#it’s so fucking hard to type with long fake nails Jesus how do people do this pls excuse all the typos today

[blossoms-phan]

the bucees shirts omg im obsessed with them. with all the love in my heart phil looks sooooo gay today and I’m here for it

[koqabear]

Like Cat and Mouse!

☆ Playlist! ☆

"You seemed to have garnered quite the reputation for you on campus— one that had the word “trouble” following you like a shadow. But when you give Beomgyu an offer he couldn’t possibly turn down in exchange for helping you get your grades back up, how could he refuse? You can’t possibly be that hard to handle, right?"

Beomgyu x fem!reader, ft. Hueningkai

Genre: college au, slowburn (kinda..?), tutor!gyu x rich girl!mc, fluff, angst, smut

Word count: 37.1K

Warnings: mc is a bitch, and maybe a bimbo? gyu wears glasses, and he’s like super super shy, mc gets sick for a scene, she rambles but its part of her character ok!, toxic relationships, pining/unrequited love, Yunjin is so fake here im sorry Yunjin, mentions of alcohol/drinking, the puppy gyu agenda is fucking strong here !!!

Smut warnings: multiple smut scenes first of all, fwb!huening, dom!hyuka, switch!mc, sub!gyu, (the worst case of sub gyu yet), virgin!gyu, breast play, dry humping, biting, pet names (f rec: princess, m rec: puppy, good boy, baby, slut, etc.)  mentions of bondage (f. rec.), spanking (f. rec.), degrading, praise, praise kink, finger sucking, oral (f. & m rec.), handjobs, mouth fucking, cum eating (?), explicit, verbal consent is not stated in two scenes but both parties are willing! Semi-public sex, overstimulation, slight thigh riding, marking, hair pulling (m. rec. lol), begging, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

notes: i don't even know what to say... there's really no reason for this to be so long, how did we get here. i hide my face in shame.

It all starts as an accident— a very inconvenient accident.

Really, it wasn’t your fault; how were you supposed to keep up with these endless assignments that only seemed to get worse as time went on? You had better things to do with your life— studying is way too much of a headache for you these days. 

Instead, your days have been filled along the lines of parties and trips your friends hold, gaining connections with people that always help things go next level; Empty vacation homes, yachts, even a private jet once— you were lucky enough to land a friendship with these type of people, the thought of taking things slow and worrying more about your education not crossing your mind anymore once you got a taste of the fast life. 

Which is exactly how you got where you are now. 

“There goes your man,” Yunjin’s elbow is sharp against your side as she whispers teasingly, the jab only making your frown deepen as you weakly attempt to shake her off. 

“Shut up.” That’s all you can manage as you go to lay your head down on the dining hall table, your appetite long gone as your head swims and your stomach twists with nausea; her single jab is enough to remind your body of its terrible shape, your eyes shutting tightly as you fight through the urge to hurl then and there. 

You’re not even sure of what she might mean— you don’t remember telling her about any recent hookups— hell, you don’t even remember gawking at anyone in your vicinity; so for her to be teasing you about this “man” of yours was strange, a pout forming on your lips as you try to focus on the cool feeling of the wood beneath your skin.

“I gotta go,” Yunjin says abruptly, your eyes opening to send her a confused look. All she can do is give you an eager smile, patting your head as she grabs her now empty coffee cup from the table. “Your man is coming this way.”

Before you can ask her what man she could possibly be talking about, she’s off, not bothering to look back as she sends you a little wave over her shoulder, perfectly manicured nails glittering under the sunlight that shines through the windows. 

The seat in front of yours is quickly filled. 

“You weren’t at our study session yesterday.”

Jesus. 

There’s not much you can say to that, clearly guilty as you choose to press your forehead against the cool table in response. Maybe, if you close your eyes, he’ll disappear— if only it were that easy. But instead, you’re stuck with Choi Beomgyu and the warm scent of coffee that follows him— god knows how many cups he drank as a substitution for sleep. Your lashes flutter against the table as you attempt to drown out his whines, surprised that he hasn't taken your unresponsiveness as a hint to go away.

“Have you ever gone to Paris?” You ask, the sentence flying from your mouth and interrupting his rambles. It’s enough to shut him up, sitting up as you plant your hands firmly on the table in a weak attempt to not lay your head back down.

“No, I haven’t.”

His response is typical— you didn’t care whether or not he would say yes, leaning into the table as you stare into his eyes; it’s clear he’s flustered by the action, leaning back in reciprocation as his pupils land everywhere but on you. 

“If you had the chance to go to Paris right now, would you?” It takes a moment before Beomgyu nods his head hesitantly, mouth opening as he prepares a new line of questioning for you. But you’re quick to cut him off again, clapping your hands in satisfaction as you stand up— his eyes follow your every movement, face resembling a lost puppy as he watches the way you get ready to leave.

“Exactly; Paris really is beautiful by the way, definitely recommend going. So you can’t blame me for ditching our study session yesterday, can you?” Tilting your head, you watch the puzzles connect in his mind. “We can always make it up or whatever, not that big of a deal.”

Turning around, you don’t bother saying goodbye to Beomgyu; your only thoughts center on your beautiful, comfy bed and how you’ll spend the rest of your day in it. You can hear him calling out to you, the sound of a chair scraping against tile catching your attention as you force yourself to walk faster. 

“We have class in fifteen minutes— where are you going?!”

He’s gaining up on you. You don’t care if you have to sprint out of the building, but the last thing you’ll do is get stuck in another of Beomgyu’s self-righteous rambles as you curse wildly under your breath. 

“Home— I’m sick!” 

Carelessly, the exit door is slammed on Beomgyu’s face— by accident, of course. Glancing back, you’re able to catch a glimpse of his pathetic puppy face, clearly discouraged from trying to continue chasing after you. 

Normally, one would be compelled to feel guilty— but the day is simply too nice, the weather so perfect as a spring wind brushes past your skin; the sun that slightly worsens your headache truly doesn’t seem that bad anymore. 

A perfect day to drive around and shop, in your humble opinion. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 

This new purse would be divine in your collection. 

The luxury bag in your hands is sleek and smooth as your fingertips glaze over the details, entranced by its chic beauty as you let your thoughts wander— formal events, birthday dinners, oh, the places you could take it…

The price tag is no joke— it has you counting numbers in your head, pondering just how much of your monthly allowance you have left; if you buy it now, you’ll have to say goodbye to the girls’ trip at Yunjin’s beach house in Cancun…

Treat yourself, a tiny voice whispers in your mind, you can always beg your parents for more money. 

The devil on your shoulder is compelling— it warps your vision, a pout forming on your face as it practically forces your eyes to see the item in a heavenly light; the last item in that specific collection, and it’s right at your disposal, only a card swipe away…

“Pretty bag,” your little devil hums, “It would look nice with that little black dress you’re always looking for an excuse to wear.” 

His hand is delicate and teasing on your shoulder, his hold on you tight as he pulls you into him protectively. You’re not as surprised as you should be as you look up at Hueningkai, pouting face innocently looking up at him as you shake your head in distress. 

“I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to go with Yunjin to Cancun during spring break,” you whine, petulant as always as you refuse his reasoning— yet also refuse to let go of the bag and walk away. 

Anyone who knows you knows how you get about accessories— how obsessive you become with collecting them, your closet always filled to the brim as your need to buy becomes a borderline addiction. 

Maybe that’s why Hueningkai finds your dilemma so amusing, deft fingers snatching the purse from your hands and walking away wordlessly, leaving you to trot behind him as you continue to rant and stall, lingering by his side as a new item catches your eye; you inspect it curiously while the words uncontrollably fly out of your mouth. 

“I mean it’s not like I don’t have enough money, cause I could always ask my parents for more— and they’d gladly give it to me— but I always feel so horrible to ask for more, especially now that I’m supposed to be getting more independent, even though they always talk about spoiling me because I’m their only daughter, but still, I really want it but if I buy it I’ll have to ask them for more money, and it’s not even a big deal but it feels—“

“Oh my god, okay!” It seems you were too distracted by the tweed Chanel bag in your hands to anticipate the shopping bag that Hueningkai thrusts into your hands, exasperated at your ramblings as he swiftly manages to shut you up. 

You’re left speechless, sorting through the filling paper dumbly as you’re greeted with the same bag that Hueningkai snatched from you— your sparkly eyes look up at him in awe, unsure of what to say as he simply smiles at your reaction. 

“Huening…” you pout, clutching the bag to your chest with one hand as you slap his chest with the other— his very firm, strong chest… “you shouldn’t have.”

He’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you into him and guiding you out of the store as he leans into you; you can smell his cologne so perfectly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers softly into it.

“It’s okay,” he smiles, endeared by the way your eyes shine with anticipation to his words, “I know of a few ways you can make it up to me.” 

There’s no need to call your driver— Hueningkai knows the way to your apartment like the back of his hand, one relaxed at the steering wheel while the other plays with the hem of those skirts you always like to wear.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

“You’re such a tease,” Hueningkai’s lips are plump and bitten at as you smile against them, his hands never straying from your ass as he grasps at it, enjoying the way you grind against him expertly.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” you pant, the warm feeling of his hands on your tight-clad thighs making you whine, your pussy slotted perfectly against him as you feel the way he grows harder underneath you.

“You’re always so good to me…” you trail off the moment his lips begin to wander down your neck, attempting to pull off your thin sweater as his hands immediately find themselves on your breasts. He can only let out a breathy laugh at your words, his teeth sinking in the plump flesh softly before his fingers are working your bra off. 

“Always buying you your favorite things?” He rasps, groaning softly at the sight of your breasts, fingers playing with your nipples as he looks up at you teasingly, “my princess will do anything for a pretty purse, hmm?” 

Frantically, you nod, his hips bucking into you as you feel the way his cock presses against you effortlessly; he’s as eager as you are, warm tongue on your skin making your thoughts run wild as you imagine what it would feel like to have him pressed against your cunt, helpless to your needs as your fingers card through his hair.

“Come on pretty girl, show me how grateful you are,” your thoughts are immediately dispelled as Hueningkai pushes you off, a gentle hand pushing away your hair before he’s guiding you down to your knees; his favorite sight, your doe eyes fluttering at him innocently as your hands make quick work of his belt. He can’t help but groan at the sight before him, lip caught in his teeth as he silently wishes for you to hurry. 

Hueningkai takes the belt from your hands, placing it to the side as he smiles down at you coyly— you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation, your mind going back to the many memories of your face pressed into the mattress as your bound hands desperately begged to touch him. Your fingers are delicate as they pull down his zipper— he’s become impatient, lips parting as he gets ready to make a witty comment. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a persistent ringing of your doorbell. 

He’s devastated as he flops back into your mattress— a loud groan escapes him, brows furrowing as he grows irritated at the ringing that echoes throughout your apartment. 

“Jesus, what the fuck is their problem?” He complains, running a hand through his hair before he sits back up; he’s smiling fondly at you as he caresses your cheek, sighing softly as he nods his head towards the door, “go see who it is, won’t you princess? Make it quick.” 

The look that you two share is nothing but mischievous, his lips connecting with yours in a chaste kiss as he helps you up; he’s tugging your sweater roughly over your chest, straightening your skirt before he’s sending you off— not without one last feel of you, the stinging sensation that lingers on your ass making you yelp as you send him a playful glare— he can only send you a sly look in return. 

This better be important, you can’t help but think, sighing heavily as another three persistent rings of your doorbell echo throughout— you groan, rolling your eyes as you swing the door open wildly.

You can’t say you’re surprised as Beomgyu stares back at you in shock, his wide eyes blinking rapidly as he takes you in.

“What.” Your tone is unwelcoming as you lean against your doorframe, arms crossing to cover your chest as you raise a brow at him in anticipation— he stutters uselessly, pushing up his glasses as his eyes fly about your apartment wildly— refusing to look at you for more than a second. 

“You didn’t answer my messages,” or calls, he whispers weakly, tugging at the hem of his sweater as he stares down at his dirtied shoes, his other arm hidden behind his back. He clears his throat, gulping as he looks into your eyes, pushing past the annoyed look that greets him as he continues, “You didn’t look well this morning, so I wanted to check up on you.”

You’re not sure what to say as Beomgyu whips out what was hidden behind his back—you’re leaning back as you stare at the cute, floral lunch bag that Beomgyu thrusts into your face, hesitantly taking it as you look back at Beomgyu in confusion; it feels warm in your arms.

“It’s soup.” He says, his ears reddening as he takes in the bewildered way you’re staring at him, “It’s my mom's recipe, it’s— it’s really good.”

“Yeah? We’ll be the judge of that,” Hueningkai has snuck up behind you as he wraps an arm around your waist, effectively pushing you back against him— you can feel how hard he is against the swell of your ass, eyes widening as you get what he’s hinting at, impatient fingers digging into your skin softly. 

Beomgyu seems just as surprised as you are at Hueningkai’s appearance, if not more. It becomes your turn to become embarrassed as you look over your shoulder to meet Hueningkai’s smug smile, his eyes glistening with curiosity as he looks back at Beomgyu, tilting his head as he frowns.

“Who are you anyway?” 

Beomgyu seems quite offended by his statement, looking at you in shock. You’re scrambling to cut Hueningkai off, letting out a soft laugh as you place a firm hand on his chest— the last thing you need is for Hueningkai to drive away one of the few people that would be willing to tutor you. 

“He’s just helping me out in some classes, that’s all,” you say, placing the lunch bag in his hands before you’re shooing him away, “Put this on the kitchen counter— I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t miss the look the two of you share— if anything, it makes his stomach twist in embarrassment, wanting to do nothing more than turn around and pretend as though he hadn’t interrupted you while you were— whatever it was. Hueningkai is cheery as he walks back into your apartment, not bothering to spare Beomgyu another glance as he disappears from your sight; your clearing throat is what gets Beomgyu’s mind back on track. 

“Right. Well,” you say, smiling awkwardly as you reach out for the door, “I’m feeling better. Thanks though!” 

Beomgyu is unable to get out another word as you’re closing the door on him, sneaking in a last comment as you cheerily yell “tell your mom I said thank you!” Uncaring of his reaction as the door shuts in his face; he suddenly thinks back to this morning, shuddering at the memory of him having to walk back to the other exit of the dining hall, towards the building his classes were in— your shared class, specifically— forced to ignore the strange looks everyone gave him as he stared straight at the ground. 

“Isn’t he younger than us? Why was he talking to me like that,” he quietly pouts, his protests left unheard as he’s forced to walk back home, eyes glued to the sidewalk in dismay— the feeling is dreadfully familiar.

“Well that’s sad,” Hueningkai remarks, peeking through your blinds as he watches Beomgyu’s figure grow smaller, “Are you actually gonna eat that?”

His eyes flick back to the lunch bag that sits innocently at your counter—you simply shrug, feeling oddly protective of the item as you tuck it behind you, leaning against the counter as you sigh softly.

“His mom made it, I’d feel bad if I didn’t,” you say, biting at your lips as you watch the way Hueningkai laughs in disbelief. You feel a bit bad as you think back to the way you turned him away, his expression pitiful and sad as you slammed the door on his face for the second time today. Yet you don’t get much time to think about it as Hueningkai begins to approach you, hands effortlessly finding themselves on your waist as your head tilts to meet his lips in a sweet, slow kiss. 

“Can’t believe he interrupted us for so long,” you feel him smile against your lips as he presses you back against the counter, ready to hike your skirt up as his other hand is eagerly wrapping your leg around his waist, “will you make it up to me?”

Beomgyu disappears from your mind like smoke— the smile against your lips is contagious, your hand gently pressing against his chest as you roll your hips teasingly into his, a broken moan falling from both your lips. 

“Of course.“

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

The rest of the day is quite underwhelming. 

You’ve been left with a good fuck and a nice purse, but as you lay in your bed, you can’t help but notice the way your headache never really left— it’s been nothing but a dull ache until now, the pain persistent and growing as you sigh in exasperation; none of your usual remedies have worked for you so far. 

Your body feels hot and weak, yet you’re left shivering as the blankets keep endlessly stacking on top of you. Not even your weighted blanket can lull you to sleep, your figure restless as you toss and turn in your bed, your phone buried in your puzzle of fabric. You’re in nothing but pain— you hate feeling like this, and the sudden grumbling of your stomach truly isn’t helping either. 

Left with no other options, you trudge to the kitchen, opening your fridge as you mentally brace yourself— it’s been a while since you’ve shopped for groceries; there’s not much in there that you could eat quickly, and you can’t find any energy within you to cook. 

The cool fridge door is welcoming against your skin— yet it’s also bothersome as you begin to shiver at the cold, closing the fridge quickly as you frown to yourself; whatever your body has come down with, it sure is annoying. Taking a moment to think, you suddenly find your eyes gravitating to a certain item; ergo, the floral lunch bag that remains untouched on your counter. 

It hasn’t been that long— an hour or two, at most. Whatever Beomgyu gave you couldn’t have spoiled by now, right? 

It’s soup, you recall him saying, biting your lip as you take the lunch bag to your small table, my mom's recipe. 

Unpacking the contents, you hum in surprise— yeah, this looks like a mothers cooking. The Tupperware he’s provided you with is filled to the brim with a nice broth that is still warm to the touch, a side of rice and vegetables also packed inside for you; you’re unable to stop a small awe from escaping you as you take out a small container of tea that has been stored inside for you as well, surprised at how much Beomgyu’s mother packed for you. 

Does she think we’re friends? Is this her way of making me stick with him? You wonder, biting at your lip as you hold back a laugh at the thought— a poor momma’s boy, struggling to make friends as his mother attempts to subtly help him. 

It’s no secret that Beomgyu was a bit of a loner— that’s why you reached out to him in the first place. You knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse you, because he couldn’t even give you the excuse that he had no time; that, and the hefty sum you gave him in exchange for tutoring someone as difficult as you. 

To a degree, you were self-aware— but it only came after the fifth person rejected your offer, saying that you probably wouldn’t even commit once you started. No matter how pissed you were when you were first told that, you were unable to disagree; unfortunately, it also sparked a deep spiraling of self-reflection as your new self-awareness brought you to Beomgyu; by then you were so desperate and ashamed that Beomgyu probably only accepted because he felt bad. 

Tutoring with Beomgyu had its benefits; he was nice, and quite the pushover as well. He never protested too much when you canceled on him, and the most you ever got from being annoying was a long scolding or an exasperated sigh from him— plus, now it seems that free food has been thrown into the mix.

Settling down at the table, you found yourself oddly restless as you went to fetch a small blanket from your bed— it was only then that you were able to find your phone, gasping as it landed roughly on the floor. Going back to the kitchen, you were now able to make yourself comfortable, sitting at your table as you took off the lids of everything that was packed for you— even the tea was still nice and warm in its thermos, everything packed with such care and attention to detail that you couldn’t help but take a picture of it. 

It was delicious as well; the soup was comforting and not too overwhelming on your senses as you mixed in bites of the white rice, fluffy and cooked to perfection as you melted in your seat with every spoonful. The vegetables were steamed and well seasoned; you practically squealed from happiness as you ate, not used to having such a big meal cooked by someone else these days. 

It filled you up quickly— the ginger tea was soothing against your throat, the taste of honey and lime mixed in leaving you warm and fuzzy as you tiredly trudged to bed; you’d have to beg Beomgyu to invite you to his mother’s house later. 

Maybe it did work, you briefly think to yourself, your mind quickly emptying as you make yourself comfortable in your bed, that only made me want to talk to Beomgyu more— maybe it wouldn’t be too bad being his friend. 

A soft laugh escapes you at the thought— your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to stay awake, eager to sleep through this brief sickness that threatens to overtake you. After this, you’re sure it’ll be an easy recovery.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You think you’re dying. 

You’re hot and sweaty as you kick away your blankets for the umpteenth time, irritated as your body quickly begins to shiver instead. You’re only able to sleep for a few hours at a time, on the verge of tears as the clock on your bedside table reads nine pm— you’re unsure of what to do, already taking medication a few hours ago that seemed to do nothing. Your body is burning up as you toss and turn a bit more, dreading the new train of thought that enters your mind.

Maybe you should call someone.

Maybe they’ll know what to do, you think, holding back nausea that threatens to knock you out as you slowly sit up; scrolling through your contacts, you hesitantly press call to the first person you could think of. 

It rings once— then again, then a few times more before it goes straight to voicemail. 

“Hey, you’ve reached Yunjin’s voicemail. Please leave a messa—“ you sigh as you hang up, attempting to call a few times more before you give up entirely. 

She’s probably at a party. Or with some boy. 

Scrolling through your contacts, you choose your next person carefully— you’re sure they’re not busy right now, they’ve never been one to go to parties as often— 

Ning Ning’s phone goes straight to voicemail as well. 

Groaning, you lay back as you feel your head pounding, your mind racing as you attempt to go through a mental checklist of who you could call— but all you can conclude is that they’re busy, wouldn’t want to help, or you’re simply not that close to them.

“What the hell,” you mumble, pressing your face against your pillow as you sniffle softly— your headache has become unbearable, and you’ve always been a big crybaby whenever you got sick. 

“Do I not have any friends?” You ponder, your stomach sinking at the thought— there’s no way! If anything, your phone was always on silent from the number of notifications you got in a day; you always knew at least ten people when you walked in a room, the elite definition of a social butterfly— the last thing you would consider yourself is friendless. 

Maybe it’s just an unlucky time, you think, playing Russian roulette with your contacts as your finger presses on a random one; Hueningkai <;3 glares back at you in bright letters, your eyes narrowing as you consider calling— he’s always been one to spoil you, so it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for him to help you this once, right?

You’re nervous as the phone rings out into your room, your fingers tapping on your bed impatiently as you wait for him to pick up— just when you think he won’t, his voice greets your ears like a miracle. 

“Hey baby, what’s up?” His voice is a bit rough as he speaks, his speech slow and relaxed as your eyes narrow at the sound; he’s probably high again. 

“Hueningkai,” you cry out softly, unable to help the way you become emotional in your state— your voice is muffled, your face buried in your pillow as the pain becomes far too overwhelming. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice has become more alert at the sound of your sniffling, the sounds of rustling from his side making you wince, your hand going to lower the volume of your phone. 

“Dunno. I’m sick,” you say, flipping over onto your back as you stare up at the ceiling— you feel tired, yet you’re unable to get comfortable enough to sleep. You hear more rustling on the other side of the phone— Hueningkai sighs, mumbling something to himself before he clears his throat.

“Why don’t you go to the doctor, hmm?” You frown at his words, shaking your head at the thought— you weren’t really expecting this outcome. 

“I— I can’t really get up, I feel dizzy…” you confess sheepishly, the realization that you truly don’t have enough energy to even stand for too long weighing down on you, “I was wondering if you could come over?” 

“Come over?” Hueningkai echoes, humming softly at the thought— it’s silent, the tension leaving you biting at your lips as you wait for him to respond.

“Listen, uhm,” you sigh softly at his words, closing your eyes as you attempt to ignore the way your stomach dips with disappointment, “I’m kinda busy right now. But if you want, you can call me tomorrow and I can take you to the doctor, ‘kay?” 

Attempting to swallow down your disappointment, you nod, a moment of silence passing before you realize that he can’t even see you. 

“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a lump in your throat as you speak, and you can’t help but feel the way your body heats up as the line falls silent; from embarrassment, this time. It’s awkward, but you can’t bring yourself to care as Hueningkai mumbles a soft “okay then. Goodnight,” the sound of him hanging up the last thing you hear before you’re shrouded in complete silence, the darkness of your room threatening to swallow you whole. 

The sound of your stomach growling angrily is the only thing that breaks the silence. 

A frustrated groan tears through you— you’re oddly emotional as you force yourself to sit up, pausing as you attempt to maintain balance; your head is spinning, and you’re beginning to realize how long it’s been since you last ate. The floor is cold under your feet as you trudge to the kitchen; you can’t bring yourself to turn on the lights, your slippers lost somewhere in your room as you feel a shiver wrack through your body. 

What will you do? Your fridge is practically empty and takeout doesn’t sound too appealing to you; you can feel tears well up in your eyes once more, a pout forming on your face as you slump down on a chair in defeat. Sighing, you think back to earlier— the homemade food Beomgyu brought to you, so soothing and filling it almost reminded you of the meals your cook back at home would make for you— maybe you could call your driver to take you home for a bit. 

It’s hours away and he’s probably off right now, you frown, checking the time on your phone just in case— 9:45— yeah, he’s definitely home by now. Of course, nothing is stopping you from calling him and telling him it’s an emergency, but then you’d feel far too guilty about ripping him away from his family just for you. 

He spends enough time at our home as it is, you think, placing your phone on the table as you go to massage your temples weakly. You need to eat something— maybe you’ll get some energy from it. But, picky as always, you can’t seem to find anything that sounds appealing to you; even the restaurant you frequently eat at doesn't seem to be doing anything for you, your mind inevitably going back to the one thing you were avoiding. 

Hesitantly, you pick up your phone— you can’t believe you’re actually going to try this, you think, biting at your lip before you finally press call; then again, this isn’t entirely out of character for you.

A lonely college student that doesn’t have many friends— if anything, he’s probably up studying right now, you think, frowning as you press your phone firmly to your ear, and if he was willing to check up on me, he should be willing to do this small thing for me too. 

“Hello?” The relief that floods through you is surprising; you’re becoming lax against your seat as the sound of Beomgyu’s uncertain voice meets your ears— his voice is gruff and soft as he speaks, unsure of whether or not you called him on purpose. 

“Choi Beomgyu,” you whine, already feeling yourself becoming unnecessarily emotional as you allow yourself to rant to him, “I’m sick. Can you do me a small favor?” 

On his end, Beomgyu is oddly surprised— why would you go to him of all people? He’s a bit weary as he listens to you carefully, thinking back to the way you were able to shut him out effortlessly; if anything, he must’ve been your last resort.

“What is it?” 

You’re unable to hold back the sigh of relief that escapes you— a smile graces your lips, and for the first time during this miserable experience, you don’t feel helpless. 

“Okay, hear me out please,” you start, sitting up as you clear your throat; unbeknownst to Beomgyu, you’re about to begin one of your infamous ramblings. 

“I know you might be busy studying or whatever, but I promise I’ll be quick. So, you remember the food you gave me earlier? I actually ate it, and it was really good! Your mom is a good cook, but then again, I’m pretty sure all moms are pretty good cooks. But like, I’m gonna be honest with you, I forgot to get groceries earlier this week, so I don’t really have much to eat— I could go order takeout or something but the thought of eating something greasy right now makes me wanna puke. I was thinking that since you probably don’t go out that much your mom might have given you extra servings of that soup, and I know it sounds really entitled and a bit bitchy but do you think you could please please please drop some off? 

“I promise I’ll pay you whatever and you seriously only need to drop it off at my door, it’s just that her cooking was really good and I almost started crying when I ate it— I get really emotional when I’m sick so I also think it’d be best for you to leave as quickly as you can; please please please please I promise I won’t ditch our study sessions for a good week at least, I’ll be good and study! I just think I’m gonna pass out right now and your mom’s food is the only thing I can think of right now… please?”

You feel out of breath as you finally finish your seemingly endless ramble— on the other side of the line, Beomgyu lets out an exasperated laugh. 

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” You’re not sure when you began to get emotional over nothing, but you’re surprised to feel hot tears streaming down your face at Beomgyu’s words, a few hiccups escaping you as you let out a soft really? “Yeah, I’ll just leave it at your doorstep.”

Standing up, you stumble a bit as you wipe your tears away. If you hadn’t scared Beomgyu away before, you surely did now. 

“Drop it off inside. My door’s gonna be unlocked.”

There’s an odd pause after you say that; you’re about to question what happened before you hear rustling on his side of the phone, Beomgyu’s soft hum the last thing you hear before he lets out a soft “okay. I’ll be there.” You’re unable to thank him as he’s quick to hang up— and the exhaustion that has been building up inside you all day is suddenly released, the promise of food making your brain at ease as you slowly make your way over to the couch. 

You’re so tired— a small nap wouldn’t hurt, right? It would be nice to wake up to the sight of food at my doorstep, you think, a small smile easing onto your face as you find yourself curling up at the end of your couch; oh, you really can’t help yourself— your eyelids are becoming excruciatingly heavy. 

For the umpteenth time today, you allow yourself to sleep— even if it’ll only last twenty minutes at most. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Beomgyu is a little off-put as he peeks inside your apartment. 

He feels odd, extremely guilty, and a bit shameful as he pops his head inside, all of his calls have gone to voicemail as he chose the next best option— you did say your door was unlocked, after all. 

He expected you to be scolding him for taking so long after forty minutes had passed, but he found himself pleasantly surprised (and somewhat worried) when his phone remained entirely unbothered; so now here he stands, multiple heavy bags filled with ingredients in his hands as he kicks off his shoes clumsily. 

He finds you fast asleep on the couch; he’s extremely concerned at how trusting you are, but he decides to chalk it up to the fact that your skin is burning hot to the touch and you’re probably not thinking straight— Beomgyu is quick to pull his palm away from your forehead the moment you stir even slightly, jolting into action as he flees into your kitchen instead. 

Placing the bags on your table, he looks back at you in worry— all he can do for now is wet a few paper towels, wringing out as much water as he can before he’s making his way to you cautiously; you’re burning up and sweaty as he dabs the towel on your skin, tutting softly as he finally places the towel on your forehead. 

“I knew you weren’t feeling well,” he scolds you softly, pulling the blanket that has fallen off your shoulders back on you carefully before he’s pulling away, rolling his eyes at the sight, “you’re lucky you practically pay my bills.”

Quietly, Beomgyu gets to work— he feels a bit bad for rummaging through your kitchen so boldly, but he’s sure you wouldn’t really mind if you woke up; you’re the one who invited him in the first place. 

At some point, Beomgyu finds himself quite comfortable in your kitchen— it’s quite spacious and allows him to get lost deep in his thoughts; he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s unable to pick up on the fact that you’re wide awake and slowly trudging your way to him. 

“Choi Beomgyu,” the sound of your voice is enough for him to practically jump out of his skin, narrowly missing his finger as he hurriedly drops the knife in his hands, spinning around wildly as he presses himself tightly against the counter— your tired and puffy face is eerily close to his as your lidded eyes stare up at him, still heavy with sleep as you frown softly. 

“What,” you mumble softly, taking in his flustered expression before your eyes are wandering to the mess behind him— the cutting board of vegetables, the stovetop that is busy with two pots simmering away, a familiar aroma filling your apartment; your eyes flick back to the way he seems both guilty and embarrassed, your head tilting as he watches you slowly piece everything together, “what is all this? Where’s your mom's food?”

Well, maybe not.

Beomgyu sighs— the sight of him shaking his head in dismay is enough to have your eyes widening with surprise, watching as he slowly turns his back to you; the constant rhythm of him cutting vegetables is the only sound that fills the room, and it seems that Beomgyu won’t be answering your question any time soon; you’re ready to protest and annoy him until he talks, but it seems he’s quick to beat you to it. 

“My mom wasn’t the one who made it,” he sighs, putting his knife down as he quickly goes to the pot of soup to give it a mix; your eyes are fluttering shut at the smell, a small smile gracing your lips as you fight the urge to have a taste then and there; but you’re snapped back to reality from his words, stammering as you look at him in confusion. 

“But— you said it was—“

“My mother's recipe,” he draws out, dropping the seasoned vegetables into a third pot as you watch them get steamed, “I’m the one who made the food.”

You think back to the floral lunch bag he handed to you hours earlier; how he seemed so hesitant to give it to you, oddly pouty as he watched the way you were quick to hand it to someone else— you feel yourself become embarrassed by your behavior, oddly defensive as you remember how much you begged for him to give you another taste.

“Oh. Okay,” you say, clearing your throat as you slump back down on a chair— you found it entirely too exhausting to be standing for that long, “it was the next best thing for me anyway— my driver is off right now so I have no one to take me anywhere.”

“I see you’re feeling better,” Beomgyu mumbles, rolling his eyes at your actions as your usual bratty self resurfaces; he almost found your delirious, emotional self from earlier more welcoming than this, forced to listen to more of your ramblings as you watch him cook. 

“No. Not at all actually,” you complain, the ache in your body suddenly much more noticeable than it was a few minutes ago as you cross your legs on the chair; you’re huddled up in your blanket again, staring at his back as you practically take out your pain on him, “my head feels like its gonna explode— my body’s so fucking hot but I can’t take this blanket off or else I’ll feel like I’m freezing my ass off. I don’t know what to do because I never get sick like this; if anything, I should’ve called our family doctor instead of you.” 

You feel a bit bad as the words come out sharper than you intended— Beomgyu is easy to read as he flinches at your statement, head ducked down and an awkward silence permeating the room as he says nothing in response. 

“…you’re lucky your mom taught you how to cook,”  you backtrack, your voice oddly soft as you press your lips together; you refuse to say anything more as you curl up tightly on the chair, laying your head down on the table as you attempt to let your blanket shield you from the world— you’re back to your unpredictable, emotional self as you feel a lump forming in your throat, a feeling of longing forming inside you as you wish you were home instead of here, pestering your poor tutor in exchange for a hefty sum of money.

“Hey,” his voice is much closer than you expected it to be as you peek up from your small fortress, raising a brow as you stare at the glass of water and pills in his hand, “take this. I’m guessing you haven’t taken any medication for your fever in a while.”

A soft ‘hmph’ is all that leaves you as you reluctantly accept the medicine (because the truth was that he was right). It isn’t until he shows you what he’s giving you as you take the pills begrudgingly; you hate that he can see through you so easily. Chugging down the glass of water, you fail to notice how he waits beside you patiently, sending him a petulant look as you wait for him to say something— instead, he raises a small thermometer to your forehead, taking your temperature as he lets out a soft tsk.

“Your temperature is way too high. Eat, then go back to sleep,” he says, only leaving your side to get you a proper serving of soup; it’s the same meal you had earlier, but you’re oddly excited as you notice the hefty amount of rice he gave you, a new side of him peeking through as he watches you carefully— it’s only when you send him a questioning look that he becomes red in the face, clearing his throat awkwardly as he points back to the mess behind him.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it,” he mumbles, not bothering to look you in the eyes as he quietly begins to take care of the dishes. 

“I wasn’t going to,” you remark, your mouth still full of rice as you scoff softly at his excuse— you find yourself oddly annoyed with him as you take in just how much he’s doing for you, unable to fathom anyone else doing all this for you, unprovoked.

He must really need the money, you reason with yourself, unsure of why else he would do such a thing— you roll your eyes at the thought, any intimacy that might have come from all this dissolving into thin air as you become oddly irritated with him. 

But you will admit, this soup really hits the spot. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You’re out like a light moments after. 

If Beomgyu said he was surprised, it would definitely be a lie; you were barely awake on your couch for more than five minutes, and by the time Beomgyu finishes cleaning up and putting away the leftover ingredients in your fridge (which was criminally empty for someone who had so much money) you’re already curled back up in your corner of the couch, your temperature only having gone down slightly as you begin to toss and turn in your sleep. 

The wet paper towels that Beomgyu had placed on you earlier are folded neatly on your coffee table— Beomgyu huffs softly as he discards it, wetting some more before he’s placing it carefully on your forehead; he’s unsure of what else to do now, standing back awkwardly as he considers staying to watch over you— your condition seemed pretty serious from how high your temperature was, and it certainly didn’t help that you straight up rammed into the kitchen table and injured your shin from how unstable you were. 

And that’s when you became a crybaby once more. 

He can still see the lingering tears that cling to your lashes, a soft pout forming on your lips as you shiver slightly at the touch of the cool towel. What to do, he ponders, sitting on the couch opposite to you as he watches over you carefully, he’s not sure if there’s anyone else that could take care of you. 

Hell, the fact that he’s here of all people is enough to prove that to him; but also, he should really be studying for that upcoming physics exam that has been concerning him a bit. He glances back at you— calm, undisturbed, only shifting every once in a while as you tuck yourself deeper into the blanket you wrapped tightly around yourself— and he sighs, finding himself oddly torn as he wonders whether he should leave you or not. 

He could go back home and study, but he knows that he wouldn’t get very far, thoughts of you and your condition plaguing his mind as he desperately tried to focus. His thoughts are disrupted as you groan softly in discomfort, shifting restlessly on the couch before your eyes are fluttering open, locking with his instantly. 

“You’re still here,” you murmur, squinting at him as you cough softly, “thought you’d be gone by now.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him; it’s oddly condescending as he finds himself standing up instantly, clearing his throat as he looks away from you and your searing gaze. 

“Yeah,” he says, feeling strangely flustered as he makes his way to the front door; your eyes follow him the whole way there, and he feels so small under your gaze as he goes to slip his coat on. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh. ‘kay,” you shrug, shifting restlessly on the couch before you’re turning your back to him, curled into a ball as you wave at him weakly, “I’ll Venmo you later.”

He can’t help but feel bristled at your careless attitude, still not used to the way you’re always ready to spend money at the drop of a hat despite tutoring you for weeks now. Tying his shoes, he can’t help but glance at you one last time; it pains him to admit he’s slightly worried for you, but the rational part of him tells him it’s just because he doesn’t want you calling him to come back the moment you’re feeling nauseous again. 

Yet you remain still, resembling a rock as your figure is hidden under countless piles of blankets— judging by the steady rise and fall of it, he figures you already fell back asleep. 

It takes Beomgyu an embarrassingly long time to leave— but only because he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t wake up spontaneously and start whining, of course— you remain dead to the world the whole time he watches over you. 

By the time Beomgyu finally makes it out of your doorway, he feels more frustrated than anything. Because even once he gets home to study, he can’t help but keep his phone close-by, worried that you’ll call out of the blue asking for help. 

