair to give you more room. Your moves are smooth, hips rolling, rising before bottoming out again. Your slick is sliding down to his balls, the sounds of your bodies colliding together filling his ringing ears. He is breathing heavier, hands dragging across you till they stop at your bouncing breasts, smushing them together.

His touch feels in a way possessive and glancing at his face, the pull at his dark eyebrows is making your legs tremble. His cock hits your cervix every time, soft hair scratching at your puffy clit. Your glasses almost fall from your nose by your erratic movements, but he thankfully catches them before they could fall on the ground. He marvels in your beauty, loving the way your lipstick is smudge across your parted lips and he just knows his are stained as well. He can feel your heart hammering against your chest, his hands grappling at your shirt so roughly you can hear it tearing. You don’t even care anymore — you are going to end up a complete mess either way.

He observes you so closely it’s almost nerve racking. Seungmin’s darkened eyes go to your neck, so bare and inviting, his hand gripping at your hip to jerk his hips up a little. It makes you gasp, stopping for just a split second, but when he does it again your legs gave up around him. The more you stop moving the more he fucks up into you and you have to hold back a loud whine from his hard thrusts.

He curses under his breath, when your head tilts back, body arching into him. Your hair is a complete mess, shirt popped open, letting him see the black lacy bra wrapped around your pretty tits. He almost growls at the thought that he almost let someone else see you like this, make you crumble and cry like this — they wouldn’t be able to. The fact you are basically wearing something he would maybe see you in school is making all of his fucked up fantasies better — now it’s a reality. His senses are so heightened that he can even hear the sound of your heels scraping against the floor, trying to find your balance.

He can feel himself slowly falling over the edge, his own legs shaking from lifting you up to bounce you on his cock. The way your sighs get whiner is making it difficult for him to keep his composure. “You are so fucking distracting with your little outfits — c-couldn’t stop thinking about you like t-this–“ His voice is so shaky, he almost thinks you didn’t even hear him, but then he can see the smile even from your head being turned away from him.

“I know, I noticed.”

A gasp leaves you, eyes shooting open when you suddenly feel his hand on your throat. “Say it again.” With glassy eyes you meet his crazed ones. Your face scrunches up, hand flying over his, but you don’t move it away from you. The pressure he applies next, makes you drool and he catches it with his tongue swiping across your bottom lip.

That is probably the most unexpected yet hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. The sudden change of dominance suits him so much, you are not having any trouble at succumbing to it. His mouth his so close to yours that your every word bounces of his lips. “I noticed you…” Mewling your hands fly to grip at his t-shirt, tugging it closer to you to maybe stop him from going so hard on you. When his long fingers tighten even more around your neck, skin burning under his rings, you start to feel the very familiar rumbling in your lower tummy. “S-Seungmin—“ The sound of his name coming from you, while you look so fucked out, makes him crumble.

“Please, cum for me.” Seungmin’s hand around your throat pulls you closer to him, shaking hand squeezing between where your bodies meet to find your clit. “I w-want to fill you up so bad, but I n-need you to cum first.”

He rolls, pinches at your bud, your body jerking up with just his movements and the show of power. The way he can be everything you want, how he can read you, your body and heart makes your last sound of pleasure form into silent scream. You are shaking wildly, sweating as the rope snaps in you, throwing you over the edge. In your state of euphoria, you don’t even hear how his breathing becomes rigid, but you do feel the nearly painful thrust of his hips.

You swear his tip breaches your cervix, the move, making your eyes open, just in time to see his frown of pleasure. A pathetic whimper falls from him, closing his eyes, body slumping against the chair as his cock twitches wildly around you, filling you up with his release. “S-so good–“ You lick your lips as you feel his cum painting you, it was so much that you can almost immediately feel it leaking out of you.

Seungmin head is empty for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he stares with wide eyes at the ceiling. The realization of what just happened — what he did, makes his orgasm feel even better. He feels your body slump forward, falling against his and he shouldn’t smile so much when he sees your eyes peaking up at him. He removes your hair from your hot face, flashing you such a sweet smile that seems laughable after everything that happened. “Will you…go on a date with me, Professor?” His question makes you laugh, smile not leaving your pretty face.

Your own hand pulls his short hair back from his forehead, losing yourself way too quickly at the stars in his eyes. “Call me by my name and sure, pretty boy–“ He grins even wider than before, pulling you up on his body to kiss you. However it does make you both moan in overstimulation, because his cock drags across your walls. With the look you two share next it’s clear that maybe a silly date will have to wait…

[lolxdswag123]

Just friends?

Percy Jackson x reader

Warnings: making out, I think that’s it tbh

——————————————————————————

My brain was fried. I had been working on homework and studying for hours all week. I had just about isolated myself in the library, and even managed to get on a first-name basis with the librarian.

I regretted my decision to take so many credits this semester, but I just got so excited when I got into New Rome University that I went a little overboard. The only person who was taking more classes than me was Annabeth- of course. She had spent some time with me in the library this week, but other than that I hadn't gotten any social interaction outside of my classes. I knew my best friend Percy was probably wondering where I was.

I submitted a paper that I didn't even have the energy to proofread. I just was hoping for the best at that point. Just as I clicked submit, I got a text notification on my computer. It was such a relief to be able to use normal technology at school. It was so hard in the mortal world to constantly explain why I couldn't have phone.

The text was from Percy.

Where have you been? Haven't seen you all week

I smiled, immediately pulling out my phone to text him back.

Library. So much work :(

I glanced over at the window, seeing that the sun had begun setting. I sighed, pulling out some of my notes to begin studying. I only got a few minutes in before my brain couldn’t take in any more, and I checked my phone once again. Percy had responded.

Got any free time tonight?

I rolled my eyes. ‘Only for you’ I thought, although I decided not to text it.

What do you have in mind?

After I sent that text, I tried my best to give my attention to my notes. Again, I failed. I wasn’t sure my brain could take in another ounce of information without giving up on me.

I slowly packed up my belongings, deciding it would be best for me to just go back to my dorm. When I exited the library, it was dark. I quickly walked back to my room. As soon as I got there, I dropped my backpack, changing into comfortable clothes. My phone buzzed again.

Want to come over?

I yawned, considering it, then deciding I didn’t have the energy to leave my dorm tonight.

Can you come here?

I hadn’t even finished putting my hair up when he responded.

On my way

I smiled, unlocking the door and turning on my tv before getting comfortable on my bed.

I was relieved to be seeing him again after my extremely long week. When we were growing up, we had gotten used to only seeing each other in the summer. At college however, we saw each other at least four times a week. Even when it’s doing small things— walking to class, going to the dining hall— we had really gotten used to eachother’s presence this year. It felt weird to go a week without seeing him.

I also was slightly relieved that it would just be the two of us tonight. I loved Annabeth so much, but I honestly didn’t have the social battery to interact with more than one person after my mental exhaustion. Plus, Annabeth would be doing homework all weekend anyways.

A few minutes after I’d gotten comfortable, I heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” I called.

A moment later, my best friend came walking through the door with a plastic bag and a cup carrier in his hand. I smiled, standing to close and lock the door behind him.

“Hey,” he said, setting the drinks on my desk.

“What’s this?” I asked, gesturing to the bag.

He shrugged, holding it up slightly, “I just assumed you’d be too busy to think about eating, so I picked up some take out for us.”

I beamed up at him, gratefully taking the bag and thanking him.

After being best friends with someone for almost ten years, you really get to learn how they work. Percy always was one that hit the nail on the head when it came to my habits. He was right, I probably would have forgotten about dinner if he hadn’t brought it.

He kicked his shoes off, jumping onto my bed and pointing to the drinks, “I also got some hot chocolate, I wasn’t sure if you wanted any, but I was stopping anyway.”

I nodded, smiling at him, “Thank you, Percy. You’re the best.”

We both sat on my bed, watching the new season of Outerbanks together as we ate our dinner. I tried my best to pay attention to the show, but I couldn’t stop myself from yawning and zoning out.

When we both finished our food, Percy stood, taking the trash from my bed and throwing it into my trash can. I yawned again.

“You okay? I can go if you want to just go to bed,” he said.

I shook my head, “I’m okay,” I said, patting the spot next to me, “stay a little.”

I knew that I needed sleep, but I missed his presence. It felt weird that this was the first time seeing him in days.

I layed down on my bed, getting comfortable and yawning again. Percy paused the show, taking his place next to me again and laying on his side to face me.

“My mom called today,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” I said, “how is she doing?”

He chuckled, “she’s good, she said she’s happy you and Annabeth are here to ‘keep me in check’,” he said, using air quotes on the last bit.

I laughed, “seems like it’s the other way around right now, I wouldn’t have even remembered dinner if you didn’t bring it to me.”

He paused, rolling onto his back and fiddling with the edge of his sweatshirt sleeve. He didn’t say anything, and I could immediately tell that something was off.

“What’s up?” I said, still facing him. I found myself staring at his pretty face, and thinking about what Annabeth had been saying to me earlier that week. She always said that Percy and I should ‘stop pretending and just get together.’

It definitely wasn’t something that I could say I’ve never considered, I just couldn’t risk ruining the friendship. I’d seen several of my college friends lose their friends by taking it a step too far. I would never recover if I made things awkward between us.

He interrupted my thoughts, when he spoke again. “Paul and my mom asked about you.”

I smiled, moving slightly closer to him to get more comfortable, “Oh yeah? What did they say?”

He looked back down at his sleeve, fiddling with it again. He paused for another moment, before saying, “Just like— they keep asking about us…”

I hesitated, having an idea of what he meant, but I decided to push, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, tossing his arms down to his sides and staring back at the ceiling, “They like… make assumptions— just because we hangout so much.”

I nodded, deciding to question him further, “We hangout with Annabeth too most of the time.”

He glanced over at me, opening his mouth like he was about to say something, but turned back to the ceiling and began playing with his sleeve again.

I leaned forward to rest a hand on his arm, which he glanced at, before looking back at the ceiling.

I took a deep breath, realizing that he wasn’t going to speak up, so I did. “So they’re inquiring into the nature of our relationship?”

He snapped his head over to me, brows furrowing in confusion.

I laughed, “They are asking if we’re really just friends?”

He turned his head back to face the ceiling, “Ohhhh, yeah. Pretty much.”

I nodded, removing my hand from his arm and propping myself up slightly to get a better look at his face.

“And what did you say?” I asked.

He turned on his side, fully facing me now, and propped himself up on his arm so we were looking at eachother.

He breathed in, before saying, “I said I’m not really sure.”

I nodded, looking into his eyes and knowing where this conversation was leading. We’d been putting it off for years. It scared me. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but looking into his sea-green eyes I knew that I couldn’t keep pretending.

“You’re not really sure?” I asked, cocking my head slightly to the side.

“I mean…” he started, and I watched his eyes scan my face before continuing, “I don’t know. It felt weird not seeing you this week. Like… I missed you.”

I laughed at his awkwardness, but said, “I missed you too, Percy.”

I swore I could see his gaze flicker down to my lips for a millisecond, but I chose to ignore it. It made me feel tense and my heart started racing.

He sighed, nodding, but sounding confident when he said,“What should I say then, next time they ask?”

I could feel my face heat up. I can’t keep dodging this. I can’t avoid it forever.

“What do you want to say?” I asked, trying to stall so that I wouldn’t have to make any decisions.

He pursed his lips, but didn’t lose his confidence, “I think it’d be fair to say that we’re not really just friends. And that we should have had this conversation a while ago.”

I nodded. Of course he knew what I was thinking. How could he not? We know each other almost as well as we know ourselves.

I swallowed, and my voice came out as a whisper, “I think that’d be fair to say.”

He nodded, and his gaze flickered down to my lips again, only slightly more noticeably this time.

I cleared my throat, my heart racing, “So if not friends, then what?” I asked quietly.

He searched my face, and I could feel his breath now. I wasn’t sure when we had gotten so close, but we were really close.

It’s not that I had never kissed a guy, I had. They’d all just been with people I never really cared about. I knew somewhere deep down that I would never really like anyone else. He was always in the back of my mind. And now with his breath on my face, I was nervous. We’d never crossed the line in our friendship beyond the occasional cuddle, but even that was rare.

“What do you want us to be?” He flipped the question on me, and his lip quirked into a small grin.

I paused, not knowing what to say. I searched his face, eyes focusing on his lips for a second longer than they should’ve.

“Can I be honest?” I whispered, eyes falling to his lips again before meeting his eyes.

He nodded, his eyes falling to my lips too. I could hear his breath quicken as the distance between us seemed to shrink.

“I’ve known we should’ve had this conversation for a long time, but now that we’re having it I don’t really know what to say,” I said, and his gaze returned to my eyes, “I really care about you, Percy.”

He nodded, “I really care about you, too.”

We stared at eachother, neither of us knowing what to do. Neither of us had ever been in a real relationship before. It was new territory for both of us. But of course Percy always knows exactly what to say.

“Will you go out with me? Tomorrow night?” He asked, before quickly saying, “Unless you have too much work, I mean.”

I smiled, feeling a fluttery sensation in my stomach before saying, “I’d love to.”

He nodded, scooting closer to me, “Yeah?”

I nodded, biting my lip and smiling, “Yeah.”

Our faces were inches from each other now. I let my gaze fall to his lips, and his hand reached out to rest on my jaw.

Slowly, he finally leaned in. His lips touched mine, softly at first, like he was scared that if he moved too fast, he might break me. I let out a soft exhale through my mode, and he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. I could feel his hand slide from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.

We pulled away for a moment, both of us breathing heavy, and looking deeply into eachothers eyes. We both had massive grins painted on our face. Without a second thought, our lips were on eachothers again.

The room suddenly felt hot. My hands made their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my finger tips. All I can think is— why did we wait so long? I let my fingers curl in his shirt, bringing him closer, as the kiss quickly grows more urgent, more intense.

He held me tightly, like he was afraid I might slip away. I felt his hand slide down to my waist, pressing me against him. I let out a quiet gasp as he pulled me onto his lap, firmly guiding me until I straddled him. Nothing else mattered. Just him, our lips, the feeling of our bodies so close together after so many years.

His fingers hesitantly trailed up under my shirt, the touch sending shivers through me as he let his fingertips move along my bare skin. I could feel my breathing pick up, my hands sliding up to his shoulders. I found the courage to tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He pulled away, breaking the kiss just long enough to let me lift it over his head, revealing the warm skin beneath. My hands explored his chest, his shoulders, feeling every inch of him as he watched me with that soft, intense gaze, like he’s waiting for my every move.

He slowly pushed my shirt up, and I shakily lifted my arms, letting him slide it off. When it was off, we locked eyes, still smiling like idiots. His hands quickly found my waist again, his fingers splaying across my back as he pulled me close, his lips finding mine once more. I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine, the slight brush of his chest as I pressed myself against him, feeling his heart racing just as fast as mine.

He grabbed my hips, encouraging me to move back and forth. I gasped into the kiss, and began grinding with his grip. We moved together, the friction between us heavy, and I let out a quiet moan. I couldn’t believe we were really doing this. I felt him shiver at the sound, his breath catching as he presses his forehead to mine, pulling away from the kiss but not stopping his movements.

“Gods,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely more than a breath. “I’ve wanted us for so long.”

I could almost feel tears prickle in my eyes, as I breathlessly replied, “Me too.”

He leaned down, kissing my neck with an intensity that I never knew he was capable of. He nipped and kissed, only pausing to mumble, “Since we were 15.”

His confession sent a surge of warmth through me, my hands moving to explore his back, tracing the muscles there. The muscles that I was so familiar with. That I’d seen in battle countless times.

I felt him shudder, his grip on my waist tightening as he lifted his head from my neck, pressing me against him with a need that matched my own. I rolled my hips, feeling the heat build, and he let out a low, breathless groan, his fingers digging into my skin as he joined our lips together again.

Our kiss was electric, heavy, and full of everything we wanted to say and do to each other for years. I leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his, feeling the warmth of his skin. My eyes welled when he stopped moving our hips together, and I saw the soft, vulnerable smile that played at his lips as he whispered my name like a promise.

I whispered his back, feeling my heart fill with an affection that I’d been holding back all these years.

We stayed like that for a while, embracing each other with a few soft, stolen kisses every now and then. We whispered to each other about how happy we were, and he suggested a few dinner places for tomorrow night.

Eventually, we decided to lay down together, but when I finally got comfortable he sat up, saying it’s late and he should probably let me sleep.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes, “Stay, dummy.”

He smiled brightly, and layed back down, embracing me again. We fell asleep like that, only to be woken up the next morning by a knock on my door. I hadn’t been expecting anyone, but I nudged Percy awake.

We looked at each other, wide eyed, and scrambled to find our shirts and fix our appearances.

The knock came again.

“Just a second!” I called out, combing through my hair with my fingers as Percy carefully straightened out my blankets. He gave me a thumbs up when it looked satisfactory.

I nodded, turning to open the door. There stood Annabeth, open notebook in hand, not looking up yet but saying, “Gods, what took you so long?”

I looked at Percy for help, before hesitantly saying, “Sorry, my room was a mess.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, looking up suspiciously, when her eyes caught on Percy. She smirked, closing her book and looking between us.

She checked her watch with a knowing smirk, “Wow, Percy, what are you doing here so early?”

I could feel my face heat up, as Percy struggled to find his words.

“I- uhhh… yeah…” he so eloquently said.

Annabeth shook her head, smiling at us. “It’s about time. I’m going to the library, was just going to see if you wanted to come, but obviously you’re already occupied.” She said, turning and walking back down the hall.

I closed the door as she walked away, and Percy’s face was just as bright red as mine felt.

We stared at eachother for a moment, both of us unsure of what to do.

“Wanna get back in bed?” Percy asked, scratching the back of his neck.

I smiled, taking his hand and dragging him back up to my bed. “I’d love to.”

[ghostieblr]

Melting Glaciers

Because the universe is unfair, it gives Derek Hale a kitten. One that is just as black as his wolf fur, and just as scary looking until you manage to get close to her by a painstakingly long process of trust exercises and find that oh, she's the most adorable thing in the world, too.

See, Stiles is a realist. When constant skirmishes with one certain older werewolfman, where his life was equally threatened and saved by this said werewolfman, made his little Stiles happy to the point of constant little deaths in the not-so-privacy of his bedroom, he'd choked down the realization of not being so straight as he'd mistakenly thought. At the time, the sorrow of it had more to do with the fact that his crushes were always so unattainable rather than the fact that it was a man he was crushing on, one that his dad had arrested too. And then when his dad was brought into the fold of the hidden layer in their world, and he saw his dad recognize the real Derek, he knew he had his dad's permission.

His dad's always been a realist, too. Stiles' affection is anything but secret when it comes to Derek, because he deserves all the good things in the world, and despite his design to push and prod until the person Stiles is talking to comes undone and shares their secrets, Stiles has done anything but that with him. In the beginning, it was curiousity. It was his desire to know the unknown, to gather all the facts, to know enough to get over Derek Fuckin' Hale. Somewhere down the line, but very close to beginning, his feelings turned warmer, though. Glacier of ice melting into rivulets of water, carried away on a sea of emotions he'd denied himself to dip toes in for far too long.

And now that Derek's brought home a kitten he found abandoned near the Walmart, and named her Princess of all things, Stiles has been forced to take a fucking dive into that sea.

He makes a choked off sound when Derek, in the middle of the Loft, takes off his soft-looking, cozy green henley, and Stiles is assualted with the very vivid view of his gorgeous abs.

Derek opens his arms and Princess, deeming it her cue, climbs atop him, her little claws her little helpers, and Derek's enchanting smile Stiles' doom. Once she's nestled against his chest, he looks at Stiles. Another sound falls from Stiles' mouth, without his permission. It's a whine, he thinks; a call for help.

"You okay?"

O-K-A-Y. Four letter word, where sometimes the last two alphabets are unnecessary. Just like this question.

"What do you think!" Oh no. He needs to calm down. Princess is looking at him, her green eyes wide and anxious. Stiles whispers, hisses really, "Her! You! Henley!"

Derek looks at his little princess, then looks back at him. "You are not making sense, Stiles." Looks back at Princess, says, "Your Tata is acting crazy." Princess meows, as if in agreement, and oh fuck, seriously universe? Why should Derek look so damned adorable when he's just paying attention to his kitten like many others do! Hell, Peter was doing the same thing in the last pack meeting, and Stiles had thought nothing of it. But Derek does it, and it's like Stiles has discovered a whole new world of kinks. What the hell.

During Stiles' inner freakout, Derek has managed to sit on the couch, and now he's petting Princess, who is still attached to his chest like a barnacle. Why isn't Stiles a kitten?

Wait.

"DID YOU JUST ME CALL ME HER TATA?!"

Princess hisses quite venomously at him, probably at the volume of his voice, because Derek winces too. Oops. But no, not oops!

This is serious business.

He points a finger at Princess. "Don't talk to me like that young lady," he waggles his finger for emphasis. She follows it with her eyes, looks at Derek once, then settles down and watches him with wide, unblinking eyes. What an attitude on this one. Just like her dad, really. Who is... looking at him, the corner of his lips tilted up in amusement. "You. Words. Explain."

"Words are usually his thing," Derek tells Princess, who meows once in acknowledgment. Then he lifts his eyes towards Stiles and pats the free seat beside him. Stiles sits. "I am more of an action person."

And then Derek takes Stiles' hand and puts it on top of his other one, the one Derek's been using to constantly pet Princess. Stiles' breath stops for a moment at the touch.

"Is this okay?"

"More than," Stiles admits, and watches with awe as Derek's eye sparkle under the waning sunlight, the way his mouth stretches further up into a grin, unabashed and unbelievably pretty this close up. Stiles forms a grin in response too. "So," he says, playfulness creeping away the shock. "Since I am her Tata... I vote to name her Princess Leia."

Derek's laughter in response echoes through the Loft, and Princess makes her displeasure known at the vibrations on her comfy spot by jumping onto Stiles' chest. They remove their hands at the movement, and Stiles puts his hands back on her, lets her burrow in his chest. She's already in his heart, anyways.

"Stiles," Derek says when he's calmed down, only a minute later. Stiles isn't even offended; The sound of Derek's laughter is like eating candy. Like pure bliss. "That's already her name."

Stiles blinks.

Derek calls, "Leia, come to dad," and she goes.

"I love you so, so, so much, you don't even know, Derek Hale," the words come out, and he... is not afraid they're out there, because Derek has, once again, Princess Leia on his chest, and his left arm comes around Stiles' shoulders to pull him in towards himself.

Derek kisses the top of his head, and Stiles melts, and he is a realist, so when Derek replies, "I love you, too, so, so, so much," he knows he's done for life.

Stiles' heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale.

As if reading his thoughts, Princess Leia meows, and Stiles amends his mental declaration: his heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale, and the family they create.

[yoonmetogether]

Part 1 – Play Nice

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader - brother/mob boss!Jin, brother/mob boss!Jungkook

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooooow burn, age gap

summary: As you and your brothers finalize the plans for the next chapter in the family business, you end up discovering things that you didn't expect. And upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit.

warnings: angst, arranged marriage, drug addiction/rehab, family drama, parental loss, age gap, alcohol, smoking, mentions of speed racing, crime, drugs and weapons trading, night terrors, ptsd, guns, reader has a knife (and an attitude)

minors pls dni

wc: 19k buckle up, folks!!!

teaser l prologue l part i. play nice I interlude: strangers l part ii. I

You make a mocking face at your phone, specifically the social media app that shoves pictures in your face of your university friends opening up their architecture firm that you were meant to be a part of. Good for them, you think sourly to yourself. You would be happier if you were there with them, before your dreams and plans to settle down in one place were foiled.

It’s been almost a year since they were, right before you finished up your second to last semester of grad school when your brother called to tell you that your father had died.

Your father, who never looked you in the eye. Your father, who you spent too much of your childhood vying for his attention, especially as a teenager, around the time he started to pay more attention to Jungkook. Like when you purposely flunked classes, hoping he’d care enough to yell at you to do better, only for Jin to show up to teacher meetings in sunglasses and a mask but the disappointment wasn’t hidden underneath. Or when you went around shoplifting with your friends and got caught by mall security, wishing he’d be the one to show up and get you out of trouble. But yet again, Jin came in another disguise, and the disappointment was the same. He knew what you were doing, but didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t worth it, because your father would never care. He barely acknowledged your existence.

So, at the news of his passing, you felt nothing. That was until you realized that it meant everything would fall on your brothers’ shoulders. And suddenly, you became a part of the very thing Jin worked so hard to keep you away from. Your duty and prospects became that of carrying out your father’s legacy. Before you knew it, you were set to be engaged to the son of a casino owner, so that you would take over the casino in the city your brothers ran, streets filled with crime and money fueled by Crow blood.

Kim blood. Dirty blood. Your blood. 

Over the summer, you finished up your last semester, rushed through six classes in order to complete all of your credits. You honestly don’t know how you pulled it off. Three weeks before you were scheduled to graduate, Jin called, bearing the bad news that Jungkook had relapsed and was back in rehab, so you needed to come home right away. You didn’t get to walk the stage. And you certainly couldn’t give the school an address to send your diploma to. So everything was lost in the wind.

Jungkook was still in rehab by the time you got a ring shoved on your finger. None of your friends know about the engagement. Granted, none of them can even be invited to the wedding. You can’t even tell them where you’re living now.

You probably will never speak to them again.