His phone remains silent all night.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

The next time Beomgyu sees you, he’s reminded as to why you had so many difficulties getting a tutor.

You’re flashy and perfect as always as you stand in the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed and eyes no-doubt narrowed behind your expensive designer shades. Your foot is tapping impatiently at the concrete outside as you tilt your head in annoyance— Beomgyu had made the mistake to ignore the first few rings of his doorbell, much too distracted by his game to remember that it would be you waiting for him.

“So? You gonna let me in, or do you need to tidy up first?” Beeomgyu’s mantra consists of how short your lesson will be today and the paycheck he’ll get out of it— one of the perks of you being desperate was that Beomgyu got to raise his rates shamelessly— and it takes Beomgyu a second to push past your intimidating and prickly demeanor to nod his head and step aside, watching as you push your shades up and secure them on your head.

It takes you a second to slip out of your shoes as you daintily put them aside, and Beomgyu can feel his ears become hot as he watches the way you wince slightly at the pair of guest slippers he hands you— though he tries to tell himself you don’t mean to be like this, a soothing lie that lets him lead you to his living room as he ignores his insecurity.

“Wait, can’t we just go to your room? I don’t feel like studying on the couch right now,” the yawn that rips through you is uncontrollable as you face away and cover your mouth politely— Beomgyu tries to not let his jaw drop to the floor in response. For someone who had never been to his apartment, you sure were demanding. He shouldn’t feel too surprised though, given how blunt you’ve proved to be the entire time he’s known you. 

He’s unable to say no as he gathers the textbook and notebooks on the table and leads the way; he can feel his heart pounding against his chest in fear that you’ll judge him, heart pounding slightly as he goes to lead you to where his room is. (He just hopes you’ll judge him internally, at the very least.)

Meanwhile, you’ve been biting back a smile this whole time; you know you’ve been quite bitchy to him this whole time, but you’d like to think it’s karma for making you study first thing at nine in the morning— his excuse had been the long shift he’d have to cover straight after the tutoring session. 

You’re quite surprised at the size and state of his apartment, expecting something much… cheaper, as you kept in mind how quick Beomgyu was to do something whenever you offered him money. Yet as you walk to his room, you’re left quiet as you take in the way everything in his home practically shines; his coffee table, the couch that lacks any crumbs or trash, and his carpet that seems to be recently vacuumed. 

You find yourself so caught up in the appearance of his apartment that you fail to notice another presence in the living room; specifically, one that lets out a loud chirp, your body jumping back from the startle and eyes growing wide as you search for the source of the sound— your eyes land on a cage tucked in the corner of the room, a bright green bird with big eyes staring at you curiously from within. 

“What the fuck is that?” you say softly— much louder than you intended, really— and Beomgyu is turning back around to see what you’re talking about, eyes widening as he realizes you’re currently staring down his bird with a slight wonder. 

“Oh— that’s Toto,” Beomgyu says, rushing to put everything in his arms down and scurrying after when he notices you beginning to get closer; he’s hovering over you, taking in your expression of curiosity carefully before he continues. “He’s my parrot.”

You let out a soft oh. You seem rooted to your spot as you watch the bird continue to climb around the cage, clearly much more active now that Beomgyu is nearby; the said man notes your obvious curiosity, and before he can stop and have any second thoughts, he’s reaching over you to open the cage. 

“Wait wait, what’re you—” a yelp escapes you and you’re jumping back the moment Beomgyu is reaching inside, hiding behind him and peeking over his shoulder to watch the way he extends a finger out to the bird— Toto— your mouth falling open dumbly as you take in the way the bird immediately climbs onto his hand.

Beomgyu is careful to take him out; you’re still peeking from behind him as you stare down his bird with wide eyes, body tensed as though it could fly away any given moment— you’re flinching in surprise when he’s turning to face you, hands coming up in defense as the bright green bird swings along, not a thought in its beady eyes as it’s suddenly thrust into your face— you step back again, the movement sudden and startling the bird as its wings flap slightly, which in turn startles you again— Beomgyu merely watches in amusement, and he tries his best to contain his laugh in fear of facing your prickly attitude. 

“What the hell,” you breathe out softly, brows twitching and knitting together as you stare at Toto as though it were a foreign creature you’ve never seen, “It’s so… weird looking.”

Beomgyu can only gawk at your comment. 

“He’s— he’s not,” is all Beomgyu can say in rebuttal, offended as he looks over at Toto, examining him in reassurance before he pulls his pet closer to his chest. 

“He’s a handsome little bird,” Beomgyu mutters, and you’re sure you definitely weren’t supposed to hear that, watching in amazement as Beomgyu strokes Toto’s head fondly, the said bird bowing its head so he can get better access, “you’re such a cool guy, don’t listen to her Toto.”

Glancing back at you, Beomgyu seems to realize what he’s just said, and blushes a soft pink— though you’re not sure why he’s acting so shy, you’ve literally been standing there the whole time— and he clears his throat awkwardly, casting his gaze back to his pet and running his finger along the bird gently before he’s speaking again. 

“Do you wanna hold him?”

“I— what?!” you say indignantly, eyes growing the size of saucers as you stare at him, acting as though he’s just told you something extremely offensive, “I don’t want that thing near me, what if it— it…”

You’re trailing off slowly— Beomgyu looks absolutely dejected. You can tell he’s trying not to show his hurt, avoiding your gaze and staring down at Toto instead, but he simply reminds you too much of a kicked puppy to let you continue your baffled ramblings; a moment passes where the two of you don’t say anything, but you finally break the second Beomgyu looks like he’s about to put Toto back in. 

“Fine.”

He looks back at you immediately; his eyes look like they’ve been filled with stars. 

“Give— give me the bird,” you mumble offhandedly, outstretching your hand awkwardly and finding yourself unable to look at him for once; you can feel the heat of embarrassment threatening to creep onto your skin, but you will it away and bite your cheek as you wait for Beomgyu to do something.

After a second, you feel it; the pressure on your finger, the weird texture and the claws that dig into your skin as the bird’s little feet wrap around you, unable to contain the way you shudder at the feeling; your arm has gone rigid and you’re reluctant to look at the pet that is now perched on your hand, afraid that it might attack you or something— but after a deep breath and some mental encouragement, you do it anyway. 

This thing is so fucking creepy, you find yourself thinking, face screwing into one of disdain as you take in the way it simply remains still, freaking you out even further when it suddenly tilts its head in curiosity. 

It begins to climb up your arm. 

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” you breathe out in a panic, extending your arm away from you as steadily and quickly as you can, the thing now perched on your forearm as you bite back a squeal of fear— you’re looking over at Beomgyu in a haste, expression blatantly screaming help me!— and he quickly springs into action the moment your eyes meet. 

“Toto,” Beomgyu coos, clicking his tongue and reaching out to place his hand at Toto’s feet; but the bird only continues to climb up and runs away from Beomgyu, a long, slightly terrified, groan leaving your lips as you can only watch it in horror, much too afraid to jerk your arm and send Toto flying; the moment it’s talons find its way onto your shoulder, you find yourself looking away and praying. 

“Toto,” Beomgyu tries again, a little stressed now as he watches his bird perch peacefully on your shoulder— you, on the other hand, are in utter distress, shoulders tense and eyes screwed shut as you mentally pray for the thing to not peck at you— you think you’ve started to hold your breath now. 

Through your eyes that peek slightly in fear, you’re able to see Beomgyu reach down at the storage unit beneath the cage and grab something; Toto seems to shift on your shoulder from the sight, and you grow tense as you wonder what the hell the man could be up to— with another call of Toto’s name, the bird finally jumps off your shoulder and over to Beomgyu.

Your body practically slumps in relief. 

Beomgyu is back to holding Toto in his hand; your brows furrow at the sight of it eating something strange, your obvious confusion making Beomgyu smile slightly.

“It’s millet,” he explains, slowly moving to put Toto back in the cage before he places the said millet inside as well; with one last gentle scratch at Toto’s head, Beomgyu closes the cage. “It’s like a treat for him.”

“Whatever,” you say dismissively, glancing at Toto one last time before you shudder and turn away, “I don’t wanna see him again.”

Beomgyu isn’t too offended by your comment; if anything, he smiles in amusement, muttering softly that Toto seems to like you— you make a point to blatantly ignore his comment.

Any confidence Beomgyu had built up from before disappears the moment you finally arrive before the door that leads to the room; he’s found himself nervous once more, shifting the materials in his arms and reach out to open his door cautiously; he hopes you didn’t take notice of the way his hand shook slightly.

His room is no different than the rest of the apartment as you stand in the doorway, curiously surveying it all; your brow raises in amusement as you take in the way his personality is scattered throughout the small room. His bed is neatly made and the sheets are pressed to perfection, and the nightstand contains a stack of books that are both thick and annotated. 

In front of you, you watch Beomgyu awkwardly place the books in his arms down on the bed, pushing up his glasses as you allow your eyes to continue drifting around— they instantly land on the desk setup in the corner of the room, your eyes widening as you’re able to recognize how expensive the setup is; two monitors display a random game you seem to recognize, and you let your curiosity get the best of you as you approach it slowly. 

The keyboard is lighting up before you and a headset is hung on one of the monitors, and you let out a soft tsk as you take in the empty coffee cups beside the mouse, the only messy thing about his whole room; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s spilled the liquid over the setup before. 

What surprised you the most however, are the countless picture frames and cute figurines that are scattered all over the room— a lucky cat is perched right at his windowsill, waving at you repeatedly as you’re unable to hold back your laugh of bewilderment; everything seems to be dusted and well taken care of, you’re surprised Beomgyu can ever find the energy to do such things. 

“You play League of Legends?” Is all you say, turning around as you meet Beomgyu’s flustered face; Beomgyu had been on the verge of melting into a puddle of embarrassment the entire time you looked around his room, unsure of what to say or do the moment you approached his gaming setup. He was sure you’d make fun of him, but instead he’s pleasantly surprised as he silently hopes his face isn’t a raging red at the moment. (It definitely is, but you’re kind enough to give him a break and not tease him about it.)

“Oh— yeah. You play?” It’s oddly adorable to watch the way his eyes light up and his whole body perks up excitedly, but you find it even more adorable to watch the way he deflates as you bark out a laugh of surprise, your whole face lighting up as you cover your mouth in apology, feeling a slight pity for managing to make him look like a kicked puppy again. 

“Fuck no!” You say in amusement, unable to imagine yourself doing such a thing, “Huening used to be obsessed with it though.” 

You roll your eyes at the memory, recalling all the nights back in high school where he’d leave you alone in his bed, staying up late gaming with his friends while you hid in his room during social gatherings— but now he “outgrew that childish game,” according to him. If anything, you think he outgrew gaming all together, especially after you expressed how ridiculous the whole thing seemed to you. 

“Huening, the guy from your apartment?” Beomgyu says meekly, eyes downcast as he flips through his notes mindlessly; you scoff, flopping on the bed next to him as you cross your legs daintily.

“Yeah, the guy from my apartment,” you say, leaning in to try and catch his gaze, “what, you jealous?” 

Your comment is enough to have Beomgyu a sputtering mess; you don’t think he could get any redder than he is now as he shoves his notebook into your lap, clearing his throat weakly as he scoots away from you, leaving an offending amount of space as he squeaks out a defensive no. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you were,” you tease, staring down at the notes as you try to decipher what the hell it could all mean— it’s embarrassing when you’re left on your own for a good minute, unable to say anything about the material before Beomgyu is finally jumping to your aide and explaining things to you; slowly, you settle down and allow him to begin the session. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You’d like to pat yourself on the back for lasting so long. Lasting so long without being difficult, that is, because the hour of peace Beomgyu got was short lived before you became a short-tempered brat before him—the only thing that surprises him at this point is the confidence you get to be like this all the time.

“I seriously don’t get this stuff,” you whine, kicking Beomgyu softly as you hold back a smile— it was clearly done to tease him— laying back on his bed as you cross your arms childishly, “I think I should just change my major.” 

Beomgyu isn’t surprised that you find that so easy to say— for a moment, he dreams of being able to do the same when times get tough, but he was quick to come back to reality as he watched you kick at him petulantly; you managed to lay on his bed and make yourself comfortable, splayed over his pillows as you continued to mess around with him. 

“Can’t we take a break? I’ve been good,” you pout, tapping your fingers on your bicep as you look at him sweetly— Beomgyu has to look away in order to say no, tapping his pencil on his notebook as he quietly prays for you to settle down and focus again. 

“Come on, you’re lucky I showed up in the first place,” Beomgyu’s gaze is glued to his notebook as you roughly sit up, your denim shorts riding up your thighs as you kneel close to him; taking a deep breath to calm himself proves to be a mistake as he gets a good smell of your expensive perfume, biting his lip as he watches you try to get his attention by getting closer to him.

“You only showed up because I did you a favor,” it’s odd that you find the way his voice trembles and his ears turn red adorable, but then again, you’d be a little sad if a man didn’t react that way to you. 

You have him wrapped around your finger— it’s a fact that dawns on you as you watch the way he doesn’t shut you down and forces you to study. Scooting closer to him, you lean down, pressing your cheek against his bicep as you stare down at the countless notes that lay before him. 

“Well, that and because you’re kinda cute,” you admit, holding back a smile at the way he flinches at the sudden contact, “But seriously, I’m so bored.” 

Beomgyu thinks you might have gone insane as he watches the way you take the materials in his lap away from him, setting it to the side before you’re stringing yourself across his lap, stretching cutely as you stare up at him with wide doe eyes— he’s quickly looking back up as he fails to find the strength to push you off. 

“I can’t believe I actually came here this early,” you say, adjusting yourself on his thighs before you’re grabbing his hand, playing with his sleeve coyly as you wonder how far you can take this, “How’d you afford this place all by yourself? It’s in a good area too.” 

“I didn’t,” Beomgyu stutters out, clearing his throat as he pulls his hand away from your grasp shyly, “I have a roommate— Yeonjun.” 

“Choi Yeonjun? Captain of the baseball team?” You say, eyes widening as you watch Beomgyu nod softly; you’re sitting up, ignoring the way Beomgyu visibly relaxes at the action, “Is he here right now?” 

“No, he’s out,” Beomgyu frowns, watching as the gears turn in your head, your pout obvious as you take in his response, “he won’t be home for another three hours.” 

How in the hell did he and Beomgyu become roommates? It’s a question you’re quite literally fighting the urge to ask, but knowing that one of the most attractive guys you’ve had your eye on currently lives in the same house as the man before you makes you want to stick around longer— though you think you might be too obvious about it, judging by the way Beomgyu’s frowning at you. 

“That’s nice,” you hum, feeling a bit bad for the way Beomgyu looks away in defeat, “but that means we’re all alone here?” 

Your question is enough to have Beomgyu sitting up straight— your tone is so dangerous, the way you slowly crawl to him even more so.

He quickly finds himself scooting back, eyes flying around wildly as he almost falls off the bed— you’re quick to catch him, pulling him by the collar of his sweater as his adam’s apple bobs visibly. His long hair falls back and his face is left exposed to you, your body finding comfort on top of his as you straddle his thighs comfortably. His glasses are left on the tip of his nose as his ears quickly turn red, cheeks dusted with the same color as he uselessly props himself up on his elbows; you’re practically nose to nose as you tower over him, your cute blouse hanging and exposing your breasts in a way that has Beomgyu staring straight above your head— in return, the reflection of your sunglasses is all that meets him. 

“Do you ever take a break?” You ask, letting go of his collar before you’re gently smoothing it out; he’s shivering at your touch, eyes fluttering shut nervously as he exhales at the feeling of your warm hand— he knows you can see the way he tenses as you begin to trail your palm down his chest, pressing teasingly where his heart resides as you tilt your head cutely.

“Ever stop studying and just…. Take care of yourself?” The implications of your words couldn’t be more obvious with the way your voice drops, your thighs clenching around his body as you watch his breath hitch at the action; your fingers delicately drum against his chest as you wait for him to say something, to push you off and tell you to never speak to him again— instead, he shakes his head, his shyness intensifying as his eyes remain shut. 

“Will you let me take care of you?” You breathe out, entranced with the way his eyes finally open to meet yours— within them, he sees no malice or mockery, just an intense fire and need that has his stomach twisting and his hands grabbing at his neatly pressed sheets in anticipation.

Softly, he nods. 

You’ve never experienced this before; you’ve never had a man pliant and weak under you, ready to take whatever you give him with adoring eyes that sparkle under the lights. You’re so used to being the one in that position, of allowing yourself to be used and molded how they’d like— so to say you’re quite surprised at the thrill you feel is an understatement. 

“You’re like a little puppy,” you mumble sweetly, reaching up to caress his heated cheeks— the whine that escapes him is involuntary, your eyes clouding with lust as you take in the way he reacts to your nickname; leaning up, you grab the collar of his sweater as you guide him to sit up with you— you’re in awe of how obedient he is as he follows your command, hands hovering politely as he waits for your next move. 

“Do you like it when I call you that?” You tilt your head, laying your hands by Beomgyu’s collar bones before they’re sliding up, intertwining lazily behind his nape as you’re leaning in teasingly; you’re so close to him, you can feel his breath fan on your face as you tease the corner of his lips with your own— you’re pulling away the moment he tries to chase you, giving him an expectant look as you wait for him to answer your question. “Puppy?” 

“Y—yes, I…” he’s unable to finish his sentence the moment he feels your chest press against his, soft breasts teasing him as he squeezes his eyes shut; you’re everywhere, your lips planting feather-like kisses on his cheeks as you begin to overwhelm his senses. Your warm thighs that encase him, your hands that play with the nape of his hair, your perfume that he gets to inhale as you tilt your neck closer to him— hell, as you reach his jaw, he’s able to smell your shampoo, the scent addicting and no doubt expensive as you press yourself firmly against him.

This is insane. There should be no universe where Beomgyu should have one of the richest girls in his university pressed against him and on his lap, and there’s no way he’s the one submitting himself so pathetically in it. Yet here he is, practically leaning into your touch and chasing after you the moment you pull away, feeling a whine escape from his throat as he finally finds the courage to place a hand on your hip; keeping you in place, fingertips splayed over the swell of your ass as you try and fail to hide the smile that breaks out on your face. 

“Stupid puppy wants me to kiss him?” You pout mockingly, and instead of feeling the usual shame bubbling within him from your condescending tone, Beomgyu can only feel himself melt pathetically, pouty face and shining doe eyes begging you to give in as you brush away a strand of hair that fell in his eye; Beomgyu’s eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch, lips parting before he finally feels you swoop in and take him by surprise. 

Your lip gloss is sweet and sticky as you ravish the boy below you, able to feel his inexperience and eagerness with the way he’s practically ready to push you back into the mattress— but he holds himself back, allowing you to swipe your tongue along his lip and tease him before you’re venturing further. 

It’s all so lewd and desperate, and Beomgyu feels dazed by the time you’re finally pulling away, a Cheshire grin on your face as you swipe his bottom lip that’s shining with lip gloss and saliva; like instinct, his lips part and close around your thumb, eyes never straying from yours as you feel his tongue swipe over the finger teasingly— your gaze darkens at the sight, mind racing with all the things you could do to him as you watch the way his plush lips circle around the digit. 

The pop that sounds throughout the room when you pull away is enough to make you let out a soft groan, your eyes tracing along his body until you finally find the very thing you’re curious about— smiling, you’re not as surprised to find his dick straining against the neat fabric of his trousers.

“Can I touch you, pup?” You ask, your voice breathy and deep as you wait patiently for his answer; once again, he gulps, shining eyes just as dazed as you are before he finally lets out a soft yes; slowly, your perfectly manicured hand makes its way down to his khaki trousers, playing with the button before you’re finally undoing it— the sigh that Beomgyu lets out once you undo his zipper is practically lethal, your lips twitching in delight at the sound.

It’s cute to see the way his hips buck up into the air as you reveal his boxers, helping you pull down his pants until you’re face to face with the very thing you’ve been wanting the most. It’s odd, but it seems as though Beomgyu brings out a side you didn’t think existed, a teasing smile creeping its way onto your face as you plant your core firmly on him; he’s letting out a strangled gasp at the sudden pressure and warmth, his eyes screwing shut as his lips are falling open, the sight tempting as you resist the urge to kiss him again. 

Beomgyu is like an instrument under your touch, and you’re eager to learn how to play as you slowly begin to rock your hips back and forth; the reaction is instant for him as he bucks up into you, whimpering cutely as his eyes remain shut the whole time. Your thighs feel so soft against his own, and he’s sure he won’t last long if he’s forced to inhale your intoxicating scent the whole way through. 

It isn’t until you’re climbing off his lap that Beomgyu’s eyes are finally flying open, meeting yours in a confused haze as he allows you to push him back and tower over him as he lays; he looks so enticing and pretty with his hair splayed out around the sheets, lidded eyes and fucked out expression oddly addicting to you as you go to straddle one of his thighs. 

“You’re so cute,” you coo, pushing his sweater up as you run your nails teasingly over his stomach— you laugh softly as he flinches at the feeling. Slowly, you’re pulling the waistband of his boxers down until his cock is finally springing out and smacking against his stomach; his tip is red and sticky as a line of precum is left connected to his stomach, his eyes shutting in embarrassment once more as he turns his head to the side in an effort to turn away. He’s so long as you take him in, appreciating the vein that runs along the curve of his shaft with a soft hum.

“Please,” he whines, covering his face with his hands as his body grows hotter the longer you stare at him; you can only laugh fondly at the sight, watching the way his hips buck up uselessly at the sound. 

“My puppy, you’re so pretty,” you sigh, spitting in your hand before you’re finally reaching down to grab ahold of him; the feeling is unexpected as Beomgyu lets out a soft yelp under you, his cries dying out the moment you’re beginning to stroke him teasingly. 

“How long has it been since you let out some steam?” You tease, running your thumb across his tip and spreading the precum along as he simply moans in response; he’s so whiny and breathy as none of your words seem to register in his head, enamored by the pretty girl that’s sitting on his thigh and stroking his cock so well. 

You can’t help yourself when you readjust to kneel between his legs, his face still covered by his hands as he doesn’t anticipate your next move— Beomgyu swears he almost came the moment he felt your mouth wrap around his tip. Your mouth is practically watering around Beomgyu’s cock as you slowly take him in, surprised by his length yet determined to hear more of his pathetic gasps and whines as you slowly take him in. 

“Oh god, oh god, you’re so— y-you’re so warm, oh,” Beomgyu is a babbling mess as his hands land helplessly on your head, unsure of what to do with them as he feels the tip of your nose press against his navel; his eyes are practically rolling back as he feels the mess you’re making on his cock, your mouth so hot and wet he can’t help the way he subtly thrusts into it.

“I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to…” his words are dying on his tongue the moment he feels you reach for his hand and pull back, guiding him to set the pace as you run your tongue over his tip— that’s enough to have Beomgyu whining and out of breath, but he’s able to pull himself together as he slowly begins to fuck your mouth. 

“Shit, you’re so pretty, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Beomgyu breathes out, fascinated with the way you remain completely cool even as he begins thrusting his cock into your throat, “so good.”

The sudden confession doesn’t process in Beomgyu’s mind, but it has your mind reeling as you close your eyes, determined to make this man fall apart under you as you ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach. 

It takes Beomgyu a second to find his pace as he’s gently stroking your hair, face warm and shining with embarrassment as he tries to ignore how inexperienced he may seem— contrary to what he might think, you don’t really care; the only thing you care for is how melodic he sounds as his hips begin stuttering into your mouth, the feeling of your tongue running along his shaft too much for him as his breath hitches pathetically. 

“Wait wait wait— oh my god, I’m so— Ah, please don’t stop,” he’s whimpering and babbling at your touch, his hand attempting to pull you off as he nears his release; you only sink further in retaliation, the loud moan that Beomgyu lets out giving you satisfaction as you feel his cum spurting against the back of your throat— your eyes are barely able to catch his expression as he throws his head back, hips stilling entirely as he rides out his orgasm. 

Beomgyu is still trying to catch his breath when he feels his hips bucking subconsciously, the feeling of you pulling away making him whine softly from the sensitivity. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, his glasses skewed and his vision a haze as his gaze meets yours— he’s able to catch the way you swallow, your mouth empty as a teasing grin sneaks onto your face.

His stomach flips at the sight. 

He’s unsure of what to do as you sit up, your hair mused and your clothes in disarray as you take him in with an intense stare— he feels oddly shy as he tugs down his sweater to cover himself, gulping nervously as he begins to wonder if this was all a twisted joke— some sort of childish dare, anything that was meant to humiliate him. 

Instead, he feels you reach forward to fix his glasses, brushing away the hair that was stuck to his forehead as you smiled sweetly; Beomgyu thinks he forgot how to breathe as he takes in your proximity, left frozen as you leave a slow, chaste kiss on his lips. 

“I should go— you have work, right?” The question is enough to snap Beomgyu back to reality, nodding softly as you finally get up from his bed; turning to his mirror, you fix your appearance, brows raising in curiosity as you notice the guitar that’s propped up beside it— you briefly wonder if he’s good at playing it, and find yourself wanting to ask if he can sing; you refrain. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

There’s not much Beomgyu can say as he watches you go to his door like nothing happened; he flinches in surprise as you turn back to him one last time, a grin on your face as you send him one final goodbye. 

“This was fun.” 

Beomgyu is left to decipher your words and intentions as you walk away. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Why did you do that. 

“Oh god, why did I do that?” 

You’re a puddle of embarrassment as you roll around in the back of your driver’s car, your hands plastered on your face as you try to melt away from this reality— instead, the memory of Beomgyu’s flustered and fucked out face is the only thing that meets your eyelids. 

You’re not sure what took over you— what in the world possessed you to fuck your tutor? You knew that if you told your friends you’d never hear the end of it, but you think you might be at risk of losing the only thing that was helping you get your grades up after this. 

It was already difficult to get Beomgyu to agree to be in a room alone with you— and now you had to absolutely fuck up and push the boundaries to a place where you’d never return. 

Out of all the men, it just had to be Choi Beomgyu. It’s a fact that makes your face heat up and your head hit the back of the car seat in defeat as you stare out the window in dismay; instead of going for someone who was in your league, you chose to go after a nobody. 

You didn’t even get anything out of it! The thought is humiliating as you shut your eyes and groan, ignoring the way your driver glances back at you in concern; you sucked his dick and dipped— that is so unlike you. 

Everything about the situation is unlike you— you would never go after someone like Beomgyu, he didn’t align with your type at all! The feeling of dread in your stomach is only worsened as you mentally go through the people you’ve been with in the past, cringing the more you realize how much of an outlier Beomgyu is. 

“Mr. Kim,” you call out, pulling down your shades as you avoid the rays of sunlight that are hitting your face. He’s perking up in response immediately, glancing at you through his mirror before he nods his head to indicate he’s listening. 

“Take me to Hueningkai’s house please,” you say, taking your phone out of your purse as you absentmindedly text Huening that you’re on your way— Mr. Kim’s yes ma’am is left unanswered as you watch Hueningkai respond within seconds— all you can do is sink further in your seat at his eagerness to see you, the implications of his message more than clear to you.

The drive to his home is long and silent, and you’re forced to reflect on yourself the whole way through— the more you do, the more flustered and confused you feel, forcing yourself to set those thoughts to the side as Mr. Kim pulls up to Huening’s driveway.

Yet even as you’re walking to his doorstep, an eager smile forced on your face as you wait for Huening to answer, you can’t help the way your thoughts stray. It all seems to linger on the same subject, gulping nervously at the way Beomgyu’s small whines still ring out in your head. 

“Hey,” Hueningkai smiles, leaning against the doorway as he takes you in; you try to ignore the way his hungry eyes take you in, greeting him softly before you’re pushing past him and going inside, kicking your shoes off at the doorway. 

“What’s up?” Hueningkai immediately asks, noticing the way you don’t indulge in any of his games or teasing, your face blank as you plop down on the couch. “You need something?” 

“No,” you say, oddly defensive as you lay along his couch, crossing your legs as you proceed to do the same with your arms, “Can’t I just chill at your place without needing anything?” 

Hueningkai raises a brow at your huffy comment. Tilting his head, he smiles, a gesture sly and teasing as he watches the way you stand your ground. 

“Well, whenever you come over it’s usually not to just chill,” he says, repeating your words with clear amusement, “so forgive me for thinking something was off.” 

You’re in a bad mood today; Hueningkai is quick to pick up on it as you scoff at his words, looking away from him and pouting as you remain silent. Slowly, he makes his way to you, testing out the waters before he’s sitting down at your feet. 

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks, slowly beginning to hover over you until you can’t help but look at him; he’s everywhere, a holding himself up with a hand by your head while the other finds its way to your hip— playing with the hem of your shirt, slowly teasing you until he’s pushing past and caressing your skin— you flinch at the feeling of his cold hand. 

“Come on, we can talk,” he says, but you know he doesn’t really mean it with the way his leg is trying to pry your thighs open, pressing up against your core as he feels something unexpected— his eyes are lighting up as he smiles down at you, raising a brow as he takes in the small change of your expression. 

“Or maybe you don’t wanna talk?” He says, the surprising heat that meets his thigh is more than welcome as he watches you become flustered under him. 

“Fuck off Huening,” you groan, pressing a hand against his chest as you turn away from him— all you get in return is a dark laugh, his lips ghosting along your jawline as he presses a firm kiss under your ear, his hand pushing your shirt up as it wanders towards your breasts. 

“Hmm, are you sure?” He huffs, adjusting his position so that he’s able to place a hand on your hip, grinding your hips against his thighs as he bites his lip at the sight, “won’t you put those pretty lips to use at least?” 

The irritation that had been brewing inside you is far too much to handle as you scoff at his words, your head snapping back to glare at him as you push against his chest firmly, catching him off guard as you knock him off his balance entirely; he’s knocked out of his lusty reverie as he stares at you with wide eyes from the other end of the couch, lips parting as he attempts to say something, only to be cut off by you. 

“Seriously Huening, I’m not in the fucking mood!” You snap, pulling your top back down harshly before you’re standing up— he’s left to watch in confusion as you readjust yourself, your brows furrowed in a mean frown as you glare at him once more— and to think you thought you’d be able to spend more than five minutes with Hueningkai without him wanting to fuck you. 

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“Do you ever think without your dick when you’re around me?” It’s annoying to see how nonchalant Hueningkai is as he laughs off your words, crossing his arms defensively as he tries to play off what just happened. 

“You didn’t even think to check up on me when I was sick!” You thought you were over the bitter moment, but the memory still seems to sting as you remind him of a time where you needed him the most, “ever since we started this whole… stupid friends with benefits thing, you’ve been acting like such a prick!” 

“Don’t be like this,” Hueningkai groans, throwing his head back as he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re being dramatic.” 

“Oh my god!” You bark, left in disbelief as you pace around his apartment, “like seriously, are you listening to yourself right now?!”

You’re more than fed up as you make your way back to the entrance, gathering your things and slipping on your shoes as you hear Hueningkai following close behind, spouting excuses and other nonsense to try and make you stay. 

You’ve opened the door when Hueningkai grabs onto you desperately, tugging you back into his chest and asking you to listen to him as he sets firm hands on your hips; you’re looking at everything but him as you remain silent, your hands pressed defensively against his chest as you give him on last chance to redeem himself. 

“Come on baby, you know I don’t wanna lose you,” he says, his voice soft and vulnerable as he leans in, watching as you tilt your head away from him and continue to refuse to meet his eyes. Feeling him press you harder against him, your jaw clenches as he places a sweet kiss on your cheek. 

“Lemme make it up to you. Please?” 

You know perfectly well what his words entail as you push him away from you once more, swinging your purse and smacking him harshly as you let your anger out on him. He has the audacity to laugh and cower away from you as he apologizes, telling you that it was just a joke as you continue to hit him relentlessly. 

“Fuck you!” You say, out of energy and left a huffing mess as you swing the door open behind you, “asshole!” 

You don’t stay around to see his reaction as you slam the door shut, storming away and walking along the sidewalk as you pull your phone out. 

Pick me up please. 

Huening’s being an asshole, I’m waiting outside. 

It’s moments like these where you regret being irresponsible with your car, left with nothing but your driver as you still wait for your precious baby to come out of the repair shop; to this day your parents still scold you for an accident that happened over a month ago, the words “bad driver” tacked on along with the rest that curate your reputation.  

In a perfect world, Hueningkai would’ve come out by now; he would’ve gone after you, apologizing and hanging his head in shame in regards to his behavior— in a perfect world, he wouldn’t have turned into the person he is now, forgoing your friendship entirely to satiate his needs— you hadn’t given much thought to what the consequences to this “friends with benefits” thing would be, but if you could go back in time to the moment where he drunkenly proposed it to you, you would’ve been quick to shut him down with an incredulous laugh. 

It was your fault for having a soft spot for him. Your fault for wondering what his lips would feel like one too many times, for being caught staring at him back when you were just kids and you were forced to attend dinner parties together, trying and failing to conceal the way he could fluster you with just a single smile. 

Now that his desires have been satiated, you doubt he has any use for you now— which is why you find yourself waiting pathetically outside his apartment, not used to this feeling that festers in your stomach as you wait patiently— whether it’s simply for your driver or for the glimmering hope that Hueningkai will own up to his actions and take you back, you’re not sure.

But what you do know is that you’ve never felt so small. 

Moments later, your driver arrives; you swear you try to hold back, but you can’t help yourself from turning around and taking one last peek at Huening’s quiet, dull apartment— gritting your teeth, you flop inside, groaning obnoxiously as you rub your temples in annoyance; your driver is unfazed by your behavior— meeting his eyes, you sigh. 

“I need to go shopping.”

Wordlessly, he nods— you don’t bother to stare out the window once you finally feel the car moving, in fear that your mind may begin to imagine scenarios that simply won’t happen. 

The car ride is silent, and you realize with a frown that you may have left with a mood worse than before.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

This department store is useless.

Geez, did you piss off some god above or something? Because as you stand in your tenth store in the past hour, nose scrunched and brows furrowed unpleasantly, you feel as though you may be getting karma for something— though what it may be exactly, you’re unsure. 

Everything around you is either already in your closet or simply outdated. Your fingertips tap rhythmically against your crossed arms, eyes narrowed as you take slow strides around the aisles of the stores— a part-time employee follows closely behind you, hands folded neatly and a pleasant smile glued to face as she comments on every item your eyes fall on, even if it’s just for a second; your jaw ticks at her cheap tactics to sell to you. 

There’s only one thing that would make your mood at this time— a limited edition purse you have had your eyes on, trying your best to catch your usual stores at the right times in hopes of getting your hands on it. Yet, with every failed attempt, your frustrations and efforts only grow, and you’ve found yourself visiting these stores more often than you’d like, always leaving with an item or two despite telling yourself not to do so. 

“Excuse me,” you say sternly, your steps coming to a halt as you slowly turn to the employee. She’s meek and her voice is airy as she speaks to you, eyebrows raised as though she seems genuinely interested in what you might say next— her act only displeases you more. 

“I’m trying to shop in peace, please leave me alone.” you say, watching as the woman simply flinches at your comment, smile stiffening on her lips before she’s swiftly apologizing seconds after— if you weren’t careful, you could’ve missed the way her lips turned up with irritation as she turned, muttering quietly to herself as though you weren’t two steps away to hear it.

Rich snob, you pick up, blinking in surprise as you watch her steps becoming hasty with her retreat. You don’t allow yourself to be fazed by it, a smile tugging at your lips from amusement before you turn back around; scanning the store, you glance at the mannequins on display, taking in the outfits briefly before you catch onto something else— and before you can control yourself, you’re walking again. 

Don’t be stupid, your brain tells you, yelling at you as you exit the store with haste, pushing past the people standing around as you make your way to the store across, Don’t do this, this is a bad idea, don’t—

Do it, your heart tells you, pounding against your chest as you adjust the purse strap on your shoulder, gulping slightly as you swing open the door, you’re not here for him, you’re here for the very thing you’ve worked so hard for. 

And if it so happens to be in his hands right now, then is it really your fault that you find yourself standing before the very man that hurt you mere moments ago?

“Cute purse,” you breathe out, eyes glued to the way it shines beautifully under the lights of the store, “Though I don’t really think it’s your style.”

Hueningkai doesn’t bother looking up. He’s too busy handling the limited edition purse that you’ve so desperately been searching for, nimble fingers running over the details as though he were actually taking his time to inspect it; instead, he hums softly at your words, pretending to ponder for a second before he’s frowning. 

“You really think so?” he asks, tsking softly to himself before he’s shaking his head, straightening up before he runs a hand against the surface; you watch the way his fingers slide across the material, teeth tugging at your lip as you fight the twitch of your brows, wanting nothing more than to take the item from his hands and walk away. 

You stand there in silence, for a moment; you wonder slightly if Hueningkai is simply ignoring you, and the idea is enough to have you bristling with anger, your jaw clenching as you decide that it’s better to leave now than to look helpless before him— but he’s looking up at you, lidded eyes catching you in a daze as he tilts his head, sending you his signature charming smile. 

“It wasn’t for me,” he says, looking down at the purse in his hands and holding it close to him, as though gauging its weight, “It was going to be a gift.”

“A gift? Quite the gesture on your part,” you scoff, looking at the display area in exasperation— fuck, the only purse in this awful store is in his hands, you realize— leaving you with no other choice but to hope that he’ll stop playing games and leave the purse he clearly never had any intentions of buying, “But I don’t think those other girls you talk to would be very interested in such a specific item like this— I’d suggest appealing to their own interests a bit more.”

With gritted teeth, you reach out to take the bag; an impulsive move on your part, not exactly surprised with the way Hueningkai immediately backs up and holds the bag close to him. You can practically feel your blood boil from the sheer anger that’s taking over from his antics, unamused entirely at the way he merely sends you an innocent smile. 

“Don’t be rude,” he smiles, taking yet another step back, making more distance between you two, “Who are you to say what they would or wouldn’t like? Plus, I saw this first, and I had full intentions of buying it.”

You remain silent— whether you’re too baffled to speak or are simply trying to not explode and yell at him in the middle of the store, you’re not entirely sure— but, as you watch him raise a brow challengingly, you can only find yourself thinking one thing. 

Fuck this. You’ll just order it online. 

The idea takes away the very joy of being able to find it by chance, but you’d rather die right now than grovel to Hueningkai— like he very clearly wants— in hopes that he’ll take pity on you and give you the purse; spinning on your heels, you make your way out with brisk steps.

You don’t get very far before you hear him calling out your name— but you ignore it, a baffled scoff escaping you in response to his sheer audacity to act so shameless after belittling you a few hours prior; you’re a few steps away from the exit when you feel a tug on your wrist, jolting you back and preventing you from leaving.

“What, Hueningkai?” you say, huffing exasperatedly as you shake off his grip on you, “Can’t you just leave me alone for once? I’m not in the mood to play your stupid games.”

“Well then why don’t you talk to me instead of running away childishly?” he says sharply, and you have to bite your tongue in order to not point out his hilariously hypocritical statement, “you’re acting so weird, what the hell happened?”

You think you might just do something that’ll get you banned from the store— but something catches your eye before you can act out on your impulses, and you’re ripping your wrist from Hueningkai’s hold with one last harsh tug. Your gaze is no longer on him; he tries to follow your line of sight, but fails to catch onto what you’re looking at. 

“Get out or leave me alone,” you say, giving him one last cold look before you’re brushing past him, “I’m not interested in talking to you.”

You’re weaving through the displays and getting out of his sight quickly— and Hueningkai is left with a purse he had no interest in buying, looking down at the item before he scoffs; he throws it off at a random shelf and exits promptly after. 

Your footsteps are haste and your heels click rhythmically on the tiled floor; you’re making your way to the cash register, watching his meek stance and the way he flinches under your gaze, a flush running up the back of his neck and coloring his ears red— but you don’t dare to look away from him, placing a rough hand on the counter and leaning close as you inspect him.

“You didn’t tell me you worked here.”

Beomgyu is attempting to stutter out a weak response; his cheeks are colored and his hair is tied back neatly, and you can see the way his hands twitch, undoubtedly resisting the urge to run a hand through the neat style. 

“Why— why would I tell you? It’s not something you’d need to know. Or– is it…?”

You’ve confused him, that much you’re sure of. His brows have knitted together and he remains flustered beyond belief— you’re sure you can guess what’s running through his mind right now, and you fight the twitch of your lips at the mere thought.

“I thought you worked as a server.”

“I– I do?” he’s tilting his head in confusion, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose slightly, “I have two jobs.”

“Three,” you quip, drumming your nails against the counter rhythmically, “you tutor.”

“I… guess…?” Beomgyu says, fighting back the urge to correct you that he really doesn’t— you’re the only one he’s ever tutored before.

“Why would you need to work three jobs? How do you get the time for this?” you don’t really know why you’re pestering Beomgyu about this so much— but you’re also fascinated by it, now beginning to understand where Beomgyu’s lack of social life stems from. 

He’s unsure of how to answer your question again; you don’t seem to be particularly patient today, (but then again, when are you?) so you’re waving him off with a dismissive swat of your hand, shaking your head and clicking your tongue before you’re changing the subject; Beomgyu is left to watch as you pull your phone out, scrolling on it for a bit before you’re placing it on the counter and spinning it around for him to see— his eyes are narrowing in concentration as he takes in the picture.

“This purse,” you say slowly, tapping your nail on your phone screen, as though Beomgyu wasn’t currently looking at it, “do you have it in stock? This guy already got one, but I need to know if you have others— I’ve got to have it.” 

The urgency in your voice is a bit surprising to Beomgyu— he takes in your expression, solemn and a bit scary, and gulps— then he watches the way you melt in relief the moment he nods hesitantly. 

“I’m sure we just got a shipment in today— we, haven’t really, uhm, stocked up properly yet,” he stutters, wincing slightly at the sound while you remain unfazed; your brows lift expectantly, and he’s snapping out his daze and sending you a shaky smile, “I’ll go check.” 

He scurries out of your sight and into the employee door quicker than you can process— and when he turns around to take a peek at the small window, he finds you leaning on the counter and on your phone— probably texting, judging by the way your thumbs fly by on the screen— and he feels another heat of shame wash over him, his head spinning and his legs turning into jello. 

How can you act so casually? He wonders, glasses slipping down just a bit farther down his nose, nimble fingers pushing it back up with ease, like you weren’t just in his bedroom a few hours prior… like he wasn’t under you… 

Beomgyu practically jumps the moment your eyes flicker up and meet his; you simply smile, glossed lips stretching slowly before you give him a wink. 

In response, he spins around and begins to actually look— his heart hammers in his chest.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

So pretty. 

So perfect and smooth to the touch, cool under your fingertips— you take your time to feel, to trace over every detail, intricate and crafted by the gods as you let out a shaky sigh— your eyes meet Beomgyu’s, and you have half the mind to feel a bit sheepish, retracting your hand quickly and returning to a socially acceptable state of mind. 

“Sorry,” you say, beaming at him before you’re reaching into your current bag and handing him your card; his eyes widen comically at the smooth black plastic you place in his hold carelessly, “It’s just… all I could ever ask for. I can’t believe I finally have my hands on this…” 

Meanwhile, Beomgyu rings up your inexplicably expensive item, swiping your card and watching the way you don’t even flinch at the sum that shows up; he feels a bit jealous at your nonchalance. 

You’re carrying the purse like it were a baby; it isn’t until Beomgyu offers to bag it for you that you finally let it go, placing it gently on the counter and smiling fondly as you watch Beomgyu place it carefully in the equally luxurious gift bag, placing filler paper on top and handing it back to you, his movement practiced and calculated as he says his usual lines— his mind is running on autopilot once more, but you’re particularly eager to break him out of it as you reach out to take the bag from him, warm hand wrapping around his and tugging him slightly towards you. 

“Thank you for all your help today,” you purr, shining lips stretching into a coy smile, leaning against the counter and watching as he gulps, adam's apple bobbing, “I think I’ll do well on our upcoming quiz— you’re such a good tutor.”

You don’t bother to stick around after that; your steps are brisk and you’re hugging the purchase close to your body, as though someone were after it and ready to take it, confidence in your step as you exit the store— Beomgyu, on the other hand, practically crumbles the moment you’re out of sight, fingers turning white from how hard he grips onto the edge of the counter; his heart pounds and the sound of blood rushing fills his ears, mind inevitably going back to your teasing action before he’s flustering again. 

You’re laughing to yourself the whole ride home— his reaction plays on your mind like a loop, beyond amused by the sight as you pat yourself on the back for being able to come up with something so clever on the spot. 

What you don’t realize, however, is that there are consequences to your actions— consequences that are far beyond your control.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

“Are you for real?”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, placing a fond hand on your cheek and batting your eyes at Yunjin, “totally aced it.” 

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear from you,” your friend says, poking her fork at her salad before taking a bite; she furrows her brows as she takes in your expression, mouth agape and eyes wide, as though you were offended. “What? It’s true.”

“Okay, first off— I’m not stupid, just lazy,” you clarify, pointing an accusing finger at your friend as you pout, “and second of all, you should really believe in your friend a little more.”

“I mean, it was a little hard to when all you would do was skip classes and go shopping instead,” Yunjin says, raising a challenging brow when you open your mouth to refute her claims— then proceed to promptly close it again, finding that you really can’t deny that— and a small smile tugs at her lips, the kind that lets you know that she’s about to say something really annoying, “but I guess your study sessions with your little boy toy really did work.” 

“Boy—?!” you’re in the middle of taking a sip from your iced coffee when she says that, the straw slipping from your mouth and a bit of the liquid escaping from the sheer surprise of her comment— you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling a slight heat rush to your face as you stare at her incredulously, “boy toy?” 

“I mean, am I wrong?” Yunjin challenges, tilting her head in curiosity while you simply try to deny her claims, “you were literally just telling me about the way you had him wrapped around your finger a while ago—”

“Not like that though!” you huff, feeling worked up from the mere idea of Yunjin finding out the complete and utterly stupid slip up you had a while ago, “god, he’s literally such a fucking loser, don’t try to pair me up with him— other people might get the wrong idea. It’s already bad enough that I had to get a tutor, because it’s not like I was doing bad in my classes until recently. I mean, it’s still my fault and I did let myself go, but I didn’t think I’d have to stoop so low! And now I have to take so much time out of my day to spend my time studying with him and even worse, you’re trying to insinuate something that definitely isn’t true—!”

“Yes! Okay! Enough of that please!” Yunjin says exasperatedly, glancing over your shoulder briefly before she’s taking another bite of her salad, muttering something about you having a motor mouth, “god, it’s just that… people have seen you two together a lot, you know? And with the way he’s looking over at you right now, anyone would think that he’s like… in love with you, or something.” 

You’re sitting up straight and whirling around at that; following Yunjin’s previous line of sight, you’re able to pinpoint the said boy immediately— sitting a few tables away, catching him staring at you over his laptop, clearly distracted from his work— the moment your eyes meet, he flinches, hunching down so the screen hides him; it doesn’t work very well, and you’re able to see his downcast eyes and reddening face with ease. 

Oh my god, you think with horror, a cold wave washing over you as you stare at him longer— and after a few seconds, he’s peeking back up from his screen, meeting your eyes once more and scrambling to hide unsuccessfully yet again. You decide to turn back around before anyone else around you catches on to this interaction. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, meeting Yunjin’s gaze as she simply nods at you, her face screaming I told you so, “how long has he been there?” 

“Like… basically this whole time,” Yunjin says casually, not fazed in the slightest by your horrified expression, “been staring at you for a while too.”

“Ugh, gross,” you groan, throwing your head back in defeat and staring up at the ceiling with a frown, “I think I might’ve gotten his hopes up too much.”

“C’mon, go easy on him,” Yunjin teases— your head is straightening up to look at her again, but a single glance is enough to tell you she merely finds this situation amusing, “it’s probably his first time properly interacting with a woman.”

“That’s even worse,” you mourn, slumping down and placing your head in your hands; a sudden reminder of your schedule is popping back into your head, and your peeking through your fingers in dismay as you relay the information to your friend, “and I have a study session with him today too.” 

“Aww!” she coos, clearly having a blast as she grins, glancing behind you and undoubtedly at Beomgyu once more, “I’m sure he just can’t wait to see you again.”

“God, please shut up,” you whine petulantly, but your friend brushes off your pleas with a mischievous smile, “you’re making me wanna throw up.”

“What, you gonna cancel then?” 

Silence. Any other day, you would’ve immediately jumped to say yes, pulling out your phone to text him and bailing like it was nothing. But today, you find yourself oddly reluctant to say this three letter word, unsure of why the answer is difficult to voice before you finally give in to the truth— your head slumps with defeat and you’re too ashamed to look Yunjin in the eyes.

“No.”

“Oh wow,” you hear her say, still blatantly teasing you as she laughs giddily— you don’t bother to react at this point, choosing to ignore the unspoken question of why you’re not ditching him this time.

“Hope you have fun,” she muses, taking one last glance behind you before she’s giggling to herself, “try to go easy on him, m’kay?”

Fuck, this was so embarrassing. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Today, you’ve changed up your meeting spot quite a bit; Beomgyu was thoroughly surprised when you asked him to study later on in the day, in a more secluded area on the upper levels of the library, telling him to pick a table and wait for you to get there after— usually, you tried to make your meetups as convenient for you as possible, choosing places that you could easily flee from. 

When you finally come into his line of sight, Beomgyu frowns. You carry your bag with you, along with a troubled expression and tense posture, glancing around you continuously even if there was no one around, even if the table was hidden behind bookshelves— as though you were afraid of getting caught for something. 

You’re dumping your things onto the table unceremoniously— and instead of taking your spot across from Beomgyu like always, you’re sitting next to him, catching him off guard and missing the way he tenses at the action— you’re scooting your chair closer to him and filling his senses with your scent, making him gulp thickly as he tries to not let his mind wander off; he realizes with dread that it’s really not working. 

Beomgyu is a stuttering mess today; you pick up on it with ease, frowning at the way he continues to blunder through his explanations and having to repeat things to you multiple times, hands shakier than usual as he points out certain things in the text before he’s relating it back to the assignment. 

“That— that’s one of the things the… the uhm, the professor said would be important to remember,” Beomgyu stutters, feeling his body heat up at the way you raise your brows at the sound of his cracking and meek voice. With one glimpse at your (clearly) judgemental and demeaning expression that you didn’t even bother to hide, Beomgyu is scrambling to get his act together. 

It works, for a while; the two of you are left in silence as you work on the homework your professor assigned to you, and you remain unfazed at the feeling of Beomgyu catching glimpses at you from time to time; whether that be to look at what you had written down or simply to look at you, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. 

You’re snapped out of zone of concentration at the sound of rustling; a peek from your peripheral vision allows you to watch as Beomgyu has now begun to dig through his bag, wondering what he could be up to; with a roll of your eyes, you’re focusing back to the question you were working on, not bothering to glance back again even once the rustling has ceased. 

Without warning, something is placed gingerly on the open surface of your textbook; you’re blinking in surprise before you’re registering what it is that has been put before you, brows knitting together as you wonder how you should react.

It’s a… mini paper flower bouquet. 

You’re staring at the item for a solid few seconds before you slowly turn to look at the culprit. Beomgyu meets your intense gaze the best he can, putting up a confident front and fighting back the heat that threatens to engulf his face. 

“Y–You— I heard you did well on your test.” He says, glasses slipping down his nose and bangs falling into his eyes, gaze flickering away for a split second before he wills himself to look at you again. Your stare is dead and unreadable.

“I never told you that.” 

Beomgyu is losing this battle, his confidence visibly wilting away as his cheeks begin to get dusted with pink. His eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of what to respond as you give him a look that is expecting an explanation— his cheeks are now a bright red. 

Even without his explanation, you both know how he got a hold of this news— and you’re thinking back to Yunjin’s teasing, the fear of being seen with him during today’s study session, and the flustered boy in front of you— and your mouth is running faster than you can stop it.

“Choi Beomgyu, do you like me?” 

If the floor around you was already quiet before, it’s dead silent now; you’re even able to pick up on the stuttered breath Beomgyu lets out, his eyes growing comically wide as he simply stares at you; almost as though he couldn’t believe what you just asked of him. 

“Actually, don’t even answer that,” you wave him off, choosing to ignore the way this seems to spring him into action, stuttering and failing to put together a proper sentence to tell you that no, he definitely doesn’t— you just caught him off guard! 

But it’s not like you would believe him anyway, with the way he remains flustered long after you asked the question, unable to even look your way for the rest of the session, staring straight at the textbook and nowhere else whenever you would ask him a question— after a while, you begin to tire of his behavior. 

“Choi Beomgyu,” you call out again, soft and dangerous as you turn to face him— he was attempting to explain a question to you, words dying on his tongue as he took in your sudden proximity— leaning in toward him, you tilt your head as you observe his reaction, watching the way his lips press together and his adam's apple bobs as he gulps softly; his puppy-like eyes shine as he waits for you to say something.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, your voice beginning to dip into that coy lilt that you’ve used on him only one other time— and that’s enough to have Beomgyu’s mind spinning, the poor boy thinking thoughts that he’s tried to suppress this whole time— your affect on him is beginning to show once more. 

“You look a little…” your eyes flicker down beneath the table, a smile tugging at your lips before you’re looking back into the boy's eyes; catching where you were looking, Beomgyu can’t help but tug his sweater over his lap in embarrassment. 

You’re leaning even closer now— your breath is fanning against the shell of his ear, the boy’s face practically on fire as his hands remain clenched and tense on his lap— he’s practically a statue due to your proximity. 

“Distracted.” 

Your hands are mischievous; curious, setting your pencil down carefully before they begin to wander, sliding across the table before it falls off the edge, nails scratching at the wool material of Beomgyu’s sweater before it lands on top of his hand that covers his lap— you grin at the choked breath of surprise he lets out from the simple touch. 

“What— what, what are y–you—?” Beomgyu is about to bite through his lip at this rate, eyes wide and panicked as he watches your hand push his away, taking in the bulge in his pants as a flush of shame rises up his neck; you’ve caught him, but you don’t seem to be fazed in the slightest as you’re cupping him gently, looking up at him with doe eyes and lashes that flutter innocently— he thinks his heart might just explode from how quickly it’s pounding. 

“Wait, wait wait— we’re in— other people might—” he’s tripping over his words, saying so much yet nothing at all, but the way his eyes skirt over the perimeter is enough to tell you what he’s thinking— yet all you see are bookshelves that surround and hide you well— beneath the warmth of your hand that has yet to move, you can feel Beomgyu hardening within seconds. 

“It’s late. There’s no one else here right now,” you say sweetly, too sweet, a bit patronizing as you lean in close and coo the words directly into his ear— you’re brushing back his long hair with a gentle hand, tucking it behind his ears that he always seems to hide; they’re a pitiful bright red and decorated with silver piercings, absentmindedly caressing along his jaw with the back of your hand; his eyes flutter shut at the tender action, along with the feeling of your hand finally beginning to rock against his cock gently— and he melts into the chair, like putty in your hands as you watch his shoulders slump and cave into himself, his head hang at the stimulation; you’ve barely done anything, yet he’s already a mess— the sight surprises you.

“Go ahead,” you continue softly, hand cupping his jaw and cradling it carefully, attempting to get him to look at you again— and he follows your commands effortlessly, pretty eyes fluttering open and his head turning at the gentle push of your hand— and he’s looking at you with glassy, wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink and mouth parted as his eyes begin to flutter shut again— and your thumb is rubbing soothing circles along his cheekbone teasingly, leaning in slightly to whisper again, close enough that he can feel your breath fanning against the tip of his nose, “Puppy, look at me.”

He follows your command in a heartbeat; he’s met with another of your sickeningly sweet smiles, deceiving and comforting all at the same time. 

“Go ahead now puppy,” you murmur, any movements of your hand ceasing entirely as you watch him with eager eyes, watching the way he seems to sober up at the loss of your touch, “take my hand off— c’mon, take it off if you really want to.”

A moment passes— he really should be taking your hand off, shouldn’t he? But his mind is clouded now and you look so pretty under the warm library lights, pristine and perfect as always, glossy lips and lidded eyes encouraging him with a deceivingly fond look— but Beomgyu loves it, and he loves the way you laugh mockingly at him, unable to control the way he whines petulantly and shakes his head, giving you your answer by thrusting his aching cock into your hand desperately.

“Good boy,” you utter absentmindedly, a compliment that makes Beomgyu’s hips stutter as you finally begin to inch up his bulge, careful fingers making quick work to undo his pants— and with one last glance at the deserted area around you, you’re slipping your hand inside and past the tight waistband of his boxers. 

“Haah—!” Beomgyu is slapping a hand over his mouth and beating you to it, eyes wide and face even more flushed than before as he stares down at the way your hand disappears beneath the material of his boxers, expertly wrapping around his length and slowly beginning to jerk him off underneath the table. 

You don’t seem to be worked up by any of this at all; your eyes are lidded with a slight boredom, a tiredness he’s seen at every one of your study sessions, watching the way you turn back to your homework and begin reading the instructions, hand still working expertly at his length as you do; Beomgyu has to press another hand firmly against his mouth the moment your thumb is swiping over his tip, collecting the constant arousal that collects there and using it as lube— you don’t even bat an eye at him during all this. 

After a few minutes, you’re able to hear the slick sounds of your hand working against his cock effortlessly; the poor boy is aroused and leaking beyond belief, now sporting a wet patch against his pants that you seem to be dead-set on worsening— your pace is picking up and you don’t bother to glance at Beomgyu to check up on him, though you also don’t bother to hide the way your lips quirk in amusement at the sight of him trying (and failing) to keep his composure. 

“M–mmh, agh— close, s’close…” Beomgyu stutters out pathetically, bucking his hips up messily and turning back into that desperate and rambly mess from the first time you sucked him off; his voice is deep and breathy as he whispers out these pleas to you, begs to not stop, to go faster, to—

“Beomgyu,” you whisper coyly, using this chance to finally put your plan into action, “Beomgyu baby, d’you wanna cum? Hmm? Want me to make you feel good?”

He’s nodding thoughtlessly; of course he’s nodding, his mind has gone blank and there’s nothing else in there that seems to make sense except for the way your warm hand wraps around his cock so perfectly, unable to stop the choked whines he lets out every time he feels you squeeze him teasingly. 

“Then you gotta do something for me, okay pup?”  you coo out, making sure to use the nickname you know he loves so much— he lets out a choked whimper at the sound, brows knit tightly together and hair falling in front of his face with the way he hangs his head— and you’re leaning in close to him again, breath fanning on his skin and your palm slapping his cheek softly, tapping at it to get his attention; it works like a charm, and his glassy eyes are meeting yours once more. “Puppy, are you listening?”

“I’m—” his words get cut off by a weak whine, feeling your hand tighten teasingly around him, “I’m listening— I’m listening.” 

“Good,” you coo out, feeling the way his hips buck and he starts becoming restless, “now if you wanna cum, you gotta promise me something, okay?” 

Anything, anything for you, he breathes out absentmindedly, and you’re sure he has no idea what he’s even agreeing to at this point. 

“Don’t act like you know me when we’re in public,” you say sweetly, muddling his mind by increasing your pace, by doing exactly what you’ve noted makes him squirm and cry the most, “I don’t know you, you don’t know me— we’re strangers.” 

You notice the way his face is twisting up in confusion; his mouth is parting and he’s fighting to say something, to ask why— but you’re not giving him a chance to, brushing his hair back and cupping his face, turning him to look at you and digging your nails into his cheeks to get him to meet your eyes; through the intense pleasure you give him, you can still see the hurt that swims within. You let out a soft coo at the pathetic sight.

“Come on, promise me, okay?” you pout, “you’re a good boy, right? You’ll keep your promise?” 

His hips are stuttering and fucking into your fist again; you’ve got him pinned down precisely. Any coherent thought is fading out of Beomgyu’s mind and the only thing he’s concerned himself with is his impending orgasm, the feeling of pleasure that is only heightened with every string of praise you say to him. 

“Be a good little puppy and say you’ll promise me,” you say, thumb swiping over his bottom lip before you’re pulling at it, dark eyes observing the way he melts before your touch and finally gives in— he’s nodding, you’ve got him right where you want him, and all you needed was a little bit of mindless praise. “c’mon, say it, say it and you can cum.”

“I promise,” he breathes out, whiny and high pitched and strained, as though speaking was a challenge for him, “I’ll do anything, please— pleasepleaseplease, let me cum, I’ll— I promise.”

“There we go baby,” you hum in approval, pressing a peck to his pouting lips and taking in the way his waterline is filled with tears that hang precariously, “such a good boy— my good boy.”

His hips stutter, rising off the seat, and you’re feeling warm spurts of cum land on your skin. His mouth is falling open and you’re sure he might just let out a loud noise, so before you can think twice, you’re pulling his face close to you and smashing your lips against his; he whines weakly into mouth, and you’re swallowing it greedily, kissing him languidly and guiding him through his high with praise that makes his breath stutter and his knees weak. 

You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and good.

It takes a while before Beomgyu is finally coming to his senses. He’s panting softly against your mouth, lips swollen and bitten at, his cock sensitive as the feeling of you continuing to pump him slowly suddenly becomes too much; with a shaky hand, he presses against your shoulder and attempts to signal you to stop. You’re pulling away immediately. 

Beomgyu looks, for lack of a better term, absolutely destroyed. His face is flushed and his eyes are droopy with exhaustion, hair mussed and messy and his clothes in complete disarray; you look down, and you’re wincing in half amusement and half pity at the sight of the wet spot against Beomgyu’s jeans. He’s following your gaze, and if he could turn any redder, you’re sure he definitely would’ve; his ears burn. 

Your hand is messy; his cum is still coated on your skin, sticky and incriminating as it sticks to your fingers and pools in between, a grimace twisting your face into a look of dismay as you stare down at the mess— before you can even think of what to do about it, Beomgyu is handing you a tissue. 

His hand is shaky as he extends it out to you; your gaze is snapping up to meet his, only you’ve found that he can’t look at you at all— it seems as though the fog in his mind has already subsided and he’s realized what you’ve asked of him, lips pressed together and face still flushed as you finally take it from him. He turns away from you immediately, pulling his sweater over his lap and staring down at the disarray of textbooks and notebooks before him. 

The silence is suddenly unbearable. You feel awkward as you wipe at your skin, even more so when you’re stuck with nothing but a soiled tissue and a hand that’s still undeniably dirty, the tension between you two now growing tenfold by the second as you finally decide that you should probably just go— it’s not like he’d be surprised by it anyway. 

You’re opening your mouth to excuse yourself— to ignore the elephant in the room, to simply run away with a coy smile like you always do— but Beomgyu is beating you to the punch, and you can’t even hide the startled flinch your body does as he stands and begins to pack up hastily, shoving his materials into his book bag without a second glance to see if everything is perfectly aligned and neat.

You can only sit there and watch; it’s clear that your words seem to have gotten to him, and though you were expecting the awkwardness that would stem from it, you didn’t expect Beomgyu to be upset; your mind races to find reasons why, to try and wrap your head around why he would be feeling this way. 

“I asked the professor how you were doing in the class, since you never seem to want to tell me,” Beomgyu finally says, breaking the tension and adjusting the materials in his bag to be just the way he likes it; he zips his bag shut in one aggressive swoop, and you can’t help the surprise on your face when he sends you a harsh glare. 

“He says you’ve been improving greatly; said you were a good student from the very start, that you only needed to catch up on the materials.” he’s slinging his bag over his shoulder, pushing the chair in and taking a step back from your dumbfounded figure, “so it looks to me that you achieved your goal with our sessions.”

A moment passes— and your eyes widen slightly, catching on to what he’s trying to tell you, finding that you really want to deny the professor’s claims, even if they are true. But your pride impedes you from uttering a single word, knowing that it would kill you to try and coax Beomgyu to stay with you, to keep these study sessions going— and through this sudden urge, you catch yourself wondering why you would even want this to continue.

“I’m glad my help seemed to work— but it seems that you don’t even need it anymore,” Beomgyu finalizes what he needed to say, and you can see the way his shoulders practically sag from the relief of getting his thoughts across; his hand goes to tug his oversized sweater down, completely covering his lap and the mess you left— he grimaces softly. 

“What? So that’s it?” is all you can say, watching his face harden at your words, “Just like that? What about me?”

His face twists up in anger— your words have struck a nerve, and suddenly, he’s remembering why no one wanted to tutor you in the first place. 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” is all he says, taking another step back and increasing the distance between you two, “anyone would be willing to tutor you with the rate you like to offer.”

You both know what he really wants to say— just use your money on someone else to get what you want, like you always do. You find that you can’t really say anything to that. You remain silent.

Beomgyu turns around, and leaves; he doesn’t bother to say goodbye, and you’re left to watch his retreating figure, the hastiness of his pace and the way he continuously tugs his oversized sweater down over and over, even if it doesn’t move an inch. 

That’s it, you tell yourself, leaning back against your chair, staring down at the display before you, at the notes you were actually taking, the work you were finally doing, you finally got what you wanted. 

After a moment, the seat next to you is feeling a lot emptier than it did seconds ago; the room feels endless, as though you were left alone in this lonely labyrinth. Beomgyu’s words echo in your head, and you frown. 

Is this what you wanted?

 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Beomgyu has kept his promise well; you haven’t seen him in weeks. 

Not around campus, not around the dining halls, not even in the library, a place you’ve found yourself actually attending regularly— not even in the only class you shared— and it seems as though he’s vanished off the face of the Earth. 

You’ve found yourself thinking about him more often than you’d like; wondering if he’s okay, if he’s off at one of his many jobs again, if he’s resting— it makes you shiver with disgust every time you catch yourself, grimacing at the idea that you would even find yourself worried about him— and while you tell yourself that you’ve finally gotten rid of one of your biggest burdens, you can still feel the nagging feeling to talk to him every time you see his contact in your phone.

“Did you finally get him off your trail?” Yunjin asks you one day, when you’re busy checking the due dates for this week’s assignments online, making a mental schedule of what to work on first as you leave your food untouched; her words are snapping you out of your trance, looking up at her with a gaze that screams I wasn’t listening, what? 

“Your little plaything— the loser guy?” she drawls, watching your face carefully, taking your small reaction as a sign that you’ve caught on, “did you finally shake him off?” 

“I— yeah, I did,” you say apathetically, letting out a soft tsk as you’re looking back at your laptop, “finally.”

“Wow, look at you,” Yunjin awes, seeing the way your brows furrowed in concentration and you have yet to eat, too immersed in your course load to roll your eyes at her clear, mocking tone, “looks like he really did a number on you— I didn’t know you used your laptop for anything other than shopping.”

“Yunjin, come on,” you sigh, jaw clenching as you suddenly don’t find yourself in the mood for her teasing, “I mean, I know I’ve been slacking really bad recently, but you know that’s not true.”

She doesn’t seem to take you seriously— then again, no one ever really does, a constant in your life that makes you jaw tick and your eyes mentally roll— and she laughs, shaking her head and pouting as though you were a thing to be pitied. You wonder how much of this is supposed to be friendly teasing. 

“Yeah sure,” she sighs, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand and leaning over to look at your screen, “Don’t work too hard though, it might hurt your brain.”

You ignore her comment; Yunjin doesn’t seem to care about your silence, doesn’t bother to gauge your reaction as she continues to poke at yet another of her salads, pushing the contents around with her fork in boredom as she speaks up again. 

“You know, hopefully he has the same effect on me.”

This gets your attention immediately. Yunjin is looking at you with surprised eyes that feign innocence, raising a confused brow at your narrowed eyes. 

“What do you mean by that,” you ask slowly, attempting to keep your tone indifferent as you speak.

Yunjin shrugs, as though what she was about to tell you next wasn’t of any importance— and it really shouldn’t be, but you still can’t ignore the way it makes your body feel like you’ve been shocked with a wave of electricity. 

“I mean, your little tutor seemed to be such a good influence so…” she stabs at her salad lazily, bringing up the fork to her lips before she’s sending you a small smile. “I thought I’d give him a try.” 

You bristle quite visibly at that; your mind is running a million miles an hour, wondering where this sudden idea is coming from, being friends with Yunjin for longer than you can remember as your mouth begins to run before you can stop it. 

“You said your parents have tried to set you up with multiple tutors— the best in the country,” you say, brows knitted together as Yunjin simply shrugs her shoulders, raising her brows as if to say and? “You said you’d rather die than to get tutored— you said it was a waste of time.”

“Yeah… but…” Yunjin shrugs again, and you wonder how much of this is just an impulse from her as she continues, “I don’t know, my parents are on my ass again about giving me a tutor, and I don’t wanna deal with all those stuck up pricks they send to me.”

She admits her true motives with her next words. 

“And I don’t know… he’s kinda cute?” she says, laughing like a schoolgirl who was embarrassed to admit a crush, “In like, a pathetic kinda way— and now that he’s done tutoring you, I’m sure he has a slot that opened up.”

Your mind is spiraling with things to say to her; you want to tell her to stay away from Beomgyu, to not try to mess with him— tell her that he’s a loser that isn’t worth her time, a nerd with an obsession with a lame game and the owner of a creepy bird— but you catch yourself, biting your tongue and taking in the way Yunjin simply looks at you expectantly; as though waiting for your embarrassing outburst, you realize.

With a scoff, you’re slamming your laptop shut— Yunjin flinches in surprise. 

“I’m sure one did— I’m leaving,” is all you say, knowing that nothing would change, even if you tried anything. Yunjin scrambles to try to get you to stay, but all attempts fall short— you tell her there’s an exam you need to study for, and she sighs in defeat. 

“You’re coming to the party this Saturday, at least?” she says, clearly annoyed at your sudden sensitivity, at your sudden change in attitude, “you promised you would.”

Your mind is attempting to remember what she could be talking about— then you’re finally remembering the event she spontaneously planned a few weeks back, telling you that she hasn’t seen everyone together in one place in so long— and while you found yourself agreeing excitedly back then, you don’t have much energy to do so now. But Yunjin is staring at you expectantly, raising a brow at your silence, and you find that there’s really not much of a choice for you. (There is, but you know there’d be consequences if you chose wrong.)

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Perfect!” she beams, eyes crinkling and her hands clasping together happily, as though there was no previous tension between you at all mere moments before, “I’ll see you then.” 

You merely nod, turning around and taking your food to the nearest trash can— you weren’t really hungry, anyway. 

You can feel Yunjin’s eyes pinpointed on you the whole way out. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You’ve always loved parties. 

You loved to dress up, make yourself look pretty and catch the eyes of everyone with your pretty dresses and makeup done to perfection; loved the attention that came with it, the way you could let loose for once and not worry about your image, drinking and feeling your body become loose, mind finally being allowed to forget about any worries you had. 

You were known to be a social butterfly; the pretty airhead that couldn’t stop talking once you got her started— always the life of the party, never one to cling to the wall and stare at the dance floor wistfully. 

Standing before the beach house of Yunjin’s parents, one they didn’t use as much as they once did when Yunjin was only a little girl with an affinity to the sea, you begin to wonder where that part of you has gone. 

You feel dreadfully out of place. You haven’t even gone inside yet. 

Music is blasting and the windows are dark, save for the bright neon lights that come from an unknown source; Yunjin has always been a sucker for that club vibe, anyway. You want to go in, want to walk inside and pretend like it’s nothing, but this time, you can only stand at the bottom of the steps and tug your dress down a little more. You feel like a prude. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself— one in, one out, your chest rising and falling slowly as you  try calm your racing pulse— and with a silent okay of reassurance to yourself, you will your body to begin its trek up the steps. 

The door is unlocked; it’s not like you needed to knock to get in, anyway— only those with an invite even knew this party was happening. The place isn’t packed— nor is it meant to be— but it’s a bit crowded at least, filled with familiar faces for the most part; all people you grew up with or around, sons and daughters of influential families that grew to be nothing but partiers and troublemakers. In other words, your usual crowd. 

There are some exceptions to these guests, however. People you’ve seen around campus, student athletes with a scholarship and business majors that have already found themselves internships to the companies others in the room are a part of— and it seems that no matter how much everyone here tries to pretend and deny, they can never really separate their personal lives from the responsibilities passed down to them at birth. 

Your first instinct is to beeline it to the kitchen; in other words, to the makeshift bar Yunjin always sets up, an impressive display of alcohol and even a hired bartender making drinks left and right— you immediately ask for two jello shots, something Yunjin always made for herself and in extension, you, not in the mood for anything stronger as you opt to get this nervous energy out of you instead; you proceed to get two more a second after, just out of habit.

You should find Yunjin; let her know you’re here, make sure she doesn’t try to scold and bitch at you for promising to go to her party only to end up ditching— you’re sure she’d never believe you unless she saw you with her own eyes. 

The kitchen is empty. The makeshift dance floor seems to be empty as well, spending a few minutes scouring the place and shrugging off any passing advances; with a heavy sigh, you decide that you should check upstairs, just in case, ready to make your way up before a rough hand is grabbing at your elbow and tugging you back; the smell of alcohol greets you before Yunjin can. 

“You actually came!” Yunjin yells over the music, her face flushed from the alcohol and her balance off as she stumbles slightly; you make a quick move to catch her, eyes drifting down before you’re catching sight of the uncomfortable heels she dons— meeting her gaze once more, she pouts. 

“I don’t even know why I wore these,” she groans, running a hand through her auburn hair, watching the way it falls back into place perfectly— she then proceeds to scan over your own outfit, letting out a sound of awe as she smiles, “you look great! Pretty as always.”

She’s muttering something else, but you can’t really hear it over the sound of the music; eventually, you find your eyes drifting away to the dancefloor, wondering if there’s anyone else you could recognize— your eyes lock with a particular, infamous athlete’s, one that you’ve been dying to get with since the beginning of the semester— and you’re suddenly thankful for the buzz the jello shots provided you, Yunjin eventually following your gaze and cheering at the realization of what you were planning. 

She’s pushing you forward before you can even think things through; the man with dark hair simply smiles at you, coy eyes beckoning you closer— and with a deep breath, you decide to let go of any worries you had and go back to being your airheaded, carefree self— even if just for a moment. 

“Hey,” he says simply, a hand going to rest on your waist; the music is much too loud for you to converse properly, but you don’t really seem to mind as you allow yourself to get lost in the rhythm instead— that, and because your tipsy brain has forgotten his name, and the low lights that obscure his face aren’t exactly helping either. 

But it seems as though he was thinking the exact thing; he’s leaning down to ask the exact question you were wondering into your ear, deep voice and pouty lips that brush against the shell of your ear making you shiver— you’re muttering your name into his ear, tilting your head toward him to allow him to do the same.

Yeonjun. Your head seems to clear for the moment. 

“Looks like we finally meet,” he grins, still close to your face in order for you to be able to hear him; your face twists up in confusion, and he laughs softly before continuing. “You’re just as pretty as I’ve been told— my friend talks a lot about you. You’re trouble, hmm?”

“Your friend?” is all you can say in response, placing a hand against his chest and leaning in closer, the music muddling his words slightly; his hand continues to hold you steady, and the two of you continue to sway to the rhythm. 

“Yeah,” he laughs, staring at your face that’s twisted up in obvious confusion, “My roommate, Beomgyu? I heard he tutored you for a bit.”