Locking your phone and dropping it in your lap, you sigh dramatically as you look out the window at the cloudy weather, the rain that pours on the windshield, the thunder that rumbles from above. It’s been cloudy a lot lately. Or maybe the gloom that’s been sitting in your chest ever since you got married has made everything around you seem dull and gray. Even your house is decorated without color, thanks to your minimalist husband who has no taste for style. He thinks as long as things are expensive, they’re worth having even if it’s all fucking ugly. Your husband didn’t care for your opinion when he picked out the house and furniture, despite the fact that you just graduated with a minor in architecture.

You’re just glad he picked a spot in the woods, right outside of the city.

You’ve always had a talent for decorating, handing it off to the fact that you’ve moved so many times throughout your life, having to buy new furniture since you couldn’t drag it everywhere you went. You became the queen of thrifting. As long as you had your keyboard, favorite posters and plushies, you were good. You took care to make your place your home, a reflection of you and your interests in order to keep you grounded, help you feel like you belonged somewhere, even though you never stayed in one place for too long. Jin preferred it that way, felt it was safer. But it meant you couldn’t have normal friendships or relationships because they wouldn’t keep in touch if you dropped out halfway through the year to transfer to a university in an entirely different place, sometimes a country. It was very destabilizing, and it made things equally lonely, and your brother tried to make up for it by wiring you substantial amounts of money for you to use freely, but responsibly.

You never touched that money. Because how could you as a college student, who worked part-time, low wage jobs, explain the luxuries that your brother’s money could afford? The money that could pay for a few hundred thousand parking lots of the most expensive and rare cars, at least five cities worth of houses, maybe even feed a small country, much less your tuition and rent. No, you would get by on your own. Sometimes you found yourself at a poker table, often dabbling in an underground gambling ring because that’s where you could make the most of your money. (You couldn’t bring yourself to go to a casino. It would make you think of Jungkook and how much he was struggling). Who would expect a young girl who looked like she got lost on her way to a club to be any good at placing bets? It’s not your fault you grew up around brothers and friends who taught you how to play cards, molding you to have phenomenal skills in seeing through people and their tells, that they gave themselves away through their eyes. You learned how to pull off the perfect poker face, faking being naive and innocent, got them to fall in your trap and leaving them in shock when you walked away with fat wads of cash in your pocket. You guess that made you a hypocrite.

But there were times when you ran out of money and had to choose between paying a light bill or buying groceries, and you found yourself considering withdrawing from those offshore bank accounts, but you knew once you started, you wouldn’t stop. So, you would end up eating the best meals of your life in a dark and cold apartment, sitting alone with the guilt of knowing your brothers would be hurt to think you were ashamed of them.

That guilt still lingers, especially now that you’re riding in a tinted SUV, lavish seats and custom interiors, materials and technology not found in cars of the average citizen. You're well out of the bounds of average by now. You don’t feel like you belong even though your brothers are in the exact same boat.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Han asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just..." you sigh, each breath you take doing the opposite of calming the anxiety racing in your veins. "I was supposed to be managing this architecture firm with my uni friends by now, working on biophilic design that connects spaces with nature and all that.”

You hope you're hiding your bitterness better than you think, remembering how excited you’d been to finally do something you were passionate about and how quickly the ball was dropped on that.

"That sounds interesting. Maybe you can incorporate some of that at the casino when you’re doing the renovations."

"Mm. But I don't know if my future father-in-law would be down to have a bunch of plants all over the place." Mr. Han laughs. "Well, if you're the one in charge once you’re married, I don't see why not."

You smile, grateful for his support, but you know as a female CEO among a board of directors and investors that are majority men, you will only get so much leeway. But you'll have to make do with what you have. You’re an expert at this point.

"You've done a good thing by coming back to your brothers now that things are complicated." "I just... I don’t know if I can do it. Y’know. The other part."

That part being the real reason you're getting involved at the Stay Gold casino: to take care of business that belongs to your family. Not just supervising the renovations, or overseeing the slot games, blackjack and roulette tables, but keeping a tight chokehold on the money that flows in and out of all that gambling. Money that serves as a front to what you'll be taking care of behind the scenes. Essentially, you'll be a loan shark. And that's what's been keeping you up at night, knowing what comes with ensuring certain associates make their payments in timely fashions, especially if they're buying protection. At least you’ll be putting your business degree to use. "You are just as smart and tough as your brothers, if not more. You'll be able to handle it, I have no doubts, Miss Jeon."

But I’m not like them, is what you want to say, but shouldn’t because it would be a lie.

"Thanks, Mr. Han. And you know you can call me Angel.”

"Of course. I'm always here if you need anything."

And you know he means it but it's a small comfort. Mr. Han has been your brothers’ driver for as long as you can remember, always so kind and considerate, making you wonder how a man like him ended up in a job like this. When you found out you were going to have to be chauffeured around, you weren’t exactly ecstatic because you love to drive, love the freedom that comes with it, but you figured with Mr. Han, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The SUV drives through an underground tunnel, leading into a narrow road surrounded by a forest that takes you to the gated driveway of your brothers’ extravagant mansion. Mr. Han cracks open the window to speak with the armed guard who then waves to someone you can’t see and the iron-gates buzz open. The tires slowly rumble over the cobblestone, past the grand and meticulously landscaped lawn with many guards littering the property, up to the roundabout in front of the house where there's a tall, sharp-jawed, and suited guard waiting for you. Yeong, the (devastatingly handsome) man who’s been assigned to escort you whenever you show up to meet with your brothers. He opens the door and greets you politely as another guard appears from the back of the car. This one doesn’t say anything as you get out, and you’re glad because you’ve never seen him before and you don’t like interacting with any of your brothers’ men whom you haven’t met. You remind yourself and your constricting throat that these men work for your family, and you’re safer with them around than not. But still. You hate being followed and made to feel like you can’t go anywhere by yourself.

Before you can make it to the porch, your brother enthusiastically swings open one of the large double doors, quickly beckoning you in and shutting the door. As you step in and shuck off your shoes, you notice the indiscreet way he gives your outfit a onceover, like he’s never seen you in sweats before.

“Well, you didn’t have to get all dressed up just for us.” You glare at him, lifting your middle finger.

“Shut up, Jin. Just because you sleep in your suits.”

“That’s Jinnie to you,” he says through puckered lips, squishing your cheeks. “C’mere.”

He pulls you into a strong embrace that you weakly pretend to fight off.

“Missed ya, kiddo.” Taking your coat, he kisses the top of your head, and you mumble similar sentiments into his chest with a small smile that quickly turns into a scowl when he roughly rubs his knuckles into your hair.

You push him away and scurry towards the dining room, stomach growling at the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen. If there’s one thing you’ve missed now that you’ve moved out (again), it’s Jin’s cooking. Your brothers too of course, but that’s a given.

Jungkook is there sitting in his spot, to the left of the head of the table, already eating. It looks like today is one of his good days, and you find yourself smiling. He's eating his food and not just picking at it, the bags under his eyes aren't as prominent, and his hands are steadier than usual.

"Hey, loser. You couldn’t wait for me?" you say to Jungkook as you sit across from him. 

“You’re late,” he mumbles, mouth full of food, glancing at you as he chews. “Is that why you look like shit?”

“Funny, ‘cuz I dressed up like you today.” You stick your tongue out at his glare, becoming distracted when you notice something at the corner of his bottom lip.

“What is- oh that’s a stud. I thought it was a big ass zit.”

“Piss off.” He waves your hand away when you tease poking at the metal ball.

You live for bullying your brother, even though he’s two years older than you. He was pretty mean to you as a kid, so this is just payback. Sure you were annoying, but what are little sisters for? At the end of the day, you know he’s your ride or die, just like you are for him.

“It’s cute. What’s next, a tongue piercing?”

“I draw the line at tongue piercings,” Jin intervenes, calling out from the kitchen. Him and his supersonic hearing. You snicker and Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

“Any new tats?”

He shows you the additions to his full sleeve and you marvel over the designs that he created, asking the inspiration or story behind each one, always fascinated by his talent. You have a knack for drawing yourself - you wouldn’t have the passion for architecture without it - but it’s never been on the same level as Jungkook’s. Dude can paint museum-worthy landscapes and portraits within an hour. He’s annoying like that.

When you’re done examining his arm, you sit back in your chair, snatching a morsel of his food on the way and he grabs your wrist in an attempt to stop you but instead stares at your sleeve.

“Wait, this is my jersey,” he says, ignoring the way you fight to wrestle out of his grip. “I’ve been looking for this!”

“So what? It looks better on me.” You rip your arm away and you’re already halfway out of your chair just as your brother lunges over the table to grab at the jacket. You spring up and out of the dining room, a shrill laugh escaping when you look back to see Jungkook dashing after you.

You may have grown up with him, done taekwondo and thrown loads of rounds in boxing gloves with him, even gotten him into a headlock once or twice, but now he’s built like a bus, and he could bulldoze you down in two seconds flat with no regrets. And it makes you want to scream your head off. 

Sprinting into the living room, you clamber over the back of the couch, knowing Jin would kill you if he saw you with both feet on the cushions, but you’re much more worried about Jungkook closing in on you.

“Go away!” you shriek when he leaps over the couch with ease, like he’s a damn gold medalist in Living Room Olympics.

“Give me my jacket!”

“I’ve had this for like three months, how are you just now missing it?” You point out as you attempt to use the coffee table as a barricade.

“I told you to stop stealing my clothes.”

“It’s only because you have such a cool style.”

He pauses to look at you like he won’t fall for your bullshit compliment. You take this lapse as an opportunity to make a run for it into the kitchen where Jin is filling a carafe of water with fresh-cut berries, rushing to hide behind him at the counter like you used to do as a kid. Jin acts unbothered, barely noticing the way you’re gripping the back of his sweater like a lifeline, only looking over his shoulder when you make a noise as Jungkook jogs towards you.

“Cheater.”

"Yah, come on, you two," Jin admonishes as Jungkook tries to grab you, making you hurry to Jin’s right, grabbing his bicep as if his big guns will protect you.

"He started it."

"Did not!" Jungkook exclaims, and you childishly stick your tongue out at him. 

“Give your brother his jacket,” Jin says in a parental tone. “But I like it.” Turning around, your oldest brother levels you with a look that mirrors the one Jungkook gave you a few minutes ago and you know not to argue anymore, begrudgingly shrugging off the jersey and throwing it at your brother who catches it with a victorious smile.

“Come on, kids, let’s go eat,” Jin says as he picks up the carafe and three glasses.

Both hands on your back, Jungkook pushes you and you stumble forward.

“Ow, don’t push me. Jinnie!”

“Big baby," Jungkook mumbles through his teeth.

“Big bitch," you fire back.

Jin clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath, something about how is it that he has two siblings in their mid-20s who still act like children. And it is pretty interesting, considering you and Jungkook are about to assume control of the fucking mafia. But it’s been years since you’ve played around with your brother, and now that he’s about to take over for Jin, who knows if you’ll ever be able to do this again. The thought creates a bit of a hole in your heart, like digging a grave for something that isn’t gone yet.

Once Jin turns his back, leading the way into the dining room, you and Jungkook exchange various gestures that all silently mean “fuck you.” Jin shoots a knowing glare over his shoulder that makes you both hide your offensive hands behind your backs, forcing yourselves not to laugh.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?”

“No,” you both answer simultaneously. Jin huffs and looks between you two with a shake of his head.

“Sit down and eat before the food that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into gets cold.”

You and Jungkook share an eyeroll at Jin’s drama, digging in so he won’t try some dramatic monologue about cooking.

"So, how are you doing?" Jin asks you a few minutes into the meal. "Fine," you shrug, too focused on the food to give a more complex answer.

"You’re all settled in at the house?"

“Mhmm,” you hum indifferently, feeling your appetite slowly start to slip away. You were hoping you could have a nice, normal night with your brothers, pretending that you aren’t dreading going back to the house, to a fiancé you know next to nothing about and all of the work and unpacked boxes you have waiting in your wing of that big ass, bland ass house.

“How are you two getting along?” Internally sighing, your shoulders deflate.

“He’s not horrible, I guess. But he’s just… I don’t know. Boring. And lame. He thinks his tattoos make him look cool.” You glance at Jungkook and gesture to his sleeve.

“Which is something the two of you have in common.” Jungkook’s lip curls and he points his chopsticks at you and flinches. You blow him a kiss in return that you change to a middle finger.

“He also acts like he’s never been to the grocery store. And I very seriously doubt he can tie his own shoes. His butler does pretty much everything for him.” Just the word ‘butler’ makes you want to throw up, not to mention the fact that you’re about to marry a guy who needs one.

“But things are going okay?” Jin asks just as you shove more food in your mouth. Can’t a girl just eat?

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“I’m just checking in.”

“Okay, but can we not do this right now? Please.” You ignore the way your brothers share a look.

“If things aren’t going well, you need to tell us.”

“Things are going as well as they can for an arranged marriage. We might live on opposite ends of the house, but we’re cordial. You’re not really expecting me to actually like this whole situation, right?” Jin regards you carefully.

“No, but you do need to make sure it all works out.”

Suddenly, you've completely lost your appetite. You scowl and drop your silverware, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed, refusing to look at them both staring at you.

“God, Jin. I agreed to marry him, didn’t I? Picked up my entire fucking life to come back here and help out even though you promised-” You point harshly at Jin who looks at you with a small frown as his fingers rub on the edge of a napkin. You know it’s not his fault but damn, it hurts that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“That I would never have to do that. What more do you want? An heir or something?”

They both wince. “No, of course not.”

“Then lay off my ass about it. I’m fine, okay? Don’t be a helicopter.” “Honey, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“What does it matter? I’m stuck with him either way. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can. I’m only-” But you don’t want to hear anymore. With a grimace, you pick up your plate of unfinished food, scoot back your chair and stand up to head into the kitchen.

Jin leans forward with a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes.

"Way to go, hyung," you hear Jungkook mumble as you storm out of the dining room.

Stewing, you put away your leftovers and start to clean up the counters, knowing you’re the one being dramatic now but you can’t help it. This is supposed to be your safeplace, here with your brothers, especially since time with all three of you together is running out. Right now, you want to forget about all your responsibilities, all the things you have to step up to that you never imagined doing, and you wish your brothers would just go along with it. But they’re more realistic than you, it seems.

You hear dishes clink in the dining room, and soon you’re joined by your brothers, all silently working to clean up the kitchen. You pay no mind to their attempts at getting you to lighten up by nudging your shoulders, flicking water in your direction, and taking over the dish scrubbing, and it isn’t until Jin shoves a glass of sparkling cider in your hands just as you try to make an escape to the living room do you lose your resolve.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jin says as he and Jungkook corral you towards the couch.

You huff, fingers rolling on the stem of the glass, swirling the red content inside, and sit on the plush cushion, your brothers on either side of you.

“I’m not. Just- I can’t remember the last time all three of us have been in one place and I didn’t want to talk about any outside stuff. I just wanted to pretend that things are how they used to be. Because what if-” A lump forms in your throat.

“What if this is actually the last time?” Jin reaches forward and grabs your hand, a serious line knitted through his eyebrows.

“It won’t be. I promise.” “You’ve always told us to never make promises.”

“Well, I made the rules so I can change them. I am going to come back,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but-”

“You know something’s starting right now? Okay, Ariel,” Jungkook cuts in, grinning when you snort and Jin shoots him a scowl, leaning over to roughly ruffle his hair. You laugh at Jungkook’s dirty look when he thinks Jin just messed up his hair and Jin tries to fix it but ends up making it worse and a small hand-slapping fight ensues. This is what you’ll miss. This dynamic, where no matter how hard you all try, you can never be serious.

“Do you think we can go on a trip?” you ask out of the blue, casted by a nostalgic wave longing for memories that make you feel normal.

“Y'know, to the cabin? Just for a couple of days.” Jin smiles, but it’s small. Jungkook doesn’t look at either of you.

Ever since you can remember, any spare time Jin had, he whisked you and Jungkook away to a cabin somewhere in the mountains, never going to the same spot twice. You waited for the days that Jin would show up at the boarding school, make up some excuse to get you both out and drive up to a cabin where he would let you both run wild. In the woods was where you learned how to ride your bike and climb a tree, legs swinging from a branch with Jin standing underneath you, arms held out like you’d fall any second. You were too busy yelling at Jungkook to stop throwing sticks and leaves at you from a few branches above. A cool summer sunset by a river was where you caught your first fish that Jungkook ended up chasing you around with for a good five minutes. You screamed at the top of your lungs, Jungkook cackled maniacally, and Jin did his best not to laugh, only grabbing the fish out of his brother’s hands once you began to run around him like a maypole. Later, you got your revenge by shoving the chopped fish head in his face after Jin started cooking. Jungkook cried all throughout dinner and, in your stubbornness, you refused to apologize so Jin made you hold hands for the remainder of the night until one of you caved.

As you got older and Jin got busier, he would allow you to make plans with your friends to go to a cabin in a discreet location, whether that was in the woods or by the beach. You loved your friends, but you always found yourself missing Jin, wishing he was there to cook and make lame dad jokes, play guitar by a fire he started and act out ridiculous stories until you and Jungkook were rolling on the ground with stomachs that ached from laughing so much.

It wasn’t until you were much older that you realized those trips to the cabin were the only times the three of you spent together where Jin wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder. Sometimes though, he wouldn’t speak for a while, a blank yet morose energy surrounding him that he could only shake himself out of if you and Jungkook poked and prodded him enough. In the woods, he never wore a mask or sunglasses or a variety of hats like he did when he came to pick you up from school. Later down the line, Jungkook had to do that too and that’s when everything started to change. You could no longer see each other unless the location and meeting times were planned in advance, and there were always some men in suits, sunglasses, and dark coats with wires hanging out of their ears accompanying you.

A year after Jungkook graduated from secondary school was when things fell apart. Jin made you promise to never speak about either of them to anyone, and helped you come up with a pseudonym. By the time he shipped you off to study abroad once you started university, you never used your real name and neither did they. From then on, you only spoke to your brothers on the phone, one that you had to pick up at a convenience store and dispose of once you were done. The calls were typically short - Jin asking if you were doing well in school, if you ate enough, had enough money. You rarely spoke with Jungkook, as he spent a lot of time going in and out of rehab, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was learning the family business with Jin. You missed him, your partner in crime, and you wished you could take him with you, keep him away from your father so maybe he could have a chance at healing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Jin explained time and time again, that this was how things had to be. He may have raised both of you, been the reason you were alive and thriving, but he had no control over the circumstances at home. You couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t let you, and for a while, you thought you’d never see your brothers again.

(There was a time when you did go back, but they never knew about it. When you were feeling homesick, you took a ferry to Jeju to visit the beach where you spent a few summers with your brother and your friends. You spent a few days reminiscing about old times, old friends. It was nice to get away, to feel something familiar for a moment, hang on to memories that you would give anything to relive. But you don’t like to think about that trip anymore. And sometimes you wish you’d never gone back.)

Now you just want to go to the cabin to cling onto the past, of how things used to be, because you know nothing will ever again be the same.

"We can't, Angel. I'm sorry. I have to leave in a few days." And just like that, the wave crashes onto the shores of despair.

“What? You said you had until next month.” Your brothers share another look, another tell that they’ve been keeping you out of the loop of something.

“I do, but I think it’s best to leave earlier so it won’t be glaringly obvious that I got tipped on my arrest warrant.”

“Yeah, probably,” you agree dejectedly. “It was just hard not being home all this time, so I wanted us to hang out. I guess I like you guys or something. Weird, right?” “Totally. ‘Cause we hate you,” Jungkook teases. You scoff and grab a pillow to whack him with over Jin’s head. Jin laughs and lets you get in a few hits before tugging the throw out of your hand, whacking the side of your head, and tossing it on the other end of the couch out of reach.

Silence sits between you for a few moments until Jungkook stands, tugs you up on your feet, and shoves his phone into your hands.

He tries to teach you dance moves from Tik Tok trends, laughing a little too hard when you mess up, and Jin ultimately has to break up a small wrestling match. After you finish filming one video that will forever sit in drafts, Jin gets out the game console and wipes the floor with you and Jungkook on Super Mario. He brags loudly, enticing you both to tackle him, but despite your conjoined efforts, he somehow gets you and Jungkook into simultaneous headlocks, not letting go until you profess that he’s the unmatched master of Mario.

Jungkook then puts on his favorite movie, to which you and Jin stifle groans as you’re made to watch Iron Man for what has to be the millionth time. Jungkook just claps giddily when the Avengers theme song blares through the speakers and neither of you can deny this small happiness. It’s good to see him smile. But throughout the movie, you shoot him small glances out of your periphery when you notice him biting his nails and you know he’s zoned out, and that it’s not a good place where his mind wandered off to. You gently grab his hand and push it down, and he goes to cross his arms like he’s ashamed, but you keep hold of his hand, folding them together and resting them between you. Giving your hand a squeeze, he offers you a tiny smile and goes back to fully engage with the movie.

When the credits roll, you tease Jin for immediately yawning and stretching as he announces he’s turning in. You ask Jungkook if he’s up for a game of Overwatch that he starts up without a word and passes you a console.

After a few minutes of playing, Jin emerges from the kitchen with a couple bowls of snacks and bottles of your favorite drinks that he sets down in front of you on the carpet. You both thank him in unison without taking your attention off the game and he huffs an endeared laugh.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jin murmurs from behind you both, ruffling your hair. “Crazy kids.”

“Night, grandpa,” you smirk, laughing when Jin pushes your head.

He goes upstairs and leaves you to play the game. But every now and then, you glance over to Jungkook, wanting to check in on him. It’s been a minute since you've had a one-on-one.

“You look like you’re doing good.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles a bit stiffly, eyes unmoving from the screen, and you take in his tense expression.

“That’s all that matters, bro.” You lightly punch his bicep, and he playfully tips sideways. “You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t seem like he wants to, at least not about certain things, but you need him to know that of all the things that are changing, the fact that you’re his kid sister who he can lean on will stay the same.

“I wish I had been home more often,” you say tentatively. “I know Jin couldn’t always be around.”

He shrugs, nose scrunching. “S’alright, I wasn’t alone. D was there.”

You’ve heard about D. How he had Jungkook’s back in a jail fight a few years ago when Jungkook had a habit of lashing out and starting fights to prove he was tough. Which he was but that didn’t matter if he was outnumbered. When he was booked for a DUI (riding on his motorcycle half-drunk like a dummy) and forced to go through withdrawal, it increased his violent tendencies. After accusing a burly man twice his size for looking at him the wrong way, he found himself getting beat up on by three grown felons in the middle of the yard. He would’ve ended up with a cracked skull if it wasn’t for D. And from then on, he became your brother’s guardian angel of sorts and eventually began working for them.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow at dinner.” You hum, mildly disinterested.

Joy. Spending an evening with your brothers’ capos and guards is just how you wanted to enjoy your last weekend with the both of them. Not.

“And, um, we workout at the boxing club every Friday. Maybe you could join us.”

You look over at him incredulously. There was a time when your brother acted like you tagging along with his friends was a punishment worse than hell.

“You mean you want me to box with you?” He shrugs.

“Gotta make sure you can still fight.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you can still fight. You’ve just been able to get out of precarious situations before you had the need to throw hands. For the most part. That’s the difference between you and your brother - he goes looking for trouble while you do your best to avoid it. But neither of you will be backed into a corner and made to stay there. You won’t go down easy.

“So you down?”

“I won’t be getting in the way of boy time with D?” Smiling, he shakes his head.

“Nah. But you could stand to learn a thing or two from him; he’s a damn good fighter.”

“Better than you?”

“No one’s better than me,” he smirks.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He chuckles and fakes a slow punch on the side of your head.

“You still have that knife I gave you a few years ago?” You think for a moment. Right before you went abroad for college, Jungkook gave you the blade he carried with him everywhere, one that was sheathed in your favorite color and had a strap attached to it. You cherish it, but you’ve never had to use it. But you figure that’s about to change.

“Oh, yeah, it’s somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time to really organize when I was packing. Why?”

“You should keep it on you from now on. Just in case.” 

“You mean you’re not gonna be around to protect me, big brother?” you tease. He shoots you a little smile but when his eyes focus back on the screen, you notice him squint and nibble on his bottom lip for a second. You can’t help the feeling that he’s keeping something to himself.

“Not always.” 

You frown. There was a small comfort in thinking that you could rely on him when for years you’ve been apart, but now as new circumstances arise, you don’t know if you’ll be able to see each other as much as you want to. Definitely not enough to make up for lost time.

Just as you’re about to tell him not to worry because you’re a big girl, more of an assurance to yourself, he clears his throat to change the subject again.

“D is really cool, I think you’ll like him.” You offer a mostly sincere smile, thinking to yourself that it sounds as if your brother is trying to sell you on D’s character. You don’t think you’ll care much for it, since he’s Jungkook’s security and all and you won’t be interacting with him much. But you’ll try if it means something to your brother.

“If he’s anything like you, then I doubt it.” His head snaps in your direction and in a fraction of a second, his arm hooks around your neck and pulls you into him, forcing your face into his shoulder so you can’t see a thing.

You fight your way out of his headlock, exclaiming when you notice that he’s beating your ass on the game, and lean on your elbow to press your foot on his cheek in an attempt to distract him, but he only laughs. You complain and cuss him out as he starts winning and reach over to wrestle the controller out of his hands. As you tussle loudly, Jin’s upstairs bedroom door opens and he calls down the hall,

“Keep it down! I need my beauty sleep!”

“You sure do!” Jungkook shouts back, sending you both in a fit of giggles when you hear his door slam shut loudly in response. You come to a truce, if only to save yourselves from facing a grumpy Jin in the morning.

You play and talk into the wee hours of the sunrise, until you slump next to each other and pass out, bellies full and faces covered with evidence of Jin’s snacks that you demolished.