His name is enough to clear your head entirely, as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over your body and drenched your figure. 

“He— he told you about me?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so pathetic, for feeling so curious as you stare at Yeonjun with undeniably hopeful eyes; instead, all you get is another amused laugh from him. 

“Are you kidding? You practically traumatized him!” he jokes, though you don’t find yourself laughing along to that, lips twitching and a frown threatening to take over your features, “You’d think he was scared of you from the way he talked about you.”

You don’t respond to that; you’re not sure how you would respond to that anyway, letting out a weak laugh and falling silent as you look over his shoulder and fall back into the beat of the song— but it seems as though Yeonjun is too drunk, and frankly, unaware to take in your reaction, because he’s leaning into your ear and murmuring words that strike the final blow into your heart.

“He’s here, actually— Yunjin and him really seem to be hitting it off. Didn’t think he had it in him”

You chose to bite your tongue, biting back a bitter comment about how he really doesn’t have it in him to woo someone like Yunjin. But Yeonjun is too amused by his own comment to pick up on the sudden sourness of your mood, mouthing the lyrics to whatever’s playing and guiding your hips with a hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he sends you a wink. But you’re too shaken by this sudden news that you no longer feel the need to play along, much less try to hook up with him tonight. Now that you think about it, the once superficially important goal of chasing after the athlete before you had been pushed down the list of your priorities long, long ago. 

“‘M gonna get a drink,” you mutter miserably, pushing against Yeonjun’s chest and ignoring the way he immediately begins to complain, untangling yourself from his grip as you leave with one final, half-hearted sorry!

Screw jello-shots, you think to yourself, stumbling back to the kitchen with sore feet, I need something stronger. 

Something stronger comes in the form of a mysterious drink you let the bartender make for you; you didn’t exactly keep track of the ingredients he listed off to you, simply nodding instead when he asked if that’s what you wanted— if you think it’s strong enough, you replied with a smile, choosing to ignore the hesitant nod he gave you in return. 

The speed at which you downed the drink was enough to have the bartender at your side with a water and a warning look— you ignored it, of course, drinking the water with a slight pout, only bothering to drink half before you were back to the dancefloor; maybe you could distract yourself with Yeonjun for a while, you think. 

But any plans to track down the said man come to a glaring halt the moment you’re stepping out the kitchen; your eyes widen, surprised expression mirroring Hueningkai’s as he stands before you— his eyes scan over your figure, running back up and stopping at your hazed eyes and flushed face, the slight sway in your movement helping everything click in his mind; you’re a few drinks away from getting utterly wasted, and it seems as though that’s the path you’re getting ready to take. 

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” Hueningkai says, watching your face scrunch in confusion, taking a step forward to hear him better, “Thought you’d be too busy doing another study date to come.”

“Shut up,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and scoffing at the implications of his words, “And why do you care? I’m surprised you’re not fucking a random girl in Yunjin’s bathroom right now.”

“I tried,” Hueningkai rolls his eyes, smiling in that obnoxiously smug way as he watches you frown. He leans in, placing a hand on the doorway and above your head as he reaches out to grab your waist; tugging you close to him, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he mumbles quietly, “but she wasn’t anywhere as good as you.”

“You’re gross,” you glare, leaning back as you let your lips upturn in disgust, already knowing what he’s implying— asking of you— with a simple look at his face. “Leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Are you still mad?” Hueningkai asks, beginning his chase even after you’ve successfully escaped his clutches, ignoring him with a roll of your eyes as you cross your arms and make your way out to the living room, “you never even told me what was wrong, you just ran away and kept bitching at me.”

You huff; it doesn’t seem like Hueningkai will give up anytime soon, so you’re whirling around and sending him a pointed glare as you finally give him the closure he so desperately keeps asking for. 

“I did tell you what was wrong,” you start, clenching your jaw at the way he immediately opens his mouth to refute that, “you treat me like nothing more than a fuck buddy, acting as though we weren’t actually friends before that! All you do is make me feel worthless, then you have the audacity to turn around and play the victim?! Like seriously, Hueningkai, is this all you see me as? A body to fuck?”

Hueningkai began asking you to keep it down the moment you felt yourself get riled up; volume rising, face heating up, you ignored him, ignored the odd looks you got from others, deciding that since the man before you wanted to hear your thoughts so badly, you’d let it all out.

“We used to be friends. We grew up together!” you say, feeling ridiculous for continuing to grieve the past, the days where things weren’t so complicated and all you felt for Hueningkai was a harmless crush. “I can’t believe I let you use me like this, just because I thought I liked— god, I’m so stupid.”

You don’t give him a chance to retaliate; you’re turning around and ready to weave your way through the faceless people and go outside, only making it halfway before Hueningkai is grabbing at your elbow and asking you to wait. His persistence garners yet another roll of your eyes.

“You what? Hang on, what was that last part?” he asks, trailing behind you and desperately asking for an answer— because of course he would hone in on that part. You continue to ignore him, tugging your arm out his hold and beginning to push through the crowd at the dancefloor— seriously, how many people did Yunjin invite? You seem to have severely underestimated the capacity of this place.

“You— did you like me? Do you like me?” Hueningkai’s last attempts to get something, anything from you are childish and do nothing but make your stomach churn, “Come on, we can talk this out, be mature about it— I can fix things, I can make it up to, yeah? Hey, don’t bail on me now—”

“Enough!” you yell, getting yet another round of side glances and strange looks from others; listening in like always, pretending horribly to be ignorant to it all.

You’re right before the doorway; so close, yet you know that if you leave now, Hueningkai will continue to follow and pester you— so as horrible as the timing is, you realize with a heavy feeling that now is your chance to do what you’ve been debating on for so long. 

“Please, I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say, your words weak as you look right into his eyes— and everything surfaces into your mind once more, the innocent hope you once had of stealing his heart one day, “Let’s just end this— everything.”

The words feel familiar on your tongue, only this time, you realize that this is the person you should’ve directed this message to in the first place.

“We don’t know each other,” you say, jaw clenched at the way it takes Hueningkai a second to process things due to the music that tries to drown you out— you still catch onto the exact moment where it all registers in his head, eyes widening and mouth opening to protest— but you beat him to it, not giving him another opportunity to try and haphazardly fix thing, albeit momentarily. Your eyes meet his, and your heart wrenches upon seeing that he’s more annoyed than hurt. 

“Don’t talk to me— we’re strangers now.”

The final blow is like a weight that is immediately taken off your shoulders; you reach to open the door and slip out. This time, Hueningkai doesn’t follow. 

The air is cool on your face and a nice contrast to the stuffy air inside the house. Slowly, you make your way to the corner of the porch fence, stumbling over due to the soreness of your feet and the alcohol that still runs through your system. So many emotions course through you, seemingly wanting to bring about a wave of nostalgia and sadness, lingering feelings for the man you’ve just let behind— but you won’t allow yourself to cry over him, scoffing instead at the way you allowed yourself to foolishly bend over backwards for him for so long. 

“Wow,” you hear a voice say, not bothering to look back as you immediately recognize who it is; Yunjin joins you, leaning against the fence and craning her head forward to properly survey you— you don’t bother looking at her, even more so when she finally continues,“That was harsh back there.”

You sigh. Because of course Yunjin heard that, and of course she’s the one to bring it up immediately after. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually cut him off— I thought you’d always be like, head over heels, hopelessly in love with him— like a little girl, you know? You never seemed to grow out of him.” You glare at her, but continue to remain silent; she laughs, throwing her head back at the sight, only to wobble back slightly from the sudden motion.

“Oh come onnnnn, you know it’s true!” she coos, proceeding to poke at you teasingly and twist her voice to sound like you, “Huening called me pretty. Huening bought me the purse I really wanted. Huening wants me to go with him to dinner with his parents. Huening Huening Huening—!”

Her laugh is obnoxious, even after you’ve hissed at her to be quiet; she continues to mock you under her breath, drunkenly quoting things she overheard from your outburst, and you realize with a disappointed sigh that she definitely won’t be stopping soon. 

“Heyyy, don’t get all sensitive on me now!” she whines, grabbing your hand and tugging you back when you attempt to leave; it doesn’t work, and you merely tug yourself out her grip, not even bothering to respond to her cries to stay.

Yunjin pauses her dramatics the moment you’re turning and leaving, scoffing at the way she offhandedly apologizes, words slurring together as she says that she’s sorry if you feel offended! You’re shaking your head at that, making your way back to where the stairs are, glancing back at the home one last time— and you’re freezing for a second when you meet Beomgyu’s gaze, the boy wide eyed and awkward as he stands at the doorway. Behind you, Yunjin cheers drunkenly. 

“Beomie! Hey, could you tell her to stop being so dramatic? Like come on, I’m just trying to have fun,” Yunjin’s rambles are left unacknowledged by you both, and you finally find strength within you to walk away after a second; it’s not like you and Beomgyu had anything to talk about, anyway. 

Behind you, Yunjin calls for Beomgyu to go to her and give her attention; her pleas fade from your ears and you’ve finally made it onto the beach, pulling out your phone and fumbling through your contacts before you’re finally ordering an Uber to pick you up instead— it was too late in the night for you to bother your driver. 

The closest driver will be here in fifteen minutes; you’ll spend those fifteen minutes sitting before the ocean, clothes riddled with sand and body still sobering up slowly, your shoes placed to the side as you dip your legs into the water— fifteen minutes of silence, allowing you to ponder if these people are really the ones you’ve chosen to affiliate with for half your life. 

You’ve become so entranced with the white noise of the waves that you couldn’t pick up on the approaching footsteps of another; it isn’t until the said person is sitting at your side that you’re finally snapping out of your trance. 

Beomgyu settles down beside you without a word. You watch him for a second, taking in his appearance— he must’ve been dragged here, if anything, his attire not straying from the usual sweaters and jeans— and you look away, staring back out into the horizon as silence continues to drag down between the two of you. 

“You’re not sensitive,” Beomgyu suddenly says, his voice so quiet and hesitant you almost missed it, “Or dramatic.”

You laugh humorlessly. 

“I know.”

“You deserve to feel wanted,” Beomgyu adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, taking in your troubled expression and distant gaze, “...And, your friends are all assholes.”

“...I know.”

It’s quiet. You’re staring down at your feet, at the waves that slowly make their way up your shins before they retreat. Tonight made everything clearer than ever— why did you ever bother to associate with those people? Family and social status was the answer, but as you sit on the beach and away from the rowdy, ruthless crowd, you realize that you feel much more comfortable where you are. 

“No one ever takes me seriously,” you say suddenly, staring at the ground and tracing shapes into the sand, “I mean, I never really gave them reason to; it was all just fun and games at first— since I was a girl, I mean. Everyone thought that because I was so obsessed with superficial things that I just didn’t have anything going on in my head, and I guess that was enough to let me become a joke to everyone. A pretty airhead who just thinks about makeup and clothes and purses.”

“I mean, I worked hard to get to where I’m at, y’know? There’s more to me than just that. I won’t deny that my parents and their wealth helped get me a lot, and I certainly won’t deny that I seriously slacked this semester, but I— I don’t know, I just wish people wouldn’t take the shit I say and do like an absolute cosmic joke sometimes; that everyone I know and surrounded myself with wasn’t so superficial and fake.”

Your mouth just began running without you realizing it, forcing you to spill everything that’s been weighing on your mind; you don’t even bother stopping yourself, refusing to glance at the boy beside you as you continue. 

“And you wanna know what the worst part is? For a while, I started to believe what they thought of me, started to play into it if it meant them… liking me more. Ugh, that sounds so pathetic, seriously. I need to get it together.” You roll your eyes, tossing your head back as you scold yourself midway through your rambling, “I thought that if I acted all cute and stupid, if I just molded myself into what they liked, they… he would choose me. Would decide to keep me around for more than just a fuck. Would reciprocate years and years of pining and pretending to be cool with him fucking around with other people— all while he got all sulky if I even mentioned other guys.”

Silence. You go quiet for a moment, hand stilling for a moment, brows knitting together as you stare at the mess you’ve made in the sand; Beomgyu opens his mouth to say something, but is swiftly cut off by the sight of you sitting up straight abruptly. 

“But I’m worth more than that, y’know? I deserve to have someone take it slow with me, to like me for who I am, to really take me seriously. Even if I act ridiculous sometimes.” You sigh, your lips twitching in a soft smile as you finally look up from the mess in the sand and at Beomgyu; his eyes meet yours, doe-like and wide as always. You laugh at his expression, and his face heats up at the sight. 

“God, I’ve been really insufferable, huh?” you laugh, looking away from him the moment you felt your heart beating a bit faster, “I just never shut up, I’ve been told it’s really annoying— I didn’t mean to dump that all on you like that.”

“It’s alright,” Beomgyu says hastily, biting at his lip and averting your gaze as he continues, “I like listening to you talk.”

Your eyes widen and his words echo through your mind, bouncing off the walls and repeating the message over and over. I like listening to you talk. 

Your mind seems to have entirely blanked out at that; how do you even respond? All you know is that your body seems to heat up entirely after a second, shivers running through your spine as you attempt miserably to find something to say, something that’ll probably shatter the mood entirely— but you can’t, and you’re stuck in a silence that grows tense as minutes pass. 

The ding of a notification sounds from your phone; the two of you are looking down at the screen that lights up, and you immediately scramble to leave the moment you read that your car is here.

“I— I have to go,” you say lamely, wincing at your accidental stutter; you don’t give Beomgyu a chance to say anything more, wiping the sand off your clothes and giving him a half-hearted wave goodbye. “See ya.”

If anyone accused you of running away like a coward, you wouldn’t even bother to deny such claims— because it’s true, and you all but sprint away in order to get out of Beomgyu’s sight, eyes frantically sweeping over the street until you finally spot your Uber, sending a small wave and getting inside quickly. 

“Sorry about the mess,” you say sheepishly, glancing down at your shoes that tracked in remnants of sand; slowly, the car begins to move, and you’re staring out the window and watching Yunjin’s beach house pass by— in the very distance, your eyes catch onto Beomgyu, who remains sitting still by the shore. 

Your mind echoes his words to you, and you’re failing miserably to push down the way your stomach seems to be filled with a flurry of butterflies, the way your face heats up and a smile threatens to break through your face. 

Fuck, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you’ve only felt something this intense one other instance, many years ago.

Fuck. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

It’s been a few weeks since Yunjin’s party; a few weeks since you stopped talking to her, a few weeks since you dropped all your snobby friends you only made for connections, a few weeks since you finally broke things off with Hueningkai. 

A few weeks since you realized that you might see Beomgyu as more than just a nerdy, pathetic loser. 

You’ve found that you have a lot more free time these days; now that you’re no longer worried about attending worthless cocktail parties or going golfing to help Yunjin impress a CEO’s son who she’s had her eye on for days, you’ve found that your life has become a lot more peaceful— or rather, boring. 

Your social life is nonexistent; what else did you expect, after cutting off practically everyone you knew? You’ve become a homebody, much more focused on your work and finding more mundane hobbies— your grades have never looked better. 

Avoiding Yunjin and anyone associated with her was simple; it was nothing, passing by her and pretending like you two never knew each other, like the two of you weren’t once attached by the hip. It never phased you to be in the same room as her, not even batting an eye when she found herself sitting a table away from you in the dining halls. 

You just wish you could say the same about Beomgyu. 

God, what the hell has gotten into you? You’ve become a fumbling, ridiculous mess, not even able to look him in the eye when you spot him in the halls, in the library, in cafes; your body heats up and words get stuck in your throat whenever he’s so much as close in proximity, always finding a way to flee as soon as possible— you don’t even bother being inconspicuous anymore. 

It was apparent to anyone who knew you that this behavior was a complete switch from your usual self— cocky, flirty, bold— and Beomgyu, who had to spend hours on end with you, knew that better than anyone. 

He’s able to spot your odd behavior immediately. Though unfortunately for him, he’s unable to come to a proper conclusion as to why you may be acting like that, and simply decides that you must be holding up your promise still; the promise to act like complete strangers, that is. 

Beomgyu frowns, staring at your back as you stand in line at the cafe across the campus library; you’re rigid, as though turning around and acknowledging the man behind you could kill you. Did you really hate him that much? He thought he made progress back at Yunjin’s party, your moment of vulnerability allowing him to see you in a completely new light— because after a moment of thought, after you fled the scene with an awkward wave and an empty smile, Beomgyu began to think; he really didn’t know anything about you. He didn’t even know your major.

All he knew about you were superficial things— and Beomgyu found himself oddly irritated by the thought, wondering if he was any better than the very people you were complaining about; it weighed his mind, finding himself prattling off to Yeonjun about it one day, laying on the couch and petting Toto absentmindedly as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“She’s an architecture major,” Yeonjun said from the kitchen, looking up from the stove and meeting Beomgyu’s surprised gaze, “Yunjin told me once that she’s been working to try and get an internship at her father’s company— starting from the bottom up and everything. Heard it’s super competitive over there.”

You were a lot more hardworking and studious than Beomgyu— or anyone, really— gave you credit for. And as he watched you recite your order to the cashier, something so convoluted that the boy wondered if it was even good, he found himself wanting to learn more about you. You stood off to the side, staring down at your phone with a concentrated pout, and he wondered if he should bite the bullet and finally attempt talking to you. 

Just as Beomgyu was mustering up the courage to say something, just as he was about to open his mouth, your name was called and you picked up your drink with a swiftness he’s never seen before, making your way out and passing Beomgyu in the blink of an eye. He’s left waiting for his drink long after, snapped out of his reverie by a text notification. 

Huh Yunjin:

im at the library rn r u coming ??

dont keep me waiting :(

Beomgyu sighs, and trudges his way to the library with a pout; the feeling is reminiscent, but he can’t help but find himself thinking that it was you he was studying with instead. He spots Yunjin’s bright head of orange hair instantly, eyes glued to her phone and brows knitted together in a soft frown— and though Beomgyu apologized for being late and asked her to start without him, she didn’t seem to bother to even get her materials out. 

Internally, Beomgyu finds himself rolling his eyes— But he’s masking that with a soft clear of his throat, his calm voice asking Yunjin to get her textbook out so they can start their session— and she finally looks up from her phone, bright eyes filled with confusion before she smiles sheepishly. 

“Oh right, the textbooks,” she murmurs, looking over at the seat next to her where she’s placed her bag, then across where Beomgyu sits; his eyes widen at the sight of her collecting her things, standing up and rounding the table before she sits next to him— before he can question what he’s doing, she scoots her chair closer to him, shoulders touching as she sends him an innocent smile. “I… forgot mine… you don’t mind if we share, right? You said you took this class last semester.”

Beomgyu can’t contain the way he lets out an exasperated breath; he pulls out his laptop, pulling up his digital copy as he mentally complains about how unprepared and demanding Yunjin always seemed to be— he can’t remember the last time she actually brought her own supplies; if anything, Beomgyu was sure she hadn’t even bought her required texts. 

And as he scrolls through the index in search of the needed chapter, he feels Yunjin leaning in closer; all under the guise of seeing the screen better, but Beomgyu knows better than to believe that her intentions are all innocent. And despite Beomgyu’s multiple attempts to scoot away from her, he quickly finds himself trapped by the girl again, frowning at the way she laughs at everything little thing he says and tugs at his sleeve when she’s confused about something. 

For a moment, Beomgyu wonders if she might actually be hitting on him— but he soon catches onto the way she peeks over his screen after each attempt to be touchy, how she glances in the same direction after every soft coo of that same nickname that makes him wince— and he follows the path of her gaze eventually, not entirely surprised at what he sees; if anything, it helps everything click together. 

Beomgyu spots you sitting two tables away, face twisted up in concentration and headphones obstructing your ears, head bobbing rhythmically as you scribble things on your notebook, glancing back at your laptop’s screen ever so often; he catches sight of numbers and equations, and he realizes that you must be working on math homework. 

Without realizing, he’s found himself staring at you; this side of you that he never saw much, private and calm and hardworking, the image you said you wished others saw in you— and, as though you could feel it, you’re looking up from your work, meeting Beomgyu’s eyes instantly and watching as he flusters and looks away; your eyes then fall onto the girl who has him backed into the corner of the table, who leans into him and glances over you with a slight quirk of her lips— she sends you a small wave, then turns back to Beomgyu, calling out his name softly. 

Undeniably curious, you lower the volume of your music slightly— you didn’t expect Yunjin to actually go through with her plans of getting Beomgyu to tutor her, and much less her lasting this long— you’re bringing up a hand to your head as subtly as you can, moving the right side of your headphone away from your ear slightly and allowing yourself to listen in to whatever it is they talk about. 

While Beomgyu attempts multiple times to tutor her and teach her materials, Yunjin can’t seem to stop steering away in a completely different direction; asking him entirely unrelated questions, blatantly flirting and acting coy as she pulls at his sweater everytime he seems hesitant to answer— the sight is slightly amusing, but you can’t deny the way it makes you wince with annoyance. 

“Today’s your day off, right?” Yunjin asks eventually, smiling widely when he nods, albeit hesitantly, “Great! You know how you said you’d take me to dinner if I got a good score on my test?” 

You hear the sound of Yunjin’s nails clicking against a screen; undoubtedly searching for something, the soft mutters of Beomgyu’s you were the one who struck up the deal, making you bite your tongue in a desperate attempt to remain inconspicuous; from the corner of your eye, you’re able to catch the way the said boy glances over at you. 

“Well… ta-da!” Yunjin squeals happily as she shoves the phone into Beomgyu’s face, allowing him to see her results for the said test. Beomgyu hums absentmindedly at the sight. 

“Your place at seven?” Yunjin grins, poking his shoulder teasingly; Beomgyu doesn’t answer, but she chooses to take that silence as a yes. “Great! I have to go actually; promised my girls I’d have brunch with them— you understand, right?” 

Instead of fumbling with his words and asking her to not leave so abruptly, Beomgyu simply nods and hums a soft uh-huh. The sight is enough to have Yunjin scoffing, slinging her purse on her shoulder and reaching over to grab Beomgyu’s chin— she tugs it and makes him face her, the action so sudden that his eyes widen drastically— and she smiles, squishing his cheeks teasingly and pouting at his distant behavior. 

“Don’t get all pouty with me— I’ll see you soon ‘kay?” before Beomgyu can even process anything, Yunjin leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling her lipstick transfer onto his skin— he’s slightly dazed, reaching up immediately to place a hand over the spot, staring at Yunjin with furrowed brows; she simply laughs and waves at him one final time, practically skipping out from how giddy she seemed.

From a distance, you watch Beomgyu quietly reach for his bag, his expression blank as he pulls out a tissue and his phone; you watch him use his front camera as a mirror, wiping at the lipstick with a soft frown. 

From a distance, you laugh to yourself— the distaste that appears on his face is obvious to you, and you can’t help but shake your head at Yunjin’s ridiculous behavior; god, was that what you looked like whenever you would bail on him mid-session? The very thought was terribly humbling to you. 

Yunjin’s attempts to get back at you by using Beomgyu were more than obvious; you think back to her actions, the way she blatantly flirted with him, the plans she suddenly tacked on him— on his day off, not to mention— and you roll your eyes, deciding that you might as well put an end to all these dramatics; not just for your sake, but for Beomgyu’s as well. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Beomgyu is groaning to himself the moment he hears a sharp knock on his door— the last thing he wanted to do on his day off was spend his time entertaining a girl who was clearly using him for some odd, petty reasons— but he got ready nonetheless, texted Yunjin his address hours prior after being told that her driver would come pick him up, (he hadn’t gotten a response in relation to that message, but she’ll probably see it soon) and waited patiently on the couch, albeit much earlier than the proposed plans. 

Another sharp knock— Beomgyu wishes he had some proper excuse for her, told her that he already had plans with his roommate, but the said man was off on his shift already— he trudges over to the door, twisting the doorknob with a heavy reluctance, and sighs. He braces himself as he swings open the door to greet Yunjin with a halfhearted smile. 

“Hey,” you pant instead, leaning against the doorway and ignoring his confused— and shocked— expression, “I— am I late? I thought I was early, did you get ready early?” 

You gulp; since when could Beomgyu clean up so nicely? He’s forgone his usual, comfortable and casual outfits in favor of a perfectly pressed button up and a clean hairstyle— Yunjin must’ve planned to take him to quite the expensive place, you think to yourself. 

“Of course you’d be the type to get ready an hour early,” you mutter bitterly to yourself, the comment enough to have the said man glancing at the nearest clock in confusion— and just like you said, a bright six o’clock greeted him on the digital clock. 

“You— what’re you doing here?” Beomgyu stutters pathetically, unable to do much but relent to the way you step inside, closing the door behind him and turning around to face you, “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Yeah well, I lied.” you simply say, the words confusing the poor man even more, “I came to tell you to cancel your plans with Yunjin.” 

“Can— huh?” he searches your expression for the traces of a joke, but finds that you’re dead serious. “Why would I cancel? That’s rude.”

“Jesus, can’t you see?!” You say exasperatedly, reaching out to place your hands on Beomgyu’s shoulders, fingers digging in so he can look at you— it’s only when he finally does that you continue. “She doesn’t want to do this— she’s using you. She’s doing this to get back at me.”

“But why would she…” Beomgyu utters, and you wonder with a roll of your eyes where that boy genius of yours went. 

“Beomgyu,” you start, the sound foreign to the said boys ears as he blinks at you owlishly. You bite at your lip, brows furrowing at you think over what to say— you start again, but your words are hesitant and muddled. “She’s using you because she’s petty and because… because…” 

He gives you a look encouraging you to continue.

“Because— god, are you really gonna make me say this?!” you break, letting go of his shoulders and taking a step back— your face feels like it’s on fire and your stomach feels like it’s been twisted into knots, your hands clammy as you glance over at Beomgyu again— and he looks at you with the most stupid, oblivious expression known to mankind. 

You take a quick, deep breath, and you start again. 

“Choi Beomgyu. She’s using you because I…” you say sternly, reaching over suddenly to grab his face, cupping his cheeks and taking in the way he becomes red at your touch. You bring him close to you, pressing your lips in a fine line and hesitating before you observe his face— and god, he looks so pathetic and lost that you don’t even seem to mind the way the next words tumble out of you, fluid and clear and true. 

“Because I like you.”

Silence. You’re waiting anxiously in response, looking into Beomgyu’s eyes in anticipation, but all he does is stare. He stares and stares and stares, and for the first time in a while, you’re unsure of what to make of this reaction. 

“And I’m not lying either.”

Still nothing. His skin is warming up under your fingertips, and his mouth opens hesitantly to say something, only to close again— he must still doubt you, so you decide to take a leap of faith and reassure him the only way you know how.

“I think you’re cute and kinda pathetic in an endearing way, I think that those glasses really compliment your face and make your eyes look super doll-like, and I don’t really mind Toto. I think he’s still a bit weird to look at but I love that you love him, and it makes total sense to me that out of all the pets you could’ve had you decided to get a big freaky green bird of all things, and I think it’s super cute that you’re attached to him— I think you look kinda hot when you get frustrated on a problem, and I think it’s really hard to hold myself back from kissing you when you start stuttering at me like an idiot— also, it’s really not that bad that you play League of Legends, and I can’t believe I’m gonna admit this, but I started playing it myself and it’s not that bad— but that’s not the point, what I’m saying is that you’re— you’re a nerd and a loser but I don’t mind because I really— fuck, I really like—”

His lips are mashing onto yours before you can process his sudden movement, rough and sloppy and desperate that all you can do is slide your hands into his hair and pull him closer; his hands wrap around you in response, one on the small of your back and the other against the back of your head as he pulls you closer still, close until your bodies are pressed flush together. 

The two of you are so rough with your movements that he’s stumbling back, knocking against the wall and groaning softly at the impact; you’re sneaking your tongue into his parted lips, listening to the way he pants and moans against your mouth, slotting a leg between his and feeling as his thigh is quick to retaliate and press against your core. 

“Mghh– ugh, fuck,” you moan mindlessly, feeling his hand press against the small of your back, forcing you to arch and push your weight onto his strong muscle, allowing yourself to rock against it desperately; your mind is running a million miles an hour, pulling away from his lips breathlessly and staring at the gloss that has transferred onto him; his eyes look dazed, lips parted and in need for more as he tries to lead your head back to his. 

“Can’t believe she tried to use you against me,” you mutter, going back in to press quick, chaste kisses all along his face; he curls in shyly at the gesture, weakly grasping at your clothes as he feels the way you begin to trail them along his jaw, sucking and biting until you’re seeing the beginnings of marks that will bloom there, “shame it didn’t work— cause you’re all mine, right gyu?”

Like clockwork, he nods; his face heats up and he feels a bit ashamed at how quickly he’s melted under your hold, but any embarrassment is washed away the moment he feels your hand begin to fumble with his belt, clumsily undoing it before you’re moving to undo his jeans. 

“Wait,” you breathe against his neck, feeling him shiver softly; he’s confused, whining softly at the sudden loss of touch until he’s watching as you pull away, glancing behind your shoulder before you’re meeting his eyes with a blank expression, “take me to your room.”

For a second, he’s confused about the sudden switch of your behavior— but then he’s looking over your shoulder and right at the direction you glanced at, a sudden laugh breaking through him when he spots Toto in the corner; sheepishly, he nods. 

“Okay,” he says, smiling shyly at the way you reach out for the hand placed on the small of your back, intertwining your fingers so naturally it’s almost instinct, “yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

He watches you kick off your shoes and allows you to lead him straight to his room— he’s surprised you even remembered where it is— and smiles at the way you tug him closer by the collar the moment you step inside, palms pressing flat on his chest and making him walk backwards until his knees are hitting the edge of the bed— he falls back, hair splaying prettily on his sheets as he looks up at you with expectant, adoring eyes. 

You’re straddling him immediately after; planting your core directly on his prominent bulge, taking in the way he lets out a broken whimper at the feeling of your heat pressing against him so well— his hands fly to your waist, fingers weakly digging into the meat of your hips as he attempts to subtly buck up into you; you tsk, shaking your head and leaning down to place a hand firm on his chest. 

“Bad pup,” you say softly, hovering above his lips and watching as he desperately chases them, “You need to be patient, okay?”

He nods frantically, eyes fluttering shut the moment you press your lips against him slowly, feeling the way he desperately seeks to taste you— you allow him to, wandering hands beginning to unbutton his pristine white shirt slowly as he remains distracted. 

Beomgyu is a lot more fit than you expected; lean muscle greeting you the moment you slip his shirt off his shoulders, leaning up to let him take it off and raking your nails down his skin— his stomach flinches at your nails scratch at it, and you smile childishly at the sight, the action reminiscent to the first time you got your hands on him. 

“So pretty…” you mumble to yourself, tracing a path along his chest, down to his navel, watching as he shivers at your touch; a shaky gasp escapes his lips, hands grabbing at his sheets and eyes fluttering shut as he fights back the urge to buck up into you again— your eyes flicker up to study his expression, titling your head curiously as a smile tugs at your lips. 

“You’re so pretty, Beomgyu,” you say again, leaning down to plant soft kisses along his neck, beginning to trail down until you’re at his chest— you’re able to watch the way his skin flushes a soft pink at your words, shy gaze averting quickly the moment you’re looking back up at him— and you laugh softly to yourself, hovering over his lap and trailing a hand down as you begin to undo his pants with ease. 

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you so dressed up before,” you comment offhandedly, taking a moment to observe his pristine clothes, his styled hair— and your jaw clenches at the thought of Yunjin seeing him like this, an inkling of jealousy beginning to rear its ugly head the longer you think about it; you’re tugging at his pants, watching as his hips lift to help you tug them down more, and scoff at your wandering thoughts. 

“Bet you would’ve loved to have her attention on you, hmm?” you say, beginning to roll your hips against his the moment he opens his mouth to protest— a sharp moan leaves Beomgyu instead, mouth falling open at the feeling of your cunt grinding against his, the only thing separating the two of you being your thin panties and his boxers that are quickly becoming ruined; his eyes flicker down to where you continue to roll your hips, the sight of your skirt riding up and bunching up at your thighs enough to have his cock twitch. 

“Just can’t control yourself when you’re with a cute girl— just can’t say no,” Beomgyu’s hips jump and he lets out a long whine at a particularly harsh roll of your hips, feeling his cock slot perfectly against your cunt, the material of your panties soaked and sticking to your pussy, able to feel you better the more pressure you add; his hands fly to your hips once more, but instead of trying to guide your pace, they simply remain there, grabbing at your skirt and fisting the material in his hands, flushed face and shining eyes begging silently for more. 

“No— can’t, can’t say no— ah!” Beomgyu begins, unable to speak properly with the sight of you on top of him and the feeling of your warm cunt on his aching cock, “can’t say no to you… fuck…”

His words are enough to catch you off guard; your pace is stuttering and your eyes are widening, the brief pause enough to give Beomgyu enough confidence to continue— his eyes are glassy as he stares up at you, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles on your hips as he speaks. 

“Could never say no to you…” he says softly, face reddening as he continues, “you’re too pretty to say no to.”

He doesn’t quite meet your gaze after that; he’s too shy to, but with the way you immediately begin to undress before him after a moment, he’s sure that he must’ve flipped a switch inside you. 

“God, you’re so cute…” you mutter, throwing your shirt off in a random direction before you’re sliding your skirt off— and Beomgyu is growing flustered at the sight again, practically malfunctioning from seeing your body for the first time. 

You’re left in only your underwear when you finally decide you’ve had enough of his shyness, grabbing his face with a firm hand and turning it to look back at you; your nails dig into his plush cheeks and his eyes grow wide at the gesture, meeting your eyes as you simply give him a coy smile and a peck to his lips. 

“So pathetic too,” you continue, watching his adam’s apple bob at your condescending words, “I love it.” 

You lean close to his ear; slowly, you take his hands and begin guiding them along your body, feeling the way his breath hitches and his chest begins to take shallow breaths, shaky fingertips grazing against your skin, up your biceps until you’re leading him to your back, straight to your bra strap.

“Undo it,” you murmur against the shell of his ear, able to listen to the way he gulps softly; nervous hands fiddle with the clasp, the way you place chaste kisses to the spot behind his ear not helping in the slightest— and after a moment, you’re finally able to feel the garment loosening around you, along with a soft sigh the boy lets out. 

The straps slip off your shoulders slowly, and with a coy smile, you make a show of discarding your bra, sitting back and watching as Beomgyu’s face turns impossibly red; his eyes are wide and his hands are frozen, unsure of what to do as you simply huff at the sight— and your hands are taking his once more, guiding them slowly until he’s cupping your breasts; he gulps again, and you pout at the sight. 

“Don’t you wanna touch me?” you pout, tilting your head and watching as the man underneath you remains reliant on your instructions to do anything; his eyes snap back up to meet yours at your words, shaking his head softly and opening his mouth to stutter protests.

“I– I do, I do,” he says, licking his lips nervously before looking back down at your breasts, thumbs experimentally swiping across your nipples; you shiver at the feeling, the sight of even your smallest reactions making Beomgyu’s cock ache, “I just… I’m not sure what to do….what you’d like.” 

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, absentmindedly guiding his hands to touch and caress your breasts just how you like, your back aching slightly at the stimulation, “I can teach you.” 

“Please,” Beomgyu whines out, hands finally beginning to move on their own as a smile grows on your face, watching the way looks at you with needy, fucked out eyes, “Please, wanna make you feel good.” 

“Do you now?” you tease, titling your head and raising a brow at him questioningly; he nods his head fervently, eyes filled with an undeniably desire that leads him to take your body in hungrily, trailing from your chest down until he stops right at your cunt thats pressed so perfectly against him. 

His line of sight is terribly obvious— though you don’t think it was Beomgyu’s intention to hide his desires anyway, not with the way your back is suddenly colliding against his bed, a gasp escaping you the moment you feel warm hands prying your legs open; you’re propping yourself up with your elbows, wide eyes meeting Beomgyu’s; the said man kneels on the floor and is now at eye level with your soaked cunt— his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, and with a soft laugh, you realize that Beomgyu is yet again waiting for further instructions. 

“Can I taste you?” He asks meekly, eyes shining behind the lenses of his glasses, the sight endearing and a complete switch from the words that leave his mouth, “will you let me?”

Silence— all he gets in response is a slow sigh, the boy peeking through his lashes to get a gauge of your expression; he gulps at the sight of your narrowed eyes and pinched brows, mind undoubtedly thinking of scenarios that sour your mood— but the sight of you like this is much too tempting, and Beomgyu will be damned if he doesn’t get to lose himself in your pussy at least once; his cock pathetically twitches at the mere thought. 

“I don’t know puppy,” you murmur, sneering at the way he pouts immediately, strong hands tugging at you and pulling you towards him more, body sliding at the movement— and though you can feel him breathe against your clothed cunt, he still refrains from doing anything, waiting loyally for your okay with pleading eyes. 

“Do you think you deserve it?” you ask, throwing a leg over his shoulder, digging the heel of your foot in between his shoulder blades roughly— he practically keens at the feeling, a poorly stifled whimper escaping him, followed by a shaky sigh, “after seeing the way you’ll give anyone who approaches you all your attention like a slut, I don’t think you do.” 

You make sure to punctuate your words with another dig of your heel, but Beomgyu remains unaffected— if anything, it manages to spur him on more, and you’re left to pretend as though his next actions don’t leave you terribly weak. 

“Please…” he whispers, the sound so soft you barely miss it— he’s pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee, lips lingering on the skin before he looks back up to meet your gaze; his eyes are glazed with nothing but need. The single word continues to leave him like a mantra, unable to do anything more than watch as he begins to litter kisses all over your inner thighs, soft begs slowly increasing their intensity the longer you deny him. 