The sky is a gray-blue hue when you’re stirred by your brother talking in his sleep and his incoherent mumbling makes you coo. But just as you go to cover him up with a blanket, he yells out nonsensically, leg kicking over a near empty bottle and sending the rest of the contents into the carpet. His arm shoots up into the air and panic begins to set in when he thrashes around on the floor. After getting the dishes and consoles out of the way, you run up the stairs to Jin’s room, barging in without knocking so you can quickly wake him up. Shaking his shoulder, you stutter out his name and he groans upon being disturbed.

“God, what-” “He’s having a night terror.” Without a second missed, Jin flings himself out of bed and races out of his room and down the stairs, with you following close behind.

Once back in the living room, Jin rushes to Jungkook’s side, who’s now flailing his limbs and shouting but still fast asleep. You watch as your oldest brother gets on his knees, not hesitating to grab Jungkook’s arms, pin them to his abdomen so he can pull him up and against his chest, all while calling his name to try and wake him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open with a gasp and his body reacts violently against Jin’s who almost ends up with an elbow in the chin. But Jin is an expert at handling Jungkook’s episodes, and he knows just what to do to keep them both safe while he gets him to calm down.

“Shh, bunny,” Jin hushes as Jungkook’s body fights him, rubbing his chest and shoulders to soothe. “It’s okay. I’m here, your sister’s here, you’re alright.”

There are visible tears streaming down your brother’s face and you have to sit on the step and cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying. It hurts so fucking bad to see him this way. It’s been years since the last time you’ve witnessed this, but you know he’s had many in between that Jin has been around for.

“Honey,” Jin calls to you softly above Jungkook’s sobs. “Go up to my bathroom and get out the lock box that’s under the sink. His medicine’s in there. Grab my wallet too, on the dresser.”

With a solemn nod, you stand and turn around as Jungkook slings an arm over Jin’s shoulder to hide in his neck, and your foot freezes mid-step when you hear him loudly wail again and Jin hushes him, rubs his back, and you hurry up the stairs again to grab what you hope will let Jungkook get some rest, some escape, some peace. You come back down with the lockbox and wallet to find Jin sitting on the couch, Jungkook curled up under a blanket with his head in Jin’s lap, chest heaving as he lays on his side. You approach them slowly, and Jin quietly instructs you to get out a small key from his wallet to open the lockbox, which carries Jungkook’s medicine that helps with his anxiety and parasomnia. You head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Jin encourages Jungkook to sit up and by the time you return, he seems to be breathing a little easier. After he drinks down a pill, he lays back down and you hope he’ll be able to sleep without another disruption.

You and Jin watch him for a few moments, and when it finally seems that he’s settled, you share a collective sigh of relief. But still, you’re worried. It scares you to see him that way.

“When was the last time this happened?” Jin looks so tired as he tries not to frown.

“More frequently now that you’re back home. Usually he does better when you’re around but. He feels bad that you’re doing this. He thinks if it weren’t for him and everything that happened, you could’ve stayed abroad and made a life for yourself.”

It’s true. You would never say it to their faces, but it is the truth.

“But… then I would never see you guys again.” Your throat tightens. 

“And now that you’re leaving,” you sniff, tears threatening to prick your waterline. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

In the dim light, Jin beckons you over, soft affection in his eyes, and you squeeze in between him and the end of the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re a good kid, honey. Even though I never wanted this for you, for either of you, I feel better knowing that you’re going to look out for each other.”

“Me too, Jinnie.”

He pats your arm and you sit quietly for a few minutes with your head on his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy again, safe and assured by Jin’s embrace. Jungkook is snoring now, the meds must’ve kicked in. He won’t talk about this in the morning, and neither of you will ask him to.

"And, about Jay,” your eyes blink open at his gentle tone. “I was thinking maybe what we can do is send him out on business trips so he's not around as much.”

You smile, arm curling around his thick bicep. “Thanks, Jinnie.”

“Just play nice, okay? It’ll all work out.”

You nod, too tired to let that potential burden add to your stress. Pretending to be completely fine with the engagement is the least of your worries right now.

The venue that Jin chose to host the small get-together of you and his men sits on the private top floor of one of the many skyscrapers he owns that you’ve had dreams of designing. Yeong walks at a comfortable distance behind you, quiet but gentlemanly. Stoic, which seems to be a uniform demeanor among your brothers’ men, one Jin expects you to replicate. You know that’s really your father’s expectation, but he’s gone. You would find it difficult to respect him anyway.

Striding into the dining hall, you pay no mind to all of his henchmen in the room, only giving focus to the one who stands out among them all, and not just because of his looming height and broad shoulders. Nor are you intimidated by the commandeering authority that follows him wherever he goes.

“Jin!” you call, making all heads turn to you but you act as if no one but your brother is here. He twists to face you with that shining smile of his that you know is reserved for a select few.

When you walk over to the table, air hazy with cigar smoke, liquor, and low conversation, you keep your expression polite despite the heat that spreads through you when all eyes fall on you. Yeong is close behind and reaches out for a chair once you approach the head of the table, greeting your brother who stands up from his proverbial throne to welcome you.

“Hey, sis. You look nice,” he says warmly, leaning in to welcome you into your seat and you smile, thanking Yeong who pushes in your chair once you sit. Just as you do, Jin leans in to whisper in your ear,

“You’ve got to get used to not using real names here, Angel.” Pulling away, you cringe and mouth your apology that he dismisses with a singular nod.

“Uh, where’s bro? He always gives me shit for being late.” Jin smiles as he sits back down.

“He’s on his way. He was at the gym with D.”

You nod and take a look around the room, noticing that you’re the only woman. Since your brother is here, you’re not worried, but it does feel suffocating. Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?

“How you doin’, Angel,” a deep voice says on your right, and your demeanor brightens when you glance over to see Namjoon pulling out the chair next to you.

“Oh, hey, Moon! Aren’t you sick of me by now?” You tease as he sits down, heart blipping at the beautiful smile on his face. You’ve been working with him these past couple of months, Namjoon preparing and training you for your role at the casino. Extremely intelligent and well-versed, he’s not your brother’s right-hand man for no reason. He knows all of the Crow’s business dealings like the back of his hand, and you feel confident having someone like him to guide you. That paired with his easy-going and wholesome persona, and the fact that you could chat with him about books and music for hours, you can’t deny your itty bitty crush on him. If only you weren’t engaged and he didn’t have a girlfriend. At least one of you is in a happy relationship.

“Of you? Never.” You ignore the mild warmth in your cheeks and playfully nudge him with your elbow. Damn him and his natural charisma.

“So, are you ready for next week?” Ugh. You don’t like the anchor of dread that sinks in your gut at the thought of finally becoming an official member of the family business.

“No,” you mumble because there’s no reason to lie to Namjoon.

“Oh, come on. Yes, you are.” Your palms start to sweat and you put the menu down so as to not ruin it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you say quietly, stealing a glance at Jin to make sure he’s not listening, glad he’s too busy accepting a top-off on his drink.

“You have a mentor as amazing and smart as me, you’re more than ready.” You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin.

“You’ve been hanging around Jin too much,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Well, just know that no matter what, I’ll be right there with you so you don’t have to worry.” That fact makes you breathe a little easier, but there’s still a layer of anxiety underneath your skin. Just then, a slender, unfamiliar man walks in and heads straight for Jin who does a double take, immediately holding out a welcoming handshake that lingers a little too long once the man accepts.

“Who’s that?”

“Jung,” Namjoon answers with a single glance. You hold up your menu to hide your face as you whisper,

“Agent Jung?” He nods and turns his cheek to utter another reminder.

“Just be careful where you say that.”

Right. You never know who could be listening, so it’s probably not a good idea to mention the man’s real identity in all this. The CIA agent posing as an informant, but really he’s in cahoots with your brothers, covering up their dirty tracks with the occasional bribe of public officials.

“He goes by Hope, but close friends call him Hobi. You could probably get away with calling him that.”

“What’s he doing here?” You can’t help but watch closely the way your brother engages with Hope. His body language is rigid and fidgety, like he’s nervous, but his eyes are soft and wide. Small indications that there’s definitely something going on between the two of them and you’re excited to gossip about it with Jungkook. Because you know all too well how good Jin is at lying.

“Well, your brother wanted you both to be acquainted because the feds might take an interest in you once you take over the casino. He’ll come back to work undercover again if that happens.”

You still as realization takes over, muscles in your face hardening as your heart does a somersault.

“Is that the big secret?”

“What?”

“They’ve been keeping something from me.”

“Um, I’m- I don’t know,” he says in an uneven cadence, and, looking over at him, you notice a slight purse of his lips and realize he’s a terrible liar.

You just got here, but you already need a breather. The cigar smoke isn’t helping either, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get some fresh air.

As you rise, Yeong habitually appears next to you, but you place a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking your head to tell him it’s not necessary to escort you out. You internally scream when he looks over at your brother, as if needing his permission to let you go without accompaniment. Jin waves two fingers with a nod, silently dismissing Yeong’s duty and you try not to let that small interaction visibly bother you as you turn away from the table.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, but now you just feel isolated. Especially when you pull out your phone, eager to call up one of your friends and vent, but even if they might pick up despite being on another part of the hemisphere, there’s no way you could tell them anything.

You blink and a face you haven’t seen in a long time spawns in the forefront of your mind, heart sinking when you know he would be the one to call at a time like this but you haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since he had a falling out with your brother and left town shortly after without a word, cutting you deep because you thought you were more important to him than that. Even though it hurt, you understood why he left the way he did. You just sometimes wish he could’ve taken you with him.

With no one to call and nowhere else to go, you finish up in the bathroom with a deep breath and a practiced smile in the mirror, rolling your eyes at yourself and heading for the door with a huff at how fake you look. 

When you emerge, your attention is buried in your phone, and you end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurt, feeling two hands hover on your shoulders when you stumble back from being caught off guard. You don’t look up right away, gauging from the black fitted suit and long trench coat that this is one of your brother’s men. 

“No, my fault,” he says and the gravelly timbre in his voice tickles a part of your brain. Normally you’re good at reading people, sometimes from just their aura, but there’s something about him that you can’t quite place. So you keep your head down.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Yeah, he definitely works for your brothers. Everyone who knows who they are, calls them ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ and as their sister, you deserve the same title and respect that comes with it. Another thing you’ll have to get used to. But it still fills you with an odd feeling that you don’t really like, and you excuse yourself, not waiting for him to step out of the way so you can head back to the dining room. As you pass him, you catch the earthy musk of his cologne mixed with underlying traces of mint and something woody and it makes you involuntarily look over your shoulder to see what kind of man wears such a scent, only to find that he’s not there. He disappeared just as quietly as he’d approached.

Back in the room, you smile upon seeing Jungkook sitting to the right of your brother, and you can’t help but go up behind him, playfully smack the back of his head with your clutch, and sit beside him like nothing happened.

“You took my seat,” you say, feeling his glare on you.

“Children,” Jin grits through a smile just as Jungkook opens his mouth to argue. “Let’s not do this in front of company.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance and opts to pinch your leg under the table, and you hold back a squeal, not daring to retaliate when Jin glares at the two of you over the brim of his glass.

As you turn your attention to the menu, you notice in your periphery Jungkook looking over his left shoulder, lifting his hand to someone behind him. When you look back as well, your heart palpitates at the sight of a tall, lithe man with black hair that reaches his neck, slicked behind his ears, and eyes hidden by tinted shades striding towards the table.

“Hey, D,” Jin says to the man as he steps up next to him. “Good to see you.”

So, this is the infamous D.

“Boss,” he acknowledges, and turns to Jungkook to tap his bicep with the back of his hand. “Sorry I brought him late.”

“No worries, you’re just in time to order. Take a seat.” D nods and you watch him slightly lift his chin over Jungkook’s head, no doubt taking a glance at you that lasts a mere second before moving to walk behind your brother and consequently you. Time seems to freeze as he starts to pass you, and although you can’t see his eyes, you feel them lock on you, and your heart does gymnastics before stopping completely.

No way. No fucking way. The man who stands above you can’t be the same man who you shared a night with, years ago. A night that creeps back into your memory after you think you’ve forgotten. And a face that haunts your dreams and makes you miss something you never really had. At least, not long enough to count for something.

As he passes, you catch the smell of the cologne that matches exactly to the scent of the man you bumped into in the hallway. Nausea creeps up from the pit of your stomach and you quickly look away, but to your absolute horror, your brother stops him in his tracks right beside you.

“Oh, D. Meet our sister, Angel.” On your right, he swivels on his heel and your breath catches in your throat when he tips towards you in a respectful bow.

“Good to meet you.” He holds out his hand to offer a kind greeting, but it only makes you sick. You swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to ignore his offering, but you know you can’t purposely be rude, especially not in front of Jin. You have to be polite to him, no matter how much it might kill you, because you can’t let your brothers catch onto something that shouldn’t be there. And after years of playing poker, you’ve learned how to perfect hiding how you really feel. For the most part.

So, swallowing your rage, you muster the courage to turn in your seat to face him, plastering on the fakest smile you can manage and reach out to roughly grab his hand, breath catching in your lungs at the lightning you feel at his warm, soft but slightly calloused touch because you remember them so, so well.

Sometimes in your loneliest, darkest moments, you close your eyes and conjure up the memories of the way those hands once ran over every inch of your body, just like those lips, those eyes, and other parts of him that graced you and lit up your skin, sunk into your bones in a way that made you ache. And that ache lasted, in your heart, in your gut, in between your legs ever since that morning when you woke up expecting to see him next to you, only to find cold and empty sheets. Like he was never there. And you found yourself wishing you could rip out the ghost of his touch from beneath your skin, but it was practically etched into your soul, like it was meant to be there forever.

“Pleasure,” you say through a sickly-sweet smile, wishing you could see beyond his shades for any sign that he knows who you are, or if he’s just forgotten you. It has been three years after all. You catch a light, but noticeable scar slashed vertically on his right eye, partially hidden by his dark glasses. Your heart pangs when you don’t remember that being there the last time you saw him, but he hurt you, intensely, and now he’s acting like he doesn’t know you so fuck him. The sight of that scar compels you to look down at his hand clasped in yours and, in a flash, turn it sideways so you can see the diagonal scar that starts at his knuckles and ends by his wrist, which you do remember. You let go of his hand as if it scalded you and turn your attention back to the table, your mind and pulse racing at this feeling of yet another situation being out of your control. You want to tell your brothers right now about everything, get him off your back and out of your life, but knowing what consequences he would face stops you. He’s lucky Jungkook considers him a friend. Because otherwise, you’d have him thrown into the bottom of the Han river.

Jin calls for rounds of wine and whiskey as the group of men engage in small talk, and you appreciate your brothers who include you as much as possible. You hear conversations of Jin asking Namjoon how it’s going with your onboarding for the casino, and you do your best to contribute, but it’s hard to do it through the static going on in your head that you can’t quell, brought on by the man sitting across the table a few seats down, next to Hope who’s chatting his ear off. He has not looked your way once despite your many stolen and partially involuntary glances, only adding fire to the flame.

Two hours pass for everyone to finish off their meal, drinks, and conversation about work and other things that you tune out. Eventually, Jin starts to hint that he’s ready for the dinner to come to an end, and you sit quietly as he thanks his friends for coming. They all bid their goodbyes and most offer handshakes and arm taps as they wish him well. When they turn to go, Jin’s eyes linger on their backs until the next friend comes up.

As you wait for your brother to end the night for you as well, all who’s left is D, Namjoon and Hope, and they move closer to the head of the table once the rest of the room files out. A pit settles in your gut when D sits directly across from you. Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you.

“Thank you all for staying after,” Jin says after he returns to his chair, knocking back the last of his drink. He gestures to the table. But you speak before he can continue, pretending to check your manicure when Jin looks over, so he doesn't catch the way you were just staring down the man across from you.

“Isn’t it rude to wear sunglasses inside?” You ask your brother. “I thought you were all about respect.”

Jungkook nudges you and whispers behind his hand, “Why are you being a dick?”

You don’t respond, acting as if you didn’t hear him. Because you can’t answer that. Jin sighs and there’s a subtle squint of his eyes at you before he gestures to the man beside him.

“D, if you wouldn’t mind.”

D says nothing (you want to scream that’s not his real name but you’re not sure if your brothers even know that) and raises his hands to remove the sunglasses, expression remaining blank. Once they’re folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his blazer, he finally lifts his bare gaze to you, scar on full display, and your heart slams in your chest. Because those eyes that seem to look right through you, are far too cold and vacant, void of everything that made you once believe you had a shot at something real.

“So, since you’re starting at the casino next week, I want to discuss security. I’m assigning you new detail.” You look at him with a puzzled expression. 

“What's wrong with the team there?”

“I'm talking about your personal guard." Your eyebrows furrow. So this is what your brothers have actually been hiding from you.

“Isn’t that Yeong’s job?”

“He doesn’t have enough experience to handle your protection around the clock.” “Around the clock? You’re joking.”

“I’m not."

You huff and cross your arms. “And if I don’t agree?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Fine. Who did you hire to basically stalk me?”

“D will take on as your guard and driver.”

Ha. Haha. This isn’t real. What kind of joke is the universe playing on you? And why are you the punchline?

You turn to Jungkook. “Isn’t he your security?”

“Yes,” Jin answers. “But since you’re going to be dealing with the public and crews and potential feds at the casino, D has the knowledge and experience to help with everything, so he’s being reassigned to you.”

How can it be this fucking coincidental for the man who dug a crack into your soul, filled it with light, and crushed it when he left with no warning become the new head of your security? Complete and utter bullshit.

"Angel,” Jin mutters, urging you to say something.

“Fuck this,” you spit, eyes darting to the man you speak of to see if your words affect him but when he doesn’t give anything away it only makes you angrier.

“I’m not doing it.” You stand up to head for the door, but your brother's loud, bellowing voice puts a halt to your escape.

“Yes, you are. This is not a game; you don’t have a choice.”

Your head spins. This is too much too fast. All of your control and independence is being ripped out right from under you, and you already feel weighed down by it. Seething, you glance between him and his men, and you don’t want it to look like you’re throwing a temper tantrum. You wonder if this is why your brothers chose to tell you here, in front of everyone, testing you to see if you’ll control yourself.

“I already can’t drive myself anymore, and your guards have to be up my ass when I come here. Yeong has to check in with you to make sure I’m allowed to go to the fucking bathroom alone, your dirty cop is gonna pretty much spy on me at work, and now you want this goon to follow me around everywhere?”

“Look, I know you don’t like this, but-” “No, I don’t.”

“But,” he continues sternly, glare on you growing harsher. “I don’t think you realize the calamity of the situation you’re about to be in and I have to take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety.” “Meaning I have to be fucking babysat?” you spit with vitriol, and Jungkook puts a hand on your elbow in an attempt to pull you down a notch now that Jin’s expression is contorting into one that shows he will not entertain this conversation for much longer as your brother. Being the boss in front of you has never been something he wanted you to see, but right now you’re pushing the limits. You don’t care so you rip your arm out of Jungkook’s grip who resigns with a sigh while you keep your fiery stare on your oldest brother where there’s a likeness in his own.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Angel.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid, Jinnie,” you sneer, using his nickname un-endearingly. 

“I told you about not using real names,” he booms, fist falling on the table. You don’t flinch.

“You’re one of us now, you need to start acting like it. And you’re going to start by listening to what I say and showing some respect. Otherwise, we’ll have to have an entirely different conversation, and I really don’t want us to go there.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’d be stupid to fuck around and find out.

“As a woman in this business, you are much more vulnerable and at risk and it’s my job to protect you. That’s just reality. So you need to have security in place, especially by tomorrow. Am I being clear?”

You grind your teeth. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’m about to go over the plans for tomorrow. Sit down.”

“Please, I want to go home; I have a lot of things to do. You know I haven’t even unpacked everything yet? I’m practically sleeping in that office.”

You do your best to keep out any expletives, even though you have many to fire off, so you don’t show more disrespect, but your mild lack of control has you muttering under your breath, “No thanks to you.”

Beside you, Jungkook presses his hands together in front of his face like a prayer while Jin shakes his head, eyes closing, and rubs a hand over his forehead like you’re giving him a migraine.

“I’ll get you some help, I’ll get whatever you need. But right now, I need you to stay so we can talk everything out because shit is about to get real. Please sit down.”

You do so with extreme reluctance, the concoction of conflicted emotions swirling in your chest making it increasingly difficult to pay attention to any of what he says. As parts of your mind and body drift in and out of your subconscious, you’re startled out of a staring contest with the edge of the table by Jungkook nudging your shoulder. Relaxing your jaw that was painfully clenched, you lift your head to notice that all eyes are on you, minus one particular pair.

“Sorry, what?”

Jin sighs and gestures to the other side of the table. “Hope was asking if you’d be willing to meet with him in a couple of weeks to check if you have any problems to report.”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, I don’t have a choice either way, right?” you mutter, throwing your brother's words back in his face. You feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your face and you know you’ll get an earful from him later.

You glance over to see Hope looking at you with a half-smile and there’s a bit of guilt at how you just came across. You really want to disappear.

“Is that all? May I be excused now?” you ask Jin tersely. He rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s preventing himself from further calling you out. Keeping his stare locked with yours, he raises a dismissive hand.

“D, can you escort her down to the garage? Mr. Han will drive her home.” You close your eyes in relief. “And exchange information on the way; you’ll be picking her up tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, boss.”

You turn around before he stands up, making a beeline for the door because you’re boiling up like a tea kettle. The room seems to be chasing you, closing in on you, like a hand around your throat that you can’t fight off. By the hairs raised on the back of your neck, you can tell he’s coming up behind you so you pick up the pace, jamming your finger into the down button on the elevator. You silently thank it when it only takes a few seconds to arrive, the one thing on your side tonight, so that you can step in before he reaches you. You rapidly press the close button, your eyes narrowed in the harshest glare at his face as he sticks out his hand but he’s too late, the doors rumble shut, sealing him out.

Alone in the elevator, there’s so much going through your mind that it hurts to think. So many emotions and feelings are swirling in your chest that you have no idea where to start to pick apart and process. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible. How the tables have turned.

It’s freezing down in the garage, and Mr. Han has yet to arrive, much to your chagrin. The bubbling beneath the surface of your skin grows to a rage when you hear leather shoes pad onto the concrete.

“Angel-”

Oh, hell no! He doesn’t get to be casual. He doesn’t get to say your name. It’s not your real one, but it was real to him.

You twist around. “Don’t be informal."

Expression unchanged, he apologizes and corrects himself then steps forward with a hand held out, carrying your coat that you forgot upstairs.

You give it a side glance and snatch it away, tucking it under your crossed arms, because you prefer to be stubborn and cold. You refuse to face him, even when he clears his throat and takes another step towards you.

“Let me give you my number,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his phone. An indignant laugh bubbles in your throat, too painful to let out.

Now… Now you get his number?? This is the universe laughing at you right in your face. You say nothing, not even acknowledging what he said, as if you didn’t hear him at all.

You just stare at the curb, desperately waiting for Mr. Han to pull up and take you away. In this moment, he’s your only friend in the world.

Seconds go by, and the man beside you reaches back into his jacket, trading his phone for… a pen? He then plucks out the white handkerchief folded neatly in his chest pocket, spreads it on his palm, and flicks the pen over it before passing it to you.

You stare at the handkerchief, at the numbers messily stained on the fabric, and crumple it in your hand, balling it into a tight fist.

Acting on autopilot with a question that’s been spinning around your mind since you shook his hand at dinner, you whip around to face him, faltering slightly when he’s closer than you realized. 

“Did you know?” you snap. “This whole time. Did you know about me?”

His face remains emotionless and even though he’s not wearing his shades, you can't see any kind of reaction in his eyes.

His adam’s apple bobs. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Oh. So he wants to play games. And he’s a fucking coward.

"Then let’s get one thing clear,” you grit, holding up your pointer finger. “If you think I'm gonna be nice to you, think again. And since you couldn’t give a shit about me, don't pretend to be nice to me either."

You get right in his face, but he doesn’t react or move away, and you wonder what it would take for him to stand down.

“Cross me in any way, I’ll tell my brothers who you really are.”

You stare, unblinkingly, in his eyes, searching, waiting for any sign that he’s the least bit intimidated by your threat. But there’s nothing. Just blank, soulless eyes. And to think they once set your heart on fire. Now they’ve turned it to ash.

How you ever fell for them, you’ll never know.

Clearly, you’re a fool.

“We’ll see how long you last, Min Yoongi.”

When you get home, you decline all calls from your brothers and march into your room, not bothering to change, and dig through all of your unpacked boxes searching for an old plastic bag containing a hoodie and a chain that you’ve been carrying around with you for years but you don’t know why. You find Jungkook’s knife, but not the bag and now you’re left with the aftermath of a tornado on your bedroom floor. You spend all night putting everything in its place until the sun rises and your mind is numb, anything to ignore the swarm of angry wasps buzzing in your head because the man you’ve been trying so long to forget just somehow stuck himself in your life, like a knife in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you throw yourself back into the plethora of files you’ve poured over with Namjoon for what seems like hundreds of times. You go through all the budgets, contracts, blueprints, and black books until time bleeds into the late afternoon. But you can’t rest, for those harsh, dark eyes will come back to haunt you in your dreams. You’ll have flashbacks of that night, of him and it will only cause your chest to collapse into a black hole and swallow every last drop of color in your soul.

Jay saunters into the foyer, wolf-whistling upon seeing you and an unsettling feeling takes over when he walks up to you.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream come true?” he muses, shamelessly checking you out and you shoot him a fake smile.

“Thank you,” you say politely, borderline sarcastic, and focus your attention on your reflection in the mirror as you fix your hair and earrings, putting your best poker face on now that your fiancé is standing a few feet away.

“You’re having dinner with your brothers again?” “No, we’re meeting with the commission tonight.”

“Ah. Scary,” he says, a teasing smile on his face. You have a feeling that he actually thinks that, hence why he hasn’t offered up an opportunity to show you off, even though the commission consists entirely of men.

“Will you be alright?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve internally rolled your eyes since you’ve met him. Do you have ‘I’m helpless’ tattooed on your forehead or something?

“Yep. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Then I won’t wait up for you.” His tone is light like he’s still making jokes but you are in no joking mood so you bite your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to, nor would you want him to do that. Your phone pings and a rush of heat floods you when you know who it is, announcing his arrival.

“Okay. I think my ride’s here, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Let me walk you.” You want to argue that it’s not necessary, the less time spent interacting with him, the better.

Play nice, Angel, Jin's voice rings in your head. Play nice.

So, you let him accompany you down the hall, help you on with your coat, and open the door for you that you politely thank him for.

In the driveway, a waxed black palisade with tinted windows is parked parallel to the main entrance, exhaust running, and your nostrils flare when you see Min Yoongi - oh, excuse you, D - standing next to the passenger's side, waiting for you with his hands clasped.

“Who’s that?”

“The security my brothers hired,” you say nonchalantly, even though there’s a burning rage in your chest.

“Huh. I thought you had an older driver.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any security experience, so.” You notice that your fiancé seems to be somehow bothered by that information, but you don’t press it because you really don’t fucking care.

“Well, have a good-” But he interrupts you, tearing his attention away from the car you’re dreading having to ride in.

“So, my dad wants us to have dinner with them. Maybe you can make some time next weekend? He’ll want to know how things are going at the casino.”

Oh, god. That is the last thing you want to do. Jay’s parents are extremely conservative and traditional, and you can’t imagine what they’ll have to say to you now that you’re living with their son. But again, you have to play nice.

“Sure, I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Sounds good,” he nods and just as you start to turn, he grabs your hand, the one with the oversized diamond sitting on your ring finger, his head quickly moving from the driveway to lean in and kiss right on the jewel and it makes you feel a bit icky.

“I’ll see you later,” he says from your knuckles with a noticeable grin. You plaster on a tight smile and subtly retract your hand.

“Have a good night.” He nods and lets you go, watching as you make your way down the marble stairs, thinking to yourself this would be the time you might appreciate his help, considering you’re in heels and it’s freezing outside. But you don’t really want him to touch you again so you rely on the railing.

“Take care of my fiancée for me!” Jay calls out as you make it off the porch. Your eyes roll back so far in your head you have to close them and walk blindly for a few seconds. As you approach the car, you keep your head down, refusing to see how D responds to that. Although you don’t think he would, since he’s given you no indication that he even has emotions anymore as of yet.

From one man that pisses you off to the next. To say you're fuming would be an understatement.

Wearing a sleek black suit, a long winter coat to match, and, since it’s still light out, those dark sunglasses, he bows to you in greeting before opening the door, gesturing for you to get in.

"Good evening," he says as you approach, and you don’t reply, don't even look at him. You hate him, you really do, so why is it that his dark, quiet yet thunderous voice makes your heart skip a beat?

You feel his gaze on you as you reach for the back door, completely ignoring him, and slide into the warm car, slamming the door shut before scooting to sit behind the driver's side. You don’t want to be tempted to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

The passenger door closes and you whip out your phone, refusing to stare at the man swiftly striding around the front of the car. As he does, you wonder why the fuck he thought you would want to sit next to him. You’ve never felt comfortable treating your drivers like chauffeurs but this driver is a special case and you hope that he’s gotten the message.

When he gets in and shuts out the cold, you're suddenly overwhelmed by the loud, attractive scent of his cologne and aftershave, a certain musk and mint to it that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head for a split second. Fuck, he smells good, even with a hint of a cigarette. And expensive. You can only imagine the type of salary your brothers smuggle into his wallet, especially now that your safety is his sole responsibility. Protection like that doesn’t come cheap.

You dare him to say anything else, so you get out your case of earbuds with the intention to blast music and drown him out. But before you can shove them in, a stack of manila folders hangs in front of your face, held by long, thin fingers decorated by chunky silver rings, and for a second you want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, triggered by the fact that you’re so fucking over looking through files, even more so for him to be dumping more on you.

“What’s this?” you grumble, teeth clenching as you reluctantly accept the folders and draw them into your lap.

“Your brother wanted me to find you an assistant, so these are five candidates,” he explains, voice slightly muffled by the engine and from speaking to the windshield. “Take your pick and I’ll set up an interview.”

You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread he handed you, each file neatly organized with resumes, backgrounds, references and head shots. You wish he fucked something up so you'd have an excuse to call him incompetent, but he did his homework. And if he got all of this together since last night, then he’s more diligent than you want to give him credit for.

You swallow a scoff. "I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.” 

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options."

"Are you sure?” You snark, face buried in the files. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble."

A beat passes. "He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never would've considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

“These are all men,” you scowl after you flip through all of the resumes.

Yeah, just what you need.

You lean forward to toss the files on the passenger's seat, papers scattering onto the floor. Your instincts urge you to apologize and offer to clean up the mess, but your pride has you sitting back with your arms crossed, looking out of the tinted window indifferently.

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just asked me what I was looking for. But I guess you don’t really care what I want, do you?”

You spare a glance into the rearview mirror, the top half of his face clearly visible, but… you still can’t tell if he’s looking at you. You don’t wait for a response, not thinking there’s anything he could say anyway, and let your earbuds do the job of shutting him out.

It isn’t until you’re halfway to your destination that you realize you didn’t text him at all until an hour before you had to leave, so how could he have contacted you before that? That’s beside the point.

He should know what you’re really throwing in his face.

The car barely pulls to a stop in front of the warehouse when a small group of guards swarm around to flank the doors. Taking out your earbuds, you stare out of the tinted windows at the suited men looking all around to make sure you’re in the clear. You feel anything but assured.

One guard is standing right in front of the door, essentially blocking you inside, and D gets out, apparently needing to be the one to open it for you and assist in your exit.

The air is crisp and cold when your heels hit the gravel, and you don’t miss the way D’s palm flips up as you start to stand, playing it off when you intentionally ignore the gesture by lifting his wrist to his mouth to speak into the mic connected to his earpiece that runs under his sleeve.

You shiver when you step out and D shuts the door, holding an arm out to signal you to walk forward, pressing a finger into his earpiece. The guards fall into formation around you, one in front, one on either side, and D right behind you. This level of protection feels a bit too much as they escort you into the maze of shipping containers, you aren’t the president or some A-list celebrity, but you’re about to walk into a den of wolves, so you can’t go without a pack of your own.

They lead you through the arid warehouse, filled with shelves of boxes ready to ship out on the harbor, some legal, most illicit. In the very back is a steel door, and the leading guard opens it, takes a look down in the stairwell, and beckons you forward. You step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of the emergency exit, door wedged open by a… silver cigarette case? That looks very much like the one you saw your brother slip out of his coat this morning and sneak outside before Jin came down for breakfast. You head for it and a guard puts a hand out to stop you, but you push past him, D calls for you, but you pay no attention and pop open the door, hesitating when Jungkook flinches and whips back his jacket, hand reaching for something in his waistband.

“Jesus, Angel,” he grumbles, letting go of his jacket to cover the handle of his gun, and takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. You bend down to pick up his silver case and the door doesn’t close and you don’t doubt that D is the one holding it open.

“Relax, it’s just lil ole me,” you say, eyebrow raising when he shoots a glare your way. "What's up, bro?"

“What was last night about?" he asks, a hot start. He leans over to snatch the case out of your hands.

“Hey!”

"Are you done being an asshole? You were pretty rude to hyung last night. And D and Hope.” His tone is testy as smoke pours from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you prop yourself on the wall with a huff and an eyeroll.

���Well, that depends. Are you done keeping things from me?” He sighs and scratches the wrinkle between his brows with his thumbnail.

“We knew you wouldn’t like it, so that’s why we waited to tell you.” “What about any of this do you think that I like?” You blurt in a raised voice that gets lost in the frigid breeze. He stares at you for a moment before looking away to take a drag, a tick in his jaw. You aren’t being fair, you know. Your brother is in the exact same boat. Neither of you signed up for this, but at least he wasn’t thrown into the fire at the last minute with little to no time to process anything. And his life isn't being guarded by someone who broke his heart.

"You can't be that way in there."

“I know. I'm sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just-” As you stare out at the run-down docks, you can’t think of a way to explain what you’re sorry for. Instead, you swivel to face him and step up with a beckoning hand in the air.

“Can I have one?” Flicking ash on the brick, his expression changes to level you with a hesitant look.

“Since when do you smoke?” You don’t really, hating the taste and the smell, but the kind of cigarettes that your brother buys isn’t as pungent and disgusting. Sometimes a little nicotine helps to take the edge off.

“Since I found out I’m about to become a criminal.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘about to’? Haven’t you been arrested before?”

“Not recently!” you exclaim. He’s one to talk! “And besides, that was for petty theft and I wasn’t even charged.”

“Don’t forget the time you spent a night in jail when you got caught speed racing. Hyung was so pissed he had to fly all the way out there to bail your dumb ass out.” Jungkook tilts forward, crossing his ankles as he chuckles out a puff of smoke.

“Well, it’s your fault I even know how to race.” He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down. “Do you want me to go ahead and list out your rap sheet too? We would be here all night.”

“Go to hell.” You laugh at his disgruntled scowl.

“I’ll meet you there. Give me your lighter or I’ll tell Jin you started smoking again.”

He shakes his head, both of you knowing damn well that Jin would not approve of the two of you chain smoking.

“Don’t be a tattletale.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“No,” he grumbles. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You shouldn’t either!”

“I know. I’m quitting soon and I'm not about to let you start.”

With a reluctant huff, you lean back against the wall, watching smoke billow out into the night sky. The both of you shiver in silence. It’s quiet out here, save for the sounds of a ship horn blaring in the distance, and the wind whistling into the alley from the docks that carries the smells of fresh water and the old rotting wood of the piers. Scents like these usually bring a sense of calm into your soul, but tonight, anxiety overrides them all. You doubt even nicotine could do anything to ease the disquietude in your head.

“I’m scared,” you confess. You glance over to see him staring down at nothing in particular, not blinking as he smokes and you want him to tell you that he is too, but he’s in no position to be. Not anymore. It used to show in his jaw, in between his brows, the rapid blinking of his eyes, but there’s none of that now. Looking at him now, gone is the boy you grew up with. And you know that’s because of how hard he worked to rid himself of all that fear, just like Jin, and what you have to do too.

“There’s no reason to be.” You look away with a frown, clearly not what you needed to hear, but his hand on your shoulder forces you to turn back.

“Listen. No one can do anything to us once they find out who we are.” You shrug off his hand. He takes a drag and blows it away from your face.

“Who’s to say they won’t?”

“Me. After tonight, I own this city and everything that belongs to us. That includes you, Angel. We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

“Boss, it’s time to go.” You glance over your shoulder where a single, flickering light above the door shines down on D’s head as he holds it open with a flattened hand. You turn back to your brother as he sucks in a final drag before dropping the butt and squishing it under his heel. Exhaling smoke up to the sky, he hooks an arm around your shoulder and begins walking you to the door, not letting you fight your way out of his hold.

“We got this, sis.” You roughly push him and he finally lets go, clicking your tongue when he laughs at your glare.

“You do,” you mutter, straightening out your coat and smoothing down your dress. Nervous habits. He stops and grabs your elbow.

“It’s us now. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe through a scared smile.

You keep your head up as you walk past D who slides against the door to put distance between you, yet still close enough to catch another whiff of his cologne. One breath and you’re aggravated that it’s him, another breath and the scent filters into your senses, leaving an undeniable calm.

Back inside, Jungkook claps a hand on D’s shoulder as the guards return to their formation to lead you down the stairs and into the den. Before you enter, you can tell just how crowded it is from the sounds of chatter and laughter that drips exorbitant wealth, and the accompanying stench of thick illegal cigars that makes your nose itch.

Jungkook walks around you to be the first one in the room and a wave of anxiety skids your heels to a stop. A presence that you’re coming to know all too well looms behind you, like he’s your shadow. More like a demon. Your eyes close to quell the drum pounding in your chest.

“After you,” he mutters, the sinful thunder in his voice mere inches away from your ear sending a shiver down your spine, eyes flying open and feet moving on their own accord to get away from it.

Fuck. That.

The ringing in your ears that stems from his voice and low-spoken words rumbling in a loop through your mind aids you in your ability to shut out the room and the way it quiets down as you walk to the head of the table where your brothers stand in wait for you. The rest of the men are also already standing and it just makes their intense, collective stare on you that much more stifling.

You remove your coat and a hand stretches out beside you that you silently allow to take your coat. Jin gestures for you to sit on his right, across from Jungkook, and waves for the commission to take their seats as well. Behind you, the doors close and one glance to the side shows D getting into place with your brothers guards by the adjacent wall, holding your coat.

With a polite, reserved expression, you take a sweep of the room and observe that these men are an assortment of strange faces and ones you’ve seen in Namjoon’s files. They’re all young and old. Father and son. Leaving you as the outlier. And that causes a lump in your throat.

Jin launches into introducing you and Jungkook, and all you can do is keep your back straight and hands on the table, respectfully paying attention as he explains how now that he’s going on the lam, the family heads will defer to Jungkook, and their crews and associates will report to you for any and all financial endeavors at the casino. As Jin speaks these plans into reality, you finally begin to feel the full pressure and burden of your impending responsibilities.

And this time your brother won't be there to bail you out.

The members offer your end of the table diplomatic nods of acknowledgement and subtle darting eyes between you and Jungkook.

But just as Jin gives Jungkook the floor, a deep, condescending laugh resounds from across the table, belonging to a smug, rugged man wearing thick chains and even thicker rings. All attention snaps to his interruption and your skin crawls when he fixes you with a leering, patronizing stare.

“I’m sorry, but with all due respect, do you really think your junkie brother can handle being in charge?” 

Your eyebrows cross at the audacity. He’s speaking as if Jin is not the reigning top boss of this entire room and Jungkook is not about to step in and fill his shoes. There’s a slur to his words and the near empty decanter next to his glass indicates that he’s imbibed and probably incognizant. Because who in their right mind would dare to provoke the kingpin of the city’s mob syndicate like this.

You look over to Jin, expecting him to call out the man’s blatant disrespect, but both him and Jungkook are staring the man down with darkness and anger that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps they’re just giving him the chance to dig himself into a hole so deep he’ll have to stay there.

“And what about her?” the man with a greasy mustache points at you. “I don’t know if I can trust her capabilities with dealing business at the casino. I mean, what does she know?”

He’s underestimating you and you’re sure he’s not alone in that. Everyone else is just smart enough to keep their mouths shut. You feel the urge to pull your hands into your lap to frown at, but you just lean back in your chair, maintaining a cool expression as you wait for him to spew more of his bullshit.

“Yeah, sure they were born with the purpose of serving your father, but we all know they weren’t raised like you. So how can they possibly be prepared to take over in your place?”

“Because they’re my blood,” Jin finally says, voice steady and reasonable. But his narrowed eyes and blown out pupils tells you he’s anything but.

“Only by half,” he sneers. “Wasn’t their mother some low-life maid?” You feel choked by the mention of your mother and wonder just how much this man and the rest of the commission know about you beyond what they’re entitled to. Your chest squeezes when you catch eyes with Jungkook as he furiously picks at his fingers, probably not realizing he’s even doing it. 

“See, that’s where the don went wrong. Choosing a peasant to procreate his back-up heirs with. Their blood doesn’t really count, at least not in my book.” Lee looks around as if to see who else is on his side, but no one takes their attention off of Jin as he rises and digs a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He is the don now.”

Lee scoffs. “He’s a junkie! Just like your father.” Your fingers clench into a tight fist, the urge to stand up for your brother sending a violent rush through your veins.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Lee,” Jin growls in a malicious tone. “You’re forgetting your place. Don’t make me remind you.”

“My place,” Lee chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. He picks up his glass and bangs it on the table with a thud. “My place should be at the head of that fucking table with my son, not these little children. We should be the next in line now that you’re resigning!” “I’m not resigning,” Jin barks, fixing the entire room with a dead serious glare. “I’m leaving to avoid prison. Because if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Jin’s power reverberates off of the walls and it carves away some of your anxiety. He points a stern finger at Lee.

“They are the rightful heirs, just as I am, and I won’t throw away all of what I’ve built just because you don’t accept that.”

“What your father built,” Lee spits in contempt. Jin bends down with a heavy slam of his hands on the wood surface. “What my family built. And what my brother and sister will continue to build because it’s theirs now.” “Do they know that’s the only reason why they were born? Well, him at least.” Your face contorts in confusion when he points at Jungkook. Jin lifts his hands from the table and the tension in the room grows thicker as he stands tall. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fair question. Does she know that when there were rumors that Don Kim had a daughter, he adamantly denied it?”

Your heart pounds in your ears when Lee slides his beady eyes to you, fingernails digging into your sweaty palms.

“You were a mistake, sweetheart,” he lilts with an ugly, crooked grin. “What use would he have with a girl? All you’re good for now is playing trophy wife to appease the son of your father’s biggest investor. You’re just a pawn in his business plan, you have no real value.”

“Lee, that’s enough-” Jin snarls.

“Lee Dong-wook, right?” you starkly interject, staring unwaveringly at him and his rising eyebrow. “Didn’t you lose your business in the east harbors when you failed to keep quota and you couldn’t control disputes between the local gangs? I can’t remember exactly how much money and how many men you cost my brothers but I know it was a lot.”

Lee’s jaw drops, rendered speechless. A raging vein begins to bulge on the side of his forehead, turning his face beet red now that you’re doing the job of tearing him down from his high horse.

“But at least you still have this side of the harbor so you can trade paraphernalia with other parts of the coast. Like these.” You reach forward for a box of cigars in front of Jungkook, only to find it empty. To your surprise and everyone else's, you stand and move to pass behind your brothers, ignoring Jin’s hushed, “What are you doing?” as you walk over to Lee, hoping to exert some intimidation by standing your ground over him. You try to disregard the fact that he is twice your size and far more muscular but Jungkook’s words from earlier remind you that no one can hurt you now. The shadow that follows you will ensure that.

You spot another cigar box next to Lee and another older man, and no one says anything as you lean in between them to take one out, snatching up one of the lighters as well. Holding up the cigar beneath your nose, you inhale the strong flavored mix of coffee and leather.

“Hmm, not bad,” you reflect, analyzing the stamped label before you unravel the plastic. “Kind of cheap, but I guess the tobacco isn’t what your customers are actually after. It’s smart, smuggling amphetamines in these. Just ironic that you move rock for a living but have the nerve to call my brother a junkie. I don't doubt you take samples.”

The wrapper you crumple and the lighter you flick open to fire up the cigar become the only sounds in the room. After disposing of the metal and plastic on the table, you place the wrapped leaf between your teeth and brace yourself as you take a smooth drag.

“And you must be stupid if you think I don’t know that my father didn’t want me,” you say, blowing smoke up to the ceiling while you do your best to pretend that the strong hit isn’t scratching the hell out of your throat. You glance back down to Lee whose eyes are on the brink of bulging right out of their sockets.

“But you see, I’m not here for him. I’m here for them,” you point the cigar over your shoulder at Jin and Jungkook.

“You sure they’re not forcing you?” Lee challenges, tongue thick with rage causing specks of saliva to catch on his mustache. Gross. “No one can force me to do anything,” you reply calmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes for my brothers.” A moment passes, and then another, with no response and you think you’ve made your case. But just as you’re about to give up the facade that you’re enjoying this piss-awful cigar, Lee harshly gruffs out, “Would you kill for them, little girl?”

Tilting your head, your mind races as you imagine all the ways you could show him how far you’re willing to go for both of them. A small smile creeps onto the corner of your lips around the cigar.

“Do you want to find out?” His mustache twitches. You blow smoke in its direction. “Are you threatening me?” “You tell me,” you shrug. “If anything, I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Pardon?” You lazily tap the cigar, unphased when the ash falls to the floor, some of it on Lee’s lap, earning a menacing glower.

“It sounds like you have a death wish. Coming in here and disrespecting my brothers even though you can’t do a goddamn thing without their say so. They own you and, now, so do I.”

Lee doesn’t break your stare but by the curl of his fist on the arm of the chair and his cheeks that tinge an even darker red, you’ve severely pissed him off. “You don’t have what it takes to kill me.” Taking that as a challenge, you reach down, lift the hem of your slacks, and snatch out the knife nestled in the strap around your calf. In a flash, you bring your sharp silver blade to the vein on his thick neck, smoke from the cigar dangerously close to his sideburns. “Wanna bet?”

A commotion erupts around you as one of Lee’s men move to defend him at a moment’s notice, weapon threatening to withdraw and your pulse glitches for a second at the potential danger. That is until a figure behind you pushes away Lee’s guard and you know without looking that it’s Jungkook coming to your aid. And next to him is that dark and menacing man smelling of mint and musk and intimidation.

“Well, I bet you’d hate to get killed by a girl. So I’ll save you your dignity.”

Lowering your knife, you lean away but pause when a goading sneer grows on his ugly mug.

“You’re weak. Just like your brother who can’t even man up and take responsibility for the casino because of what happened to his little-” Before he can finish that sentence that would have Jungkook flying off the handle, you stab the burning end of your cigar on the back of his hand, twisting a sear into his skin until he leaps up with a shriek.

“You bitch!” The cigar plants itself on the side of his neck, until your wrist is grabbed and ripped away, tobacco falling to the floor, just like the man who dared to put hands on you. As you’re pulled back by your brother, off to the side is D manhandling Lee’s guard into submission, face pressed into the wall with a gun shoved into the side of his head. Your brothers’ guards surround you and there’s a standoff with Lee’s men, the rest of the room watching on in shock, no one else daring to move lest they get caught in impending crossfire.

“Weapons down, now,” Jin’s terse voice booms. The guns slowly lower but the fierce glares remain pinned on opposite sides.

“Lee. You’re dismissed.” You think that’s code for, I’m not going to kill you in front of my sister. You’re positive if you weren’t present, this night would’ve ended in bloodshed.

“Have fun getting whacked,” you grin devilishly at Lee who can’t decide which burn hurts worse. “I hope your last thought is of my pretty face.”

In brazen stupidity, Lee steps forward but before his foot can even touch the ground, he’s sent flying back with your brother’s fists in his collar. A hand on your elbow tugs you away from the chaos you created, but you can’t look away from it, like it’s a car crash. But D steps in front of you just as you’re dragged to the front of the room by your brother. Your coat is swung around your shoulders and suddenly you’re facing Jin who guides you to the door. D appears right by your side.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Jin says with a proud glint in his eyes. On the other side of the room, your brother’s guards are doing their best to keep Jungkook and Lee apart as they usher him to the exit.

“D, take her home.”

The backseat of the car is warm on the ride home. Your hands are shaking, surely from the adrenaline. That’s when it hits you, what you just did. Fuck. You’ve never acted that way before, never purposely hurt someone because you didn’t like what they said.

But you liked it. The power you had, and the confidence it gave you. And that scares you. 

“Are you okay?” D asks tentatively. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying. You flick a defiant tear from your cheek and wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“What do you care?” you mumble bitterly. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. If you were sitting up front, you would’ve seen the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

When he pulls up to your house, you quickly get out even though he starts to say something, desperate to be inside, away from him and the cold and everything that happened. 

You don’t know why your office has become your safe haven, but you return there and collapse into one of the armchairs, weighed down by tonight, and what’s in store. Not to mention the extra weight added on your chest because of D.

So you cry. You cry until you're practically dehydrated, but you don't think that could stop you with how much you're hurting. That is until you hear a knock on your office door. It startles you, you’ve never expected anyone to check on you, especially not your fiancé. Were you crying so loud that he could hear you all the way across the house? You don't think that much of it, too busy getting a hold of yourself to look presentable before cracking open the door.

His face is overshadowed by the hallway light, and you can't see his eyes that well. You try to hide your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks from him, but he peers over the door with a small yet gentle smile.

"What's wrong? Did things not go well with the commission?”

You quickly wipe away any stray tears, putting on a brave face as you open the door a little further.

"Ah, well. It was just a lot, y’know?” You scramble, because you can't actually tell him what's wrong. Obviously. You don't think you'll ever be able to tell anyone. And you definitely don’t want to admit that you’re being weak.

"I do. Everything will be okay. It'll all take some adjustment." Huh. That's... comforting, coming from him. Like he understands.

"So, I was just in the kitchen, raiding the pantries for some snacks. Would you care to join?"

“Sure. You, uh,” you tug your sleeves over your hands, clenching them with cold fingers. “You couldn’t hear me from all the way out there, right?”

He turns his back to you with a laugh, leading you down the hallway.

“No, but I noticed you came home late and, well, I just wanted to see how things went. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“You said you wouldn’t wait up.” “I was joking, but I guess it didn’t land well. You might have to get used to my sense of humor.” That was humor?

Damn. When did you get so mean?

On the island counters in the expansive kitchen, he sets out some bowls and fills them with snacks as you take a seat on one of the tall stools.

“Do you like any of these?” “Sure,” you shrug, reaching for one of the bowls.

“If there’s anything you want, put it on a list and I can send it off to be picked up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do my own shopping. Thanks, though.” You’ll have to text your brothers later to tell them how right you are about him.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. I’m just trying to help out.”