I deserve it, I do; please, please let me make you feel good, promise you’re the only one for me— please? Please, please please please…

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of Beomgyu’s broken, repetitive begging— his hair brushes against your sensitive skin that has been peppered with endless kisses, and if it weren’t for the way Beomgyu’s eyes were beginning to become watery from his desperation, you would’ve allowed yourself to enjoy the show a little more. 

“You want it that much?” you seethe, a hand going down to tangle itself in his long hair— and, just as expected, he lets out a broken whine, followed with an immediate, breathy “yes” that affects you much more than you let on, “Go on then.” 

You’re guiding his head to your cunt without another word, fingers still entangled tightly in the roots of his hair; he begins with a soft kiss to your cunt, the sight making you roll your eyes— for someone so eager, he sure was hesitant. 

His tongue is hot and heavy against your clit; he’s running the tip of it along your slit, listening to the hitch of your breath and taking in every miniscule reaction you provide— he’s teasing you, albeit unintentionally, and the realization has you tightening your hold on his roots in warning; you feel the way he lets out a shaky breath at the action, and soon after, his fingers are tugging at the waistband of your panties, making slow work to properly take them off. 

Beomgyu’s every movement is feather-like and hesitant; it’s clear he’s testing out the waters, unsure of what to do in order to please you— and while a part of you is endeared at the messy kitten licks of his tongue and the way he circles your clit sloppily, the other part of you seems to be feeling much more unforgiving— you’re tugging his hair and telling him to look at you with a harsh voice. 

“What happened to wanting to please me? To deserving this?” you mock, lips quirking to a satisfied smile the moment his face heats up, ears tinting a soft red, “are you too much of a virgin to know how to eat a girl out?”

His face turns a bright red and he remains silent— you can only manage a bewildered laugh at the sight. 

Of course, how did you not piece it together before? It seems as though you were much too generous to give him the benefit of the doubt before, because as you stare Beomgyu down with a gaze that’s nothing short of predatory, you’ve realized that his silence tells you more than enough; He’s a total virgin. 

“Oh, you don’t know anything, do you?” you coo softly, letting go of Beomgyu’s scalp to caress his face softly, a grin threatening to break through your face from the simple sight of the man melting into your touch, “you need me to guide you through it?” 

With a shaky sigh, Beomgyu nods— it barely takes a moment before you’re pushing at the back of his head and guiding him back to your cunt. 

He didn’t bother to take off his glasses; you didn’t bother to remind him, smiling cruelly as you murmur soft instructions to him, telling him to suck on your clit or guiding his mouth to lick at your entrance, responding with soft sighs of pleasure whenever he does something particularly well; he’s sloppy, inexperienced, and undeniably nervous, but you suppose he makes up for its with his eagerness to do well as he continues, slowly taking note of what makes your hips buck and your fingers tighten against his hair— and after a few minutes, you’re no longer instructing Beomgyu step by step, but instead throwing your head back and letting your mouth fall open with unabashed moans. 

Beomgyu’s eagerness is abundant and blatant. He’s pressing his face against your cunt after having gained confidence, mouth sloppy and hanging open as he allows you to grind against him, feeling his glasses slip down the tall bridge of his nose and fog up with every pant of breath— but he finds that he doesn’t really mind, eyes fluttering shut and lips circling around your clit as he hones in to the sounds you make instead. 

You think Beomgyu’s head is completely empty at this point; his fingers dig into your thighs and he continues his attempts to bring you closer against his face, greedy mouth drinking up any arousal that slips from your entrance before he’s fucking you with his tongue— your hips buck unintentionally against him at that, and from the way he only increases his efforts even further, you think he might’ve enjoyed that. 

“Beomgyu— puppy, fuck,” you hiss, grinding your hips against his face, feeling the way his nose is now pressed against your clit from how close he’s attempting to get to you. Your chest heaves and you can feel a tight knot forming in your stomach, body beginning to become restless as Beomgyu remains unfazed at your sudden squirming— you’re close, so close, and Beomgyu wants nothing more than to feel you fall apart against his face. 

“Shit– right there, just like that— don’t stop, god, fuck—!” Your eyes are screwed shut as a sudden wave of pleasure breaks through you, your hand pulling at Beomgyu’s hair and your heel digging sharply into his back as you cum; the boy only lets out a pathetic whine at the feeling of you rolling your hips smoothly against his face, mouth left ajar and eyes fluttering shut as he lets you use him, riding it out with twitchy legs and soft moans. 

Beomgyu only moves after your grip slips from his head entirely; your whole body is falling slack, a deep sigh escaping you as you attempt to catch your breath, eyes bleary and slowly opening after a moment— you’re able to watch as the said boy goes to stand, a weak hand of yours stopping his motion and grabbing at his shoulder— and you’re guiding him to hover over you, smiling coyly at the wrecked sight of him. 

His glasses are completely skewed— a slight heat burns at your face from the sight, but it’s all washed away by the lopsided smile Beomgyu gives you, entirely unaware of his flushed and messy appearance; gently, you reach out to slip off his glasses, putting them off to the side as you reach to adjust his mused hair next— he merely watches your face with doe eyes as you brush his hair away gently, tucking it behind his ear before you cup his jaw, tugging him down to kiss you again.

“You’re sure you wanna do this?” you mumble against his lips, hands absentmindedly running along his skin soothingly, lips beginning to wander off as you trail soft pecks against his jawline, smiling at the way he doesn’t hesitate to nod, “you want it?”

“Need it,” Beomgyu whines, letting out a shaky breath as he grabs your hand, guiding it down his chest slowly, adding pressure once you’ve reached the bulge of his boxers— you can feel the way he twitches the moment you touch him, gulping softly before the continues to plead, “need it, need to feel you.” 

His voice is sweet and soft in your ears, and you find that you can’t really bring yourself to put up a front and resist; it’s physically impossible to, especially with the way he ruts his cock against your hand, leaking pathetically and twitching at even the slightest stimulation.

Beomgyu’s attempts to remain calm and collected falls apart the moment you relent, face red and eyes wide with anticipation the moment he feels your hand go to pull his cock out; he falters above you for a split second, teeth sinking into his lip to suppress a whine that builds up in his throat. But his attempts are futile as always, a broken whimper leaving him the moment you press the head of his cock against your cunt, tightening around the shaft and proceeding to run it along your slit teasingly. 

He’s practically panting above you, fingers gripping onto the sheets as he allows you to toy with him, eyes glassy and meeting yours as you simply coo mockingly at him, teasing him for being nothing but a toy for you to use.

The moment you press his tip against your entrance, the two of you tense; a shaky sigh escapes you at the stretch, looking up at Beomgyu and whispering for him to just put it in already; and he swallows, eyes watering at the feeling of him finally pushing into you— warm, wet walls that flutter around him, stretching and adjusting to his size; your hips that jolt with every inch he slides in, eyes widening and mouth falling open as you try to contain your composure— but his size is no joke, and curses leaves your mouth endlessly at the feeling of him filling you up.

“God— you’re so… so warm, so tight,” Beomgyu cries above you, hips stuttering and making him push himself deeper into you; a yelp escapes you at the feeling, hips pressed flushed against his as you stare up at him with wide eyes, cunt clenching at the anticipation of him fucking you. 

But he simply remains still, and you’re just about to complain for him to move when you catch sight of his expression, screwed up into concentration as he lets out a deep breath— probably trying not to cum, you muse to yourself— and he sits up, no longer hovering over you as his hands move to your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on the skin as he looks down where the two of you connect; he looks up at you, puppy eyes begging for one thing. 

“You— you can move,” you breathe out, cringing slightly at the weak sound of your voice, the way you trip over your words; Beomgyu nods, sighing shakily again before he finally begins to move, slowly pulling out until the only thing you feel is his tip catching at your entrance— then he thrusts back in, and you don’t bother to swallow down the moan that manifests from that. 

Beomgyu isn’t faring any better than you; his brows are knitted together and his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips, voice pitchy and whiny as he attempts to fuck you properly— but his thrusts are sloppy and rough, and it seems as though he’s too concentrated on the feeling of you around him to find a good pace. 

You’re opening your mouth to tease him about it, only to get cut off at the feeling of him bumping his cock against your sweet spot; a whine leaves you unexpectedly, the sound accompanied with the feeling of your legs attempting to wrap around his waist to pull him in enough to snap him out of his pussy drunk daze. He’s drinking up your expression, his pace slowing down enough to allow him to search for that spot again— it takes a few attempts, but once he catches onto it, he doesn’t relent. 

“Sh–shit, just like that,” you whine, his thrust becoming more calculated as he begins to take note of what makes you feel good once more— though it’s still slightly sloppy and uneven, his weak pants and pitchy whines enough to tell you that his mind is much too hazy to care.

Absentmindedly, your hand snakes down to circle at your clit in search of more stimulation— only to get it knocked away roughly by Beomgyu’s, eyes widening at the action until he’s replacing you hand with his— and though you wish you could make fun of him for being such a desperate bitch, the stimulation has your voice getting caught in your throat.  

“Does— does this feel good?” Beomgyu suddenly asks, puppy eyes watering and glazed as he picks up his pace, one hand gripping onto your waist while the other continues to rub your clit, “Am I– ah… am I doing good?”

You almost miss the last part with how softly he says it— but once you process his question, you let out a breathy laugh, biting at your lip in an attempt to suppress the smile that tugs at your face; you fail miserably, but all the patronizing look in your eyes does is make Beomgyu’s cock twitch inside you a bit. 

“Does my stupid puppy need something? Need my approval?” you ask, pouting at the way he hesitates to answer, “I won’t know unless you tell me, baby.” 

The pet names are enough to have Beomgyu short-circuiting again; his face feels hot and he lets out a petulant whine at the way you continue to tease, ignoring his pleading look as you reach up to cup his jaw, cooing his name so sweetly he’s unable to be ashamed at how easily he breaks. 

“Tell me I’m doing good,” he whines, and you simply smile at him, stuttered breaths and soft moans the only thing leaving your lips as you notice the increased sloppiness of his thrusts, his erratic voice and face that slowly nears yours, hovering over you as he speaks.

“I’m— ‘m good, right? Your…” he trails off, punctuating his next word with a harsh, deep thrust that has you yelping, “your good boy— tell me, tell me I’m good, just wanna hear you say it, ah, wanna be good for you.” 

He’s a babbling, whining mess, hiding his face in your neck immediately after the words escape him— and with a request so sweet, how could you ever deny him?

“So good for me,” you immediately respond, listening to the muffled whimpers as he buries his head deeper into your neck, wandering lips sucking and biting at the skin, “good little pup— fuck, are you close? Gonna fill me up?” 

You feel the way he nods frantically against you, his hand leaving your hip to circle under your back, pulling you flush against him as he continues his rough, haphazard thrusts— and you turn your head to face him, pressing a kiss to his head before you lean in close to his ear, the sounds of your breathy moans and sweet voice enough to bring him over the edge. 

“C’mon, cum for me puppy,” you coo, listening to the long whimper he lets out in response, hips stilling and pressing flush against yours as he follows your command, warm cum filling you up as he rides out his orgasm, cock rutting subtly into you all the while, “that’s it— such a good boy, so perfect to me.” 

His chest heaves against yours; his other arm comes up to sneak under your body as well, successfully hugging you close against him, bodies pressed together and practically one with how tightly he’s got you in his grip— his cock remains inside you all the while, head nuzzled deeply in the space of your neck as you merely let out an amused huff, giving him a moment to catch his breath before you tease him again. 

The moment of peace between the two of you is cut by the abrasive sound of his phone ringing, the two of you looking at the source with furrowed brows; neither of you make a move to get it, watching it continue to vibrate on the bed before it goes silent— you’re both falling back against the bed the moment in bliss the moment the ringtone disappears, and you can feel Beomgyu’s arms tightening around you even more, not expecting him to be so openly clingy—

“You didn’t cum,” Beomgyu suddenly gasps, head popping up from his hiding place as he hovers over you with wide eyes. You simply reassure him that it’s alright, already feeling your body get heavy with exhaustion— but he isn’t having it, shaking his head and standing back up as he looks at you with an unbelievably solemn expression, wincing softly as he pulls out of you, “No, I wanna make you cum— wanna feel you cum on my dick, wanna make you feel good.” 

The words sound clumsy coming from him, oddly shy to say what he wants out loud— and it makes you laugh, attempting to tell him that you really don’t mind when you’re getting interrupted by the annoying sound of his phone ringing. 

“Seriously, who the hell is…” you’re trailing off as you watch Beomgyu’s eyes widen, leaning over to snatch his phone as he reads the contact name, his horrified expression telling you all you need to know. 

“Don’t answer it,” you seethe, ignoring the way he stutters about how he totally forgot to cancel, feeling a hot anger bubble in your stomach as he talks about how bad he feels for not communicating properly, “Beomgyu, don’t answer it!” 

“I— what if she’s waiting outside right now—?!”

Your movements are much too sudden and swift for him to process; he can only watch and allow you to snatch the phone away from him, rough hands gripping his shoulders and hissing at him to fucking sit; he’s quick to comply, and you’re even quicker to climb onto his lap and situate yourself just how you like— he cries softly at the feeling of you grabbing at his sensitive cock, stroking it for a moment and aligning it with your entrance before you’re sinking down on him slowly. 

“Who cares if she’s outside right now,” you scowl, digging your fingers in his cheeks and forcing him to look at you, swollen lips red and pouty as he merely whines at the feeling of you rocking slowly against him, “it’s the least we could do to get back at her for trying to fucking use you.”

His protests die down once you pick up your pace; oh, his face practically screams, eyes glazing over at the feeling of your warm pussy using his sensitive cock to get yourself off, soft cries leaving him as he merely watches you begin to ride him expertly, already feeling himself get hard inside you, the sight of you on top of him and the sounds of skin against skin riling him much more than expected.

“Hnng, wait, slow down please—!” he whines softly, hands flying to your hips yet making no attempts to control the pace— and you can only laugh at him, the sounds of his soft cries enough to encourage you more. 

You’re close— so, so close, and all Beomgyu can do is sit and take it, tears of sensitivity pricking at his eyes and falling along his cheeks the moment he feels your walls clench against him— but he’d rather die than stop you, sp entranced with the sight of your face twisted with pleasure that his body screams at him to do what he can to make you feel good. 

Like instinct, your hand tangles itself in Beomgyu’s hair the moment he latches his lips against your nipple, back arching and the tight knot in your stomach falling apart the moment his wandering hand goes to play with your clit; the way your walls spasm and hug him tightly is enough to have Beomgyu cumming inside you again, a pathetic keen sounding from him as he buries his head in your chest, beyond sensitive with the way you continue to ride your orgasm long after.

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of your panting and Beomgyu’s soft whimpers— but it doesn’t last long, a tired groan escaping you at the sound of Beomgyu’s phone ringing again; without much of a thought, you reach for it and finally answer. 

“Leave him alone. He’s busy.” 

You hang up immediately after— the girl on the other side didn’t get the chance to utter a single word, and you find that you couldn’t care less as you toss his phone to the side and look over at Beomgyu— you’re smiling softly at the way he seems mortified at your action. 

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you feel bad,” you sigh, placing your hands on his chest and pushing, gently guiding the two of you to lay down— he remains inside you as he pulls you in close, your limbs heavy and tangling quickly as he mutters a soft no, I don’t; you smile. “Good. Cause I almost got mad again.”

He chuckles softly at that, falling quiet after; you look up at him to gauge his expression, finding that he’s lost in thought. After a few minutes, he meets your eyes meekly and finally speaks. 

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

A pause. You said a lot of things earlier— but as you retract on every little thing that's come from your mouth, you realize what he’s talking about— and you laugh, reaching to cup his cheeks fondly as you nod. 

“Of course I did,” you grin, pecking his lips, your heart fluttering wildly at the way he immediately chases after you for more after you pull away, “I meant all of it— and more.” 

Softly, he smiles. His arms that were wrapped around you pull you in close, closing the space between you and bringing you in for a slow, sweet kiss— he pulls away, leaning into your ear to whisper something with a coy smile. 

“So do you wanna play League of Legends later?”

You let out an annoyed yell and punch at his chest— you practically fuck his brains out, and this is all he can say?

“You’re such a fucking loser,” you mourn, hiding your face in your hands. 

Beomgyu laughs, and places a kiss on the top of your head. 

“But I’m your loser,” he says sweetly, nuzzling against your hair with a content sigh, “all yours.”

Under the covers of your hands, you smile. 

All yours. You like the sound of that. 

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Chapter 2

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable add. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: Let’s meet our unwilling groom, Min Yoongi

Chapter 1 found here

Namjoon walked into the BigHit building that morning ready for a fight. He had reviewed applications first thing in the morning and was mildly surprised to see that the moody bartender had actually submitted an application. He wasn’t entirely shocked though. She had given off the vibe that for her, bartending wasn’t a career, but rather a means to make money. And this job paid very well. Theoretically. He sighed as he got off the elevator and passed his secretary, Park Jimin. “Jimin, have Yoongi meet me in my office in half an hour.”

“Yes, sir.” the younger man replied. He quickly pulled up Yoongi’s schedule to check for any conflicts. Jimin pouted when he saw the three hours blocked out for studio recording time. He knew Yoongi would be in a shitty mood if he got interrupted. Oh well, he thought, Yoongi’s not my boss. He took a sip of water and mentally fortified himself and then proceeded to call down to Yoongi’s studio. He didn’t get an answer the first time. Or the second time. But the third time, a gruff voice answered the phone.

“You know not to call me when I’m recording. It’s specifically blocked off in my schedule for a reason. Can’t you read?”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Yes, and I can also follow directions. Which is why when Namjoon asked me to call you I picked up the phone and did my job. Half an hour. Namjoon’s office.” Jimin hung up, denying Yoongi the satisfaction of arguing with him. He took out a nail file and texted his friends Jungkook and Taehyung.

Jimin: Some shit’s about to go down up on the 22nd floor. Namjoon and Yoongi. How long before one of them storms out?

JK: 5 minutes. Wait. What are we betting?

Taehyung: Ooo do you know anything else?

Jimin: Namjoon was very short this morning sooooooo. Lunch and beer. 

Taehyung: 2 minutes. 

Jimin: I’ll go with: Yoongi doesn’t show up and Namjoon has to go and get him and they argue within seconds. 

JK: kekekeke what an idiot.

Taehyung: I wish he’d just accept his fate. It makes everything easier. For all of us.

Jimin put his phone and nail file back in his desk drawer. He resolved to not look at it for 25 minutes while waiting for the show to go down.

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

40 minutes later, Namjoon stomped out of his office. “Did you call Yoongi?”

“Yes. I called him when you asked me to and told him and a few minutes ago I called to remind him but he didn’t answer.”

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. Why? Why was he in charge of these unappreciative children? “Ok. Mark me out of the office for an hour.” 

Jimin watched as Namjoon returned to his office and then came back out carrying several files. He walked over to the elevator and pushed the down button.

Jimin: You guys owe me lunch and a beer. 

---------

Namjoon rode down to the 12th floor. He wasn’t surprised that Yoongi didn’t come. And really he should have checked the schedule himself before asking Jimin to call down. There was no reason this couldn’t wait until the afternoon. But, it was too late now. He strode through the corridor of the less busy floor and made his way over to the studio areas. 

“Yoongi. Open up.” He lightly knocked on the door. No response. Namjoon rolled his eyes and continued to bang louder and louder and louder and…

“Jesus. Fine.” Yoongi said as he pulled the door open abruptly. “I was wearing my headphones. Calm down before you break my damn door.”

“That’s the point. If you don’t come to the meeting, I come down here. If you don’t answer the door, I break it down. If you don’t do what you’re told your ass goes back to the streets of Daegu sleeping under a bridge. You got it?”

Yoongi puffed out his cheeks. He was angry but he wasn’t going to push it right now. He’d worked so hard to get where he was and one wrong move, one word to Hitman Bang, and he was out of there. He knew when to not push back too hard. That was one of the few benefits to being raised on the streets; you got good at reading people. “Yeah yeah, I had my headphones on and spaced out. Calm down. My time is blocked off in the schedule. Just like you asked me to do.”

Namjoon stood there with his hands on his hips. As much as he hated all of this, the whole song and dance they went through for Hitman Bang, he had to do it. It would just be easier if Yoongi went along with it like the other guys. Namjoon cleared his throat. “As we discussed a few weeks ago, there will be some changes to your schedule next quarter. These are for the benefit of the public face of the company and you will be expected to comply. Do you understand?”

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. He vaguely remembered this conversation but hadn’t thought much about it. He was BigHit’s bitch and he’d come to terms with that a while ago. Whatever they wanted, they got. As long as he could keep making music he didn’t really care about the other details. He rolled his eyes,  “Yeah. Sure. What? Dress up like a maid again? Do the family song while wearing bunny ears? Aegyo all the time? What?”

“These are several resumes for young ladies. Hitman Bang wants you to have a romance. Girlfriend, wife, character arc type thing. He thinks it will soften your image.”

Yoongi stood there for a second, processing. “Like in a music video?” 

“No. Like in real life.”

Yoongi scoffed. “You can’t be serious. You can’t just hire someone to be my girlfriend. It’s weird and no. No.” Yoongi began to eye the doorway and the fact that a much larger Namjoon was between him and his exit.

“Wife. I’m told this story has to have a happy ending. And this is happening. I personally selected some of the candidates, based on knowing you.” Namjoon moved over and sat down on the couch, spreading the folders out on the coffee table. “The interviews are next week at the coffeeshop down the street. If you could just go through these now we could probably eliminate some of them and then we won’t have to interview as many.”

Yoongi turned and looked at Namjoon, his cheeks grew red with anger. “I always do what you people ask. But this is too much. This is involving another person into this stupid pretend bullshit we do every day. Also, if I wanted to be in a relationship, I’d be in a relationship. Have Jungkook or Jin do it.” He became increasingly agitated.

“Jungkook has to stay single. That’s what the company wants. Jin is out of the country and besides, he doesn’t cause as many issues as you do. This decision is from the top. The girl will be well compensated. It's not like they don’t know what they’re getting into.” Namjoon busied himself with organizing the files.

“Oh yeah? You tell them that they are going to get paid to get fucked around by BH and have me have nothing to do with them? What? Are these girls so desperate for money or a fake wedding or the thought of trying to trick me into falling for them? This whole idea is disgusting. Even for you people,” Yoongi yelled. 

Namjoon loosened his tie, a nervous habit. “If you want to attend the interviews, the time and address are already entered into your calendar. I encourage you to look through these files and make some decisions ahead of time.” Namjoon stood up. “I’ll be seeing you Yoongi.” He let himself out.

Yoongi stood there, his body shaking with rage. He walked over and shredded the files and papers, not bothering to look through any of them. He threw them across the room. How the fuck was he going to get out of this? NEXT CHAPTER @lidda​

[billyspotato]

Party - Billy Hargrove

[Requested] 

Words: 1.838 words

Type: Fluff

Summary: (What’s written on this request)

Warning: English is not my first language. Swearing. Sorry if I misspelled something.

A/N: Gif’s not mine :)

You two step out of Billy’s Camaro and start making your way inside the house. Billy right behind you as you took your first step inside the warm house with loud music and hormonal teenagers.

Billy’s hands go to your hips once you looked around to find the kitchen, and he starts guiding you to it as you seem lost.

The kitchen is less crowded which surprised you since there’s so many people just in the lobby of the house.

Billy’s hands let go of your waist as he goes to get himself a beer while you looked through the variety of flavors. You grab the cliché plastic red cup and mix whatever sounded good in your mind.

You sip your drink while looking at Billy, who was focused on what was surrounding you. You lean to him and press a kiss on his jaw, making him smile at you. He pecks your lips and pulls you to the living room, where everyone is.

After some sips of your drinks, Billy and you started to laugh more at your own jokes as the alcohol slowly got to your brains.

The conversations started to be about something and finishing with something totally different.

Your back stayed glued to the wall as you and Billy continued to make out, chests pressed together as the need of each other grew. Billy’s hands on your waist as yours stayed on his hair and neck; always when pulling away for air, you couldn’t help but smile at each other.

“Billy!” You hear over the music someone shout. Billy looks over his shoulder to see Tommy right behind him.

He turns completely around as he lets go of your waist and you walk to his side, receiving a small smile from Carol, who is next to Tommy.

The guys exchange words and Billy chuckles at Tommy’s idea as you kept looking at their lips trying to understand what they’re talking or planning, but you got nothing.

Tommy and Carol leave and Billy looks over at you, you just know exactly what he is going to say.

“It’s just for some minutes” Billy says once you tilt your head to the side.

“It better be” You threaten, faking an annoyed tone.

Billy cups your face with his hands and pecks your lips before leaving your side to follow Tommy and Carol to the backyard.

You adjust the large leather jacket on one of your shoulders and walk back to the kitchen. You fill your cup back with one of your made-up mixtures before heading out to the center of the house, where everyone was dancing.

(…)

It has been more than just a few minutes but the both of you lost track of time.

You found some of your friends when dancing and you just stayed and had fun with them, maybe taking a few more drinks than you should, but you’re still conscious with what you’re doing.

You stay seated on top of the counter of the kitchen, without a care on the world, as you threw your head back to drink the last droplets from your cup.

You throw the cup to the trash and a guy walks in the kitchen, you ignore him as he fills his cup with beer and keep looking at your nails.

Your friends left not too long ago, the only still-sober one decided that it was time to take the rest of the girls, home. She asked you if you needed a ride, but you declined since you know that Billy is still in the backyard smoking and being competitive with any sophomore that would like to try and challenge him.

“Hey” You hear, and you look up to see the guy that just walked in the kitchen looking at you.

“Hi” You say with a small smile.

“Are you alone?” He asks while walking closer to you, since you are in the opposite sides of the kitchen.

“For now.” You answer and he smiles brightly at you. “Are you new in the school? I don’t think I’ve seen you before”

“Yeah, it’s my first year in this school. This guy… uh… I think his name is Toby? He invited me to this party, so I can make friends and stuff like that. So, I did” He says with a small smile, “And you?”

“I’m a senior”

“Oh” He says, “You don’t look like one”

“Yeah” You say awkward because of the silence between the two of you.

The guy was leaning back on the counter in front of you. You checked your wrist to check the time and started to wonder where Billy is.

“You’re really pretty” The guy says, and you look up at him with widen eyes, not expecting the complement.

“Thank you” You say with a smile. “Why the random complement?”

“Just felt like saying it, maybe you needed to hear it. I can say more if you’d like” He says with a smirk.

You close your eyes in disappointment, you really thought you had found a cute young guy to be friends with, that wouldn’t be possible to cause trouble with Billy. Guess not.

You look back at him to say something but Tommy walks in the kitchen.

“Hey Y/N” He says, and you give a small wave. “Oh, look who it is. You made it” Tommy tells the guy in front of you.

“Yeah, I did” The guy says, “Met one person up until now”

“Only one? Who?” Tommy asks him while sipping his beer.

“Her” The guy says, and Tommy’s eyes widen while slowly nodding as if the guy is just about to sign his papers to declare his death.

“Oh, isn’t she a nice person?” Tommy says slowly scared of his own words.

“She is” The guy says, and you look over at Tommy.

“Okay, I’m going back to the backyard. You coming, bro?” Tommy asks while filling his cup again.

“In a bit, yeah” The guy says before his eyes making their eyes go back to you.

You know exactly what that look means, and so did Tommy, who exited the room quickly with his cup filled to the brim.

The guy makes sure Tommy is out of sight and his eyes go back to you.

“I wanted to ask you something” He starts, and you nod, “You sound like a cool person, so I would like to know if you would like to go on a date with me?”

“I’m sorry, but no” You quickly say, but before you could justify, he just speaks again.

“Why? You were fine with me a few seconds ago, and now that Tommy came in… Is Tommy your boyfriend?”

“Jesus, no!” You almost yell and he looks even more confused at you, but still not letting you speak.

“Then… What is it?” He asks almost as he is freaking out, but something clicks on his mind, “Are you trying to play hard to get?”

“No” You say, shaking your head.

“I don’t believe you”

“Why not?” You ask putting your hands inside the jacket’s pockets.

“Because that is what someone that is playing hard to get would say” He says taking a step forward, his hand on the counter next to your leg.

“Exactly the same as someone who isn’t interested” You tell him.

“And you aren’t?” He asks moving his hand up.

Before his hand could reach your leg, a voice next to you is heard.

“That was cute” Billy tells the guy.

You jump on your seat as Billy appears next to you out of nowhere and the guy looks over at him.

“What was?” The guy asks him.

“That little move you just did on her” Billy says, and the guy takes a step back.

You jump out of the counter and look over at Billy.

“You thought it was cute?” The guy almost sounds offended.

“Yeah, cute. But the first thing you should ask, should be if she’s single, don’t you think?” Billy asks him calmly, shocking you with his tone.

“She is” The guy quickly answers, and Billy shakes his head visibly locking his jaw.

“I don’t think she is” Billy says with clenched teeth and the guy blinks quickly but still holding his ground.

“She didn’t fight me or looked annoyed at what I was saying” The guy says, and he decides to continue, “At least, it doesn’t look like her partner is doing that good of a job”

As he said that last word, his body flew back to the counter behind him as Billy grabbed him by the neck, throwing him back. The throw was too slow to hurt someone, but the guy looks at Billy in shock.

“Say that shit one more fucking time” Billy threatens with the lowest his voice would go, audible just because the music was getting lower as people left the house.

“Billy” You say while grabbing his arm, “Please stop”

Billy opened his mouth to threaten the guy one more time, but you shook his arm making him look at you.

“Don’t do this here” You say as a crowd was starting to appear in the doorways of the kitchen. “Please”

Billy gets himself up and the guy stays on the counter looking at the two of you. You grab Billy’s hand and you sigh in relief as he pulled you out of the kitchen.

You two walked out of the house in silence and went to his car.

You sit on the hood of the Camaro and Billy kicked the gravel under his feet, again, in silence.

“I’m proud of you” You whisper to him and he looks over at you.

“You’re kidding” He says letting out a chuckle.

“I’m not, you usually destroy guys’ faces” You comment, and he turns to you.

“It’s not like they don’t deserve it” Billy says while walking in between your parted legs.

“Way to ruin the moment of proudness” You tell him, and he laughs while pulling you into a hug.

In each other’s warmth and arms, you stayed for a few minutes. Silence surrounding you. Billy calming his anger down slowly while listening to your breathing and the people driving way from the house’s driveway.

You weren’t lying when you told him that. Billy had a problem with controlling his anger, his way of letting it all out would always be beating up people. That wasn’t a problem to him until it started being a problem to you, people were even scared of talking to you. You two had a talk, a serious one, you just sat down and talked.

And he just listened.

Listened to you and how you felt when he did those things. How could he not have seen it before?

He decided to change that act of his. It took time. But today was the day that Billy showed everyone that he is better then everyone thinks. But most importantly, he showed you that what he can do for you. Making you feel… proud.

- - - -

Guess who’s back!

- - - - -

🌸✨Sorry, but I’m not writing in this account anymore. Go check out my new one @twinklelilstarkey✨🌸

[ckret2]

Out of all the human music, what do you think Ghidorahs heads would enjoy most?

It took over three thousand words to answer this question and I enjoyed every second of it.

So!

Did you know that dogs can communicate with each other through their pee?

I swear this is relevant to the question.

Dogs pee to mark their territory. And they have an incredibly sensitive sense of smell compared to humans. From a few drops of pee, they can tell another dog’s sex, whether the dog’s in heat if it’s female, whether the dog’s been spayed/neutered, which direction it was traveling, how long ago it was in the area, whether the dog’s stressed or sick…

So if you ask a dog what their favorite pee scent is, what are they gonna say? Probably something relevant to the data they’ve evolved to put into and get out of dog pee. They’re probably gonna say something like “mine, because it’s familiar and means that I’m home somewhere safe,” or “the smell of a lady that’s dtf” or “the smell of stress because I’m an evil dog sadist that relishes other dogs’ suffering” or “the smell of neutered dogs because it means there’s gonna be less fights in this neighborhood between horny dogs” or “i don’t care as long as there’s LOTS of dogs because play pals!!!” Something like that, probably. I’m making this up as I go.

If you ask a human what their favorite dog pee scent is, the answers you get are probably going to be “They have different scents???” or “idk, whichever pee smells the least" or “my puppy’s pee smells different when she’s sick, so, uh, whichever scent is Not That One.”

Ask a human what their favorite kind of music is, or assign a favorite kind of music to a human character, and it tells you something about them. If they say that they like 90s anime themes & JRPG soundtracks, then that’s going to tell you something about them. It’s going to tell you that either they’re from Japan and grew up with that on TV, or they’re a weeb. “Counterpoint: maybe it just tells you that they like that kind of music?” Yeah but where were they gonna stumble on that music if they aren’t either from Japan or a weeb? If they only like the music because of its sound, then they would also be interested in Hasidic Jewish music, right? After all, anime/JRPG music and Hasidic music sound a lot alike:

https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/187677604232/krakenpocalypse-jewishmagpie-tlbodine

But you never see people say “I like JRPG soundtracks and Hasidic music,” because people don’t like music because of the way it sounds. They like it because of the way it sounds AND because they were exposed to it (you can’t enjoy music you don’t know about) AND because they were exposed to it frequently* AND because they feel at home in a community that values that kind of music AND because that kind of music is accessible to them AND because that kind of music has positive associations for them AND because either they heard a bit of that music and sought out more just like it or because they’re in a place where they were passively exposed to a whole lot of that music… etc etc etc. 

(*Fun psychology fact! Understanding certain sounds as “music” is learned, not just innate—if you hear a new song and it immediately sounds pleasantly musical to you, it’s because you’ve heard enough songs similar to it that your brain auto-interprets it as music. Which is one of the reasons why music in genres that you don’t listen to as often might “kind of sound all the same” or “blend together” or fail to hit any emotional chords in you the way that songs in genres you listen to all the time do. It’s not because you found the One True Emotionally Gripping Musical Genre and everyone else is listening to genres that don’t have that emotional punch for some reason; it’s because your brain is tuned, just like an instrument’s strings, to resonate with those kinds of songs, and other people’s brains are tuned to resonate with other kinds.)

I swear all of this is still relevant to Ghidorah headcanons.

So anyway, if somebody tells you that they’re into anime themes and JRPG soundtracks? It tells you either they grew up in Japan or they’re a weeb. If they tell you they’re into anime themes and Hasidic music? Then they grew up in Japan or they’re a weeb, and also they’re Jewish or close with Jewish folks which is why they were exposed to Hasidic music; OR, they’re a tumblr user who was into one of the genres, saw that same hundred-thousand-note post I linked above, and looked up the other genre. If a millennial says their favorite band is Backstreet Boys, that implies something very different about their overall musical tastes—and possibly their social circle, their fashion taste, their TV and movie preferences—than if they say their favorite band is Evanescence. That’s not to say you can’t be a goth-as-fuck dressed-in-all-black purple-dyed-hair vampire-lit-devouring Grown-Up Emo Kid if your favorite band was Backstreet Boys—but it doesn’t correlate as highly as Evanescence does, does it? Someone whose favorite band sings about the light of Jesus filling their soul probably has very different religious beliefs from someone whose favorite band sings about blowing Satan in a cemetery.

And all of those associations are massively intensified if we’re talking about fictional characters instead of real people. Me, grown up goth that I am, driving to work singing along with Evanescence songs and songs about blowing Satan—when I was a kid I had a phase where Backstreet Boys was my favorite band, and what’s that say about me, my personality, and my overall identity? Ultimately, not a lot, except that they were everywhere when I was a kid, I could name four of their songs (more than most artists!), and I thought three of them were pretty good. People’s tastes are varied, weird, pick up strange chunks, and drift around, and it doesn’t always tell you something deep about their character.

But, if you create a goth character but say when they were a child Backstreet Boys was their favorite band, why did you, the writer, assign them a favorite band that goes against their type so hard? What are you trying to say about them? Did something happen in childhood that changed them from the kind of kid who’s into pop (generally perceived in fiction and sometimes reality to mean a person is normal, well-adjusted, optimistic, mainstream, average, boring—or “has good taste” to other people who like pop) into the kind of kid who’s into goth music (generally perceived in fiction and sometimes reality to indicate a person is sad/angry/anxious, pessimistic, counterculture, overtly rejects the mainstream, weird, mysterious—or “has good taste” to other people who like goth music)?

Is it because something sad happened in their childhood and changing their style/music was how they coped? Is it because they met someone important to them who opened their eyes to The Beauty Of The Dark And Macabre? Is it because they were only allowed to listen to parent-approved pop as a kid and chose to dive into the most out-there genre they could find as an act of rebellion? Is it because they became a vampire and that’s apparently just what vampires do? Is it because they realized they were unconsciously faking being attracted to guys because they thought that was normal and picked an appropriate boy band to latch onto, but when puberty was kicking in at age 13 they saw a cute girl with black nails and clothes at the mall and went “hecc im love girls” and grabbed the first album they could find with a female vocalist in similar makeup on the cover?

What’s this character’s backstory? What’s the significance of that decision? Why did you give this character that favorite band? Why did you choose to have this music in this character’s life? Why pop, punk, jazz, rock, metal, rap, country? Why American, Japanese, Indian, Spanish, Arabic, South African? Why that mainstream, or why that obscure? Just the decision to make their favorite artist “Benjamin who plays his guitar at the local coffee shop” versus “Veniamin who plays his guitar in a coffee shop in Greece and puts the videos on YouTube” tells you something about whether they find their Obscure Favorite Artist in the local community or in Internet deep dives (unless they actually live in Greece). All those decisions tell, suggest, or imply something about that character’s position within their surrounding human culture.