You nod, chewing pensively, and he shakes his head to change the subject.

“Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight? That made you so upset.”

You carefully retell bits and pieces of the meeting, leaving out the part when you stabbed an old man twice with a cigar. You give him the gist of how the family heads might not entirely back the idea of you and Jungkook gaining control of the syndicate, to which Jay tells you they’ll have to get over it because you’re just doing your family duty.

For a while, you chat, finding that conversation with your fiance comes a little easier than you thought. You guess you just had to give it a chance. He gives you his support for some of the plans you have for the casino renovations and even offers to take a look at the blueprints. He cracks corny jokes every now and then that you have to force a bit of laughter because sometimes they don’t make sense, but you don’t entirely loathe this whole interaction.

He is very charming; you'll give him that. But you still have a prickly feeling that it’s all just an act to be good to you in order to impress your brothers and get on their good side. And once they’re out of sight, no longer around to look out for you, he’ll show his true colors. Maybe you’re just jaded and bitter.

But you don’t think you should let your guard down just yet.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

.

.

.

lmaoooo originally i was aiming for a 12-14k word count. whoops. but it's finally here! this has been a whirlwind. I've been wanting to get this out for a while but i've been kind of nervous about it. honestly im glad i waited because so many things came together for this part that i didn't have before. sorry for the wait.

xxx - claret

thank you for reading 😊

let me know what you think!!! <333

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taglist:

@viankiss @taegijns @polarnightmyg @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos

[mysteriaqueen]

Good, right?

Sukuna x Reader Oneshot | Modern/College AU (i guess) | 777 words

Summary: You and Sukuna have been sent to gather the necessary ingredients for some cooking class. And now you're in an empty storage room. By yourselves.

He kissed me. He fucking kissed me.

You throw your arms up awkwardly and freeze. You can feel his lips against yours, warm and gentle. You don’t know how to react. No, you know how to react. You should push him off immediately. There is no universe in which you’d want Ryomen Sukuna kissing you. Except maybe this one.

He pulls back just barely with the most shit-eating grin on his face. So, naturally, you push him away. But what does that mean now?

“Oho, you’re only just now pushing me away. Why? Because now I know you like it?” he asks, smug as hell. “I absolutely did not like that,” you say, rolling your eyes and looking away.

But taking your eyes off him was a mistake. Because now he’s kissing you again, catching you off guard a second time. But this time his hands are on your hips and he presses his chest against yours. He’s warm and that warmth spreads through your body causing your eyes to flutter shut. You barely realize it but he’s kissed you multiple times now. Your awkwardly placed arms have come to rest against his. But once you feel his skin you’ve got enough presence of mind to push him off. And he lets you, stumbling back slightly with a laugh.

Why did I like that????

“What the hell is wrong with you?! God, you’re so weird.” He just rolls his eyes. “I guess you are too.” “What are you talking about?” “You’re over here kissing one of the bullies you claim to despise so much.” “You’re kissing me, and I don’t even like it!” you say with a huff.

He deadpans. “You’re gonna tell me you didn’t like that? After how many times you let me kiss you? With my hands on your waist. I saw how your eyes flutter closed, you know.”

Damn it.

“I was in shock.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, maybe the first time. Just admit it,” he says, stepping closer with the same smirk. “It’s okay if you like it. I’d actually prefer it that way.”

You sigh, closing your eyes (a mistake you haven’t seemed to learn from) and crossing your arms.

“Of course you would, but I don’t mPH-”

Yeah, he’s kissing you. Again. You catch yourself melting the tiniest bit before you pull away. And of course, Sukuna noticed. Your clue for that is that his grin somehow got cockier. Bastard.

“Are you insane?” “Possibly. No more insane than you.” “I don’t go around kissing random people!” “I only do it if I’m gonna enjoy it. And I’m thoroughly enjoying this. As are you,” he says, leaning into you more.

You panic on the inside about how good feels pressing you against the shelves and-

“Back up!”

He obliges. With a smirk, of course.

“You know, repressing your emotions isn’t a good habit to get into.”

You just roll your eyes. You aren’t even trying to, you just want a moment to accept them for yourself. Or reason them away so you can pretend this never happened at all. Is that so wrong?

You sigh, turning towards the exit.

“Listen, I want nothing to do with you. You and your group just get off on terrifying people who are already a little scared of you. Ew.”

You couldn’t hear the quiet footsteps he was taking over your rant. So when his warm body is suddenly right up against your back you gasp. And when he snakes his arm around your waist you stop breathing. And when his chin ends up on your shoulder it takes everything in you not to make an embarrassing noise.

“Wh-” 

You have to cut yourself off because you can barely trust your voice. You can feel his smirk on your neck. You swallow.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. “What does it feel like? Good, right?”

You just about short-circuited after hearing that. Some noise of shock and disapproval came out of your mouth but Sukuna just laughed. After some sort of button-mashing quick-time event in your brain you finally get the presence of mind to try and take control of the situation.

“We’re taking too long. We still have to grab some flour and get back to the demonstration.”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re praying Sukuna will show some mercy. And he does. He actually backs up. Well, of course, he’s laughing the entire time, But a win is a win.

“Fine. I let you off for now. But you know I’m not forgetting about this. It’s only a matter of time until you have to face this again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Masterlist

reblogs and comments appreciated

[fratttymatty]

Rebooted

(All characters are 18+)

Dylan was never the type to blend in. At 18, he was finally stepping into his own skin, but still, it was a skin that felt different from the one others expected of him. Quiet, a little reserved, and gay—he had always gravitated toward the girls. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with the guys; it was just that the popular boys in school made him feel like an outsider. They had their own language—one filled with smug smirks, competition, and a kind of easy, cocky swagger Dylan had never quite been able to pull off. He didn’t try. He was comfortable where he was.

His circle of friends? A tight-knit group of girls who didn’t care about popularity, who didn’t care if he was gay. They just liked him for who he was. And that was enough.

But the universe, it seemed, had a different plan for Dylan.

It started on an ordinary Friday afternoon. The bell rang to signal the end of the school day, and Dylan found himself walking toward his usual hangout spot by the bleachers. His friends were there, chatting and laughing, with their bags scattered around. But as he approached, he saw a few unfamiliar faces. Guys. Popular guys. The ones who ruled the school.

"Hey, Dylan!" A familiar voice called out. It was Cassie, one of the cheerleaders and one of his closest friends. She waved him over. "Come sit with us! The gang’s all here."

Dylan hesitated. He wasn’t sure what Cassie meant by “the gang,” but when he looked closer, he saw a mix of familiar faces—and a few others that made his stomach twist: Brent, the captain of the football team, Jake, the guy who spent more time flexing in the mirror than doing anything else, and a few others—pretty much the whole ‘elite’ crew of jocks and their girlfriends.

Dylan felt his pulse quicken. There was no way he belonged here. This wasn’t his scene. But when he caught Cassie’s pleading look, he sighed and walked over, taking a seat on the edge of the table, keeping his distance from the popular crowd.

“Don’t be shy, bro,” Brent said, giving him a grin that was too wide, too knowing. “Get over here, man. We want you to meet the guys.”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably but complied, dragging his chair a little closer. What was going on?

From the moment he sat down, it was like the world around him began to shift, subtly at first. Brent and Jake exchanged glances, and the girls—who Dylan had always been so comfortable with—seemed to be watching him, their eyes glittering with an unsettling mixture of amusement and... something else.

“You know, Dylan,” Jake said, tossing a football up in the air and catching it easily, “You’ve got potential, man. You just don’t know it yet.”

Dylan blinked, not sure what he meant. “What do you mean?”

Brent leaned forward, his voice low but intense. “You’ve got the looks, you’ve got the brains, but you’re not playing the game right.” He glanced at the girls, then back at Dylan. “You need to be more... confident. More dominant.”

Dylan’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine with how I am…”

“Not anymore,” Jake said with a sly grin. “You’ve been hanging with the girls for too long. Time for a change.”

Before Dylan could react, he felt something strange tugging at his mind, like his thoughts were being rearranged in real time. A sharp pull, a weight that lifted, as if the part of him that had always felt like an outsider was suddenly... slipping away. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the feeling was too strong.

Cassie, perched next to him, leaned in, her voice dreamy and a little ditzy. “Like, oh my god, Dylan,” she said, flipping her hair, “you totes need to, like, show these guys what you’ve got, okay? You’re, like, way cooler than they think.” She giggled, not in a mocking way, but like she was excited by the idea.

Her words hit him like a wave. Everything in him was changing, shifting—and the more he thought about it, the more it felt right. This new version of himself started to form, like an empty vessel filling up with something brash, something confident, something that didn’t care about fitting in... because he was already at the top.

Before Dylan could say anything, his hair—the messy, untamed curls that had always been his trademark—began to change. It wasn’t like some sleek, polished version of cool. No. His hair became perfectly messy, tousled in a way that looked like he’d just woken up after an intense night of partying. There was no more worry about perfecting his style. Now, it was effortlessly good. His clothes, which had always been a little too... quirky for the jocks, seemed to rearrange themselves. His hoodie turned from an oversized, cozy piece into something more fitted and sleek, while his jeans tightened in a way that accentuated his newfound shape. His body felt stronger—sharper, like it had been sculpted into something more powerful.

And then the name came. The new name. The one that fit this new version of himself.

“I’m... Grayson,” he said, as if the name had always been there, waiting for him to claim it. He said it with an ease he didn’t know he had. It wasn’t Dylan. It wasn’t that version of him. Grayson sounded natural. It sounded right.

“Yeah, Grayson,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that felt more confident, more cocky than any expression he'd ever worn before. “That works.”

The transformation wasn’t just physical. His demeanor changed, too. His shoulders squared, his posture became straight and powerful. He was no longer the quiet, reserved guy at the edge of the group. Now, he was the center. He was Grayson, the guy who commanded attention without even trying. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that made him look untouchable.

Cassie’s eyes glittered. She leaned in, her voice giddy with excitement. “Like, Grayson, you’re so gonna crush it now, totes.” She giggled and then added, “You just need to, like, get with it, you know?”

Grayson didn’t even blink at her words. In fact, he liked that she thought this way, that she was already putting him in the same league as the other popular guys. He grinned, the kind of grin that sent a signal to everyone around him that he wasn’t just playing a part—he was the part.

Brent slapped him on the back, hard enough to make his chair rock. “Welcome to the team, Grayson. You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

Grayson barely acknowledged the slap, his eyes still focused on the rest of the table. He felt the change completely settle in now, like a tight, perfect fit. The old Dylan, the shy, gay kid who had always been friends with the girls, was gone. In his place was someone who belonged here, who was made for this world.

The following weeks passed in a blur, but Grayson didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore—except being the guy everyone wanted to be around. The girls? They loved him. The guys? They respected him, and he now knew how to play their game. Grayson was the new center of attention. He was the one who knew how to talk to the girls, how to charm them, how to make them laugh. He was also the one who owned his place on the football field. Every part of his old self, the insecure, unsure Dylan, was a distant memory now, fading like an old shadow.

His friends—the girls who had known him before, who had always been his comfort zone—tried to reach out. But Grayson was no longer the guy they’d once known. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

Because now, he was at the top. And he didn’t care if the world knew it.

Grayson finally understood: he was exactly who he was meant to be.

Grayson adjusted to his new life with startling speed. It was like stepping into a new suit that fit him perfectly, like the universe had always intended for him to wear this version of himself. The popular group quickly absorbed him into their fold, and he found himself in the spotlight at every school event, every party, every hangout. It was effortless. No more uncertainty, no more second-guessing himself. He was now everything he had once envied: confident, desirable, and completely at ease.

But then there was them.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after Grayson had fully transitioned into the "popular" world, and he was lounging on the steps outside the gym, chatting with the football team. The guys were in the middle of a heated conversation about their latest game, but Grayson’s mind wasn’t on the game—it was on them. His old friends. The girls.

He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but something was tugging at him, pulling him back to those days when he’d hung out with Cassie, Hannah, Emily, and the others. The feeling was almost foreign now. He couldn’t pinpoint it.

But there they were, walking toward him, his old group, the ones he used to feel so comfortable with. They were coming from the cafeteria, laughing together as they approached.

"Grayson!" Cassie called, a huge grin lighting up her face. Her voice was still bubbly, still a little ditzy, but something was different now. The way she looked at him was no longer playful; it was... adoring.

Grayson stood, the casual confidence now completely woven into his movements. "Hey, girls," he said with a grin, giving each of them a nod as they stopped in front of him.

There was a hesitation in the air. Something was off.

Cassie twirled a strand of her hair, giving him a wide, almost dreamy look. "Like, we’ve missed you, Grayson," she said, her voice slow and a little breathless. “You, like, totally should hang with us more. We, like, never see you anymore.”

Hannah, another one of his old friends, smiled, but there was something different in her eyes—something more intense than before. "Yeah, we miss the old Dylan," she said quietly. But it wasn’t a complaint—it was more of a longing.

Grayson’s chest tightened, the old name feeling strange to hear. "Dylan? That was... a long time ago."

Emily, who had always been the most pragmatic of the group, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her arms folded. She didn’t smile, but her gaze lingered on him, trying to read him in a way that felt more like an interrogation. "You don’t really seem like the same person anymore," she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

Grayson, though, just smirked and leaned against the brick wall, his posture the very image of cocky indifference. "I’m not. Dylan’s gone, you know? Grayson’s the guy now."

The words rolled off his tongue effortlessly. It felt natural now, the confidence, the certainty that he didn’t need to explain himself anymore. Grayson was the guy—he was who everyone wanted to be. The truth of it had become ingrained in him, like a new set of rules he couldn’t ignore.

Cassie tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with what Grayson could only describe as admiration. "Well... I guess that’s, like, okay,” she said, giggling lightly. “I just, like, miss the old Dylan, you know? But... you look, like, way hotter now." She winked at him, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Grayson didn’t think twice about it. He wasn’t the shy, uncertain kid who had spent so much time with Cassie and the others. His world had changed, and now, he felt like a different person—a person who could look at Cassie and feel a twinge of something that was definitely not friendship.

The shift was obvious. Cassie wasn’t the only one.

Hannah’s gaze softened as she watched him, and he caught the way her eyes lingered on him a little too long. "You look different," she said, almost in awe. "Like, not just your hair and stuff... but, like, you are different."

Grayson could see it now. It wasn’t just about his new appearance—his new hair, his new clothes, the sharp edge to his smile—it was the way they were looking at him. They were looking at him like he was... more than their friend. They were seeing him as something else.

Something... attractive.

Grayson felt a flash of discomfort deep in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected them to want him—like that. This wasn’t the world he’d known. He wasn’t used to being the guy the girls crushed on, not like this. He was used to being the guy they confided in, the one who was always there, always supportive. He didn’t want this kind of attention.

He looked away, trying to push the feeling down. His mind raced for a moment. But then, a thought settled in his brain like a weight: It didn’t matter. He was Grayson now. He wasn’t that old version of himself. He wasn’t the shy, sensitive Dylan who had been more concerned with what his friends thought than anything else.

Grayson wasn’t gay. He wasn’t that guy anymore. The pieces of him that had once fit together in that old version of Dylan—the parts that had found comfort in the girls, in their easy friendship, in his secret crushes—had been wiped away. Now, he was the guy who could casually flirt with Cassie and laugh with Hannah and feel no need to question it. He didn’t feel the pull of something deeper.

He liked the attention, the way they looked at him, the way they were drawn to him now. He could be one of the guys. He was one of the guys. And he liked it.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Things change, girls. But I’m still the same, just... better.”

That night, at the usual hangout, Grayson felt the weight of the shift settle in again. Cassie had been hovering, her flirtations becoming more obvious, and even Hannah’s glances had taken on a new intensity. It was as though they couldn’t help but be drawn to him, to the new Grayson.

He didn’t return their feelings, though. He didn’t feel anything for them, not the way they seemed to feel about him. It wasn’t the same anymore. His thoughts were consumed by the new life he was building. It wasn’t just about the looks—it was about the lifestyle. The world had opened up for him, and he was going to take it all, leaving his old self, his old connections, behind.

“Grayson,” Cassie cooed as she leaned in closer, “you, like, want to hang out later? We could, like, totally grab some coffee and talk... just the two of us?”

Grayson didn’t hesitate. He smiled that smile—the one that had turned into his signature look—and leaned back in his chair. “Sure, Cassie. I’m down. Let’s hang.”

He didn’t feel guilty. Not at all. He wasn’t the person he used to be. Dylan was a memory. Grayson was the here and now. And Grayson was straight.

No, there was no going back.

And for the first time in a long while, Grayson felt completely at ease.

Grayson was beginning to love the life he had created for himself. The popular guys had become his new best friends, the girls adored him, and the school seemed to revolve around him. It was like everything had clicked into place. He was no longer the shy, reserved Dylan who spent time with girls because he didn’t quite fit in with the guys. He was Grayson now, confident and cocky, moving seamlessly through a world where he was the center of attention.

But then there was Cassie.

Cassie had always been one of Grayson’s closest friends, the bubbly, talkative cheerleader with a contagious laugh and a constant stream of “like”s and “totes” in her conversations. But ever since Grayson had fully stepped into his new identity, she had been acting... a little different. More than just her usual ditzy self, she was acting more into him. Grayson couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lingered on him a little too long, how she laughed at his jokes a little too loudly, how she started to copy his every move, even the way he walked.

And that’s when it hit him—Cassie was changing too.

It was after school one day, a bright and sunny Tuesday, when Grayson noticed it the most. He had just finished practice and was heading toward the parking lot, his phone in hand, texting some of the guys about a party later that night. As he turned a corner, he saw her: Cassie, standing by the lockers, waiting for him, her eyes wide and sparkly.

"Grayson!" she squealed, bouncing on her toes as soon as she saw him. “O-M-G! Like, I totes need to talk to you!”

Grayson smirked and started to walk over, but as he did, he noticed something... different about her. She wasn’t wearing her usual cheerleader uniform or a cute casual look. No. Today, Cassie was rocking a tight pink crop top that showed off her midriff and a pair of high-waisted denim shorts that hugged her thighs in a way that screamed “summer girl vibes.” Her hair—usually soft and curly—was now sleek and straight, cascading over her shoulders like she had just walked out of a magazine shoot. And she wasn’t just standing there chatting. She was, like, posing—with her hand on her hip, lips pursed, head tilted in that adorable way she always did.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Cassie, you okay?" he asked, a bit more concerned than he’d intended. She was acting... well, a lot more than usual.

Cassie giggled, her high-pitched laugh ringing through the hallway. "Oh my god, Grayson!" she squealed, practically jumping into his arms as she gave him a hug. “Like, I’ve missed you SO much! You’re, like, soooo different now. Like, soooo much cooler than before!”

She pulled back and looked at him, eyes sparkling with what could only be described as adoration.

Grayson felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Not again. Was she... really looking at him like that?

He smiled, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah, I’ve changed a little. Guess I’ve finally figured out how to play the game."

Cassie clapped her hands together with a high-pitched squee. “You’re, like, SOOOOO hot now, Grayson! It’s, like, soooo cute how you, like, don’t even care! I totes love that about you!”

Grayson chuckled, trying to keep his cool, but he noticed how Cassie was now practically hanging on his every word, her big, doe eyes locked on him, her lips parted slightly like she was waiting for him to say something profound. This wasn’t just Cassie anymore. She was, well... different.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier once you stop worrying about being anything other than yourself,” Grayson said with a wink, feeling a little too proud of how easily it came out.

Cassie’s face lit up with a giant grin. “O-M-G, Grayson! You, like, give the BEST advice! Totes inspiring, like, I feel like I need to, like, totally rethink my life!” She put a hand to her chin, pretending to think deeply, though her thoughts seemed far more on him than on anything else.

Grayson felt the transformation in her. It wasn’t just physical anymore. She was becoming more—more like him. More cocky, more confident, more willing to follow his lead.

“You know what, Grayson?” Cassie said suddenly, her voice turning more flirtatious. “I, like, totally wanna be, like, the coolest girl in school. Like, no one can touch me. You know? I just, like, wanna be like you!”

Grayson smirked again, the realization dawning on him: Cassie was changing to fit into this world too. It wasn’t just about her appearance anymore—she was adopting the confidence, the attitude, even the carefree flirtation he had mastered.

A few days passed, and the shift in Cassie became even more apparent. It was a Friday afternoon, and Grayson had just finished chatting with Brent and Jake about the upcoming weekend. As he turned to leave, he saw Cassie again—waiting for him by the entrance.

This time, she was... well, she was adorably out of control.

Cassie was wearing an oversized, pastel pink hoodie that hung off her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of a lacy bralette. She had teamed it with a pair of knee-high boots and a matching pink backpack with the word “LOVE” written across it in sparkly letters. Her hair was even more perfectly styled now, the loose curls giving her that “I woke up like this” vibe. She looked... so cute it was almost impossible to ignore.

But what really caught Grayson’s attention was the way she was acting.

“Oh my god, Grayson!” she exclaimed, practically skipping toward him. “Like, I TOTES just got the best idea!” Her eyes were wide, and her hands were flailing in the air as she practically bounced from foot to foot.

Grayson grinned at the sight, though there was something new in his gut. Cassie was different. She wasn’t just acting more like a popular girl—she was embracing it with everything she had.

“Yeah, what’s up, Cassie?” Grayson asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure if he was enjoying this or if he was starting to feel, well... a little guilty. She wasn’t just copying his attitude; she was, in some ways, losing herself in it.

“Oh my god, I’m, like, SO obsessed with you right now!” she said, giggling wildly, her voice so high-pitched now that it was almost cartoonish. “Like, we should totally, like, go shopping this weekend. I want, like, ALL the cutest outfits so I can look like you!” She twirled her hair and smiled at him like he was the most amazing person in the world.

Grayson chuckled, but there was a hint of something else in his chest now. Was this what he had become?

“Cassie, you’re already, like, super cute,” he said with a shrug, trying to brush off the weird feeling. “You don’t need to change for anyone.”

Cassie beamed, but then her face turned serious—well, as serious as Cassie could get.

“No, like, I totally do!” she said, throwing her arms wide, her oversized hoodie flaring out around her. “I wanna be, like, the hottest girl in school, and I think, like, I can do it now—like, with you!”

Grayson stood there for a moment, watching her bounce on her heels. And he couldn’t deny it—Cassie was starting to look... perfect. She had become the kind of girl who was always smiling, always laughing, always looking for the next thing to keep her cute, energetic world spinning. It was like watching a flower bloom into its full, exaggerated beauty.

He had to admit: Cassie was adorable. And in this world of confidence and cocky smiles, she fit in perfectly.

And, maybe—just maybe—Grayson liked that she had become his own little ditzy sidekick in this new world.

From then on, Cassie and Grayson were inseparable. She was his partner in crime, his cute, bubbly counterpart in the world of cool kids, and she had completely embraced it. No longer just the ditzy cheerleader, Cassie was now the ultimate girly-girl, obsessed with looking cute, acting cute, and being obsessed with Grayson.

And in her own way, she was no longer just trying to fit in. She was leading the pack, a version of herself that was just as untouchable as Grayson—cute, giggly, and completely at ease in her new world.

And together, they ruled it.

It was a Friday evening, just a week after Grayson and Cassie had fully slipped into their new personas. The school year had settled into its rhythm, and the pair of them had become inseparable. Grayson, now at the top of the social ladder, and Cassie, who had gone from the cute, ditzy cheerleader to the ultra-confident, bubbly "it girl," were always together. They were the couple everyone talked about, even if they hadn’t officially defined it yet.

It wasn’t like Grayson hadn’t thought about it. Cassie had become more than just his friend—more than just the girl he spent time with to pass the time. There was something about her energy, the way she was always there, her wide eyes that sparkled every time she looked at him. It was impossible to ignore.

And as for Cassie, she had never been more obsessed with someone in her life. Her crush on Grayson, which had started as innocent admiration, had deepened into something more. She liked him more than just for his looks or popularity. She liked the way he made her feel like she was the most important person in the room, the way he casually made everything seem so easy.

It was at the party that weekend when it finally clicked.

The music thumped through the walls of the house as Grayson leaned against the kitchen counter, a solo cup in his hand, chatting with some of the guys. He could see Cassie across the room, surrounded by her usual group of friends, but her eyes were fixed on him—no surprise there. She was always watching him, always a little bit in awe of him, like he was the sun and she was orbiting around him.

Grayson’s smirk curled up at the corners of his lips. She was cute, no doubt about it. And the way she acted around him—well, it wasn’t just cute anymore. It was kind of perfect.

And then, in that moment, something shifted. Cassie’s laugh, high-pitched and slightly off-key, rang out as she chatted with some of the other girls, but it wasn’t just a casual laugh. It was a flirty laugh. And when she caught his gaze from across the room, she tilted her head and blew him a kiss.

Cassie had been working her way through the crowd, and before Grayson could even process it, she was standing next to him, her wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him. Her oversized pink hoodie hung off one shoulder, revealing a lacy bralette, and her perfectly styled hair bounced as she tilted her head to look up at him.

"Hi, Grayson!" she cooed, her voice full of that sweet, innocent energy that made Grayson feel like he could melt into the floor. She leaned against him just a little too casually, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she was very much in his personal space now.

"Hey, Cassie," he replied, his voice a little quieter, the weight of her proximity catching him off guard. He casually brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “You’re looking... really cute tonight."

Cassie giggled, a sound that was so adorably high-pitched it could have been straight out of a rom-com. She batted her eyelashes at him. “Aww, you, like, think so? I, like, totally spent, like, a million hours picking this outfit, so I’m so glad you noticed!"

Grayson couldn’t help but laugh. Cassie. The girl who had once been his carefree friend—always happy, always a little clueless—was now the one who had his full attention. She was confident, sure, but still that cute, bubbly, ditzy energy he couldn’t get enough of.

“Yeah, you look... perfect,” Grayson said, leaning closer, a slow grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t deny it. She was perfect. In her own way.

Cassie’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she giggled again, the sound making Grayson’s heart skip a beat.

“Grayson...” she trailed off, her eyes gleaming as she stared up at him. “Like, I totally have a confession to make.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

Cassie, looking up at him with those huge puppy-dog eyes, took a deep breath. “Well, like, I’ve, like, really liked you for a long time, but I was too shy to say anything.” She let out a little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I think you’re, like, sooo amazing and cool, and, like, I’m not even sure why I didn’t notice it sooner! But, like, I just, like, wanna be with you... y’know?”

Grayson’s heart skipped, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He had always thought of Cassie as his friend. She had been the cute, bubbly girl he spent time with, but this was... different. She wasn’t just his friend anymore.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d started to feel the same way.

He smiled, his hand finding the small of her back, pulling her gently closer. “Cassie... I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” he said, his voice low and genuine.

She blinked, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Really?! Oh my god, I, like, totally can’t believe you just said that!”

Before Grayson could respond, Cassie’s hands were on his shoulders, and with a sudden burst of energy, she was kissing him, her lips soft and full of that cute, bubbly warmth that was so Cassie. Grayson didn’t hesitate for a second. He kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her even closer.

It wasn’t a deep, passionate kiss—not yet. But it was the kind of kiss that was sweet, electric, and filled with the promise of more. When they pulled away, Cassie was practically glowing, her face flushed, her hands still holding onto his shoulders like she never wanted to let go.

“Oh my god, Grayson, I’m, like, so happy right now,” Cassie said, her voice high-pitched and full of that giddy excitement. “Like, you’re so perfect! You’re, like, the guy of my dreams!”

Grayson chuckled, still holding her close. “I’m glad you think so, Cassie. Because, like... you’re kind of the girl of mine.”

Cassie beamed, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. “Like, this is SO cute. I, like, can’t believe we’re, like, together now! I’m totally obsessed with you, Grayson!”

“Same here,” he said with a smirk, feeling that familiar surge of confidence and excitement wash over him.

They were no longer just friends. No longer just two people who shared casual flirtations and hangouts. They were a couple now—a power couple in this new world they had created for themselves. And it felt right.

From that night on, Grayson and Cassie were inseparable. They were the couple everyone envied—the girl who was effortlessly cute, bubbly, and ditzy, and the guy who was effortlessly cool, confident, and cocky. Together, they ruled the school, and nothing could pull them apart.

And for Grayson, the guy who had once doubted his place in this world, it felt like he was finally, truly home.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Body in Abyss, Heart in Paradise.

og image link

Blade x F Reader.

Word Count: 500.

*~*~*~*

Where Blade always wants to be is in your shadow.

Nothing seems real out in the light. You in your entirety is something enigmatic, foreign, something he hasn’t been a witness to in hundreds of years. Your smile and rosy cheeks remind him of a large star that is kissed by a wine-red sunset. Your hands fit so perfectly in his – a puzzle piece he lost so long ago yet found again with the help of fate.

“We’re going to miss it!”

He doesn’t leave his favorite place – somewhere just a foot or so away from your back – as you run and pull him with admittedly weak force. At least compared to a banished warrior like him. One of the palms he loves so dear holds onto a basket full of flowers and food prepared by you two and the other guides him like a puppeteer. 

Blade’s eyes don’t move from the flower crown he placed on your head – its sole purpose is for its beauty to be enhanced by you and you alone.

Your hair moves back and forth in the wind. Little petals and pollen and leaves dance inside your side braid’s pockets. Instead of the scent of blood he is so used to by now, he smells your perfume.

He will make sure his source of light never dies out.

He will be the universe’s forgotten planet if it means you get all the love and glory you deserve.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

Blade’s eyes don’t leave your face.

“I always loved sunsets by beaches,” You start, sinking your bare feet into the blanket he laid out for you. You lean in and your breath nearly tickles his shoulder. Your arms caress his waist. You’re warmer than the sun. “Thank you so much for taking me.”

Blade doesn’t answer in words. You’re used to that after dating a man like him for so long – by instinct, you look into his eyes and past your reflection in them. 

He’s as beautiful as he sees you – not that he would ever accept such a fact.

“Here. You should try something… You bought them with your own money after all.” With a nod, you gesture towards the charcuterie board. Most foods you picked out at the store are alien to him. Humanity and their goods evolve all the time when he has not one bit. One catches his attention more than the others.

A tiny baked good in the shape of a sun.

You don’t use your words and neither does he – within just a moment you slip the cookie between his lips.

It melts on his tongue. The texture is much softer than the war rations he remembers from long ago. The flavor is so sweet and tastes nothing like anything he has had before. You smile and giggle. Blade wishes he could have recorded such a sound on his phone – and wishes he knew how to do so in the first place. If he asks nicely, he’s certain one of the other Stellaron Hunters would teach him.

“It’s good,” He answers after a while, resting his chin above your head. “Thank you.”

Blade will continue to love you like he should have loved the sun.

[cas-readsandwrites]

Lavender: Interludes

Set in Jackson post TLOU S1 in the Lavender universe by @justagalwhowrites, a few little scenes of Joel, Doc, and the fam in Jackson. Listen I am not pregnant, I have no desire to be pregnant, so I don't know WHERE this came from, but I love soft Joel healing from his trauma and finding love and joy in his family! Content: Reader is described as pregnant. There is smut. And fluff. And love. Grab some ice cream and your heating pads if you're in the same time of the month as me. Minors DNI. 3.6k words

I am not quiet about the fact that Lavender is one of my favorite fanfics, in my two decades popping in and out of various fandoms. Doc and Joel are my distraction and angst and comfort when I need it. Sometimes my imagination runs a little wild.... many many thanks to Kit for creating these characters and being totally cool with the fact that I wrote a little fanfic of her fanfic :D So here we go!

~~~

Joel had walked into the house late one evening, after patrol had gone long and he had to wait to give report to the next crew going out. He was extra antsy and wanted to get home, now more than ever. This was his last patrol for the next several months, as he would not need to leave the walls of the town during the last month of your pregnancy and hopefully not for a month or two afterwards. He would be put on extra shifts on guard duty or with the carpenter crew, but as long as he was within a quick run down the street or an ear-shot of someone yelling for him with news of you, he was fine with that. 

Anyway, when he had come home, you had been standing in the middle of the living room, seemingly all the sheets and blankets from the house around you and stacked in a laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs. All of the glasses and mugs were sitting out drying on the counter, as well as the few baby bottles you had brought home from the clinic (just in case you had said, hopeful that you would be able to breastfeed). All of the lights were still on upstairs. 

“Baby,” he said, matter-of-factly, “what the hell are you doin’?”

You spun around, holding a fitted sheet in your hands, fresh from the laundry line outside. The town was encouraged to use the communal laundry whenever possible, to limit wear and tear on the machines in the houses, but understandably many families had middle-of-the-night unexpected messes or heavy loads that they would do at home if the mechanicals still worked. The dryer in their house was still inconsistent, as much as Joel took it apart and banged on it and put it back together, it gave them a few good spins before shuddering to a halt again. Thankfully Tommy and Maria’s across the street was still functional, adding to the growing list of ways that he felt like he was in… well, a commune, with his brother as their lives and households continually overlapped, something he suspected would only increase after the baby was born.

“I think I’m nesting,” you answered back, looking around at the piles of fabric and wiggling your fingers in the sheets. “It seemed like a good idea to have all the linens clean, and then I was hand-washing some things in the kitchen, so it seemed like a good idea to clean off some of the dishes and things we haven’t really used, they were kind of dusty and I didn’t want it getting in the bottles…” you trailed off and sighed. “Ok, it looks ridiculous, but trust me, it needed to be done!” 

Joel wasn’t about to fight you on that, as much as he worried about your health and safety in what he viewed as an extra-fragile state, it seemed like you had come even more alive with an extra vivacity throughout your pregnancy. Even when you were throwing up, or cranky with hormones, you were even more feisty. Which was saying something, considering all the times you had verbally sparred back in Boston, along the road to Jackson, even back when you were taking care of yourself and your grandmother all alone. “Ok, well… can I help you?” he asked. “Seems like you got it in hand, but please don’t tell me you’ve been carrying laundry around all day.” 

You waved your hands again, corners of the sheet scrunching around your fingers. “Ellie put up with me for a while and did the heavy lifting with the wet things. She wanted to go out for the evening, though, so it’s just been me and the folded piles tonight.” You looked around as you tucked the corners across and into each other, neatly snapping the sheet and folding the edges in. “I guess if you can take these all back up into the closet upstairs, then it will be mostly done.” 

You looked around at the folded pile in the basket, mentally cataloguing your task, before seeming to snap out of it and look back at him. “But you just got home! I’m so sorry, blame my brain for being wired towards this.” You waded through the piles and threw yourself into his arms, even with your stomach grown with his baby, still fitting in just right where he could wrap around your shoulders and your back and you could lean into that space against his chest. Joel ran his hand up and down your back, around your side, warm palm against the place where your child grew. You hummed as he kissed the top of your head, centering himself as he always did when coming home on your scent and the warm gravity of you in his arms. 

“Why don’t you go up to bed?” he murmured against your temple. “I’ll get the rest of this. You’ve been on your feet a lot. Please go lay down? I’d love to just… be with you tonight.” You nodded, tipping your head back to kiss him. He anchored himself to you, the press of your lips against his. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you said, squeezing him again before stepping away and looking around at the living room before walking upstairs.

They had been in this house for several months, well-established in Jackson, but he couldn’t shake the nighttime routines yet, circling the first floor of the house, checking that the exits were clear, locked, lights off, locking his rifle in the downstairs closet, keeping his sidearm in the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He heard you moving around the bathroom and treading the hallway into the bedroom. Thankfully, Ellie came home not too soon after as he was finished folding. She shrugged and tilted her head with an eyebrow raised in a nonverbal I don’t know, man, it wasn’t my idea. He handed her the basket and wordlessly gestured up the stairs. She just as silently tilted her forehead against his arm as she passed in a greeting and good-night, and they trooped up the stairs together. “Good night, Ellie!” he heard you call across the hall.

He showered, washing off the road and sweat, before climbing in bed behind you, already nested in your structure of pillows. “Mmmf,” you murmured, nestling back into his chest. He traced the line of the back of your neck with one hand and looped his arm around your front, resting on your stomach. You traced the back of his hand with your fingers in the dark. It didn’t seem to take much, even at this stage in your pregnancy, and soon you were bringing his hand below the slope of your stomach to that place between your legs that seemed so much more sensitive nowadays. 

“Baby,” he murmured in your ear, “you gonna be ok? Don’t want to hurt you…”

You moaned quietly as his fingertips traced your clit, leading down to your center, tracing your entrance and just dipping inside. You gasped and tilted your hips, moving your leg to open that space for him. “Please, Joel,” you breathed, trying to be quiet, mindful of Ellie down the hall. “I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me, I want to feel you, please…”

He kissed the space below your ear, the scratch of his beard tickling the back of your shoulder. “Don’t gotta beg for me, sweetheart, always gonna give you what you need.”

Urged by your own hand, he felt the wetness from your entrance already, dipping his fingers in to coat them, coming back to your clit, warm and aching. It didn’t take long for the pressure from his fingers, alternating between circling and lightly pressing on your sensitive areas, before he felt you throbbing, heard your tiny gasps as you tugged on the corner of your pillow, thrusting your hips back into his as he brought you to your edge. Even after months of your reassurance that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, had never done so, and you still obviously wanted him, he waited for your cues. He tried to ignore his hardening cock, but your thrust backwards had nestled him into the soft flesh of your ass, so warm and delightfully more from pregnancy, and he couldn't help as he rocked against you. Even as you came down, you pushed his hand back towards your center, hitching your top leg up to rest on his, reaching behind for his hip, holding him close.

He ran his hand down your leg, gripping your thigh against him as he moved to push himself against you, the heat and wetness from your center drawing him in. He lined the tip of him with your center, your body grasping to pull him in, as if promises over decades and the proof of your love growing inside you weren’t enough. He stopped only long enough to ask, “this ok, baby? You feel alright?” 

You whimpered, tilting your head back towards him, and he ran his nose along what he could reach of your jaw, kissing the side of your neck, breathing against the edge of your ear. “Feels so good, please, don’t stop,” you whispered, rocking just so the tip of him slid in. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of you around him, pressed against him, as he slid inside you from behind. You bit your lip to stop from crying out, rocking back into him with abandon. He had to focus to stop from coming immediately - how could he not, the softness of the most round, plush parts of you pressed against his body and in his hands, your warmth even more enveloping. He focused instead on the lines of your body, kissing your shoulder, gripping your hip as he thrust in and out, syncing with the rocking of your hips. His hand slipped around your front to the top of your legs again, circling and rubbing against your clit. You were so lost in your pleasure, grasping at the blanket in front of you, and he wanted this to last as long as you needed. Unable to see your face or kiss you, giving himself into your body wherever you would take him, he used his words instead, punctuated by his own groans and pleasure. Words of praise and promise, your beauty, the sensation of your body, goddess that you were, holding both himself and your child together deep inside yourself. 

-finally, “oh, fuck, there you go baby, I can feel you, so ready, come on-” and you turned your face down into your pillow, breathing heavily, as your body fairly shook with your orgasm, clenching and rippling around him, and he held on tight and rode it out with you, thrusting up once, twice, one more time until he felt himself come apart deeply and at home in your body. 

The two of you lay together in the tangle of blankets and blankets, now kicked down around your legs and askew around you, his chest heaving with deep breaths against yours. He felt you melt into the mattress. After a moment he checked himself, not wanting you to need to move, and cautiously lifted an arm to brace himself against the mattress. You made a little noise and tilted your head back against him again. He reach in front of you and sat partway up, leaning over you to kiss you at an angle, reassuring you, and himself that you were still alright, that he hadn’t hurt you or pushed you too much in some way that he would have no way of knowing about, his memories of the only other pregnant woman in his life so far distant and embroiled in its own tinge of sadness and self-doubt that none of it was to be trusted. Only you, here, your daughter for all intents and purposes down the hall, the solidity of this house, was what he could count on. 

He kissed you again and nuzzled against your forehead. “Lay down, baby, I got you. Need anything?” he felt you shake your head and settled against your pillow. He smiled. You often had a hard time falling asleep and staying asleep as you advanced in your pregnancy, but something about the release of sex would turn you into goo and put you to sleep afterwards almost right away. 

He carefully sat all the way up, leaning over you to reset your pillows where you liked them, against the pressure of your knees, hips and belly supported against the mattress, under your arm, one against the small of your back. When you were tucked in and covered, he quietly stepped down the hall to fill your glass of water and set it down next to you, checking again the lights outside and the door to Ellie’s room, before sliding carefully back in behind you. Not able to get as close through your fortress of pillows, he rested an arm along your hip, breathing in the scent of your hair that always seemed to end up draped across his pillow.

He heard you sigh and shuffle, and was about to ask what else you needed, before you spoke quietly, through the cloud of sleep he knew was almost ready to carry you off. “I love you,” you murmured into the soft darkness of the bedroom. He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on the space between your shoulderblades, just behind your heart. “Love you so much, baby,” he whispered, squeezing your hip, before sleep claimed you both. 

~~~

Joel and Tommy watched as you and Maria talked in the living room of Tommy and Maria’s house after dinner, while they stood in the doorway of the kitchen drinking whiskey, judiciously keeping the scent of alcohol away from your pregnant self and Maria’s breastfeeding. Well, Tommy was watching Joel as Joel watched you shuffle on the couch, gently positioning yourself to rest your lower back. “She doin’ ok?” Tommy asked, trying to catch Joel’s eye. 

Joel glanced over at his brother like he was unaware they were even in a conversation together. “Oh- yeah. She said her legs and back are starting to get real tired. Tried telling her to rest more, but you know her, says moving is actually better and she doesn’t want to leave the clinic yet.”

Tommy nodded, knowing this brand of his sister-in-law’s stubbornness and resilient streak. “You ever try doin’ the thing where you stand behind her and lift up her stomach?”

Now Joel was really looking at his brother. “What?” he asked. They didn’t really… talk girls. Joel did his best when Tommy was growing up to have The Talk (that went pretty well, living embodiment of the consequences of Joel’s actions usually screaming in her high chair in the background of those conversations when Tommy would be headed out the door to pick up yet another date) as well as trying to make sure his brother was generally a respectful and polite person to a partner, but other than that, they didn’t really talk about the ins and outs of each other’s relationships. Until you. Even way back when, yours and Joel’s relationship had been more real, more recognized, tangible, than most other things in his life.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, “you know, like you’re gonna hug her from behind or somethin?” He demonstrated in the air in front of him. “Get your arms around her and under her stomach, towards the bottom, where Maria always said was the most sore because it was heavy, stretching out some muscles, and just-” he linked his fingers together, glass carefully balanced in one bear-paw of a hand- “hup.” He demonstrated gently lifting a beach ball in front of him.

Joel watched his brother looking like he was trying to hula hoop in the middle of his kitchen. “Sure it doesn’t hurt her?” Tommy laughed and patted his brother on his arm. “Be gentle, man. Naw, Maria loved it. Would have walked around behind her for the whole last month for her if I could’ve.” Joel nodded, regretting already the time he missed in his brother’s life, refusing to accept his new marriage to Maria, blocking out the thoughts of his brother becoming a father, when all his brother had done for him was to step into Joel’s own life and take on Joel’s burdens as his own. By the time Joel and his girls had made it back to Jackson, several months had passed and Maria had already given birth. 

Tommy patted his arm again. “She knows you’d do anything for her. Maria and I will, too. Need a babysitter or an extra hand when it’s time, just holler.” He gestured with his glass towards their window that overlooked the street, across which your home with Joel was softly illuminated by the front door light, waiting for you to come home. You caught Tommy’s movement out of the corner of your eye, looking up and smiling at your husband and your brother-in-law together again, as they should be.

The next day, you were walking slowly around the house while getting ready for a shift at the clinic. You were still the only doctor in town, though they had gained a few additional staff that, while not quite trained as well as you’d hoped nurses would be, were improving as medical assistants and able to triage and take histories and help with physical exams. One of the more senior nurses who had been in town for a while had taken on the heavier medical work before you had arrived. She had taken to your education and you had recently “graduated” her from your unofficial training and dubbed her a nurse practitioner, only needing to sign off with you on certain types of cases. The extra help meant that at least you could sit more and slow your pace to see a few less patients, but for now you said your brain and your energy were fine, and you weren’t going to let a few bodyaches get in the way of being present for the people who needed the knowledge that only you had. 

Joel watched as you stood in front of your dresser, choosing which top to go over your precious few pairs of pants they had found to be modified with a maternity band. You sighed and rested your hands on the small of your back, leaning just so, trying to stretch - well, everything. 

Joel begrudgingly remembered his brother’s words, knowing he was going to be eating shit for a while, Tommy being more of an expert in the “pregnancy and infancy caregiver in the apocalypse” duties. Joel still had him beat in the teenager department at least. For now, though, he walked up behind you to kiss your temple, slipping his arms around you as he often did to trace the contours of your body, holding your hips or placing a palm to feel the baby.

“Wish you would call it at the clinic, baby, I really do,” he murmured. 

“I know,” you sighed, “not yet, though. My mind feels fine. I’m taking it as easy as I can there, I promise, and you know I’m in the right place if I need anything.” You looked down at his hands gently circling your stomach. “I know by now it’s useless to ask you to not worry, but please, take it easy on yourself, too,” you said, placing your hand on his.

Joel wanted to bury his face in your hair, carry you to bed, hold on to you and rub your feet and bring you tea for the next four weeks. He didn’t deserve you, mindful as you were towards his worries and the health of the entire town. “You’re askin’ for the impossible, babe, you know that.” 

You laughed lightly. “I know. I can try. At least I didn’t leverage doctor’s orders this time.” You tilted your head back, resting on his chest. “I’ll take a few more days, keep making some plans with the staff, and see how I feel later this week. ‘kay?”

“ ‘kay,” he echoed. You moved to step forward and reach for a dresser drawer again, but Joel followed and gently tugged you back against him. You opened your mouth to softly protest - you did need to get moving, after all - but Joel slid his hands firmly under your stomach, warm and sturdy, and without even realizing what was happening, you felt the pressure in his hands increase and a blessed lightness spread across the top of your hips and your pelvic muscles. 

Joel leaned back just slightly, the weight of your belly in his hands, and he heard you make a noise he had never even heard you make in bed. “Oh God,” you groaned, drawing it out in a soft sigh. “I didn't even realize how much that- please don't move, I just want to stay-” you let your arms drop, thoughts of a shirt vanishing as you let yourself be cradled in this temporary, bodily gravity defying relief. 

Joel wanted to chuckle at your words, but the deep instinct to simultaneously protect you while bringing you so close, around him, be inside you, kicked up again. He could only rest his forehead on the crown of your head, remind himself that you were here and whole and healthy, and marvel at your innate strength and abundant spirit to allow your body to be changed for him and for your family. He would always strive to be worthy of you, he knew that now. For now, that meant standing quietly in your home together, swaying gently, holding you and your child, your whole universe in his hands.

[regardtheinnocent]

Contains: SoftDom!reader, Sub!Blade, Gentle sex, Established Relationship, Reader is has a cock or a strap on, Penetration (Character recieving), Pretty fluffy overall, porn little plot.

Ahhhh first post !!!!

\ \ \

Blade wasn't used to this.

He was used to the harsh punches, the cruel words and the deafness to any he needs he might have had—

not this.

Your hands gently rubbed over his scarred skin, taking care to run those fingers of your's along each dip and scrape in his body, or so you called it— "each perfection".

It was true that you never allowed him to feel sourly about his scars— nor any part of himself, in all honesty.

"Beautiful." You'd whisper, your voice only audible to him. And he listened, oh did he listen.

Every soft and comforting word that split your lips was like a warm caress to the bone-tired immortal.

Despite everything, Blade found himself unable to resist melting into your hands.

The stellaron hunter swallowed thickly instead of allowing himself to let out the breathy gasp that had pushed against his lips. He had nothing to hide from you, he knew.

But it was just so embarrassing.

You didn't seem to mind, though.

You happily indulged in your naked intimacy with him, hips keeping a pleasing and slow pace.

Blade couldn't help but turn his face away, unable to hold your intense gaze any longer.

His cheeks were too red, the heat that pooled in his belly was too hot— you weren't even doing anything.

He shouldn't feel this pathetic— not at all.

But Blade couldn't help it, he had been robbed of this for much too long.

And at long last, there was nothing holding the both of you back from each other.

A sharp gasp burst from the man's lips as his rough hands grasped onto your bare back, nails threatening to dig into your skin at any moment.

You chuckled softly, not being able to resist giving another, deeper thrust, letting yourself hit Blade's prostate perfectly.

He couldn't help it this time, there was no way for himself to control his sounds when you were sweet to him like this.

So he didn't.

Blade let out a weak moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he held onto you, feeling your thrusts continue to hit deep inside of him.

“That’s it, angel.” You murmured to him. Your voice sounded so soft, so tender, so loving. It drew an almost shy moan from the stellaron hunter’s lips, which of course was a sound that you reveled in.

“Don’t— M’not an angel- Ah!” Blade tried to protest against the sweet term of endearment, though it was a lost cause. After all, it was if your purpose in the universe was to shower the immortal with more praise than had ever been uttered in the history of existence.

You knew that it would only take a little while longer for your lover to stop resisting your pet names, after all it was clear that Blade’s mind was melting.

“You’re my angel, Blade. All mine.” You whispered back as a heavy breath left your lungs. Your hips lurched forward, allowing you to once more hit Blade’s prostate.

“Fuh—Fuck!” The stellaron hunter nearly sobs, his blunt nails scratching at your back in a desperate bid to ground himself. A useless one, but one nonetheless.

Blade’s cock would sway upwards, nearly hitting his tummy with every deep thrust you did. The poor thing was nearly red with neglect, and pre-cum gushed from the tip in an unending stream.

Your hand that had once been holding Blade's hip, drifted to the side in order to take hold of his cock.

You synced your motions, your hand would move downwards when you thrusted in, before moving back up. Your thumb would rub over Blade's tip when you stilled yourself in him for a moment, then the action would repeat all over again.

It was driving Blade mad.

"Good... you're getting close, aren't you?" You ask in that tender tone of your's. It wasn't as if the man could lie to you, so he nodded his head up and down as he screwed his eyes shut.

You gave Blade a sharp thrust and a quick stroke of his cock before murmuring to him once more.

"Words, darling." Ah.. but he could barely even speak. It was cute to see him try, though.

"Mhm— hngh! Close, close— can I?" Blade babbles almost nonsensically, though you're lucky to have experienced this sort of talk from him enough times to have a good understanding of what he was trying to convey.

His scarred back arched beautifully as you deepened your thrusts, hitting places that Blade didn't know existed inside of him.

"Go ahead, sweetheart... You've been so good." You whisper to him, your voice is gentle, coaxing even.

And Blade can't help but feel safe for once, with your body hunched over his and your breath on his neck.

Its more comforting than it really should be.

Without much warning, cum shoots out of his tip, staining his muscular tummy and even some of his chest. Blade also tightens around you, hard, making you let out a groan of your own.