That’s the key here: within their surrounding human culture. What music a character listens to suggests a whole lot about the millions of intricate connections they have with their surrounding culture when that character too is a human.

Assign a favorite kind of music to a non-human character, and you say something about them, too. What you say about them, before you say anything else, is “the way that this character’s brain is wired to interpret sound waves into pitch and rhythm is nearly identical to the way that human brains are wired to interpret sound waves; and furthermore, they’re familiar enough with human culture that they know and recognize different ‘categories’ of music and pick categories that they do like based on their assigned similarities versus categories they don’t like based on their assigned similarities.”

And that ain’t something that can be said about Ghidorah.

See I told you all that would be relevant.

To say “Ghidorah likes rock,” you first have to give Ghidorah the capacity to differentiate rock from rap, from country, from Bollywood, from 8-bit chiptunes, from whatever the fuck Tchaikovsky was up to—and even humans aren’t born with the innate ability to sort songs into categories like that. Hell, even humans who are familiar with music have a hard time telling apart different kinds of music the deeper and deeper you get into specific genres. Like, do you know the difference between Electroclash and Filthy Electrohouse? Probably not? Would saying that Filthy Electrohouse is Electroclash with a house kick help? No? What about saying that Filthy Electrohouse is basically the same as normal Electrohouse except that Electrohouse evolved out of House whereas Filthy Electrohouse evolved out of Electroclash? No? Sound like gibberish to you? You probably know the difference between rock and metal, though, even if only vaguely. Try explaining it to an alien who’s never heard either genre before. To the alien whatever you say is going to sound like explaining Filthy Electrohouse because they haven’t got any of the background understanding of the genres to sort them apart.

(And if you want to know more about what the hell is this Filthy Electro French Clash House thing, may I recommend https://music.ishkur.com/# as an absolutely terrifying but very interesting guide to the complete history of electronic music and its subgenres? I like to click on random things and listen to them. The above genres can be found way at the bottom under Eurotrash.)

So the tl;dr is: I can’t give Ghidorah favorite music. Not in a normal “oh, they prefer to listen to death metal/Italian opera/Tibetan throat singing/golden oldies/traditional children’s lullabies” way because all of that, any of that, implies a knowledge of and connection to human culture that not only do they lack, but just imagining asserting a preferred genre/artist like that mentally strains my internal willing suspension of disbelief.

And I had to say all of the above to say that tl;dr because, like, listen. Listen. “I can’t give Ghidorah favorite music” is a boring, uninteresting answer. It’s a lack of information. “I can’t give Ghidorah favorite music because the vast cultural background knowledge necessary to understand music on humanity’s terms is as alien to Ghidorah as the nuances of dog pee smell are alien to humans.” That, that actually says a lot about Ghidorah, and I think that it says something interest.

So with all that said! Lemme tell you what kind of music they do like.

Because they do like music. A whole lot. Lots of music from lots of alien species.

It’s just human music that’s unfamiliar to them. They will gain familiarity with human music—as soon as they gain access to a means to hear human music (and I do have that in the works!)—but the way they interpret and categorize it won’t necessarily have any correlation with how humans do.

Ghidorah’s wired for singing. Loooves singing. I haven’t decided yet whether that’s a natural dorat thing and over time they added in music from other species as they learned it, or if it’s specifically a trick that they picked up after being fused together and needing a way to weaponize their empath abilities. In either case, their singing is tied directly into their empath capabilities. Half of the “songs” they know aren’t “songs” in any conventional sense, but “the sounds that they figured out would interact directly with the way a target species’ brain functions in order to cause whatever emotion they want their target to feel.” I’ve talked about this before in my Ghidorah-as-siren post. https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/185784244462/ghidorah-as-siren

(Things like that—specific sounds that directly cause emotions in a species due to an instinctive response rather than a learned reaction—are precedented in real life! There’s a certain sound frequency that causes humans to feel fear/panic/dread/paranoia and sometimes hallucinate ghosts, and it’s theorized that this sound might be found at a lot of “haunted” locations: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2003/oct/16/science.farout )

So, when Ghidorah does this?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xA-QJUyBdJU

That’s literally a song, from their perspective. It’s a short song, but it’s a song. It’s a “become afraid and rampage against anything threatening (which means everything)” song. At the end of The Glorious Resurrection of Bouvet Island (here https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/187594976987/the-glorious-resurrection-of-bouvet-island ) when Rodan is “ whistling a high soothing note” and then they do this:

“It took him a while to notice that the middle head had started copying his whistle, letting out a single endless note at the exact same pitch. Then the other two joined in, turning it into a high, trilling, reverberating sound, an “ii-lii-lii-lii-lii.” The sound got into his head, made him feel like he was floating. Made him feel like he was in the safest place in the universe.”

They heard Rodan making a sound (something like a single long high-pitched bird whistle) which Rodan instinctively knows as a “soothe somebody” sound; they learned the sound, and from it learned something about how Rodan understands and processes sound; and they immediately turned it around and used it to soothe him. When Rodan immediately feels Super Safe, that’s not just because they’re being all nice to him—that’s full-on song-based dorat empath mind control he’s under the effects of.

So a loud trumpeting roar that induces “be afraid and smash things!” feelings is a song. A single high-pitched continuous note that induces “you’re extremely hella safe!” feelings is a song. So far, those are the only two Earth songs they know, because those are the only two songs they’ve got that work on Earthlings. One they composed themselves, and one they remixed from a song Rodan accidentally taught them.

Based on this, the human definition of “music” and Ghidorah definition of “music” are very different. Our music can be included somewhere inside his definition; but his definition is far broader than ours and includes things we’d never hear as musical.

Ghidorah can sing, like, non-mind-controlling songs too. He does do that. Just sing for fun rather than for megalomaniacal world-destroying reasons. Songs composed for normal reasons! All the ones he knows at this point are alien but he could sing them. There’s a mention in the one-shot from Gigan’s perspective that he likes Ghidorah’s singing and wants to expose him to more.

However, he doesn’t have to separate “normal songs that sound like actual music” from songs that can evoke emotions. Especially if the song itself is somehow intended to evoke an emotion, it’s pretty easy for Ghidorah to learn the emotion that it’s supposed to cause and actually weave that into the song itself. Because, generally, if a species goes “ah yes this song should inspire This Emotion,” then they’re likely to include sounds that physiologically/psychologically help induce that feeling in the brain. Humans do it! So if he’s singing a sad-sounding song with sad lyrics, the odds are good that if a member of the species that produced the song hears it, they won’t just think it sounds sad, they’ll be telepathically forced to feel sad.

The songs they most enjoy singing are ones that can make use of all their musical abilities. Of course, they’ve got their voices—and when they’re singing, they tend to go for higher pitch ranges. You ever hear this?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eogtlyDg4Y

Dude can pull off soprano if he wants. If they do hear enough human songs to be familiar with them, yes, they’re going to sing along with the music—and yes, they’re going to do it even if they don’t know the words, which they won’t, because they’ve probably never heard a human voice except when it’s screaming loud enough that they can faintly pick it up from five hundred feet above. They’re going to sing anyway. Don’t pretend you’ve never tried to sing along with a song in a language you don’t know and ended up going “AAA LALALA DA DADA GSDKLFJGLKJ” as you sing.

But like it’s not gonna be limited to human voices because they’ve been all over the galaxy, what separates a “voice” from an “instrument”? Nothing! They can sing violin & viola parts. They can sing brass instruments. They can sing piano.

You know that their tails rattle? Like rattlesnakes? They’ve got maracas on their tails. They can keep rhythm to music with their tails. Or their feet, if they’re on a hard enough surface that they can tap their claws.

You know this scene? With the wing thing?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhDdXXr9dfQ

Ever heard a tesla coil sing?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-f6GijQXaBI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ee5evlN8Bbs

Yeah they can do that. Probably with greater actual range than a tesla coil. I imagine it works best on synthesizer music and some electric guitar. Probably other things too that I haven’t thought of, but uh I listen to synthesizer & electric guitar so that’s what I think about when I imagine singing space dragons lmao.

Their preferred music, therefore, is going to be stuff that 1) give all three heads parts to sing, 2) also lets them use their tails and wings, and 3) ideally, gives them some interesting emotions to steal/replicate/inflict on others. Which is very broad! Covers a lot of things, no doubt!

Eventually, yeah, they’re going to probably develop more specific human musical preferences—but the preferences are going to be based on their own alien criteria, and it’s also going to be based on what human music they have access to. At least initially? That means that their musical taste is going to be limited to whatever music they can pick up on AM radio in the Gulf of Mexico just off the northeast tip of Mexico. Which, depending on the exact stations available where the Rio Grande dumps into the ocean will probably mean “the current chart toppers in Mexico & the US” and “extremely local Mexican music.“ 

It took over three thousand words to reach that answer. I hope you found the journey rewarding.

[ofsinnersandsaints]

say my name (beg for me)

rating: E word count: 3166 one shot

AO3

Undercover, fake married, shower sex because it’s Kastle Smut Week and why the fuck not

Frank was checking the view from the office window, looking out into the expanse of green grass which appeared almost silver in the moonlight. They hadn’t seen any kind of patrol over the past two days of surveillance but he didn’t want to take the chance. 

“Frank,” Karen hissed from across the room, and he looked up in time to see her kicking off her shoes. “Take off your clothes.” 

He blinked once, twice, three times. Was he dreaming? He was pretty sure he was awake, but other than when he was dreaming, the only time he could remember Karen telling him to remove his clothes was when he was alone in the shower with his cock in his hand. 

“Excuse me?” 

She pointed to the cabinet which had hidden the sixteen screens, cameras which had been posted all around the mansion and-much to their chagrin-their bedroom. On the one of the monitors a woman was walking on the far end of the hallway which would eventually lead her to the office he and Karen were breaking into. 

“Someone’s coming,” she whispered, pulling her shirt over her head. “And they’ve been watching us in our room.” 

He looked up and over at once of the screens and realized that he and Karen had been friendly, but hardly what anyone would considered husband and wife in the past few days. If they’d been watching, what did they think of Frank and Karen Nelson?  

“What better way to convince them we’re married then being found fooling around in their office?” Karen asked. 

He would have answered but he was distracted by the fact she was in a pale pink bra and he could see the hard points of her nipples through the lace. 

“Frank,” she snapped and the sharp sound brought him back to the moment. 

The moment where they were pretending to be married to infiltrate a marriage counseling retreat which Karen suspected was a way for a cult to cull new members. 

Frank had agreed because he’d briefly run out of people to shoot in New York and he’d never been very good at telling her no. 

He wasn’t about to start now, when she was asking him to disrobe. 

Pulling off his shirt he dropped it on top of hers on the ground, then wrapped his rough hands around her waist so he could pick her up and set her back down on the desk. 

She wiggled against him, spreading her legs so he would be centered between the v of her thighs. “Kiss me, Frank. And make it believable.” 

He snorted, thinking that was hardly going to be a problem.  

When he kissed her, framing her face in his big hands, there was nothing fake about it. He kissed her like she belonged to him, licking the seam of her lips until she opened for him on a quiet, desperate sound.  

It had been a long time since Frank had been the seducing type, and he didn’t bother with it now because when whoever would walk in on them finally made it through the door, he wanted it to look like they had been there for some time. 

So he went from zero to sixty in less than five seconds, his hands spanning her ribs, his thumbs resting just below the curve of her breasts. Wouldn’t it make it all more believable if he palmed those sensitive peaks in hands?  

Then she started kissing him back, her fingers with their blunt nails pressing into the muscles along his back and pulling him closer. With a groan he cupped her ass and dragged her closer so she’d feel exactly how good he was at making it believable. 

“Eh-hem.” 

Frank pulled away from Karen, her fingers trailing down his arms as she seemed to struggle to catch her breath. He turned around, keeping Karen behind him because if he was her husband he’d want to protect her from the embarrassment. 

The woman who owned the mansion, and ran the marriage counseling, was standing in the doorway dressed in casual black clothes.  

“Elizabeth,” Frank greeted, feeling Karen’s forehead pressed into his back. “I-uh-“ 

“Decided to use my office for a liaison?” she asked casually, her brow slightly raised as if amused. “I can see that.” 

“It’s an old habit,” Frank covered, reaching down for both his and Karen’s shirts. “Back when I was enlisted we couldn’t ever get any time alone when I was home from leave so we got to finding our enjoyment in less than conventional places.” 

She made a noise in her throat which was understanding if not approval as Frank handed Karen her shirt and put his own back on. 

“We’ll just get out of your way.” 

Elizabeth nodded and crossed her arms. “We’re very accepting here of the many different kinds of relationships, but I would appreciate it if you kept your more intimate moments out of my office.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Frank put his hand low on Karen’s back and led her out of the room and back to their suite upstairs. 

Karen walked straight to the bathroom where she turned the shower on full blast and Frank, unable to do anything else, followed her in. 

“I can’t believe they’re bugging the place,” she whispered, keeping her voice low enough it wouldn’t be picked up over the sound of the water. There had been sound along with video in the surveillance cabinet. 

“I’m not surprised,” in fact he would have bet on it. “It would make their jobs easier, don’t you think? They’d know all of our secrets, what we fight about, if we have sex. What kind of sex.” 

“Jesus,” she said even she blushed. 

“Good bribery material,” he shrugged, even as he wondered how far down the blush went. “If you’ve need of it.” 

“Well,” Karen folded her arms over her chest. “After what Elizabeth saw downstairs she’s definitely thinking we’re having shower sex.” 

He had a quick image of Karen naked, water sluicing down her body as he knelt down in front of her, her long fingers in his hair. 

She tucked her hair behind her ear, the fake wedding ring flashing on her hand.  

He’d watched her put the wedding band on two days earlier, then the matching engagement ring, with the absentmindedness of someone who was busy thinking of more important things. She’d been talking about the place they were going, Marriage Mansion, a home turned into a retreat for marriage counseling but his heart had been somewhere in his throat watching her wear what was ostensibly his ring. 

In that moment he hadn’t been thinking about the mission, about the details he’d need to memorize so he wouldn’t slip up. Instead, he’d been thinking of Karen in a wedding dress; of taking Karen out of a wedding dress, and all the lovely bits of white lace she’d have underneath. 

He really needed to stop thinking about fucking Karen, or he was never going to be able look her in the eye again. 

“So we should probably stay in here for a couple minutes,” she suggested, her voice a little unsteady. 

When his eyes met hers he could see her reaction to whatever she saw in them, her own eyes widening before taking a small step back until she hit the counter. “Whatever we do in here, Karen, it wouldn’t take a couple of minutes.” 

Her hand come up to touch the necklace at her throat, an odd little strangled sound coming from her side of the bathroom. He wanted to ask what the sound meant, if she was for him beneath those tiny cotton short. Frank wanted a lot of things. 

“How long would it take?” 

He almost missed the question, she said it so quietly, but he could see it on her lips because even as her voice shook, her eyes stayed steady on his. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who wanted things. “Depends.” 

Karen wrapped her fingers around the edge the counter, and he liked to think it was to keep from reaching for him, but damn he wanted those hands on his skin. “Depends on what?” 

On how long he could hold out, on how good she felt, the sounds she made, “On how long it would take to get you to beg.” 

She scoffed, her lips tilting up in that amused smirk he’d grown to love. “You think you can make me beg?” 

He weighed his options, risk versus reward, but he knew even before he started thinking that he’d risk just about anything for her. “I think I’d like the opportunity to try.” 

Karen straightened her shoulders, tossed her hair behind her and looked him dead in the eye; confidence always had been the sexiest thing a woman could wear. “How would you do it?” 

“You should know better by now, Karen. I’ve always thought actions speak louder than words.” 

She swallowed and he had the almost irrepressible urge to taste that spot with his teeth and tongue. 

Karen licked her lips, and he would bet every year he had left of his life she was looking at his mouth when her gaze dipped down below his eyes. But she met his gaze as she spoke her next words, and she couldn’t imagine how weak they made him. “Then let’s see some action.” 

She had taken the door that stood between who they were, and what they could be together, and thrown it wide open. He wasn’t strong enough not to walk through it because he was desperate for Karen, and that was before having ever touched her body.  

Now that he had, there was no going back. 

“Is that a challenge,” he asked, stepping close enough the breath from his words shifted the hair at her temple. 

“It is.” Her breathing was no longer calm as he cornered her against the sink, her pupils so wide he could barely see the blue. “I dare you to make me beg, Frank.” 

He didn’t kiss her immediately. 

He wanted to, God and the Devil himself knew how bad he wanted to, but getting someone like Karen to beg would take every ounce of his skill, a specific kind of seduction. 

So he kissed her jaw, the place hidden just behind her ear, down the length of her neck. 

Frank moved his hand from the edge of the sink and brushed his fingertips along the edge of her shirt, then under it. She gasped and leaned into him, but kept her hands on the sink like another challenge. 

Remembering how she held onto him downstairs he leaned back and pulled off his shirt, watched with a little bit vanity as Karen greedily took in his bare chest. Scarred to shit, but it was enough for her to release her death grip on the marble and touch him. 

He’d had her hands on him before; they’d been on top of each other, thrown together. Hell, just a few minutes ago she’d had her hands on his back, but this was different. Her fingers were a slow exploration of his skin. 

Her palms ran over his pecs, his nipples, down his stomach, and Frank briefly wondered if she was trying to out-seduce him and then decided he didn’t give a fuck. At the end of this, they both won, no matter who came out on top. 

But the challenge had been to make her beg, so he pressed his lips to the hollow of her neck, and worked the drawstring of her shorts, pushing them past her hips and down to the cold tile while her fingertips moved along the bump of his ribs. 

Frank kissed her again, full on the mouth, with all the pent up want he held in him. A year’s worth of want went into the press of his lips on hers, a slippery slide of tongue and lip as his fingers traced over the slight curves of her hips and breasts. 

Even as he kissed her, he acknowledged to herself he could have waited to fuck her; she wanted him and it would have been an easy enough thing to control his desire until they were home, away from the creepy cameras and egotistical counselors, but there was one reason why he hadn’t. 

He wanted to fuck her while she still wore the ring. 

His ring. 

His woman. 

Frank let himself pretend it was all real, including the ring on his own finger which glinted in the harsh bathroom light as he covered her breast with his hand. His fingers toyed and twisted with her nipples, tugging on the sensitive tips as he kissed her over and over again, certain he’d never stop. 

“Jesus, Frank,” she murmured against his lips. 

“You ready to beg yet?” 

She huffed out a laugh, her legs spreading to fit his thigh between hers. “I’ve got more standards than that.” 

“Good, I’d hate for you to make this easy.” 

Frank stepped away from her, tugging her shirt off her and throwing it over his shoulder. Before she could so much as react, he was kicking off his pants and boxers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into the shower, under the spray of the hot water. 

“I’m not naked,” Karen said and he couldn’t tell if it was an admonishment or a tease but he didn’t care. He’d left her in the pretty lace on purpose. 

“I got to say,” he started, his fingers tracing the lines of her bra. “I’ve never been much into lingerie, just seemed like one more thing to take off, but there’s something about you in this pretty lace I can’t get over. It makes me want to take a taste.” 

Frank put his hand on her shoulder, nudging her a step or two until she was underneath the shower head, most of the water hitting him on his back, and covered her breast with his mouth. He could feel the rough pattern on his tongue, pressing it against her as he licked the curve of her. 

He heard the quick intake of breath, felt her legs frame his thigh as she’d done only moments before; she wanted to get herself off. Frank let her while grind against him as he kissed a dark mark into her pale skin but when he could feel her pace quickening her put his hands on her hips to keep her still. He wasn’t about to let her shatter without begging first; that was the challenge after all. 

When she made a frustrated noise he smiled against her skin, “Something wrong?” 

“I’m going to murder you.” 

Frank laughed, certain she could give him a run for his money, but the threat didn’t hold any weight considering she was running her hands over the cropped hair on the back of his neck. She wasn’t going to kill him if she wanted to keep his mouth exactly where it was. 

Pulling her nipple into his mouth he used his tongue against her, knowing the feel of his ministrations combined with the wet lace on her skin would be, at the very least, an erotic sensation. He knew it was working for him at the very least, and the way she was trying to arch into him was a good indicator for her as well. 

There were a dozen things he’d fantasized about doing with her; all kinds of raunchy, dirty positions. He’d had a particularly vivid daydream about fucking Karen from behind in front of a mirror, but that was for another day. 

Tonight, he’d get down on his knees and show her exactly what he’d been dreaming of for months and months. 

Show her how could good it could be. 

His ran his hands down her legs, the sound of Karen’s ragged breathing spurring him on, and encouraged her to spread her legs. She did, her hands trying to find purchase on the wet tiles as he pressed a closed mouth kiss to the pink covering her pussy. 

Frank mouthed her through the lace, the fabric scratched against his tongue and caused Karen to whimper. “Take it off, Frank, or I will.” 

He heard the warning and thought he could probably distract her long enough to keep her from following through but he wanted to put his tongue inside her, to taste her as she rose up and over her orgasm. So he pulled the underwear down her legs and feasted on her. 

She cried out his name, her fingers pulling on his hair as she arched against him. 

But he didn’t want to just to make her come, he wanted to make her beg first.  

Frank pulled back, removed his mouth from her clit and nibbled on the inside of her thigh and listened to her breathing even out and then moved back to the wet heat, separating her lips so he could lick every inch of her cunt. 

He buried his tongue inside her, using his nose to brush and bump her clit so she could never guess when those tight little nerves would be touched.  

When he started to pull away again her back curved, pressing her pussy into his mouth but Frank kept his face just a few centimeters from where she wanted it. “Frank,” she pleaded. “Frank.” 

“Was that you begging?” he asked, a taunt, a gauntlet thrown between them. 

“Yes,” she breathed after a few heated seconds of stillness. “God, Frank. I need to come, please let me come.” 

“Finally,” he whispered against her skin, kissing her leg once before turning to her pussy. “Spread your legs for me.” 

She shifted her feet on the tile and Frank plunged first one, then two fingers deep inside and she nearly screamed as he sucked her clit into his mouth, scraping it gently with his teeth as his fingers pumped into her, the rhythm fast and desperate as she rode him, desperate for her own pleasure.  

She choked out a sound, her body going stiff above him and he nearly came at the feel of her clenching around his fingers, at the taste of her flooding his tongue. 

“Holy shit, Frank.” 

His grin was likely as cocky as he felt as he stood up, but he didn’t care as he leaned down to kiss her. “It’s a good thing Mirco kept our first names for this undercover op.” 

“Huh?” 

“Otherwise people would start wondering why you were calling out some other man’s name.” 

Karen laughed and linked her fingers on the back of his neck, smiling up at him as if there wasn’t anywhere else in the world she wanted to be. 

“Well then,” she put her hands on his shoulders and stepped around him to switch their positions. “I guess turnabout is fair play.” 

“What do-“ he stopped when Karen reached for his cock, still hard and desperate. 

“Let’s see if I can get you to yell my name,” and then she dropped to her knees.

[scaryscarecrows]

Roots and Leaves, Pt. 6

DC did it first. Take your grievances to them.

Jason and Sheila e-mail back and forth for about a week before she says that she has Thursday off so if he has Thursday off does he want to meet for lunch again?

Last time wasn’t bad. Not a lot of staring or people or anything. He can…he can probably do it again. And it’s a few days away still, so he has time to psyche himself up or, worst case scenario, fake his death and move to Canada.

And it’s been a week and she hasn’t pulled out the Pity Card on him yet and maybe…maybe this’ll all work out okay. She might never be Mom, because Catherine’s always gonna be Mom, but…but she could be Mother, maybe. He can see that in the distant (or not-so-distant?) future.

But he’s not going to rush into things, that’s what got him here in the first place. Patience, grasshopper.

Thursday rolls around and he hasn’t faked his death and moved to Canada, so he has no choice but to put on jeans and a hoodie and resign himself to a couple of hours, easy, of no sunglasses and no e-book shield.

Sorry, any small children who might come out of this traumatized.

Okay. He brings his Kindle anyway, and his sunglasses for the journey, and sticks to his normal Civilian Weaponry-couple’a knives, one pair of brass knuckles tucked into a hidden pocket in his hoodie. Last thing he needs is for someone to pick up a bullet, match it to the Red Hood’s, and come knocking on his door. His luck is bad enough that’s exactly what would happen.

Besides, it’s noon on a Thursday, and even in Gotham that’s a slow hour. Bank robbers gotta eat, too.

The monorail ride there is literal Hell (three fighting couples, two crying kids and old man with no personal spaaaaace!) and he’s literally gasping for air when he stumbles out of the car. He likes people. Honest. If he legitimately hated them all, he wouldn’t risk his life to help them. But interacting with them…he could do without that, mostly.

Whatever. Whatever. It’s over, he lived, he’s had worse.

(And no, he doesn’t hear faint cackling in his head, and that’s final.)

It’s windy today, the type of wind that buffets people every which way and is determined to keep his hood off his head. He fidgets with the drawstrings until it’ll stay and buries his hands in his pockets. Wind sucks. He can feel pollen and dust and Gotham Grime being blown onto his skin.

“Jason!”

Is he there already?

Sheila…looks a lot more haggard than she did before. He tries to remember if she’d mentioned being horribly busy, doesn’t think she did, and figures that to be fair, he hasn’t mentioned the bruise that goes halfway up his back.

She smiles, her awkward driver’s license smile, and waves. Yeah, she doesn’t…it must’ve been a long week, or maybe a rough drive or something. She looks tired.

“Hi.” He’s not sure what to call her, still. Miss Haywood is too disconnected, Sheila’s too personal, and it’s way, way too soon for Mother. Names are a pain. “I’m not late, am I?” He knows he’s not. “Monorail was packed.”

“So was the subway. Can I…?”

Her arms are half-out and he figures she’s asking for a hug. He can do a hug, as long as it’s a short hug.

“Yeah. Thanks for the warning.”

Holy crap, she feels frail. But to be fair, barring Dick’s tackle-hug, everyone’s felt frail since…since. So it could just be him. Hugs are weird now.

(“HUG YOUR DADDY!”)

No. Not today. Everything’s fine.

It’s a sort-of short hug, short enough, anyway, and he wonders, abstractedly, if a day will ever come that he’s used to that sort of thing again. If it even matters whether he does or doesn’t.

It does. Of course it does. And the day will come, in time, and he’ll be better, be normal, be what people want him to be.

Little steps.

* * *

They’ve fallen into a companionable silence and for once Jason’s not jumping whenever someone walks by in a purple sweater or anything when Sheila forces her lips out from between her teeth and says, “I know you were Robin.”

Well. That’s, uh, there’s that out of the way.

“Yeah.” There’s clearly no point in denying it. She probably put it together when Batman came knocking. “For a little while, yeah. I was.” He tastes blood, wonders how long he’s been doing that, and wishes he had gum. Or a mint. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right off, I just…old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Oh God, no, no, I didn’t mean-” She takes a drink. Her hands are shaking, she’s shaking and he doesn’t know what’s wrong. “I just. I thought I should probably make it clear that I did know, so you wouldn’t…I know I was absent, but I don’t want…you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide things from me.”

Oh. That’s. He doesn’t know what to say. Bruce, God knows, has the emotional capabilities of a Himalayan Salt Lamp. Thankfully Jason hadn’t been the type to go through crushes every two weeks, or he probably would have been in Hell. He certainly wouldn’t have…it’s not like he would have shut down the conversation, but sharing and caring? That would have been awkward and best not repeated. Alfred was the go-to for that sorta thing.

All right, then. Since they’re dropping sudden bombshells ‘n all…he has to know.

“You worked for Joker.” There. It’s out. He said it.

And now he kinda regrets it-the self-loathing on her face is a pretty good match for his own, and he can’t tell himself it’s anything less than deep, deep wishing to have made better choices.

“I did.” She straightens up, begins tearing apart a piece of bread on her plate. “Briefly. I’m not proud, but he had a line to my mother, knew where she lived, knew her schedule…knew.” She swallows hard. “Knew she had to rubber-band her jam jars because she couldn’t open them otherwise. I panicked. But it was only for a couple of months-pills, he wanted pills, as much as I could get him. And then he just…went away. I don’t know what he did with them.”

Honestly, after everything, he can’t…he doesn’t have the right to say much. And honestly? There was that one guy, who accidentally cut the fucker off in traffic and couldn’t get away from him.

And look at him. The first man he killed, that wasn’t…oh, sure, he probably had it coming, at least a little, but Jason wasn’t thinking about that or considering it like he does now, he just…he wanted to kill Bruce. Because that was right and reason at the time even though he knows it’s insanity now.

No, he can’t say much.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and it’s suddenly easier to look at his hands. “I didn’t…that sounds awful.”

“No.” She tips his chin up and it’s an effort not to pull away and to remember that it’s fingers, warm human fingers, and not the pointy end of a crowbar against his skin. “You deserved to know. It’s only fair.”

Truth be told, it’s a relief to know that she hadn’t…yeah, technically she could’ve…maybe done something different, but she hadn’t wanted to work for him. She wasn’t like the ones he’d christened Dumb and Dumber that…they enjoyed that kinda work.

Lunch is finished in relative silence after that, though, and he’s wondering what’s going to happen now when she rifles through her purse and swears.

“Damn…I meant to grab an old photo album I wanted to show you, with some old family pictures and things.”

Pictures of Willis? Yeah, he’s good. Pictures of other people might be interesting, though.

“Next time?”

“My apartment’s a few blocks over.”

Something feels off. He’s paranoid, he knows he’s paranoid, but something…she’s been shaky and weird all afternoon and he doesn’t…

Calm the fuck down, you freak out when someone window-shops for too long!

“Is everything…is everything okay?”

Or maybe something is wrong-she pulls a napkin over and there’s suddenly a pen in her hand.

“I really do want you to see these pictures, Jason,” she says, but her hand is moving and there’s the ever-so-faint skrit-skrit of pen on paper. “I swear you got my mother’s eyes.”

The napkin slides over to him and he glances down. Her handwriting’s spikey and awful-doctor writing to the bone-but his is no better and he can read it well enough.

An old colleague has been hanging around the hospital lately.

Oh.

That explains a bit.

“Sure.”

Her shoulders drop and she crumples the napkin, nails picking it into shreds.

“I’m sorry to do this to you,” she says softly, nearly too soft for him to hear, and he’s quick to shake his head.

“No, no, I don’t mind, I’m glad you…if there’s anything I can do to…”

Shit, she looks like she’s going to start crying and that is indeed PANIC in his throat. Tears are not good.

“You’re a good boy.” Her voice is watery but there are no tears to be seen. Thank Jesus. “I promise next time we have lunch it’ll be normal.”

Oh, good, things haven’t plummeted down to fiery Hell because of all the revelations flying around.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” he says, and whoops that’s his ‘all will be well, citizen, never fear!’ voice. But it must work, because the about-to-cry look disappears. “Um. Do you wanna…it looks like it’s gonna rain, should we get going?”

And so they do.

* * *

The wind has picked up and it smells like rain. He’s not looking forward to patrol later.

The wind’s not so bad, though, to stop Sheila from lighting up with a self-depreciating, “I know I’m a doctor and should know better, but I honestly don’t care.”

“I can’t really say anything.” He holds up his own pack and rattles it before pulling one out. It’s not as calming as it usually is and he doesn’t know why.

Eh. It’s been a long day, that’s all. He’s not used to interacting with people on a personal level anymore, which is his own fault and probably not necessarily a good thing.

The first few drops have started to fall when they arrive at her building-big, square, and simplistic. She fishes out her keys while they’re in the elevator (which smells like new car, for some reason).

The hallway is deserted. It’s a little creepy, to be honest-his own building might be crap, but there’s always activity. And then, of course, there was Arkham’s hallways, or what he could hear of them. Noisy. Always noisy. But this? Wayne Manor was silent like this. It unsettled him then and it unsettles him now. Call him a city boy, whatever, but he needs noise.

The brass knuckles and knives in his jacket are warm and comforting and he knows he’s not gonna need ‘em, but they make up for this creepy-ass silence.

Sheila opens the door and motions him inside. It’s dark inside-blackout curtains, probably-but he can hear the rain. It smells like new car in here, too, and he wonders, off-handedly, why-

-it’s not empty. He’s walked into one too many ‘empty’ buildings to be very, very attuned to the sound of somebody breathing. Okay. Be calm, back out and shut the door.

He’s about to do exactly that when the light switch clicks and bathes the whole place in stark white. White walls, white floors, white furniture.

Which only makes Harley Quinn stick out like a sore thumb in all that red and black.

“BAY-BEE!” She could never hope to match Joker’s grin, but she gives it a good go, stretching her makeup. Okay. Change of plans. Get Sheila out of here (and preferably out of the building), deal with Quinn. “It’s been a whiiiiile!”

He takes in the mallet leaning against the couch and the shotgun (are those fuzzy dice? Really?) in her hands and comes to the conclusion that great, she’s riding the crazy train.

But maybe she hasn’t seen Sheila yet. Where’s that goddamn light switch?

He moves, only a little, only to feel the unmistakable press of a gun against his lower back.

“Don’t. Move.”

And the world drops out from under him.

No. No, no, no, she said she quit, it was over, she said they’d let her go, she said-

The door shuts. He twists so he can still see Quinn in his peripheral. Sheila’s face is a blank mask-no tears, no joy, no nothing. Just quiet determination and he doesn’t understand, she said…

“Mom?” The word feels thick and wrong in his mouth, but maybe…maybe she’s brainwashed or hypnotized or something, maybe she doesn’t…isn’t…

“Sorry, kid.” The words are harsh but her tone isn’t. Quinn giggles in the background but she sounds so far away and Sheila’s still pressing a gun against him. “It was you or me, and, well…it had to be you.”

What?

“Aww, come to mama, baby!” Quinn giggles again before straightening up and scowling. “Now.”

His feet drag him forward, sneakers scuffing against the white carpet an’ Heaven’s s’posed ta be white, innit, so why does this feel like Hell and what’s going on she said she said-

For once horrible, desperate second, he wants Bruce. Bruce wouldn’t…yeah, he’d thought, at first, that he’d left him but he knows that he didn’t, he really didn’t, he just…

Bruce wouldn’t have pulled a gun on him, he wouldn’t and God, if he’d just fucking talked to him-

“I did what you wanted, Quinn.” Sheila’s voice is so, so flat and is this all she wanted from the beginning? Is it? “Now call your man.”

Quinn doesn’t even look at her. She’s looking at Jason like she always did-like she’s torn between wanting to rip his head off and wanting to wrap him in a blanket and keep him.

This is his own goddamn fault, he just thought…just once, just once-

“Quinn!” Desperation now, and the gun wobbles against his hoodie as she steps out from behind him. “I did what you said! Call your man!”

Okay. Okay.

He forces himself to take a few deep breaths that taste like that last cigarette outside and says, voice as steady as he can make it, “Let her go, Harley. Leave her alone, I’ll. I’ll do what you want, just. Just let her go.”

“Aww, look at you!” Her pigtails sway and he finds himself oddly hypnotized by the movement. “I knew ya had to be Robin for a reason.”

Yeah. Yeah, he was Robin and that’s all he’ll ever be, the one that fucked up.

“Please, Harley.”

“Nyeh…” She adjusts her grip on the gun, finger dancing near the trigger, and looks down at her knuckles. “Eeny, meanie, miny, moe, catch a Batman by the toe. If he hollers, let ‘im go, eeny…meanie…miny…moe!”

He sees it before she does it, but there’s no time-he’s moved maybe half a centimeter before the gun goes off-

-and Sheila.

Falls.

His ears are ringing. They’re ringing and everything’s so white except her, all blonde and blue and so fucking red because Harley didn’t miss and if he’d been quicker, he should have been-

“Aww, don’t be sad!” Harley’s not alone, of course she’s not. He should have known from the start stupidstupidstupid. “Doncha know what happens to people who know too much?”

Her eyes are open. They’re open and they’re looking at him like this is his fault and it is if he hadn’t…

S’like Joker said, once.

“Good boys know how to lay down and DIE.”

“Mistah J had a spot for ya, baby.” Huh? “But you up an’ left us before it was time! So since it’s his birthday-” The fucker has no birthday he just appeared one day too evil for Hell. “-I thought I’d get my puddin’ somethin’-” She winks. “Real nice.”

And they’re on him.

Harley’s goons are dumb, but they’re also big and they manage to drag him down for a minute before he gets a knife out of his sleeve and drives it into the nearest jaw.

“Andre!” Yeah, Andre ain’t comin’ back from that any time soon. “I thought we taught you manners!”

He reclaims his knife and scrambles back up and okay okay maybe he can get outta this-

WHAM!

Lights out.

[yuissamidare]

@codes i think i may have put this on my artblog but... Here

i guess ill start w ichi bc i always forget about him somehow like i always come up short when im making lists and im like 'oh wait shit yeah that guy’ bc im stupid n i only think of fishing trio + choro. I’m an Idiot. idk i never thought too hard on ichi bc i so rarely think about him but he looks so high its really funny i said this on main but he looks like my friend when he decided to try a weed gummy bear then started babbling about hentai then watched to watch porn with me but got mad all the intro scenes are a billion years long and started ranting about the industry but now that i think about it he looks like someone who used to send me weird shit when he was high like bad pick up lines about body parts i wish i didnt have

and thats so funny that its Ichimatsu who looks like that but also proof that hes high. but anyway!! hes really cute and im mad hes boutta ruin my reputation for my complete and utter lack of care and interest in him no matter what im mad. my friend gwyn said 'Sp lubing us up for the fuckening that is the reason why Ichi is sad in present day’ im really curious at the change like if hes trying a fake it till you make it type thing bc really emotionally exhausted or if hes just genuinely having a good time or hes puttin on a front since like. nails who stand get hammered down right??? just gotta do your best n Never Relax n i can relate to all that. but uhhh old hcs i guess

in kun ichi was the most serious! really smart but just as bad w school as the rest of them apparently but!! yeah so id think that!! ichis that guy who participates in class discussion constantly and is always willing to debate the readings, but turns in sloppy papers with typos and no a coherency or stucture or anything. he’s A+ in participation but has an average of 60% on most of the written assignments with points knocked bc of lateness then more bc its A Mess. you could ask about the prompts for one of his papers, he could babble about his position on it complete with paragraphs and footnotes but like the day before its due hes playing rpgs and watching horror movies.

his classmates think hes so smart n so intimidating. the family knows hes a hot mess. the teachers tell him he has a lot of potential but they don’t think hes applying himself. all are right. also he doesnt cheat or let people cheat off of him since hes always been about rules and boundaries and Rightness n he n jyushi were the only ones who Minded Themselves in kun

uhh jyushi!! let me talk about schoolwork again bc yeah i love jyushi so so so so much and thinking of him in a school environment is so weird i thought about it a lot n i thought about it him in kun n san and Woah!! i really really love delinquent jyushi, bc when i saw that i was like 'huh! that fits actually!!’ i love that like him and choro flip flopped completely from what i thought. his school must be so cold theyre too cheap to afford heating in the winter and in summer the acs Blast. he was so Shy and quiet and he cried and he liked to sing so i always thought that when he participated in chorus festivals hes always like right in front!! he hums a lot in class and also moves around alot bc he actually like school and people like primary trio are the types that make friends often. i wasnt supposed to talk about this yet whoops.

unlike ichi who relatively neat despite everything but has shit notes, jyushis notes are amazing and understandable and utterly illegible.

theyre covered in doodles, arrows and lines leading every which way, different colors but not like color coded n theyre not in order by date, but he opens to a random page every time yet somehow always seems to know where to find each lesson. he writes footnotes and caveats and corrections and criticisms of the teachers and random thoughts and just smears ink everywhere. sometimes his notes are on a completely different subject. the notebook itself is a horrifying mess, the front and back covers both covered in drawings and designs and falling apart, random papers shoved between the pages, coming apart at the seams, covered in stains of unknown origin. assignments are full of emoticons and informal language, and they always manage to make his teachers feel like hes smarter than they are (most likely). he does his projects the minute theyre assigned, and is finished a minute later so can talk to his friends. he loved school.

sophie told me once about how she thought was Like That was bc one of his main concerns is that he thought he had nothing that made him Jyushi n in kun she said he might have been the one who was the most concerned about having a distinctive personality and i talked about how that sorta carried over san and how he always blended in bc of how gentle and soft and push-overy he was. he was actually the and most gullible and weakest in kun so i was like :0 when i saw that and intentionally did stuff like only carry 14 yen in his pockets to be quirky but it always sorta fell flat and he was still invisible so i was like hmmmmm. and i can see how he couldve toughened up and thinking of this now!! i love that. oh im so happy. this is so much better than i ever couldve imagined ever.

totty…. i do not think he was very popular or good at school. i think he’s very decent at schoolwork but he never put much effort into it. just copies whats on the board but if the class runs out of allotted lesson time n he couldnt finish his work he just didnt do it like cram schools a pain in the ass. if he put effort hed be a star student but he just craps out whatever since hes was the laziest!! oh but something i noticed was that him and jyushi would play together often since sometime he felt overwhelmed by karamatsu a lot. also hes the money thief and scammer its great kun todo is so good. he gets shy and flustered easy too!!

but uhh yeah!! depending on the day im always like 'zaimoku love each other so much they are best friends and the perfect other halves!!’ then im like 'these mofos hate each other what the fuck is this trainwreck’ did you see their shitty small talk in the horse episode. what was that. like they are genuinely trying to communicate and are pretty easy with each other but they have nothing to say. its like when youre having a boring day at school and theres nothing to talk about with an acquaintance so you just look at the walls and go 'have you ever noticed how stupid these posters are’ then you both start reading posters aloud but you both know its not that funny and youre just doing it to waste time but you still enjoy their company you just dont want silence. thats their relationship. and i think they are just very similar in very different ways and like. the key things that make them both similar and different and the same fuck them up (like suiriku!! theyre both really similar even if it doesn’t seem like it at first which is why their compatibility in the relationship chart was so low in s1, but i saw a lot of improvement in both of their behaviours and their communication and honestly. s2 was worth it for that sophie was so happy to see her faves get along) like sometimes when you look in the mirror all the things you see are the things you dont like about yourself instead of what makes you wonderful and unique. also i didnt mean to talk about this but i guess i am.

but yeah. totty is bitter n resentful at kara during hs n karas more confused and upset at tottys behaviour in their twenties n thats bc like i said. theyre dumb. karamatsu!! i think was actually pretty popular in highschool n had a good amount of friends - i genuinely think theatre kids are well liked bc i literally know everyone in my department and im friends w a good amount of people and im not even That extroverted. my actual extrovert friends know everyone in the school by name and everyone in my department is so nice even though theres a lot of bitchiness and drama its not as bad as w other humanities studies (jesus christ humanity students outside of theatre are a hot mess.)

uh yeah n that ultimately makes totty feel a bit… betrayed? karamatsu is his partner! theyre supposed to be there for eachother! kara’s the first one to branch out, get friends etc etc and todomatsus left behind bc hes always the one playimg follow the leader and he breaks out of that once they graduate - he grows up resenting karamatsu slightly though he still cares. but this time Hes the one cancelling plans to hang out with friends instead. my friend katie put it best when, in response to me telling them this, they sent me:

'kara: totty you have so many friends now. We barely see you anymore.

totty, applying chapstick: well, I learned it from the best.’

when i told them about it. but at the time gwyn and i were babbling about possibilities and different storylines and how theres a possiblity the movie might break down into three manageable plotlines n she gave zaimoku 'popularity’ and this was me throwing out ideas but honestly. Good. (aha, the end of this scenario ended up with todo throwing hands and shoulder checking someone outside a window and then getting removed from the premise n hanging with atsushi all night after) why am i on this. shit what happened here.

uhh but yeah totty is Def someone with learned behaviours rather than being a natural extrovert honestly just look at him hes an introverted mess masquerading as a decent human being and i know full well how people like that are bc some of them have been my best friends for years n seein the new hs promos solidifies that fact bc look at him. Crybaby. He is Miniscule. A Child.

then its 'delinquent who looks like an honour student’ choro. i never studied him until sophie started liking choro n since i love sophie i wanted to take an interest in him too. n i started to think very hard about him! then gwyn planted this in me n its taken root and im just never not gonna think its great. yall see his shitty gokudo impression what a bossy lil shit. he pulled a whip on kara once and it was mad funny but also Gwyns Big Evidence for him just being the absolute worst not like a casually skips class type but a Choro was a legit a bully and really mean n sabatoged other classmates to make him look like he was 100% That Bitch. maybe not him being Mean and cruel but just an asshole who bums around, is something i really like that one a lot its been one of my faves since gwyn n i started talking about it but i just!! have a ton of other things too!!

hes a lot like karamatsu in that theyre both stupid and weird and embarrassing and they put on airs but they also!! dont try!! they talk so big and such high goals n expectations and they dont do shit bc they have so much hubris but i always talk about them bc suiriku is sophies Beloved so ill like. Not. but he acts like he’s better than all of them n forces the role of the straight man on himself because he wants to be seen as the responible, level headed one even if hes just. So Much.

i think the movies calling back to how touchy feely and clingy he was in kun and adding on to how jyushis a delinquent and kara… Is Like That he’ll be around them the most bc jyushi might either be really protective or push him away and then they do something to mend their relationship later on or hell cling to kara and they just. grow apart. sticking to my hc until the end bitches. oh.

for choro… personally!! i thought hed be a slacker instead of a delinquent but not in the way totty slacked - totty was lazy n knew the work but didnt want to put in effort but choro just. Doesnt. choro has so much energy all the time and choro Can Not deal with school situations. bc like… you always hear people say that studying is meant to be done at the desk, silently, no distractions what so ever!! focus on notes and nothing else!! ise a highlighter but dont use it too much!! make your notes legible but you only have five minutes before the board gets erased!! review!!! look at your notes or youll die! take breaks bit dont take too long and honestly. listen. kun choro wouldnt be able to stand that shit and id think hed just think he was doing it The Wrong Way n he just wasnt meant to do it.

he doesnt like quiet classrooms!! he cant study like that and hell get distracted. he cant sit still n thats why totoko broke up w him in the beer ad and why hes just Everywhere in kun!! hes understimulated and its just Ugh! you know??? he’ll fidget w his pens until he breaks them or hum or tap his foot and annoy everyone or leave for the bathroom at least three times a class just to get up and move.

eventually he just. gives up even though hes super smart he like, stops caring bc if you dont care to understand material then you wont have to read and read and reread and rereread something to get it! classes just make everything uncomphrehensible and makes any idea he may have sublimate into nothing. but he can work on the trains and the buses! he needs something kenetic to get him moving and trains n shit always have enough going on to work with, just like with home!! chorochoro motherfuckers. he works much better moving forward, ironic as that is. he feels sorta set apart from every thing like hes behind some big plane of glass doing everything wrong and being all set apart from everything. eventually he takes to acting like a real fussy mom to avoid his own problems and help everyone else out even though hes annoying and even when he graduates but it gets Worse bc then figures out how much!!! he fucked up!! then he kicks himself into high gear n still cant do shit. ahh.

its illegal for me to talk about choukei bc i talk about them so much and im always being annoying n typing stupid essays about them bc theyre… my faves.. But this is so long…

it actually makes me super happy that he kara acne he still can be really fighty and he cries and he still does stupid impulsive shit for others and even though hes really sweet and caring is still an utter monster and fucking mess of a person. love him. i always like to think his shittymatsu nickname came from iyami n it just morphed from there bc in 66 you can hear iyami calling him specifically garbage. ive always been glad they kept his sewing hobby too. ahh, actually from what i see hes pretty similarities to kun so i wonder when he decided to air out that teremity. idk what to say about him that i havent in tottys section. he just Feels like someone who had a good support group and nice friends bc of how hes able to move in the world. kara feels like some whos doing their growing up in their twenties bc highschool came easy to them and now theyre just really struggling with the real world. like i shouldve expected softboy hs kara and i appreciate him very much!! i talk about choukei a lot bc they were the first characters that spoke so i immediately attached myself to them n i talk about karamatsu Specifically but im not sure i ever mentioned how much i appreciated how smart and cautious hes proved himself to be time and time again, like how hes the only one to point out totokos fish shtick aint doing her favours or how he was the first one to notice osos irritation n how you can pick out his voice warning jyushi to calm down in the bg of 24 or how in the comedian episode he was ready to take Notes from iyami and a lot of other small things!!

i would think hes actually a bit more serious n calm in hs and san is him amping up traits that drew people to him in hs and it backfiring on kara spectacularly - kara is always gauging people and their reactions and acting in a way he believes will get something positive, but at the same time is utterly oblivious when it comes to actually Getting them n i talked about the girls on the bridge but this is also prevalent with ichi who kara just. Doesnt Get and can not figure out how to maneuver their relationship. like oso, kara is and elder brother!! and elder brothers have an image theyre supposed to uphold, but while kara acts the part he doesnt do the shit a big brother does and shrugs that responsibility off on oso until oso fucks up until s2, where they share the role more evenly and his relationship with ichi improves but this is another essay entirely. what im trying to get with that is that hyperfocus on what other people think of him, but his complete disregard when it comes to their actual reaction and instead what he wants their reactions to be would also greatly impact him transtioning from a teen to an adult im sorry im getting sloppy now

osomatsu… i really adore him too much and i understand how totty felt in their episode bc i also lent my phone to a friend who needed to desperately jack it before meeting new people n i talk about him a whole lot too. hes mean and an asshole and garbage n i know a lot of people find him plain n boring but idk. i dont think thats the case hes a really complexed n nuanced character n hes literally has always been way back from kun n thats expected from a main character but… hes always been mean n dumb n sly and he can get so pathetically vunerable and thats literally!! him. hes a normal dude nothing wrong with that n it can be real refreshing. n i suppose im so fond of fishing trio+choro bc they remind me of my friends. but yeah even if hes 'plain’ i dont see why thats a bad thing. n this they always have the most interesting body language like despite kara being So Much his body language was always closed off n singled him out as everything But exuberant and bright, and osos quirks like how he stands on his toes a lot had always been so cute… its relaxed and open n screams Talk To Me!!!!

ahh but i always end up thinking oso was. oso??? theres not much to say that i havent before but i do think that he was a lot more like he was in episode 2 when ranting to chibita about having shitty brothers and then actively Chose to be a good brother even if he wasnt a good person and be a stable rock and be someone they could all come back to at the end of the day. and hes good at math im never letting this die.

[writersblock2point0]

Marvel Imagine: Arachne (Named Reader)

The cars in the city let out a chorus of honks and blares, and I sighed in defeat as I stared at the wall. Three, two, one-

The alarm clock flicked on, bellowing out a loud and uncalled for screech as red numbers flashed ‘7:00 A.M.’ on the screen. Pressing my face into my pillow, I tried to not scream and die, before pushing myself up and over to the desk, seeing Peter had once again fell asleep with his homework out. Rolling my eyes, I patted his back.

“Wakey wakey.” I muttered, voice cracking with each syllable. Peter groans, and I open the closet, glancing at the clothes before pulling out a red and black striped sweater, black jeans, and blue socks. I shuffled out of the room and to the bathroom, passing my Aunt May who sat on the couch.

“Morning!” She chirped and I groan in reply, hearing her laugh as I shut the door.

Aunt May was a morning person, and that gene didn’t seem to rub off on me and peter. My little brother and myself, both moved into Aunt May’s home when we were just kids. I was a few years older, and I was graduating this year.

Dressing quickly, I brushed my hair, rolling my eyes as my bangs wouldn’t sit in the right place, always sticking out or up. I brushed my teeth and put on deodorant. Walking out, me and Peter traded places, bathroom for food.

Getting two eggs, a piece of toast, and glass of juice down, I was ready to leave. Packing up my bag, I put on my black converse shoes.

“Pete!” I yelled through the house, “Let’s go!”

He quickly came from the bathroom, dressed with his bag and everything. “Coming.” He replies and we said our goodbyes, leaving for the day.

Walking down the street, we didn’t really talk. We were both very tired from being out late last night.

No parties, as me and Peter aren’t the social type and I like to stick to myself mostly. However, the two of us are no longer ordinary people. On a field trip for a shared class, it seems we were both bitten by the same spider. I was bitten first, and when Peter was looking at my arm, I guess the Spider was still on me, and bit him as well. The next few days, we noticed instant changes. Peter was no longer skinny and bony; instead he was strong with slim but defined muscles. I was always a little full, but now what little muscles I had from yoga and small exercises at home, I had a fit body just like him. I was still curvy, but I was strong, healthier. My asthma was also gone. Our eyesight increased dramatically, to the point I can see dust in the air and intricate details on just about anything.

We were bitten by a spider, a genetically made spider, and now we had these weird powers.

Peter was the first to find out we could crawl around on the walls, but I seemed to have something Peter didn’t. While we shared the strength, speed, agility, and wall walking-I was able to change my skin color. I could become as white as snow, or black as night and every tone in between. I couldn’t change to red, or blue, but I was able to hide myself to the human eye on a white surface or conceal myself in total darkness. After doing research, we found it was the females who change colors, though their colors were yellow and white.

It was amazing, and with this new found information, Peter and I decided to try and make a difference.

Walking inside, I instantly noticed Tony Stark sitting on our couch, chatting up Aunt May. Furrowing my brow, Peter walks around me, music blasting in his ears.

“Uh…” I don’t know what to say, feeling conflicted as Tony looks over his shoulder at the both of us.

“Hello!” He sends me a charming smile and I hit Peter in the arm.

“Ow!” He utters, turning to me and takes out his earbuds. “What?” He looks and now both of us are looking at Tony as if he was Jesus.

“Mr. Parker,” Tony nods to Peter, then smiles at me, “Ms. Parker.”

“What are you doing…” I raised my eyebrows as I watched Peter try and keep it together. “Hey, I’m Peter.”

I waved, “Jae.”

“Tony.” He replies and I resist a ‘Yeah, I know.’

“What are you-you doing here?” I asked, running a hand through my messy hair.

“It’s bout time we met,” He nods, and May looks at us expectantly. “You two have been getting my emails, right?”

I glance at Peter, and we share a ‘what the fuck’ look. “Uh-Yeah.”

“Yes,” Peter nods, “Regarding the…”

May speaks up, “You two never told me about the grant!”

“The grant!” I smiled, nodding and crossing my arms over my chest. What the hell did Tony Stark want? What the hell was this grant?

“The September Foundation.”

“Right.” Peter nods.

“Yeah, you two applied?”

It was quiet before I nodded, “Yeah.”

“Well, I approved. So now, we’re in business.” Tony’s eyes are wide and unblinking before he takes a sip of whatever Aunt May had given him.

“You guys didn’t tell me anything!” I scratch my head, feeling guilty about something that I wasn't even apart of. Sorry Aunt May, I didn’t tell you about a grant I didn’t even know about. “You keeping secrets from me now?”

My eyes widen, “No, we just knew that-that…” I look at Peter and he laughs.

“You love surprises so we thought we would let you know….” I clear my throat, “Anyway, what did I apply for?”

Tony nods, “That’s what I’m here to hash out.”

“Hash out.” I nod, and Tony smirks.

“It’s so hard for me to believe that she’s someone’s aunt.” I raised an eyebrow, frowning as Tony smiles brightly.

Aunt May doesn’t seem that impressed. “We come in all shapes and sizes, you know?”

“This walnut date loaf is exceptional!” Tony compliments and I itch my neck, feeling very uncomfortable.

“Okay, hold on a minute.” Peter holds up his hand. “Does this grant got money involved or whatever?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty well funded.” Tony draws and I nod.

“Wow.”

“Look who you're talking to.” Tony turns to Aunt May, “Can I have five minutes with them?”

We walk to our bedroom and Tony closes the door behind us and locks it before spitting out the date loaf.

“As walnut date loafs go, that wasn’t bad.” I snort, rolling my eyes as I sit in our chair at the desk.

“Okay, look I didn’t apply for your grant.” Peter starts but Tony cuts him off.

“I know, neither did you-” He points at me before pulling out his phone. “But me first!” He flicks it, “That’s the two of you...isn’t it?” It was video footage of Peter, swinging on his web and stopping a robber. Another of me appearing from the side of a building and webbing a guy to the side of a car. Another of Peter stopping a car from crashing into a bus. And me, crawling up a building before stopping, blending myself into the shadows. “Look at you two go.”

“That's-that’s...not me.” I shake my head, and Peter nods with me.

“You caught three thousand pounds, forty miles an hour and you!” He looks at me and I feel my face flush with his next compliment. “You camouflaging yourself!” He shrugs, “It’s not easy.”

“That’s on youtube so you know that’s fake right?” Peter comes to stand by me, as Stark walks towards the closet. I jump up as Stark takes a broom and lifts the latch to the attic that holds our costumes.

Mine was just a black tight fitting bodysuit while Peter’s was red and blue. Peter springs forward and throws it into the closet, and acts normal, leaning against the wall.

“Uh..that’s…” He sighs, looking at me and I shake my head. We’ve been caught.

“So,” Tony looks at both of us. “You two are the Spiderlings? Spider-boy? Spider-girl? Crime fighting spiders?”

I roll my eyes, “Spider-Man.”

Tony turns to me, “Spider-Woman?”

I shake my head, “I like Arachne.”

Tony hums, “Not in those onesies you're not.”

“S’not a onesie.” Peter sasses and comes to sit beside me. “Y’know, I was actually having a really good day today.”

“Found a perfectly good DVD player…” I chime in, running a hand through my hair, watching as Tony looked at our suits.

“Nailed my algebra test.”

“Who else knows?” Stark asks us, and I look at Peter, shaking my head.

“Nobody.”

“Not even your unusually attractive aunt?”

I groan, “No!”

“No! If she knew she’d freak out and when she freaks out everyone freaks out-”

I nod, “It’s a big freaking out.”

“You know what I think is amazing?” Tony holds up a vial of our webbing. “Who manufactured this?”

“I did.” Peter takes it and throws it into the closet.

“Climbing the walls? How you doing that. Adhesive gloves?”

I snort, “That’s uh...all us.”

“It’s a long story.” Peter says and Tony picks up the goggles we wear.

“Good lordy! Can you even see in these?” He holds then up to his face and I smile, shaking my head as Peter gets frustrated.

“Yes! Yes we can!” He takes it from Tony, throwing it in the closet. “Look, whatever happened that happened, it’s like our senses have been dialed to eleven. It just helps to focus...without all the input.”

“You are in dire need of an upgrade.” I furrow my brows, “That’s why I’m here. Sit, sit!” Peter sits back down and we both share a look before turning to Tony. “Why are you doing this?”

I glance at Peter, not really knowing how to answer that question. “C’mon, I gotta know what gets you outta that bed in the morning?”

“Because…” I start and sigh. “For me it’s...just about something bigger than me. A-and I know that’s very cliche but-if I can do something about a crime, I will, because someone has to.”

“We’ve had these powers for six months. Reading books and building computers was and still is us, and yeah I would love to play football and Jae would love to be in gymnastics but we couldn’t then so we shouldn’t now.” I nod and Tony agrees.

“Cause you're different.”

“Exactly.” Peter finishes and looks at me.

“We can’t tell anyone so we aren’t.”

“When you can do the things that we can...but you don’t...and then the bad things happen…” Peter looks at me and sighs. “They happen because of you.”

“So you wanna look out for the little guy and do your part-make the world a better place...all that right?”

I nod as Peter answers. “Yeah, just looking out for the little guy.” Tony sighs, and sits between us.

“You guys got passports?”

“No!” I shake my head, “I don’t even have a driver's license.”

“You ever been to Germany?”

I frown, “No?”

“You’ll love it!”

“We can’t go to Germany!” Peter says, laughing as he looks at me.

“Why?”

“Cause...we have…” I trailed off, looking at Peter who finishes my sentence.

“Homework.”

“Alright, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Tony gets up and walks towards the door.

“No, I’m being serious!”

“We can’t just drop everything and leave the country.” I say and Peter nods.

“Might be a little dangerous.” He grabs the door handle, “Better tell Aunt hotty.” Peter and I both jump up and Peter webs him. Tony snaps his head to us.

“Don’t tell Aunt May.”

--

Okay, to tell the truth, I wasn’t as excited as Peter to be apart of the Avengers. I didn’t dislike the people, but when I asked Stark why he needed us, he said it wasn’t my business. He said all I needed to know was that Captain America and Falcon were protecting a international terrorist and they were all dangerous to the world.

I didn’t believe it. Not for a million dollars would I ever say Captain America was a danger to the world. Granted, I didn’t know who this guy was, that needed protecting, but I didn’t feel comfortable with how easy it was for Tony and the others to just speak so little and low of our Nation's Hero, and a veteran. Our government was the worst, as usual. They treated the three like abominations, and that didn’t sit well with me.

I stood on one of the upper levels, Peter beside me. His suit was red and blue, but made of a fine material that was tight fitting and bulletproof. He had black webbing design in it, with a black spider at his chest. My suit was a pearl white, with black and silver webbing design. Our suits were somewhat styled the same, however my suit was able to change colors to match the surface I was on. Whatever color I needed to blend into, which was neat.

Peter was called down, and as excited as he was, he moved quickly and before me. He took Captain America’s shield, landing as a superhero.

“Hi, everyone...I’m Spider-Man.” I rolled my eyes and stayed where I was.

Peter was always awkward when he was nervous or excited to meet someone, and that included our world’s superheros.

The fight started faster than I thought it would.

“Mr. Stark, what do we do?” Peter asks and I roll my eyes again, moving quickly to a level lower.

“What we discussed,” I resisted a snarky comment. Stark didn’t discuss with us, he told us.

“Hey Pete, we got two in the building.” I jumped and swung past Peter as he headed into the building, following the two that Stark said were main targets.

“What is that thing?” I heard as I pressed myself close to the wall, my suit changing colors and I quickly crawled along it, following them. If Peter was in trouble, I’d jump in.

I watched in amusement as Peter webbed them to the ground, but something came from the air and suddenly he was taken through the window in the ceiling.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” The man with a metal arm groans and the other, Sam Wilson, simply replies, ‘I hate you’.

Laughing, I get both of their attention. Letting go, I land on all fours between them.

“Another one?” Sam asks and I huff.

“Hey! Words hurt.” I stand, placing my hands on my hips. Both look at me, surprised to hear I was a girl. Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms.

“What do you want?”

“The truth.” I respond, glancing at the metal arm man. I press my finger to a spot by my ear, disabling my speaker and communications to the team. Knowing Stark could probably override that, I slipped the mask from my face. Shaking out my hair I sighed, blinking before looking at the two. “I don’t agree with how Stark and the government are handling things. I don’t know you, but I think after defending our country both you and Captain America wouldn’t ever turn against us.” I say to Sam, before glancing at the other. I frowned, he looked very familiar. “I will let you out, and I’ll help.” I shifted my weight, “If you’ll have me.”

Sam looks at the other, who’s name I still don’t know. It was quiet before Sam nods.

“Sure, lets us loose.”

Walking over I got the web off, stepping away and watched them brush themselves off.

“Okay, so the quinjet thingy is that way.” I pointed in the direction they had been running. “Um, I’ll follow behind and keep hidden, but if ya come into trouble I go you.” They nod and I hurry off, webbing others on my original team in secret. I either hit their weapons, webbed their toes to trip them or made the ground sticky.

“Jae!” I heard Peter yell as I webbed his foot to the ground. “What’s wrong with you?!” He yells and I ignore him. I don’t hear the other’s on our side, as I turned off my communications. Leaping up, I crawled onto the giant ant man’s back, shooting webs at the one’s flying around. Seeing Steve and Bucky making a run for it, I see Black Panther running for them. I leap off Ant-Man, landing in a roll before I run after the Black Panther. Trip him, but before I could make it to the two soldiers, I was hit. The pain was instant, as my suit told me I was a few broken ribs. I pushed myself up, feeling pain as I took quick breathes. My heart raced as I turned to see a bright yellow beam cutting through the building. But soon dust pooled in the air, blocking my view.

Standing, I slowly made my way to the group. Seeing Hawkeye and the others practically beaten as I see the Quinjet flying off. I gasp as hot electricity is coursing through me, making my knees buckle and my body freeze and jerk.

I fall, body sore and muscles constricting as Black Widow walks around me.

Glaring at her, I try to push myself up, but she hits me again with her weapon.

I try to move, but soon darkness takes me.

-

*Flash Back to Before Battle

I sit in the chair, “Why do I need to do this?” I asked, hands on my hip as I swerve the chair back and forth. Stark looks at me through the lens.

“Just in case we have to stay longer than normal, or if you get taken.”

I raised an eyebrow, wanted to comment but I shake my head. “Fine.”

I look into the camera, smiling as if I was looking at Aunt May and really excited. I knew what I needed to say. “Hi Aunt May! I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be home soon! They internship is great! I was offered a spot here, no expenses for you-they took care of everything. I’m very excited and I’ll get a hold of you soon. I love you Aunt May, see ya later.” I gave her a smile before seeing the red dot disappear.

I dropped my smile, standing up. “Mr. Stark? Are you putting us in danger? Will they hold back? I only ask because Peter and I are not trained for this. You’re low on numbers, and I get that. With us you have surprise, but still.”

He smirks, “You’ll be fine. They’re against us now but they won’t hurt you.”

I nod.

“Okay, sweet.”

*End

I groaned as I opened my eyes, seeing a cell around me. I frowned, looking around. Standing, I found I was in an ugly grey and blue jumpsuit. One for prisoners. I patted myself, feeling for anything that belonged to me.

I looked around, feeling like the blank walls were closing me in.

“Hey! Spider kid! Girl!” I turned, hearing a voice from the left calling me.

“You keep hyperventilating like that you’ll pass out.” I press myself the bars, looking through the glass.

“Who are you?” I ask, not able to see the cell beside. “Why am I here?”

“You helped us,” I look over, seeing Sam Wilson, the Falcon. “Widow took you out.”

I sighed, hanging my head. “Jesus.”

I look around, at the cells I could see. Sam was leaning against the wall, looking at the floor in thought. The man I didn’t know, but he was with the others so I suppose it was Ant Man. Then I saw something that broke my heart. Scarlet Witch, on the floor with a straight jacket on and a collar around her neck. She looked dead, her eyes were so dull. It broke my heart. I knew Hawkeye was beside me. I sighed, resting my head against the bar, making a loud ringing thud.

“I’m sorry.” I said after a moment of silence. “I didn’t know what Mr. Stark was talking about, he wouldn’t tell us anything about it. He said you all were a danger, and he needed our help. My brother was too quick to jump in, he loves you guys, the avengers. But I-I’m sorry. I never had a good feeling about it to begin with.”

Sam gives me a small smile, “I’m glad you helped us when you did. Cap and Barnes wouldn’t have made it out without you.”

I nod, not saying anything more. I look up when I hear a small sound. I try to look at the doors, but I can’t see them, they are to my right. They open and I gasp as Captain America walks in. He goes to Sam, and I see Barnes come in as well. He spots me, and walks over.

“I’m so glad to see you guys.” He gives me a half smile, and I wonder if it’s fake but I’m out of the cell before I can really stare at him. Once everyone is out, we follow them to the Quinjet, and I pause when I see Black Panther is here. I glance at Sam, who shrugs and sits down. I feel out of place, because I know I’m not even an avenger. I looked around with a small sigh, I just want to go home. 

[witch-of-time-and-letters]

POESÍA DE CANCIONES EN INGLÉS “THEY FUCK ME THEN BECOME “GENIUS”! BUT NOBODY SAID ME OR HELP ME TO JOIN.

OVerture: someone remember 22th december,

Is there anybody going to listen to my story is all about the girl who came to stay?

She's the kind of girl You want say much, it makes you sorry Still you don't regret a single day

                                 Part. I[PAST ERASED]

I was the foolest timid boy, i just tried to arrive to a new place where i could found everything what i needed years ago, im not their nigga girl turns to White, the sacrifice to all Aliens Gods NO i just a trans girl who survive against everything fighthing with my brain and guts for dignity.

I grew up in a small town and when the rain would fall down, I'd just stare out my window dreaming of what could be and if I'd end up happy. Trying hard to reach out but when I tried to speak out always felt like no one could hear me tried to wanted to belong here

But something felt so wrong here So I breakaway

I'll spread my wings, and I'll learn how to fly I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky and I'll make a wish take a chance, make a change and breakaway, out of the darkness and into the sun

BUT, Hey Dellilah!

Don't want to be an American Idiot,, welcome to a new kind of tension, all across the alienation.

I don't need premition, make my own decisions, why can't I live my life.

Do ya think? Do ya think? Do ya think? And there's nothing wrong with me.

                               Part. II-CITIE OF DAMNED SOULS-

What an amazing time, what a family, how did the years go by? Now it's only me

They say I'm crazy I really don't care That's my prerogative, They say I'm nasty but I don't give a damn, everybody's talking all this stuff about me, Why don't they just let me live?

Another day, another tale of rape and another ticking bomb to bury deep and detonate. I’m not the only one who finds it hard to understand, I’m not afraid of God

¡I am afraid of injustice!.

Your misery and hate will kill us all .Do you fight it to the end

                                     (Singing to my killers)

Everyone is so full of shit Born and raised by hypocrites

Hearts recycled but never saved From the cradle to the grave

Im forgotten they will sacrifice me for the Jesus of your luxurya

Underneath it all they’re just savages in everyone hidden behind shirts, ties and marriages. How could we expect anything at all? We’re just animals still learning how to crawl.

That disease's growing, it's an epidemic I'm scared that there ain't a cure meanwhile the world believes it and I'm going crazy, I cannot take any more.

My memory will carry on and on i carry through the fears

Do or die

Wont explain or say i'm sorry

They´re from a whole  becoming from another world that different dimensión.

Cause my cHips dont lie.

Tell me what’s wrong with society

Is everybody going crazy? Is anybody gonna sell my house?  Can anybody tell me what’s going on?

Tell me what’s going on cause If you open your eyes  You’ll see that something is wrong.

                                      Part. III: SUICIDAL ACTS.

I.                    PILLS

Me and my head high and my tears dry my odds are stacked

Why am I doing this to myself? Losing my  in don a tiny error

Don’t lose who you are, in the blur of the stars! Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing,

¡Im not their Twisted Trans(gender)istor!

II.                  BLOOD

But since you been gone I can breathe for the first time

I’m so moving on yeah yeah Thanks to you, now I get what I want

III.                WATER

I'll go back to black, we only said (nothing) with words I died a hundred times

Im not your Everybody's fool, I just wanna live and i don't really care about the things that they say i don't really care about what happens to me

IV.                THE SILENCE

IM NOT Jesus of (your Luxurya) Suburbia, I come alone and alone Ill die

°°°

                                      Part. IV TO FAKING LOVERS.

He (or She), you’re an alien,

if you loved me, you would be here with me

and I'm sick of the lies, and you're too late.

So don’t bother, me I won’t die of depression, I promise myself  won’t ever see me cry

Don’t feel pitty but he’s waiting the ring you gave to his will lose its shine

So don’t bother, be unkind

                                       Part: V. UNHOLY PRAYERS

I

All my life I've been so lonely

All in the name of my goals

Still, you'd like to think you know me.

II

In the religion of the insecure I must be myself, respect my youth.

III

¡No, not gonna die tonight Ive gotta stand and fight forever!

IV

I'm not ashamed, I'm gonna show my scars,

V

How long must I wait? 'Till you learn that it's too late

How long must I cry?'Till you know that i really tried

How long must I try?'Till you learn that my dreaming's hard

How long must you dream?'Till you heal my bleeding soul

Never mind my bleeding soul

VI

Cause London calling, London calling, London is calling with his bridge broken by that fallen pedestal.

VII

And no matter how hard you try

I'll always belong in the sky.

                        Part: VI AGAINST manly GIRLS VS  girly BOYS

¡Im not pretty boy im just a girl not a héroe!

Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me. through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.

¡Hey you, hey you, devil's little sister!

I don’t mind, let you down easy but just give me time If it don’t hurt now but just wait, just wait a while. Ain't it fun? Living in the real world. Ai'’t it good? Doing all alone

Ain’t it good to be on your own? Ain’t it fun you can't count on no one? Ain’t it good to be on your own? Ain’t it fun you can count on no one? Ain’t it fun? You see it’s easy to ignore trouble when you’re living in your bubble

Chanel this, Chanel that, Chanal that shit hell yeah

(This is how they do)

Santa Marmota, chique, at La Super Rica Mamazota, stealing tacos, checking out jotties since now they talking astrology, getting their nails did, all Japanese-y this goes out to all you people going to bed with a ten and waking up with a zero.

                                   GIRLY IN VISION:

They so gay and they don't even like boys with their itsy bitsy doggies and their teeny-weeny feets

You're so sad maybe you should buy a happy meal You're so skinny you should super size the deal

Secretly you're so amused That nobody understands you

¡Like it or not, even though she´s a lot like me!

                               MANLY IN VISION:

Maybe if I act like that, that guy will call me back what happened to the dreams of a girl president?

Where, oh where, have the smart people gone? Oh where, oh where could they be?

They travel in packs of two or three, stupid girls, Push up my bra like that, ¡I don't wanna be a stupid girl!

                           SEXUS CONVEXUS MEXICANUS.

Pretty will you fuck me girl, silly I'm so lucky boy, Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid faggot!

Pretty would you fuck me boy, silly I'm so lucky girl, Pull my head and suck it girl, stupid lesbian!

¡So fix your eyes and get up! Yes, No's, egos, fake shows

Couldn't take the blame, they are sick with shame must be exhausting to lose your own game selfishly hated, no wonder you're jaded

I'm so glad that I'll never fit in, that will never be me

And after all I’m glad that I’m not their type

       Part. VII GNOME KINGSLANDING VS ARROGANTS TALLEST IVARIES.

The knife wants to slit me

You had to have it all, Well have you had enough? You greedy little bastard, You will get what you deserve. When all is said and done, I will be the one to leave you in the misery and hate what you've become. You think you've won this fight, you've only lost your mind.

When you're gone we want you all to know, I'll carry on and in my heart I cant contain it

¡Land of make believe That don't believe in me, Land of make believe that I don't believe in me and I don't care!

It's me versus everyone else

                                   Part. VIII: CRYING IN THEIR HATE ABYSS.

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading so sick and tired of all the needless beating. Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head.

My prerogative: ¡Cause im born this way and im my hair!

How could I have burned Paradise how could I, my dreams were never mine?

I don't love you like I did Yesterday

[serendipity-indeed-blog]

blue desert. (kim namjoon)

(gif cr @ficjeonal)

you broke up with namjoon 4 months ago, so when he comes back home for the first time after stressful album promotions and finds you sleeping on the couch in his flat, he is way more than surprised

word count: 2.6k

genre: angst/fluff

“[Y/N]-” he desperately tried to pull you away from the wardrobe, but you stubbornly kept on resisting him and throwing your clothes into an open suitcase, which was on the floor next to your feet.

He placed his hands on your waist and tried to hug you from behind. At first he managed to do so and kissed the back of your neck with affection, trying to show you how sorry he actually was. He didn’t want you to leave, even though he knew he had hurt you badly.

“Let me go.” you murmured, grabbing his hands and pushing him away with difficulty. You didn’t bother to at least look at him. You had enough.