The poor stellaron's thighs tremble with his aftershocks, and his eyes remain rolled back in his head for a few seconds before they slide shut.

You still your hips, instead focusing on kissing away the tears that still wetted your lover's cheeks.

"Come back to me, dear." Those words leave your mouth in a hushed murmur as you bring yourself to lay beside your lover.

Without much thought, you wrap your arms around Blade's quivering body, bringing the large man close to you as he comes down from his high.

You've since pulled out of him, though that does little to ease the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling.

"...Mngh." Blade presses his face into your chest, wordlessly letting you know that he was fine. It was common for him to be quiet after sex, though that didn't stop the stellaron hunter from acting like a big teddy bear.

You chuckle softly and brush some of his hair behind his ear.

"I love you." You coo to him.

"...love you." He slurs back.

[riacte]

Doctor Who AU (Rendog centric)

(Vaguely based on Ren’s characters although they do get shuffled around, major character deaths)

The story begins with Time Lord Ren (short for Renegade) and Time Lord Iskall growing up in Kingdomcraftia. They used to be best friends but then something happened and now they’re each other’s arch nemesis but in a homoerotic way. Ren travels in his TARDIS which is usually a vehicle of sorts, for example a camper van or a spaceship.

Fast forward to the incarnation Renbob, who lives a happy hippie life with companions Grian and Impulse. Their goal is to take down Area 77 headed by a mysterious figure named Doc. This takes place next to a town called Falsewell. Renbob feels there’s something about this Doc that is familiar and he theorises Doc knows about him in the future / he’s forgotten about Doc, but Doc never confirms anything. Insert weird and inexplicable Rendoc tension. Grian accidentally takes control of the TARDIS and transports the hippies into an “alpha” version of the world. In the end Ren decides he wants a truce with Doc but Doc is like “nah, can’t do, sorry”. Something blows up, Doc erupts in flames, Ren regenerates and is forcibly transported into the past.

Grimdog is the War Doctor in which he “kills all the Time Lords” and gets really sad about it. He quickly regenerates into Stargazer Ren and finds his way back to Earth, however when he lands, he finds out his companions Grian and Impulse have peacefully passed away of old age and it’s “confirmed in time” that they didn’t do more adventures together. Ren is devastated but is comforted that his hippies lived out full and happy lives.

Stargazer is a cautious incarnation unlike the previous carefree and merry Renbob. Stargazer doesn’t know what he wants but he feels compelled to follow his fate, whatever that means. At first, he considers himself a “loser” and ambivalently travels through time and space, then he stumbles into Martyn, a knight from the medieval times who turns his life upside down. Stargazer is charmed by Martyn’s wit and takes him to places, and Martyn dramatically declares he will follow Ren because “he showed him life”. Slowly, they change each other for the better.

Doc (or a younger version of him) makes a reappearance. Ren is surprised but Doc acts like he's known him for a long time. Doc doesn’t seem to know what happened at Area 77 so Ren assumes it’s some time travelling shenanigans. Ren has always wanted to befriend Doc and feels a strange kind of fondness for him, so while he’s confused about this Doc, he doesn’t question it or tell Doc about his future. Ren and Doc start to meet out of sync.

Stargazer receives a mysterious message that "you are never alone". This turns out to be a reference to Iskall, who survived Grimdog "destroying" Kingdomcraftia. Iskall can also regenerate and is currently in his "Pacific" incarnation. Ren and Martyn complain "Pacific" is not an adjective. Martyn is jealous of Iskall and his strange codependent bond with Ren. Iskall tries to destroy the world or something but is stopped, and then escapes. Iskall and his future incarnations continue to meet Ren and his future incarnations.

Their happy time is cut short at the Red Winter incident in which Martyn stares into a Time Vortex and becomes the Red Winter entity to save Ren. Martyn influences the universe by repeatedly posting the words “Red Winter is Coming” to make sure him and Ren end up at the right place for their timeline to work. Stargazer kisses Martyn to extract the Time Vortex energy and save him. Ren begs Martyn to behead him with an axe, and a pained Martyn agrees. Ren becomes the other half of the Red Winter entity and regenerates into the Red King. Ren subconsciously chose the form of RK because he thought Martyn might like a king better.

RK and Martyn have a jolly time travelling the universe until the Battle of Dogwarts in which Martyn is transported into a parallel universe and can’t come back. This shatters RK and has a major impact on him. A grieving RK eventually picks up Bdubs as a companion and it sort of feels like a rebound at first but they form their own dynamic. RK also finds a companion in Cleo (“I just want a mate.” “You want TO MATE?” “Oi, watch it zombie girl!” “Oi, watch it space dog!”). Eventually bad things happen, Martyn comes back through a rip in the universe, the gang is about to die, the world is going to end, etc. Cleo touches RK’s fallen crown and triggers a meta-crisis, becoming part Time Lord and creating the Meta-crisis RK who is a human clone of RK. They save the world but RK erases Cleo’s memory to save her. RK gifts the clone RK to Martyn before they are separated forever (again). Funnily enough, Martyn’s RK has traits absorbed from Cleo. Bdubs decides to stop travelling with Ren but remains in touch with him.

(Human RK and Martyn eventually become pirates together and live out a life as captain and lieutenant.)

RK fucks around for a bit and ponders on his mortality. In the end, before he regenerates, he visits past Martyn one last time and promises his loyal Hand that he will have a fantastic year. RK is unwilling to let go of his crown and tearfully declares “I don’t want to go!”.

RK regenerates into Knight Ren, who is the Last Life/ Double Life version of Ren. In some ways this is a response to King Ren and his failure to protect his friends. If he can’t be a leader, maybe he can serve a leader. He picks up companions Lizzie and BigB. Lizzie also has a partner (Joel). When Ren initially meets BigB, he is confused by the soulbound connection they share (in which they feel the same things), so they decide to find out what happened. They have fun adventures together, Doc and Iskall swing by sometimes, then tragedy strikes.

Joel gets touched by a Weeping Angel and is sent back in time and dies. Lizzie decides to follow him back, so Ren loses both of them at the same time. Ren and BigB cling onto one another. Ren gets paranoid that his enemies want BigB due to their miraculous connection and his TARDIS transforms into a protective fortress called "The Box". Unfortunately, Ren and BigB still face a crisis. Ren is unwilling to lose BigB and realises BigB is his soulbound because he made it that way to save him. They are stuck in a paradox. With no other choice, Ren links BigB to him, erases BigB's memory, and sends him back in time so the past Ren will meet the soulbound version of BigB. Ren understands the only life he can live with BigB is the time the paradox allows and he can never change it.

A freak accident causes Knight Ren to regenerate into Octagon Ren, who is constantly on high alert and suspects the world is not what it seems like. Octagon Ren was "supposed" to follow Stargazer Ren, but Stargazer did a detour and regenerated into RK for Martyn's sake and subsequently Knight Ren. Octagon Ren has a prosthetic arm and leg. This is where the arc with Doc unfolds. It turns out they're married and both time travellers meeting out of sync. Octagon Ren finally meets Doc for the first time on Doc's side. Ren remembers he first met Doc on his side back at A77, and understands Doc tried to keep it from him because A77 is a fixed point in time. A77 is necessary for Ren to be sent back into the past and set his life into motion. Doc doesn't know he'll die at A77 but Ren does. Angst ensures. Insert Hermatrix technobabble. Octagon Ren and Doc spend one last night together before Doc does his duty of returning to A77 to act as the "villain". He thinks he'll be back, but Ren knows this is the last time he'll ever see him.

Octagon Ren, exhausted and burdened by his various losses, stumbles into False. Slowly, he remembers False (or versions of her) always seem to be around. Falsewell had a mayor, the tourney in which RK won his crown also had a False. In fact, every incarnation of his has met False in some way. Ren recalls feeling "a missing piece" when he hasn't met False yet, and it's not the same when the character she plays isn't close by. False is The Impossible Girl and this drives Ren mad.

Octagon Ren regenerates into Gigacorp Ren with False as his witness. Gigacorp Ren is the oldest of all incarnations, both physically and emotionally. He has greying hair and is more mellow than Octagon Ren. Gigacorp Ren greatly trusts False and gives her a multipass (key) to his TARDIS, so everything he owns is also hers. Ren eventually begs False to escape in his TARDIS with the multipass to save her at the cost of his life, which she refuses to do so but he forces her anyway. False travels to the end of Ren's timeline to interfere with it and hence save him, but gets shattered into many versions of herself across Ren's timeline to make up for her damage. This is why Ren feels a strong sense of familiarity — the various Falses he encounters are part of his timeline and hence his fate.

At the cost of fixing Ren's timeline, False's death becomes a fixed point in time. Ren promises he'll do anything to save her, even spending years locked in his personal hell with an immortal killing snail for her. Ren vows to fight off the "Reapers" sent to kill False as much as he can. He brings her to the end of the universe to save her, but that doesn't work. He decides to erase False's memory, but she erases his memory of her instead to spare him the anguish.

Ren, alone in his TARDIS, wakes up. The only thing in his hand is a multipass, which is weird because Ren's own TARDIS key doesn't look like this. He thinks there should be a name written on it, but for the life of him he can't remember who it is. Who did he travel with, and who returned this to him?

[what-have-i-unleashed]

your hand-grenade heart

gift for lovely moot @qin-qin16. happy early birthday!! (better early than late lol) hope you don't mind lovers-to-enemies (... or is it) crossdust :3

2k+ words of sadness. no warnings applied... i think.

cross isn't sure what part of the multiverse he has stumbled into. it was a stupid decision he made on the fly, opening his own portal inside of nightmare's own to prevent the guardian of negativity from dragging him back to the hell he knows nightmare would love to put him through again. the sudden time-space disruption caused a small implosion to happen, flinging cross across the dimensional stream until he landed face-first into the hard surface of lava-surrounded rocks.

and now, he's here in this barren universe, this empty underground, walking all the way to the lab to figure out where he is. the dead silence is messing with him quite a bit - an unfortunate aftereffect after living in a white space with virtually no one else (apart from xchara) for who knows how long. he takes a deep breath in and marches forward, resolutely ignoring the deluge of frantic thoughts starting to bubble up in his mind.

when he finally arrives at his destination, the first thing he does is checking the security footage on the computer in the lab, which dates back at least two years as he can see. he skims through the footage - no soul pops up on the monitor at all. this place has been dead for a long time, which is... unsettling. is this a pacifist timeline where monsterkind has all moved to the surface? or is this a failed genocide timeline that the human refused to properly delete for some reason? either way, he has to get out of here as fast as possible.

the thing is, his multiverse travel token has been broken since his fall into this universe. without xchara's powers, cross is essentially out of luck. he doesn't think he's knowledgeable enough about the mechanics behind travel tokens to fix his own.

which means he's basically a sitting duck for anyone coming across him right now. nightmare will find him before dream can, judging by how hard cross is sweating right now.

happy thoughts, cross! he thinks to himself. happy thoughts!

easier said than done, honestly. being stuck in an angel-damned universe with no obvious dimensional travel technology is a terrible situation.

... wait. he just remembers something. killer and dust often commented on how the machine in the basement under the snowdin's house is probably designed for time-space shenanigans. it might be broken, as it is usually is in most universes, but maybe its magic signature is similar enough to that of a travel token for him to charge the token up again.

it is a farfetched idea, but he has to try regardless.

his trip to snowdin is less nerve-wracking than he thought. there's something both soothing and frightening about the white snowy landscape. there's a familiar scent in the air, an electrifying taste in the snowfall that makes cross stop in his tracks.

... it can't be, right?

cross opens the door to the house at the end of snowdin, and-

-and dust greeted him with a tired mumble from the couch. cross grinned and stole a quick peck on dust's forehead, making the hooded skeleton blink in surprise at him.

"rough day?" cross asked, to which dust nodded, quieter than he usually was. an especially tough day then.

cross hummed, joining his boyfriend on the couch. he snuggled into dust's slightly larger frame, and dust made a half-indignant half-pleased purr in his throat. cross purred back, stretching himself so that his cheek was pressed on dust's collarbones. he saw, from the corner of his eyes, dust clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides, as if he was conflicted on whether to hold cross in his arms or not. dust's body was cold, but cross didn't mind that. he waited for his body heat to gradually trickle to dust, his layered uniform keeping him warm enough in this forever-snowy weather.

as time went by, dust hesitantly wrapped his arms around cross and pulled him closer. both of them stayed there on the couch, indulging in each other's closeness. cross let out a satisfied rattle deep inside his bones. he wished this idyllic scene could go on forever and ever and-

-and he feels like he has been blasted back to the past. the couch is still the same, or maybe it has gotten even dustier. it doesn't surprise him - he was the tidier between them two after all. what surprises him is that the house is not destroyed. everything is the same as it was, as if stuck in time, a photograph of a memory left untouched in a house of still lingering ghosts. cross traces his hands on the coffee table. his hand picks up a fine layer of dust.

his feet lead him to the kitchen next, where he sees the first sign of difference: a bunch of wine bottles discarded on the floor that no one has bothered to clean up. the fridge is not closed, emitting another breeze of coldness into the atmosphere. cross sits at the dining table, as if he's in a trance, as if he's dreaming. it's been so long, and yet everything is the same.

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to feel. he puts his shaky hands on the table and-

-and waited for dust to put his plate on the table. it was a bit embarrassing, being shooed off the kitchen because he didn't know how to cook anything else but soldier rations. dust was kind enough to ban him to the dining table and order him to stay still so he could fix the surprise, now fire hazard, that cross had intended for his boyfriend.

when dust placed the dish in front of cross, the soldier didn't know what to do but hang his head in shame. dust took the seat across from him and started eating.

"dig in," dust told him, and cross reluctantly picked up his spoon and slowly ate through it.

"uhm, look..." cross stammered, embarrassed. "i'm sorry about the fire. i didn't know the stove would do that..."

"it's fine," dust said, flippantly. "it wasn't a big fire anyway."

"yeah, but still..."

"i think it's quite cute of you to try to cook a surprise meal for me, cross," dust interrupted what cross had to say, and cross flushed.

"oh! uh..." cross scratched his head, laughing nervously. "it's our one-year anniversary. i just wanted to make you something nice..."

dust looked at him, a smile in his white eyelights. "like i said, it's cute. i appreciate it." he looked down at his plate. "no one has given me a nice gift in a long time."

cross felt his face get even hotter. he placed his spoon on the table, ready to say the words he'd been putting off for a while, and-

-and he resists the urge to flip it. is it anger singing in his veins, or frustration? or something else? he can't tell. all the memories here are suffocating in its sweetness, as if taunting him with a past that is no more.

it's dangerous to feel this way towards an enemy. it's his job now to protect other people from nightmare and his gang. penance for what he has done.

and yet, he can't help walking up the stairs. he can't help opening the door to their bedroom. he can't help staring at the untouched state of it. his - or more like dust's now - little plushies are still on his corner of the bed they have picked and put in the room. his shelf of comics are still there next to dust's shelf full of fiction novels. the crudely molded little ceramic rabbit he has made for dust still sits on the table, facing the window. everything is the same as it was. the same as the day he left dust behind.

*creaaak*

he doesn't know how long he has stood there at the doorway, but when he hears a click at the front door, his panic skyrockets. he quickly dashes inside the closet (where he briefly finds his monochrome clothes are still there) and holds his breath as he hears creaking footsteps coming upstairs and into the room.

peeking through the gap of the doors, he sees him. dust. his ex-lover. sitting silently on the bed, unmoving, staring outside of the window with his dull white eyelights. it's usually unsettling to see a silent dust on the battlefield, but in the domestic atmosphere of the house, dust's silence reads more as melancholic than dangerous. cross hasn't seen him like this in a long time. so still. so tranquil. so... pitiful. gone is the ferocious cannon of nightmare - what's left here is a broken vestige of a lonely being, trapping himself inside a house stuck in the past. he looks unhealthy, as if one breeze can take him down easily.

cross moves to see his former flame better, but then he accidentally steps on a coat hanger. a loud sound echoes in the silent space. and the figure on the bed twitches.

"who's there?" a murmur comes out of the hooded skeleton. cross doesn't dare breathe. dust continues, "come on. i know you're there. show your face."

cross doesn't obey. he stays still in the closet as dust walks around the place, his voice gradually getting louder.

"killer, i swear to asgore's beard, if i found you in here... i told you to get the fuck out of this universe!" a little mutter. "... yeah, yeah, you're right, paps. killer doesn't disobey nightmare, does he? must be someone else..."

cross can hear his soul beating frantically. dust walks back into the room, looking around and continuing to mumble to himself.

"might be that prissy error... though he wouldn't be stupid to destroy this universe... but that freak is crazy..."

dust swivels his head to the closet that cross is hiding in, his eyes a blazing red and blue. in a soul-stopping second, cross doesn't care that he doesn't know this place well enough anymore to do a shortcut, but he does anyway, teleporting himself to the middle of the living room. he stumbles upon crashing on the coffee table, and runs out of the front door once he hears the loud demented cackle from dust.

"i knew you're there!" he hears dust shout in delight.

cross runs and runs, uncaring of his injuries. his mind is a jumbled mess and his shallow breath is fogging up his already blurred vision.

he's gonna kill me, his inner voice yells at him. he's gonna kill me for sure. he never forgives me.

a bone attack sprouts from the ground and punctures his leg. with a pained yelp, cross collapses just as a heavy weight appears on top of him, one hand holding on his sternum.

"you fucking rat, i caught you!" he hears dust crow. "you think you can run from m-" the voice suddenly stops. "... cross?"

the grip on his sternum momentarily falters, and cross doesn't hesitate jabbing his smaller daggers right at dust's stunned face. the hooded skeleton falls back, and cross grabbed at dust's travel token, which he always keeps under his shirt, and yanks.

cross kicks at dust, hard, and wobbles on his feet again and runs. as if awaken from a nap, dust shouts, "wait! cross, wait!"

cross doesn't listen. he tries to keep as much distance as possible from dust, haphazardly teleporting through the snowy forest, all the while calibrating the co-ordinations of the token. his pain is at the back of his mind as he forces his body to power through the adrenaline.

"darling, please! don't run away!"

cross punches the co-ordinations he wants to go and pours his magic into the token. he sees it light up and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"cross!" he looks back and sees dust a few feet from him. "cross, i-"

he doesn't hear the next words coming out of dust's mouth. light envelops him as his body fractures into tiny particles traveling through the in-between of the multiverse. the last thing his eyes see before disappearing is the strange emotion on the face of his ex-lover, frozen in an anguished expression with red tears running down his cheeks. it doesn't look like dust at all.

huh. what a silly mirage he encounters.

dividers here by @\cafekitsune

[luvvyouforever]

okay i love x-men 97 so much, so glad someone writes for that. Can I request scott summers x reader nsfw headcanons and how he wold be with his partner 18+ wise

you absolutely can <3

nsfw headcanons : scott summers (cyclops) x reader

content: nsfw content mdni 18+, mentions of dominance, lingerie, shower sex, domestic life, oral, etc

^^ he was so crazy in this gif. no, but have you met my wife? #needthat

𝜗𝜚 scott is such a passionate lover. he likes devoting all of his time and energy to you. when you're with the team in a fight, his focus has to be on everyone, but the minute you're alone with him in the bedroom, it might as well just be the two of you alone in the whole wide universe.

𝜗𝜚 i think he naturally takes control in the bedroom, but isn't a dom in the traditional sense. it's more about him guiding the night along and making decisions about what to do next. he'll gently manhandle you into new positions and flip you around depending on what he wants to do next. is always open to input from you, however. if you're begging to be ate out, who is he to deny you?

𝜗𝜚 he's also intuitive, seemingly knowing what you're asking of him before you can even put it into words. he can gauge how you're feeling that day and will, in seconds, prepare to cater the rest of the day to your needs. bad day? he knows that he needs to let you be a pillow princess. angry and frustrated? he lets you guide him where you want him and feeds into your urgent energy.

𝜗𝜚 sometimes, everybody is frustrating him and nobody is listening cough cough logan and he needs to be more dominant. in these moods, he's firm with you and likes making you slowly fall apart through the night. he loves getting you to the point where you're so sweet and compliant.

𝜗𝜚 the best way to make scott melt in these situations? look up at him with needy eyes, bite your lip, then breath out a soft "yes, sir." sometimes he just really needs it.

𝜗𝜚 sometimes, though, he's had that kind of tiring day and this is when there's little to dynamic between the two of you. it's soft, loving missionary or he's leaned against the comfortable bed with you riding him.

𝜗𝜚 since he can't fully see what you look like without the bright red visor on, he likes when things you're wearing have some kind of soft texture to them which applies to lingerie. wear something soft and silky which he can run his hands on and he'll fold.

𝜗𝜚 loooooves shower sex. you'll coax him into the steamy enclosed space and brush your body against him and suddenly your back is pushed against the wall, the warm water is enveloping the two of you, and he's pounding into you, strong arms supporting your weight.

𝜗𝜚 one of his biggest turn-ons is seeing you all domestically. he's already needy waking up to you in your shared bed, and then you cook breakfast together and you have this cute apron wrapped around you, and then you're smiling at him while you wash the dishes while he dries them, and then you're being dragged back to the bedroom giggly. god forbid you get pregnant.

𝜗𝜚 praise kink! please tell him that he's doing a great job. he doesn't receive nearly enough recognition for what he does for the x-men and he'll blush when you praise him for normal things throughout the day. whisper just how good he's making you feel as he fucks you and his thrusts will get erratic or rushed.

some more random, short headcanons:

𝜗𝜚 boob man. wear a low cut dress when he takes you on a date.

𝜗𝜚 loves feeling your hands run along his abs. especially if you have long nails.

𝜗𝜚 also loves feeling your hands tangle themselves into his hair.

𝜗𝜚 is sooo romantic w it. will absolutely put rose petals on the bed when it's your anniversary.

𝜗𝜚 loves oral, giving it but especially receiving it. he's such a sucker for feeling your lips wrapped around him.

𝜗𝜚 probably sometimes too scared to make your sex a little more kinky. will run it by you a hundred times before trying something.

𝜗𝜚 when he's indulged in a little alcohol, his inhibitions are gone. very very very rare moments but very very very fun.

𝜗𝜚 he gets sooo flustered when you send him pictures while he's gone, and he'll never ask for them, but you can tell when he gets home just how much he loved getting them.

𝜗𝜚 is so incredibly sweet during aftercare. will dote on you and ask if everything felt good and offer you water and run you a bath, anything you want.

𝜗𝜚 doesn't know how hot he is when he's leading the x-men. like imagine the scene in the first ep of x-men 97 when he lands on the ground with his power and says "to me, my x-men," and you are all over him when you get home but he doesn't get why. he's just doing what he should as a leader.

shoo, i need a scott summers.

[plaest2k]

hey, im a young nz artist too and i like making comics/want to do something bigger when im older, and i think your stuff is genuinely so fucking cool. i love it so much. i was wondering how you pursued art after highschool, like did you go to art school? if so, where and what was that like, and if not, how’d you find the time to continue doing it? its always felt like my opportunities for a career in art specifically seem smaller living in nz, but idk your stuff inspires me to think otherwise. thank you :)

kia ora!!

thanks so much for asking, it's truly so flattering that a young nz artist would ask me for advice! <3 sadly i might not necessarily be the best person to ask...

First of all, it's been a loooooong time since i've been a young artist hahaha I'm 32. After high school, I studied architecture at university because, as you're probably aware, we don't really have art schools like our peers do overseas. But after studying for a few years, I had a major depressive episode and dropped out. After that, I ran away to Korea to teach english for a year before coming back to work in cafes for about 6 years. Back then I was pursuing a career in editorial illustration cause that's what all my favourite artists were doing but I didn't realise that it was a dying industry at the time and there weren't exactly lot of full-time professional artists here who could have warned me...

So after about 10 years of trying to piece together some kind of profession in illustration, I ended up looking for a tattoo apprenticeship which was looking pretty promising but my bosses turned out to be not-so-great people. I tried to keep tattooing on my own but that was around the time COVID hit which wasn't (and still isn't) great for a job that requires you meet face-to-face with a lot of people. So, since the pandemic began, I've just been subsisting off of jobseeker, chipping away at comics and the occasional illustration gig.

The whole experience had me perpetually burnt out for the past ~15 years and made me realise that art as a career really just shouldn't be a thing. Under capitalism, it requires either an embarrassing level of compromise, privilege or luck to pursue. All the household-name artists you know in NZ either come from privilege or got unbelievably lucky. I don't say this as a value judgment or anything, most of them are truly wonderful people, it's just what I've learned about them as colleagues who've worked together a few times over the years.

I don't fault anyone for wanting to pursue that, but if you want to make uncompromising art that makes you feel fulfilled, you can't stake your livelihood on it. Art is supposed to be a by-product of life well lived, not content to be sold.

It's why I'm making plans to go back to uni next year to switch careers into a cushy office job because, as you've observed, even if you still want to pursue this as a full-time career, opportunities for artists in Aotearoa is extremely limited.

Having said all that, there's still a lot of nuance to this whole thing that would take me too long to cover in a tumblr post, so if you'd like me to elaborate or anything or have more questions, you're more than welcome to contact me through my email: plaest2k@gmail.com!

And this offer extends to literally anyone who might be looking for advice or just wants to talk about art <3

Final thing: the thought of studying something else at college/ university and keeping your art as a hobby might sound bleak when you're young, but life is so much longer than you think. You might feel like you have limitless creativity and ideas at the moment but when it becomes your entire life, you burn through it all faster than you'd think. It's because you need fuel to inform what you make and you can't get that from just making art. Like I always say, art is a by-product of a life well lived; You need life-experiences; You need to love, hate, care, be hated and loved to make art and you can't do that if you're too busy to do any of that. Those 3 years you spend on a bachelors is nothing in comparison to a lifetime of staring at a blank page, agonizing over what to make next.

[half-oz-eddie]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 5/5 (master list)

Buck found himself, tipsy and angry after another awful shift, on Tommy’s couch, venting to him about the captain he has reached his breaking point with.

“I can’t take this anymore, Tommy. Everyone has no choice but to keep their heads down and not talk back to Gerrard. I—I just feel like I’m alone there. I-I know they’re still my family but I’m the only one that’s taking this so hard. I feel…I feel lost.”

“Evan, I know it’s hard, but you’re definitely not alone. Everyone wants what’s best for you. Everyone cares about you. I want what’s best for you too. I wish there was a better way to go about this. ”

“I’m really glad you’re here for me.”

“Of course. You’ve been here for me whenever I needed a friend.” Tommy’s voice was the gentlest it has ever been and his hand was so warm as it gently caressed Buck’s bicep, offering him the most comfort he’d felt in such a long time.

Buck’s heart was racing wilder than it had ever raced. He couldn’t fight these feelings anymore. He knew what he wanted.

Buck didn’t know if it was a strange magnetic force, or God, or the universe that drew him to Tommy’s lips for a kiss.

The kiss was as soft and warm as he’d imagined it just seconds before it happened, but ended too soon when Tommy pulled away, eyes blown wide in shock and confusion.

“Evan…wh—“

Buck wasn’t sure how to respond, or how to explain what he’d just done. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t—I didn’t—“

“Evan—“

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna go.” Buck sprang up from the couch, rushing to the door.

“Wait—“

He ran out to his car and drove away, trying to get home as fast as he could.

Tommy called. And called. And called again.

“I can’t talk to him. I don’t even know what to say. O-or how to explain myself. I screwed things up.” Buck berated himself.

He was too ashamed to tell anyone what he’d done because it was impulsive. It was selfish. It was hard to explain.

He wished he could turn back time.

Buck carried this around for a day, then 2 days, then a week, until 13 days passed and it had completely consumed him to the point where he’d wake up nauseous every morning.

Tommy went from texting him a handful of times and calling 2 or 3 times, to texting once every other day, and eventually…not at all.

Buck was silent for the first 30 minutes after he’d gotten to Maddie’s. She could see he was pale and his eyes looked like they’d seen the horrors, so she didn’t want to pry but…

“Buck. What’s wrong?” She had to.

“I…I kissed Tommy.”

She blinked 3 times and shook her head in disbelief. “I’m sorry—what?”

“We were…kinda having a moment. I was venting to him about work and he made all these…I dunno, pent up feelings come out.”

“So—that—I guess…explains why you didn’t like Edgar without even meeting him—“

“Yeah. Okay? I tried to ignore it but it’s pretty clear that I’m—“ Buck realized it for himself as the words were about to slip out. “Shit. I’m in love with Tommy.”

“I had no idea you even—liked men.”

“I didn’t either. Sure, I’ll look at a hot guy’s ass but that’s normal.”

“It’s not ab…normal…” Maddie sighed. “So what now? Where do you and Tommy stand?”

“I-I ran out after he pulled away and I haven’t talked to him since. He’s been calling and texting—“

“And you’re ignoring him?! Why?” Maddie furrowed her brows. “He obviously wants to talk to you.”

“You didn’t see his face when he pulled away. He-he was so confused and he…” Buck sighed. “He looked upset.”

“Are you sure he was upset with you? Maybe he was just scared. Things with Edgar did end pretty badly. And then someone he really cares about, that he didn’t even know likes men just—kisses him out of nowhere! Think about how he’s feeling.”

Buck hadn’t thought about any of that. All he thought about was how badly he’d screwed up their friendship, and never considered how much he must’ve scared and surprised Tommy.

“Buck.” Maddie continued. “You need to talk to him.”

Buck nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

That night, Buck was sitting at his kitchen island, drinking the last of the beers Tommy had brought over the night of their dinner, when there was a knock on the door.

Those three firm knocks.

His heart was thumping wildly, his stomach was twisted in knots, but he knew he couldn’t avoid this anymore. He opened the door and they stared at one another, unable to catch their breath.

“Hey, uh…can we talk?” Tommy finally spoke firs, breaking awkward silence.

“Yeah…c-come in…” Buck welcomed him inside.

Tommy slowly stepped into the kitchen, his eyes falling onto the half empty beer bottle. “So that’s…that’s it, huh? You don’t call, you don’t text. You kiss me and I never see you again?”

“Tommy, I don’t—“

“I miss you. Even just…as a friend. I miss you.”

Buck nodded, the sadness in his eyes matching Tommy’s. “I miss you too.”

“…Why did you kiss me, Evan?”

“The truth is…” Buck shamefully sighed “when…I found out you were seeing someone, I felt like I was losing you. I-I couldn’t figure out why I was so worked up about it but…I was—“

“Jealous?”

“Yeah.” Buck bashfully chuckled. “I was jealous.”

“You like having me all to yourself?” Tommy smiled.

Buck felt his heart racing in a different way. Not just joy, but a special kind of excitement. One that was coursing through his entire body. “Kinda…”

“Evan.” Tommy said seriously. “If you want me…you can have me. As a friend, or as more.”

“A-are you sure?”

“I only started dating recently because…I was trying to move on from you.” Tommy laughed to himself. “I thought it was stupid that I liked you so much, and I was sure you wouldn’t be attracted to me—“

“I’m attracted to you.” Buck jumped at the opportunity to admit. “Extremely attracted to you.”

The pair of them had suddenly found themselves in each other’s personal space and this time, Tommy seized the opportunity. He pulled Buck in for a kiss. One much longer, and far more purposeful than the first.

Buck moaned in pleasure and relief, like he was finally letting something go, finally confessing to the things he’d been hiding from Tommy for months.

They broke apart, just a little too soon for Buck, who chased after Tommy’s lips again, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s neck, kissing him possessively.

“Easy, easy.” Tommy gently whispered against his lips. “Nobody’s gonna take me away from you this time, sweetheart.”

Buck giggled as their lips connected once more. “I hope not.” Buck mumbled into the kiss.

Two months later…

Tommy and Buck followed their usual hiking trail, holding hands, kissing and taking photos along the way.

They stopped in the picnic area and just as Buck was halfway through unpacking their lunch, Tommy pulled him in for a very distracting kiss while he reached into his pocket for a box.

He opened the box and broke away from the kiss, smiling when the ring in the box caught Buck’s wide eyes.

“Tommy—“

“I know it’s a bit soon, but Evan.” Tommy sighed. “All the time we’ve spent together, all the adventures we’ve shared together…I-I wanna do this for the rest of my life. Please tell me you’ll make me the happiest man alive and marry me, Evan Buckley?”

Buck nodded without hesitation, leaning into Tommy for a loving, turned lustful kiss. “D’you think we could get away with a quckie here?”

“No!” Tommy laughed. “Can I put the ring on you now?”

Buck held out his hand, letting Tommy slide the gorgeous, round cut, two tone diamond ring on his finger.

“Beautiful ring.” Buck smiled, admiring the ring.

“Beautiful ring,” Tommy stole a kiss “for a beautiful man” he stole another “with a beautiful soul.”

“I love you Tommy.” Buck smiled as he rested on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m glad I kissed you. Even though I ran away and I got scared—“

“It’s okay to be scared, Evan. I’m scared too, and I know there have been so many changes in your life—“

“But…sometimes change is good, right?”

Tommy nodded, pressing a kiss into Buck’s curls. “Yeah…sometimes it is.”

[reborrowing]

skipping breakfast

if you give a mouse a cookie, he may still want to leave. (part of stranger swap, but stands on its own) contains: fear/PTSD flashback, misunderstandings, reference to past abuse

Hollow’s ears pricked at the muffled sound of a phone alarm. It was the right tone to be from this unit and loud enough that it probably was sounding from the next room over. He scowled, counting the days back in his head. He was still sure it was a Monday.

He hadn’t bothered to check for the host before setting out. In the six months since they’d moved in, they hadn’t once missed a day of work. He held his breath as the alarm looped and repeated itself in a louder cry—maybe they’d forgotten their phone? No. Another second passed, something heavy shifted in the other room, and the alarm went silent. Maybe they were sick.

Hollow decided he didn’t care. He just needed to stay out of sight, same as ever. 

There was no good way to get off this shelf in particular without roping into the open, but the display was a decent enough place to hide, however eerie it felt. The host here made and collected miniatures.

To Hollow, and any other borrowers lured in by the strange collection, it felt like an alleyway cut out of some alternate universe’s walls or maybe a series of theater stages.  The shelf was busy and strange enough that some came here even without any intention of borrowing, only to see the strange collection. The rooms were more exposed than any living space had any right to be with half the walls missing and the furniture was mostly too small to be used by an adult, but some things made more sense after seeing them as they were meant to be seen—the sheer monotony of their counters and furniture disappeared, if nothing else.

And there was plenty to take  for someone of Hollow’s mindset: piles of decorative items, wall hangings, cushions, occasional bit of dinnerware—all of it felt much nicer than the cheap plastic and cardboard pulled out of a child’s toy box. And Hollow found that the colony kids always liked the little clay foods, familiar ingredients made alien when portrayed as handheld objects. Most stuff in these shelves was pretty junk, essentially, not stuff anyone needed, but the host also kept nice fabrics and clay and other useful materials in their crafting cabinets. The apartment was a good unit to borrow from, when the host wasn’t home and thudding into the room.

Hollow ducked behind a wooden counter—one now missing a piece of its carefully arranged tea set—to get out of sight. He meant to stay there until the host settled down somewhere with something to hold their attention. He didn’t have a backup plan when they decided to pause in front of this particular display shelf.

Hollow shuddered. He hated borrowing when the host was home. He hated them, all of them. He wouldn’t have come here had he known the host was home. Had he left something out of place? Had they seen him? Had they already seen someone else borrowing from them? Did they know?

The shadow of the host’s reaching hand, even while it was still a foot away, sent him scrambling in the opposite direction, making them yelp. So she hadn’t actually noticed Hollow until he panicked. At least he could take advantage of the host’s surprise to bolt. His breath trembled in his throat. He was so intent on getting safe, he forgot where he was, just that he couldn't let her catch him because this time she’d kill him. He tore through one carefully placed scene and then another. He only stopped when he reached the end of the shelf and only to grab his line—the line that he’d left out on the other end of the shelf to allow for a quick escape. He inhaled sharply and considered the long drop in front of him. 

“Whoa, no, don’t—”

Hollow jumped.

The laminate floor was far enough to hurt, he knew, but he had plenty of practice being hurt. As long as he landed right, he ought to be able to roll under that chair before she could step on him at least. It would take the kid a few seconds to get her hands down to the floor and hopefully he’d be able to get some more distance between him and her before–

A mattress of flesh interrupted his fall. He stared up in horror at a stranger’s face and shook under the memory of a much angrier human’s glare. He couldn’t bring himself to move, even as he was probed by a thumb half as tall as he was. The meaty digit lingered on his right side and massaged the point where his arm ended and his prosthetic began. Hollow flinched in slow motion.

“Oh,” the host breathed with a convincingly sympathetic tone. “You’ve really been through it huh?”

With a shaky hand Hollow reached for the sewing pin on his back and wished he had worn his uglier prosthetic. It was awful and clunky, and not particularly helpful on a normal borrowing run, but he bet that pen knife sticking out of it would have been enough to make a human flinch. As soon as Hollow aimed his pin down at the palm that held him, another pair of fingers came out of nowhere to easily pull it away.

“Okay, no, no, please don’t make me drop you, okay? I’m really sorry if I’m scaring you, I’m trying to help,” the host said.

They gave him a pitying smile and Hollow scowled, looking away his tongue before the shadows could twist back into that girl and beat him. Each time Hollow tried moving towards the edge of the palm, the host tilted their hand or brought up their fingers to block him. After several attempts, he shuddered as one of the fingers landed against his chest and sat back down in the middle of the open palm. 

“I don’t want you to fall, little guy. Why don’t we go sit down at the counter? I was about to make breakfast,” the host said. The wall of their belly jerked with a brief laugh. “Well, I was going to see how that polish dried, but I’ll deal with that later. You steady?”

Hollow buried his head in his knees and tried unsuccessfully to pretend he was somewhere else. His stomach dropped as the hand swayed then bucked as his clawed toes reflexively clung to the moving floor.

The host exhaled sharply and cupped their hand to better secure him. Hollow shivered, his fur standing all on end as the flesh closed in around him, and braced to be crushed. The movement slowed and Hollow peeked out to watch the host grab one of the chairs from another display. One of his toys. Hollow was just another thing to be played with. 

“I’m Jude, by the way, he/him,” the host said.

There was a pause.

“You don’t talk much, huh? Can you at least understand me?”

Hollow nodded, still glaring down towards the floor. He wasn’t even sure if he could speak at the moment and he didn’t want to try. Borrowers didn’t speak to humans, as a rule, even when they did get caught. He’d done it when he thought he had had no choice and it hadn’t made things any easier.

“That’s good, I guess, so you at least know I’m friendly.” 

Hollow believed no such thing.

Jude stepped away from their miniature displays—away from the critical gear Hollow had left behind—and crossed the apartment to the kitchen. Hollow watched Jude’s feet shuffle across the carpet with a seething envy. It was such a quick trip this way, straight across the open room in just a few easy strides. Sometimes, he wished he had followed his mother to an outdoors life where he wouldn’t have to spend so much time in human spaces where he found himself comparing their lives to his own.

“Alright, I’ll set you down here, if that’s okay?”

Hollow would be okay being set down anywhere, even onto a heated burner, if it meant a chance to get away from the host’s sweaty fingers. But with nothing to say and the human staring down at him expectantly, he exhaled shakily and nodded.

The host’s fingers shifted beneath him and he slowly slid onto the blessedly solid countertop. He spun back around and craned his neck to watch the looming host. He didn’t want to look at Jude, didn’t like the overwhelming reminder of their difference in scale, but preferred it to facing his back to the giant.

“You’re still shaking. You really are afraid of me, huh? I'm sorry,” Jude said. “Here, why don’t you sit down?”

Hollow tensed as the host’s second hand stretched towards him. For a moment it was the girl’s hand again and a memory of pain flashed down his spine. His half-tail twitched and tucked against his leg as he backed away. Jude set the toy chair down beside him and withdrew. He stared suspiciously at the human’s toy couch. The back looked stiff and uncomfortable but otherwise sturdy.

“Yeah, there you go. Take a minute to breathe, it’s okay, no judgment,” Jude said.

He did as he was told but as soon as Jude’s back was turned, Hollow started looking for his escape route. There was a familiar outlet nearby, one that Hollow and every other working borrower in the colony used to get into this unit. He couldn’t be seen going out that way, not if anyone wanted to use it again. And it would be a shame to lose access to this apartment, this was such a good one to borrow from. He needed to get to the floor where he could escape unseen. The drop to the floor still didn’t scare him; a borrower could fall a long ways without getting hurt, but so long as Jude was watching, Hollow was stuck. He wouldn’t do anything that risked bringing that fucking hand back towards him.

The way Jude moved the world within the kitchen made Hollow too aware of how small he really was. The plastic vat of flour, the tower of baking powder, the door to the nigh-impenetrable refrigerator…in Hollow’s world, these things were all well-secured vaults that had to be broken into. It took time and a solid plan to retrieve the contents. Jude did so instantaneously, talking the whole time, and in nearly unthinkable quantities.

No matter how many times he had been here, this was not Hollow’s world.

He sat quietly on the toy couch until the quiet got too loud and the host turned to look at him. He realized suddenly that the host had stopped talking and that the words had probably been for him and he really should have made an effort to listen. He could feel the expectation that Hollow should do something in those big eyes and he tensed, waiting for the girl to lunge forward to hurt him, or maybe this time she’d hurt…

Hollow grit his teeth. He was alone. With Jude. Who was, so. far, significantly less hostile than the girl or any other human he’d encountered. He could try to get along until he could get away. Maybe some of them were capable of mercy, or at least some patience.

He doubted it.

- Jude was already awake and out of bed by the time he registered that he had the day off and he’d just forgotten to turn off his stupid alarm. He looked back at the blankets but knew the chances of him falling back to sleep now were slim to none. He may as well take advantage of a few extra morning hours on his extra day, not that he had any plans. It was just nice to not have to rush out and deal with a parade of impatient strangers.

He stretched lazily and made his way to the front room. Sun filtered through the curtain and caught a cloud of dust particles dancing in the light. If Jude were a slightly more meticulous person he might spend the day tidying his place but already his thoughts had started to wander to what he might be able to craft or at least get started on before the day’s end. He’d finished his last project the previous night so could work on just about anything without stressing over anything in-progress.

At least, he hoped he had finished the project. He could check on it now that it had had time to dry. The pieces would be done one way or the other, but there was a decent chance he’d ruined them instead of finished them by using some questionable varnish. It was all he had had on hand and at 3am with nothing open but Amazon it had seemed like a good idea to risk it instead of waiting.

A shadow on the shelf shifted when he went to check and Jude screamed, embarrassed as soon as the sound left his mouth. Then came the second wave of embarrassment at being so self-consciousness when nothing was here to watch him but a few sculpted figures and their shadows.

His eyes caught back up with the movement and he realized that it hadn’t been a trick of the light. It’s just a figurine falling over, he thought at first, then, oh no, mouse? as it scrambled across the shelf. Jude shook his head as his mind caught up with his eyes. It was a tiny person, slightly larger than any of Jude’s figurines, and they were very much alive. He wasn’t alone at all and for a moment he was dumbstruck.

He’d always wanted fairies to be real. It was why he had started making miniatures and dollhouse furniture way back when he was a little girl and had persisted into his adulthood. And now, here one was, apparently enticed by Jude’s own handiwork. He had to bite back giddy laughter, lest his little guest think he was being laughed at. The poor thing looked nervous enough as it was.

Terrified even, he realized as he leaned forward for a closer look. But not scared enough to try to jump from up there, right?

Right???

Wrong.

Jude was too slow to stop him, but thankfully quick enough to catch him. He gasped as he landed in his hand. Jude didn’t know why he would expect otherwise, but the intruder was so light—about as substantial as the mouse he’d first been mistaken for. Jude pulled his hand in close to better keep steady as he looked. him over.

He wasn’t quite a fairy, at least not how most people would think of them. His guest had no wings or glitter and was far too grim to be made of light or children’s laughter. He didn’t seem bloodthirsty enough to be the other type of fairy either. He was …just a little guy, and not a very lucky one by the looks of him. He was dressed in rags and missing his arm and most of an ear. His tail looked like the end was scarred and withered; Jude suspected he’d lost the rest of that too.

The little guy’s eyes watered like he was about to cry and Jude did his best to soothe his fears. God, he was a pretty thing. Jude had spent a lot of time admiring the details of miniature things, but the little intruder was unbelievably exquisite: a masterpiece that only nature could craft. Jude was flattered that the little guy would be interested in his clumsy work at all.

He was determined to give the little guy a proper thanks before parting ways. Maybe if it went well enough, it would convince him to stay for awhile. Maybe even stick around as friends? Jude could hope. In any case, he thought pancakes and a comfortable seat would be a good start.

He did his best to move slowly and carefully as he prepped the kitchen, making sure to give the little guy as much space as he could. He wished he knew what to say to help the poor thing understand he wasn’t in any danger here. Everything Jude did only made him tremble more. Maybe just sitting there with a little cap full of cool water for a few minutes would let his panic wind down.

But as he mixed the batter Jude started to worry it wasn’t or that he was failing as a host in some other way. Had he missed some nicety the little guy expected or broken some unknown rule? No touching, maybe, but he’d already put him down. Were pancakes a bad choice? He’d given Jude a quick glance at his teeth and they had looked pretty sharp, maybe Jude’s vegan pantry was no more appealing to the little guy than the sculpted fruits on the shelf.

“You can eat this, right? Or maybe I shouldn’t assume? I could do something else or even run to the store if there’s not anything in my kitchen that looks like a proper meal to you? Is there something else you’d normally eat?”

Jude looked over to his guest for an answer and got only a slight shudder and a blank stare. A second passed and it was like the little guy saw a ghost. He paled and shrank back into the couch, mouthing something beyond Jude’s perception. It was all Jude could do not to reach out to try and physically reassure him—something that could only make things worse at this point.

“That’s, aw, you’re just too quiet, huh? Um, maybe just nod or shake your head? Do you eat pancakes? Or want to, at least?”

The little guy took a breath of relief and nodded hastily, shoulders easing back down when Jude smiled at him.

Jude turned his attention back to his cooking, neatly pouring out the batter. His heart skipped with delight as he doled out a few bite-sized drops for his guest. Pancakes made it easy to offer up a miniature serving alongside his own breakfast and the stack looked perfectly adorable on the coin-sized plate he’d pulled off of his display. Evidently the meal looked good to the the little guy as well, as he was willing to lean forward to grab it off of Jude’s finger. He snatched it away with his one hand, letting the tiny fork slip down onto the countertop, and flinched back into the couch.

“Can you…should I grab you a table as well? I wasn’t thinking about how you’d hold it” Jude said.

He shook his head without looking up. Jude watched with eager eyes as the little guy shifted slightly in his seat and the clasp at the end of his prosthetic opened then pinched closed, catching the edge of his plate to keep it steady in his lap and freeing up his hand.

“That’s so cool, did you make that yourself?”

The little guy glanced at his prosthetic and, if only for a brief second, a proud smile flickered across his face. Then he nodded and hid the expression by stuffing half a pancake into his mouth.

“I’ve got syrup, you don’t have to eat that plain, if you don’t want,” Jude offered.

His guest watched him suspiciously but his eyes widened and he nodded when he recognized the bottle of syrup that Jude retrieved. He poured a bit into the lid—he’d just have to clean it up later—and slid it across the counter to his wary guest, who eagerly sopped up as much as he could from the cap once he was sure he had his space back. And when he ran out of pancake, he scooped out an extra helping with his bare hand. Sweet tooth, Jude thought affectionately as he sat down with a plate of his own.

“You’ve been coming here for awhile, right? I’ve noticed stuff going missing since I moved in,” Jude said.

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. The little guy froze, letting the rest of the syrup drop into his lap, and his eyes once more danced around in a search for an escape. Jude raised his hands in a show of innocence.

“No, no, it’s okay! I just—you don’t have to sneak around. I’m glad someone likes my stuff, and you’re getting more use out of it than anyone on etsy would, you know?” Jude said. “I was gonna say you’re welcome to come back again for more. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.”

The little guy’s posture truly relaxed for the first time that morning and Jude wondered what it was that was so reassuring—that he was welcome to keep taking props, maybe? Jude hoped he wouldn’t regret that in the coming weeks. Some of it would hurt to lose.

“It’s a shame you can’t talk. I’ve never seen anyone like you before, you know? I don’t even know what to call you,” Jude said.

The little guy chewed his lip thoughtfully for a second before pointing at the small pile of mail sitting on the edge of the counter. With a little more prompting, Jude picked out a seasonal bit of junk mail advertising local fall deals.

“The flyer? No, the pumpkin? Uh, jack-0-lantern? Jack? Your name is Jack?”

The little guy’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. He pointed at the clip-art again, this time holding up two fingers. Two words? Two syllables? Two…something.

“Jack-o? Jackie?”

A scowl.

“Um…Pumpkin?”

Little guy rolled his eyes.

“Not pumpkin, then? That would be cute though, a little Pumpkin,” Jude said.

Probably-Not-Pumpkin huffed impatiently and mimed writing something. Jude felt his ears tinge red. He should have thought of that.

“Duh. Okay, yeah, yeah, I’ll grab you a pencil lead or I think I have…I’ll find something you could use to write, gimme a sec,” Jude said.

He hopped up to grab something from his desk. He had some tiny colored pencils he’d picked up on a whim once, but they’d probably be too large. It might force the guy write large enough that Jude could actually read his handwriting though—was that selfish? After a minute or so of back and forth with himself, he snapped a bit of lead from a mechanical pencil and turned back to the kitchen. That minute was all that Not-Pumpkin needed to disappear.

Jude searched carefully around the kitchen floor, but found no sign of where he’d gone. He sighed. He really thought they’d been getting along. He just had to hope the promise of sweets and props would be enough to bring the little guy back.

-

In the wallways, Hollow hesitated to mark the unit as unsafe. He knew Jude wouldn’t forget about this visit, wouldn’t forget that borrowers were real, but if he’d already known…there was no reason to get himself in trouble with the council if the host wasn’t going to try and trap any intruders. Jude hadn’t meant to keep him there, it seemed, though Hollow didn’t understand exactly why. He was just grateful that he'd been willing to believe that Hollow would write to him.

He made hesitant scratches in the wood to warn his fellow borrowers that the host inside had seen something. It was a simple glyph, vague, and hopefully enough to make the next person to pass through extra careful. He didn’t take the time to mark the other escapes. He was tired. His panic was subsiding, leaving him frustrated and exhausted.

His bag had been left behind, along with the best of his gear and all his loot. But as he trekked back through the darkness, he let relief win over the frustration. He had plenty of time to rebuild his kit. He wasn’t in a cage. He’d gotten away. He’d even had a good, rich meal and stuffed away enough leftovers to give his daughter.

He was home. They were safe.

--

taglist: @da3dm @whumpsday @gt-daboss @whumpinthepot (To be added/removed from the taglist please comment, ask, or message, I’ll forget if it’s just in the tags of a reblog!)