He stood there for a while, watching your back in silence and trying to figure out what to do next. He wasn’t the type to cry and beg, so you didn’t even expect that kind of thing coming from him. Telling the truth, you expected nothing. Maybe you were acting like a child, but at that time you didn’t give a shit about anyone judging you. You were quite tough and capable of enduring a lot of hardships in order to make people you loved happy, but you had your limits as well.

And that thing you couldn’t talk about. It was the main reason for you to act this way. But you were unable to do anything about it.

“Are you really going to leave me alone?” Namjoon finally asked, his voice shaky and tense and the same time.

“Alone? What are you talking about?” you turned around do face him “You have your precious job, your friends in the band and in the studio, your colleagues at the company! And I have no one, including you! We have been together for 3 years now and you still cannot see that sometimes I get lonely just like you, as you say, do? You only bitch about your work when we, let me remind you, rarely have time to do something together. I know you are tired, for fuck’s sake. That’s why I am waiting for you every night to comfort you, but guess what? You are never here! Recently you even forgot about our third anniversary, our date, even my birthday, which was 3 days ago by the way. Thanks for the wishes.” you whispered the last word with pain, although you meant to be rude and sarcastic while verbalising them.

You tried to show him how frustrated you were, but no matter how hard you attempted to, your face was always almost motionless. You were fighting with an internal urge to cry so much that you didn’t notice your clenched fists and nails, which were digging in your skin painfully.

“I thought you knew what were you signing up for when you agreed to date me.”

“I thought so to.” you squatted down to close your suitcase “As you can see, I was wrong, so lets say that I am the bad one, okay? You can hate me if you want.”

“Don’t say that.” he begged, falling on his knees next to you to properly face you.

“Why?”

“Because it sounds like you already hate me. I don’t want you to.” he unzipped your suitcase “Let’s unpack your thing and have a proper talk, okay?”

“A proper talk? Do you hear yourself? It’s far to late for that.”

“Jesus, [Y/N]. Please, stop acting like a spoiled brat.” he tried to hug you, but you pushed him away instantly.

“Namjoon, stop it!” you suddenly cried out and hid your face in you hands.

He was frozen and taken aback. Blank expression on his face showed that his emotions were mixed up and he couldn’t manage to fully understand the whole situation.

“Okay.” he mumbled it more like he was talking to himself “Do what you want. Since we are over, anything related to you is not my businesses anymore.” he stood up and left the room without looking at you.

You sniffed several times and took a lot of deep breaths. You finished packing and put on a hoodie with Chicago Bulls logo, which was bought and given to you by Namjoon.

The truth was you never wanted to leave him, to hurt him like that. You looked at your feet and felt hot tears streaming down your face like your own, personal downpour. When they reached your mouth, you could feel a taste of salt.

When you left the apartment, you also tasted a bit of sadness. And lots, lots and once more – lots of regret.

“My, my.” apartment building’s security guard looked at Namjoon, kinda shocked “Look who came back. How long has it been since the last time I saw you, sir?”

“4 months maybe? I don’t really know.” Joon answered shortly, leaning his elbows on the lobby counter.

He got 3 free days before the start of the tour, so he decided to spend them on sleeping anywhere in his apartment, and at that time he was really going to spend these three days alone. Before the split up he was always assured, that you were here, waiting for him to come back, take a hot bath with him and cuddle all night long. Now he wasn’t even sure if he had any instant ramen in his apartment. He wasn’t happy about that, but he could do nothing, especially when he couldn’t reach you on the phone no matter how hard he tried and didn’t even know where you had moved to.

Restraining himself from yawning was getting more and more tough, so he covered his mouth for a few seconds. He did not look good and he was well aware of that. His complexion got paler, so dark circles under his eyes could be easily seen without any make up he usually got put on on the shows. His hair was messy and dry. It was like his looks were trying to acclimate to his thoughts.

“Can you give me my key card?” Namjoon asked the guard with a faked smile.

“Why should I? You girlfriend has already taken it. You should go and greet her.”

“What are you-” he blinked his eyes a lot of times in shock “When did she-”

“Two days ago?” the guard rolled his eyes “What are you still doing here? Go! She must have missed you so much and yet you are still here like a fool.” he snorted and pointed his hand at the elevator.

Namjoon was taken aback. He walked to the elevator silently, feeling the urge to run, but yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Disbelief occupied his body and made him almost unable to move, even an inch, but, somehow, he was still moving forward. When he made it to the elevator and picked the right button with the floor number, he started to get impatient and a little scared.

He knew that the guard had seen you a lot of times, so he couldn’t be wrong. But, on the other hand, why would you come back? Namjoon believed that you hated him from the bottom of your heart and wanted to erase him from your life at all costs. What’s with the sudden change? He didn’t know.

He stepped out of the elevator on the last floor and felt a lump in his throat. It was really hard for him, yet he told himself to be brave. Maybe the guard was wrong?

You shouldn’t get you hopes up, Namjoon. - he thought and pressed on the door-handle. It was open.

“Seokjin? Why are you calling me using private number?” you asked, your eyes shut.

A strong headache had been bothering for 2 hours by the time he called, so your voice was weak and plain.

“Are you okay?” he asked with concern.

“No, I am not. What do you want? If it’s nothing important, I’m hanging up-”

“Who is this bitch on the other side and what did she do with [Y/N]? - he snapped with anger in his voice.”

“Seriously Jin, are you going to just insult me? That’s why you are calling? I agreed with Namjoon that I am the one at fault, so please, leave me alone.”

“No.” he answered right away “We are coming back to Seul in one week. You better be in your mutual apartment waiting for him.”

“Why should I?”

“You know what? I don’t know why. I’m still at phase of wondering why would you even leave him in the first place. You love him like crazy, so does he. What’s wrong with you two?”

“I am hanging up-”

“He hasn’t slept for 3 days. He barely has some strength left to even stand on the stage. Yet he does his best. He waits for your call every day, he waits for a message. You have always encouraged him with those cute text messages and now he doesn’t get any. That upsets him, you know?”

You heart sank and started to ache. You sat up, ignoring the pulsating pain in your head. You wanted to cry and tell Jin everything, but on the other hand you knew that you couldn’t, not then. What was the right thing to do? You were a total and complete mess.

You decided to swallow the urge to reveal everything.

“We broke up, Jin. He shouldn’t expect me to still send them.”

“You stopped loving him? Be honest [Y/N], for fuck’s sake. You know that I don’t accept any lies.”

Silence appeared. No one was saying a single word. Short breaths could be heard on the other side and you knew, that Seokjin was waiting for you to answer.

The wall you had been building for a while collapsed in seconds. You started to cry and lay down on the couch again, trying not to become hysterical.

“I’m sick. I’m messed up, I’m destined to die. I’m terminally ill, Seokjin.”

You woke up, feeling someone’s hand on your forehead.

“Oh my, [Y/N]. You are burning up.” Namjoon ran to the bathroom and brought you a towel soaked with cold water.

You sat up, but he ordered you to lie down again. He pressed the towel on you forehead gently and held your hand.

“Why are you sleeping here?”

“You mean on the couch or in your apartment?”

“I don’t mind you being here in general, it’s our apartment, it will always be ours, not only mine. But I mind you sleeping on the couch. It’s uncomfortable and you might catch a cold. I think you already had, and it’s a pretty harsh one. You fever is awful. We should go to the hospital babygirl.”

“Why are you still like this?” you asked him numbly “Pretending to love me and care about me after I hurt your feelings.”

“Because I love you enduringly and unconditionally.”

“That’s foolish.” you snorted and removed the towel from your forehead “It won’t help, stop.”

Namjoon was really concerned with your state, so he looked at you with anger in his eyes.

“You won’t even let me love you now? If you don’t want to see me this much, why bother coming here and making me feel like I’m important again?”

Somehow, you felt strange. Pain in your head was slowly getting worse, but that was not the point. The truth was, you wanted to hug him and never let go, you wanted to reassure him that he was the most important thing in the world for you. That, even though he couldn’t be with you all the time, he was always in your heart and that wasn’t the reason of you leaving him.

“Namjoon, let me-”

“And I even thought about leaving my company for you! Yes, I am foolish! I am!” he shouted, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes “And I’ll be cruel, just as you were! I don’t care why you came back, I don’t care what was the case! I want to get over you, so make sure you fever will have been cured by tomorrow morning and leave then, please. I am going to sleep.” he left you alone and locked himself up in the bedroom.

You tried to stop him, but you were afraid. You had your medicines in the bedroom, your clothes and personal thing as well. You made everything just as you had never left. And you felt that the worst pain was coming. So you locked yourself up in the bathroom, sitting on the floor an waiting for it to strike.

At the same time Namjoon found a thick, grey envelope you have left on the bed. At first he threw it on the ground without opening it and hid himself under a blanket, trying to fall asleep, but after 20 minutes he decided to pick it up and check it’s content.

The first thing that caught his eye were medical records. A lot of medical records.

Brain tumor. Cancer. Terminal. Chemo.

He read it over and over, laughing and trying not to cry. He found a short letter inside saying “I am sorry. Didn’t know how to say it, didn’t want to burden you. Hope you are not angry. Please, let’s make up. That’s selfish of me, but take me in again, okay? If I die, you can forget about me without feeling guilty about it. But please, forgive me for now. Please. I love you.”

After reading it he realised that the apartment was way too quiet. He stormed out of the room.

“[Y/N]! Where are you?”

You were in the bathroom, curled up on the floor with hands on your temples, crying in pain without a single sound.

“[Y/N], are you in the bathroom? Babygirl!” he tried to open the door, but it was closed “Babygirl, can you stand? Are you in pain?” he was crying like a child, trying to open the door “Can you hear me? Please, let me in. Please, [Y/N]!”

He pushed it with his body, trying to break it down.

“-am… - kay.” you managed to squeak in pain.

But he still kept on pushing. After a while it finally broke. He turned the light on, but when he heard you almost screaming in pain because of the sudden light, he turned it off wit guilty expression. He fell on his knees and pulled you closer to his body, hugging you gently. He brushed your hair with his fingers and kissed the top of your head. He cried with you, his body shaking just as much as yours. The air smelled like tears and fear.

“Shhh, I am here.” he said “You are not alone anymore, you have me.”

“Namjoon.” you held the fabric of his t-shirt, your muscles weak and sore “I love y-you.”

“Love you too.” he looked at you tiny, thin body and realised how much weight you had lost “It must hurt really bad, right? We will manage to endure it, okay? You and me. You will be healthy, I swear it to you blind.”

“I am so, so sorry Namjoon.” you felt a bit better, but still dizzy.

“No need to be.” he wiped off the tears from your face with his thumbs “Trust me, ‘kay?

His eyes were filled with love and care. You couldn’t stop staring at them, because when you did it felt like the pain wasn’t that bad. And you loved that feeling. It was like being reborn as a completely new person.

Maybe that’s what they really call love?

You decided to believe that and kissed Namjoon’s lips without hesitation. He held your cheeks and smiled, kissing your lips after that repeatedly. He loved you, that’s for sure. At least you wanted to selfishly believe that and never leave his side again. You wanted to believe that his love was really unconditional. Because you needed him.

And he needed you.

[suckitsurveys]

Why did you close the door the last time you closed one? I closed the door to get into the office because it’s supposed to be closed. Stripes or polka dots? Either are cute. Do you care if people touch you when they’re talking to you? Depending on the person, but usually yes I do care don’t touch me that’s weird. What is your gender? I’m a woman.  Do you think that people think its obvious? Assuming people’s genders is gross.

How long did your first date last? *shrugs* Is your favorite color within 10 feet of you? It’s on me, even. Highlight of your day? Having the window open with the smell and sounds of the storm that just happened. Would you rather be on a boat or a plane? A plane. Can you tell when girls (or guys) have eyeliner on? Uh, yes? Can you cook? I could be better. How high is your ceiling? I have no idea. Maybe 7ft? We are in the basement so they aren’t too tall. Whats the worst job you can think of? I don’t know. Do you swear a lot? Fuck yeah. Does the last person you texted have an O in their name? In his last name, yes. Is everything working in your house? Uh. Would you rather have a pool or a trampoline? A pool. Does pop give you energy? No, it makes me burp and feel gross. TV show you love with a passion? BOB’S BURGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you think you learned anything from the worst night of your life? Life goes on, as cliche as that sounds.

Perfect age to get married? Whenever you’re ready.

Is it safe to say you own over 20 pairs of shoes? I probably own just about 20. Name a career path that women are known for taking. Whatever the fuck they feel like. Favorite type of cookie? Sugar. A quality you look for in choosing a significant other? Humor. What would I find if I looked in your pocket? Nothing. Maybe lint? What was your first word? I have no idea, probably something basic like momma. A musical instrument you wouldn’t mind learning how to play? Guitar. Last time you went to 7-eleven? Oh man, it’s been a while. I should have gone yesterday, it was free slurpee day. A fast food restaurant that you hate with a passion? I wouldn’t call it “with a passion” but I don’t like Burger King. Does everyone in your family have a job? Sure. Going anywhere this weekend? Not like on a trip, no. Is your room ever clean? It usually is. What does it mean when youre being quiet? I’m not talking. Last person you had a face to face conversation with? Miles. Wheres your phone? Next to me. Do you know the difference between your and you’re? Yes I do. How late did you stay up last night? Til about 1. Anyone you’re ready to kill? Sometimes I feel that way. Do you need to get a tan? Nah. My sunburn is turning into one. What do you want? Healthy and happiness. Favorite TV show as a kid? Pokemon, Garfield and Friends, Tiny Toons.

Whats a show that you absolutely refuse to watch? The Big Bang Theory. How many times have you been in love? Twice-ish. Go camping or go to a party? Camping. Do you remember how old you were when you started swearing? When my sister would baby sit me, she used to let me have “swear time” when I was like 4 haha. How many years older than you would you date someone? I’m good where I’m at. Mark is 5 years older than me. What was the last thing you pinky swore on? I don’t remember. Would you consider yourself a nice person? Yes. Are there a lot of mirrors in your house? No. We need a full length one really bad. Has there ever been a serial killer in your house? I mean, it’s possible.

Do you know anyone who looks like Adam Sandler? No. True or false: Glee is annoying. True. Last thing you cooked? Oatmeal for my grandmother. Do you use slang often? Eh. Wear glasses? I do. .

About how old was the last person that hit on you? Maybe 30 something? What color are your headphones? White. Would you make a good teacher? Why? Fuck no. Don’t you hate those commercials that try too hard? Whatever. Is the fan on? The AC is. Any special reason why you’re taking this survey? I’m bored because there are like no emails coming in right now. What does the last text message you sent say? I sent Mark a recipe.

Your friend needs you to run to the store to get a pregnancy test. Do you? Of course. I don’t see why she wouldn’t be able to do it herself, but I would totally do it if she asked me. Do you log out on facebook when you leave the site? Sometimes. What color are your underwear? They are white. How short are your nails? They are pretty short right now. I need to take this polish off and put strengthener on them so they can grow enough to get a no-chip before my wedding. Do you like the opposite sex to be dominant or you the one in control? Sure. Favorite holiday? Halloween and Christmas. If I asked you to point to Ohio on a map of the US do you think you could? Yes. Youre locked in a room with spiders. Do you have an issue? I’d be more freaked out about being locked in a room tbh. Do you wear your most expensive item of clothing often? No. Do you eat a lot of food? I try not to.

Have your parents ever tried to control your relationship? Nah. Have you ever had to give someone directions before? Yes. Speaking of which, are you good at understanding driving directions? I’m terrible with directions in terms of North South, East, and West, but I know street names and things of that nature. How many people do you text daily? 2 or 3. Mark, Kayla, and Ellen. Do you play any instruments? Which instruments do you play? No. Is there anyone who you call by their last name? No. What did you do on your last birthday? My friend Sarah came down from Boston! Which of the Seven Deadly Sins do you commit the most? Gluttony. Has anyone ever told you that you’re incapable of whispering? No? What is your least favorite subject in school? English. Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? Nope. Do you know a couple who constantly sucks on each other’s face? Nah. When was the last time you watched a YouTube video? Today. Have you ever babysat a newborn baby before? Yup.

When was the last time you held someone’s hand? Yesterday. How many meals have you eaten today, so far? Two, with some snacks inbetween. I need to work on a snack/food schedule. Do you think it’s stupid for people to call others “hot?” Whatever. Do you personally think Wikipedia is a reliable source? Not 100%, no. Have you ever shopped at Wet Seal before? Did you like it? I’ve been inside one before but I don’t think I ever bought anything. Do you care about spending money if it’s someone else’s money? Yeah, What is your favorite Disney movie of all time? The Emperor’s New Groove and Moana. When you were a child, did you ever want to become a wizard/witch? No. Would you rather have hardwood floors or carpet? Either is fine. Who was the last person you yelled at? Why? My grandmother because she was being super bitchy. As a kid, did you ever go to camp? No. Have you ever made out in a movie theater before? Nope. Are you currently trying to learn to play any instrument? No. When was the last time you went somewhere you thought was haunted? I don’t know. Who was the last person to compliment you? I don’t know. How old were you when you got to go on your first date? I didn’t have any restrictions. Would you call your parents over-protective or under-protective? They were fine. Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? Yeah. Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? No. Do you still watch cartoons on television? Yes. What do you usually order at Taco Bell, if you go there? Just tacos and a baja blast! Is there anyone currently annoying you? Always. Have you ever felt like someone was following you? When I’m driving sometimes.

Do you like short or long surveys the best? In the middle. This one has been going on for forever. I’ve actually deleted some questions. Have you ever bought fake money and tried to make it pass for real? Why would I buy fake money? Why wouldn’t I just use the money I spent on the fake money?? Are your siblings nice the majority of the time? I have a love/hate relationship with my sister right now. Do you freak out when a thunderstorm comes along? I get a little uneasy, especially if I am alone. How often do you shower? Every other day. Have you ever had to sell something for a school fundraiser? Yes. How many sodas do you usually drink in one day? 0. Have you ever met someone who was completely weird all-around? My favorite kind of people. Do you ever watch any soap operas? Nah. Have you ever met someone who was mean to everyone? Yup. Do you think long surveys are boring or entertaining? They can get a little boring. Like this one oops. What color is your significant other’s hair? Dark brown. Have you ever applied for a job at Walmart before? No. Would you ever become a foster parent? To animals. Are you ashamed of anyone in your family? Yes. When you get married, will you convert your last name? Yes. Are your parents divorced, married or separated? My father is widowed. Has someone ever left a relationship with you for someone else? Yup. Every time I’ve been dumped was because of that hahaha. What’s the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced? Losing my mom. When was the last time you went shoe shopping? It’s been a while. When was the last time you cried? For what reason? Yesterday I read a story about a kitten who had FIP and had to be put down before he was even a year old. What is your favorite shop to go to at the mall? The food court. Have you ever been raped before? Jesus. Why has this been a question in so many surveys I’ve taken lately? Anyway, by definition, yes. Would you ever consider becoming a marine biologist? No. Did you carry a lunchbox as a child? No. On days when I did bring my lunch it was just in a brown paper bag. What is your favorite ‘sweet’ to eat? Brownies. Are you someone who usually eats when you’re bored? I was, but I have gotten so much better. Have you ever eaten your way through a breakup? Nope. Who was the last person you texted? Mark. Do you usually buy popcorn when you eat at the movie theater? Yes, of course. Did you sleep alone or with someone last night? Alone. Mark stayed at the apartment while I stayed at my dad’s. What kind of dressing do you eat on your salad, if any? Bleu cheese. Are you someone who constantly likes to wear hats? No. Have you ever seen a Lifetime movie that relates to your life? Hah. Is it your summer vacation right now? Well it’ summer. Do you like traveling? I do. What color are the walls of the room you’re in right now? White with a purple accent wall.

Do you go to church regularly? Nope. Who’s your best friend? Lydia, Sarah, Randal, Mark. Are you determined? Yes.

Are you always looking for/in a relationship, or do you like being single? I’ve been in the same relationship for the past 6 years. Ever had your heart broken? Yes. Even broken someone else’s heart? Yes. Are you confident? Usually but I have my moments. When’s the last time you smiled? A little bit ago. Are you tan? Burnt.

Any big plans for today/tonight? Getting my oil changed after work, going to the gym, maybe to the grocery store, picking up Mark and getting tacos for dinner since it’s going to be kind of a late night. What’s the background on your computer? A galaxy. Do you have days where you just want to listen to sad songs? Sure. Who’s the last person you kissed? Mark. Are you hoping they will also be the next person you kiss? He will be.

[datauthorress]

Ashes of Night [Chapter 4: A Night Out]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Summary: A young college student stumbles upon a man from the past, right in her very apartment. The man doesn't know why he's suddenly 119 years in the future, but maybe this is a second chance at a better life.

Warnings: Mention of past self-harm, canon character death (dream sequence), nonconsensual drug use and ill intentions.

Notes: I could barely write the dream sequence. I kept crying with every word I typed up. @the-darklings , this is for you. I sorry to give you angst.

June and July went by rather quickly, and August was soon upon them, causing Shelby to get ready for her sophomore year of college. She explained to Arthur that she would be gone from 9 AM to 4 PM, Monday through Wednesday and was going to school an hour away, so she would be leaving around 7:30 in the morning for school. And when she had homework, she would be sitting at her desk in the living room and would more than likely have headphones in, listening to music or watching videos for her classes.

Arthur understood, though he was still confused about the whole 'college' thing.

During the two months, Shelby was able to fake an ID and documents for Arthur, through a friend of hers who was an expert at hacking computers, that way he would be able to actually live in the 21st century comfortably. Hell, Shelby even taught him how to drive, as he said “jus' like ridin' a horse”.

Shelby was comfortable enough to leave Arthur at home by himself. On a Friday night, Shelby mentioned to Arthur if he wanted to go to South Bend with her, to have dinner and go out to a bar with some of her friends. He gladly agreed, having been coped up in the apartment for a while now. They rode up to South Bend, stopping at the mall quick so Shelby could pick up some more books to read. She often read at night after finishing a chapter or two, mostly when they were sitting on the couch, watching television. Shelby introduced Arthur to Netflix and Hulu, letting him watch the many shows she had on her playlist. A few times she had fallen asleep on the couch while reading, and Arthur had to carry her to her bed, noting that she was light.

After dinner, they had decided to head over to the bar, as it turned over to be 9 PM. Arthur glanced around at the neon lights, the crowd dancing and shouting. Some people were even sitting in chairs, kissing or grinding against each other, but Shelby paid them no mind. She guided Arthur to the bar, where two men were sitting, both of them sipping out of their own straw from the same drink.

Both men looked to be in their early 30's, and both had colored hair and wore outfits similar to the attire that Shelby wore.

“Hey guys.” she called over, and both men looked over at her.

“Shelby! My sweet darling!” the taller of the two exclaimed and immediately pulled the young woman into a hug, squeezing her tight. “Oh my god, girl, you're so skinny.” he said, releasing her after a few moments.

“I've been pretty busy lately. I start school up in a couple weeks.” Shelby replied. “Guys, this is my friend and roommate, Arthur.”

Arthur shook hands with both men and they began talking as Arthur ordered a beer. He found out that the men, Tripp and Dennis, were both gay and in a married relationship, having been married for two years now. Dennis, the shorter man, briefly asked Arthur a question about Shelby and it made Arthur a little unnerved.

“Has Shelby ever told you about the marks on her wrists?” Dennis asked.

Marks? Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, remembering the last time he had asked Shelby about the silvery marks on her wrists. She had told him that she was born with the marks, and that they were nothing and they didn't hurt.

“She said she was born with them.” the older man replied.

Dennis sighed quietly and shook his head. “That is a total fuckin' lie.”

“Dennis!” Tripp scolded, swatting his husband's arm. “That's not polite! Don't you dare talk about Shelby that way!”

“Arthur deserves to know the truth, babe.”

“And she'll tell him when she's ready. It took her three years for her to tell us the truth.”

Dennis sighed. “Alright, fine. I'm sorry....just...don't say anything to her, Arthur. She'll just avoid the subject entirely.”

Arthur gave a nod, and he glanced over to Shelby, who was dancing with a tall girl in black heels and a leather skirt. She wasn't really smiling, but she looked nervous, to which the girl said something to her, taking her hands in her own and smiling at her. Shelby only seemed to nod, but she still didn't smile. Maybe she wasn't enjoying herself?

When his thoughts cleared, Dennis and Tripp had vanished, leaving Arthur by himself at the bar. He looked around, and found himself in the presence of an absolutely beautiful woman, with long, blonde hair that was curled and deep sea green eyes. She was wearing a slim fitting dress that showed off her curves quite nicely and she had a twinkle in her eye that Arthur couldn't quite place. But he figured, he came here to have fun, might as well talk to some new people.

After about an hour of talking with the woman, and about four beers later, Arthur began to notice that he was warm, very warm, burning up actually. His head felt foggy, blurry and his thoughts were all over the place. He glanced around with groggy eyes, his vision blurring. He felt....confused, and odd. He felt tired. His entire body ached.

What was wrong with him? Had he drank too much? No, he wasn't drunk.....he never felt this way while drunk before. Something was very wrong.

“I gotta.....gotta go find my friend....” he slurred, getting up and immediately swaying a bit, hanging onto the bar.

“Aw, are you not having fun anymore?” the woman's voice echoed, and Arthur felt her manicured hand on his forearm. “I know a place where you can go rest.”

“Get....get off me, woman!” he shouted, or at least tried to, and yanked his arm away from her.

Arthur made his way through the shouting crowd, calling out for Shelby. He called as loud as he could, and within moments, he found himself sitting in a plush chair, his head leaned back against the back of it. He felt so tired...

“...thur?! Arthur?!”

Small hands were on his shoulders, shaking him. He opened his eyes, focusing his vision on the young woman in front of him. There was a worried expression on her beautiful face and he instantly recognized her.

“There ya are....been lookin' all over for ya...” Arthur slurred, trying to sit up, but only groaned and fell back again.

“Arthur, what happened?” Shelby asked, her fingers briefly touching his bearded jaw. “Jesus Christ, you're burning up....”

“I think I drank too much....” he mumbled, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again.

“Maybe, maybe not. We're going home, Arthur. You're gonna have to help me here, I can't carry you to the car.” Shelby said, moving to his side and slinging his arm over her shoulder.

It took a moment for Arthur to move, as it was hard to breathe for him. He coughed harshly, using the arm of the chair to push himself up. Shelby wrapped her other arm around his lower back and guided him out the door, where he had to stop to cough, hacking up whatever had been put into his system. He only felt this terrible when he was starting to suffer from Tuberculosis, except there was a lot more blood and a lot more coughing. Shelby spoke soothing words to him, telling him they were almost to the car and they would be home soon.

“Okay, okay, we're here.” Shelby said, opening the passenger side door and carefully helping him sit in the passenger side. He coughed, thankfully in the other direction and breathed hard, leaning back as Shelby moved the seat belt over him and clicked it into place.

“Hey!”

Shelby glanced over from the top of the door to see a blonde woman wearing a black dress come towards her, looking like someone had taken her cell phone. “Can I help you, miss? I have to get my friend home.”

“You're his friend? Oh....my...god!” the woman shrilled, surprising Shelby. “Look at you! You're an ugly little thing....how'd he get to be friends with such a little bitch like you?”

“You did something to him, didn't you?” Shelby asked.

“I didn't do-”

“You fucking ROOFIED him?!”

When Shelby shouted, people outside went silent and gazed in the direction of the two women, one of them practically shaking with anger.

“So what?” the woman scoffed. “He would've had a fun time with me. He needs a grown woman, not a little girl like you.”

Shelby crossed the distance before the woman even realized, and the woman was knocked backwards when Shelby's curled hand came barreling across her cheek. The woman blinked away the black spots in her vision, before lunging at the younger woman, knocking her to the ground. The blonde clawed at her face and neck, digging her sharp nails into Shelby's exposed skin. Shelby fought back, effectively punching the woman in the nose and feeling the bone crack underneath her knuckles. The woman screamed out in agony and fell backwards, holding her nose as blood gushed from it.

“Serves you right!” a man shouted at the sobbing woman.

Another patron was coming out to help Shelby, but she refused help, and said she needed to get Arthur home. She glared at Dennis and Tripp, both of them who stood on the sidelines, watching the event. She flipped them off, and got in her truck, driving off as fast as she could, while still following the road laws. She trembled the entire drive, knuckles and face bloody, most of it was the other woman's blood. She wiped blood away from her cheek, checking up on Arthur every minute. He was still awake, though not very coherent.

By the time they got home, it was nearing midnight. Shelby used whatever strength she had left to carry Arthur to his bedroom, and set him on his bed, before she went to go wash her hands. Blood ran down the drain and she looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the scratches and cuts on her face and neck, the blood that came from her split lip. She quickly cleaned up and dressed in comfortable pajamas, then went back to Arthur's room. She took his boots off, hearing him mumble every now and then.

After Shelby got him comfortable enough, Arthur reached out for her, his eyes barely open. “Come....come up here....”

“Arthur, I don't-” she began.

“Please....”

Shelby went quiet at his plea, before she gave a slight nod and climbed into the bed. She scooted closer to Arthur, who groaned softly and laid his arm over her. He mumbled something underneath his breath, something that Shelby couldn't make out before he finally went unconscious, his breathing slightly wheezy. She quietly moved under the covers, staying a good comfortable distance from him. She knew he wouldn't remember anything once he woke up, as the drug caused amnesia. Her face stung, her eyes stung with tears, but she couldn't bring herself to shed them. The past two months had allowed them to get closer to each other, becoming more than just....friends. But Arthur was still new, and there were still so many things he needed to learn about this future.

Shelby sighed quietly and settled in next to the older man, her hands curled up near her chest. Her eyes closed and it wasn't long before she dozed off, comforted by soft breathing.

~

“He's....he's a rat, Dutch.”

Shelby's eyes snapped open and she glanced up, startled when she heard Arthur's voice, though much weaker and his breathing was wheezy. It was dark out, and rain was coming down from the sky. She glanced over as male voices spoke to one another, and she covered her mouth in shock as she saw two men standing, and another lying on the ground, clearly weak and in severe pain.

Arthur.

Eventually, both of the men standing left, walking away as if nothing had happened, leaving Arthur on the cold, wet ground. Tears stung her eyes as she watched in mortification as the man rolled himself onto his stomach, crawling towards what looked like a cliff. She could see the colors of the sunrise, beginning to come over the horizon.

Why....?

Shelby rushed forward and knelt down towards Arthur, a hand moving down to touch his shoulder. The man was startled and he coughed as he looked up and over his shoulder, looking up at the young woman before him.

“Let me help you, please...” she whispered.

He only gave her a single nod and Shelby helped him to the edge of the cliff. She sat down with her legs crossed, allowing Arthur to rest his head in her lap. He wheezed and coughed, his breathing becoming more shallow. His blue eyes looked up to her, as a tear rolled down the side of his face. “A...are you....an...an angel?” he whispered.

Tears formed in her eyes and she couldn't help but let them flow freely, her thumb brushing away Arthur's tear. “I...I am. It's okay, Arthur. I know it hurts, just rest....you've fought so hard.....now it's time to rest.”

Shelby watched as the older man blinked slowly and he turned his head towards the sunrise, letting out a deep breath, before he exhaled....

And no more.

His eyes slowly closed, and he relaxed, going limp in her hold. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and she leaned down, pressing her forehead to his, trembling.

“I'm so sorry this happened to you, Arthur....you deserved better.” she whispered, closing her eyes.

The next time she opened them, she was staring at Arthur's sleeping form, as he had rolled onto his back sometime during the night. It was still dark out, which meant the sun hadn't started to come up yet. She sniffled and sat up, glancing over at Arthur's relaxed expression. She scooted closer, reaching up with a trembling hand, gently placing the hand over his heart, feeling it beat strongly underneath her palm.

He was so real, and yet....

He had died, right there.

She placed her free hand over her mouth, muffling her sobs as she used the other hand to clutch onto his shirt slightly.

I'm so sorry, Arthur. But please...

Don't leave me.

[walkingdeadjunk-blog]

We Are The Saviors Pt.5

OC x Negan & Simon.

Warning: Scene of suggested abuse, please be warned. Language, Suggestive Conversation, and Drunkenness.

Catch up: Simon and Amelia seem to be more comfortable with each other. Amelia however still tries to find her place in the Sanctuary.

Word Count: 2,726

Chapter 5: Gin or Scotch? ( Amelia’s Perspective )

"Now wait your turn miss, you're hot and all but I like um young." And just like that she's dragged into our tent. "No! You son of a bitch you don't fucking touch her!"

"MMiss I'm sorry bout him, it'll be over soon." I thrash around with my arms bound. I'm frantically trying to break free; then I hear her scream.

"Jesus!" I fling up splashing water on the ground. It takes me a second to remember where I am.  I can't believe I fell asleep. These nightmares won't fucking quit. This bath is so warm; I guess my body needed to relax.

"Hello? Are you okay in there?" I hear a woman's worried voice.

Oh shit! "Um yeah, a spider crawled on my arm that's all!" I shout from behind the curtain.

"Okay then..."

I let out a soft sigh at my awkwardness, and slowly sink into the water before getting out. Once I stand up I feel nauseous for a second. Must be the heat. I slowly wrap my towel around my body and open the thin plastic curtain to reveal a woman staring at herself in the mirror. She has beautiful dark skin and is about my same height and body type. How long did I sleep?

She looks at me through the mirror and she seems to automatically recognize me. Her eyes follow me all the way to the sinks; Okay not the best vibe...

She seems to force a smile whilst she extends her hand to introduce herself. "I'm Samantha! And you must be the new girl Amelia!" She says squeaky and full of energy. "Yup that's me, Amelia. Nice to meet you Sam." I say returning her hand shake.

You know, some people just give off immediate vibes whether good or bad. I can't quite put my finger on why, but I see this weird fake-ness behind her smile. Does she know something I don't?

"That must have been one scary spider for you to yell like that!" She has this creepy ass smile on, and I really don't want to be here anymore. I shrug my shoulders and awkwardly chuckle. "Yeah one of the hairier ones I guess."

"You should be careful around here, all sorts of critters bite." Her smile drops ever so lightly and her eyes become a shade darker. Just like that we're not in the Sanctuary bathrooms. We're in the forest surrounded by rotters in a Mexican standoff. With both fingers on my gun I stare into her smirking eyes. I want her dead, I want to protect myself. I don't respond well to threats.

I feel my mouth twitch as I fight my instincts to lunge at her. Before all this shit, I had never even shot a gun let alone had this animalistic anger. My brain has rewired itself to not take any chances anymore. This girl isn't Negan...I can take her.

Two girls walk in totally oblivious to the energy here. "Haha, did you see the way he looked at you! He was so embarrassed! Oh man you must be the new girl!" I turn to them in an almost robotic movement and then head straight for the door. Just as I make it to the door frame I hear Sam open her mouth one last time. "Nice to meet you! I'll be seeing you."

I get back to my room quickly. Just realizing I left my clothes in the bathroom, I gently lay down on my bed. There's no way in hell I'm going back to get them now. I look down to my hand and realize it's almost purple from me clenching it so hard. My stomach growls, but all I want to do is sleep off this anger.

~

I wake up from the harsh heat coming in the window from the sunshine. My stomach makes a sound I can only describe as a whales mating call. Fuck I need food. I only have my flannel; no underwear or shorts. "Oh!" Reaching under my bed I find my old jeans I came here with. With one sniff I throw them across the room in disgust. Well I've adjusted to the life style I guess.

Helpless, I sit on my bed half naked, not knowing what to do. Pulling up my flannel, I look at my yellow and purple bruises on my ribs. My trembling hand lightly traces over them, and I notice I'm not wincing as much as I normally do. "My tough little baby", is what my mum use to say when I got hurt. A stab of pain hits my chest and I realize I haven't thought of her in a long time. I slam my eyes shut to try and stop my eyes from watering, this doesn't work.

I hear footsteps approach my door and I barely make it under the covers before there is a knock.

"Come in." I say scanning my bed to make sure I'm completely covered.

"Oh sorry if I disturbed you Amelia, I was told to retrieve ya." I'm not getting food am I?

"Get me for what? And I'm sorry I don't know your name." I notice that he doesn't just blankly stare at me. I like you.

"Oh it's Dwight, and Negan wants you in his corridors." He says extending his arm for me to walk ahead of him. "Here's the thing Dwight, I have no bottoms on, do you guys happen to have a lost and found...?" Well this is embarrassing.

Dwight's back within 2 minutes with a fresh pair of jeans. As he walks into the room fully, I get a look at his face. It seems pretty normal; he has short blonde hair and the typical redneck presence. He keeps his eyes to the floor the whole time; he gently lays the pants on my lap. What a gentlemen.

He swiftly closes the door and I quickly change. I'm really surprised he knew my size; these pants hug all my curves just right. I'd be excited to show them off any other day but today the world has already ended and I'm going to meet a guy that doesn't know the meaning of subtlety.

As we wander the Sanctuary he's completely silent and I'm actually thankful.

I follow him all the way down a long hallway and come across a beautiful room filled with women in black lingerie on black couches. What the actual fuck. In the back of the room there's a bar and I see him standing there pouring two drinks.

Dwight looks a little unnerved once we enter the room. He clears his throat to get Negan's attention. Negan turns around almost cartoon like and smiles at us. "Well it's about fucking time Dwight!"

Dwight nods then heads out the door. I wonder what the story is there...

"Amelia." He purrs out my name and raises a glass to me.

I walk over to him trying not to look at all the eyes on me as I do. I take the glass and give it a sniff. "Scotch, nice." He then looks at me a bit stunned and starts laughing his ass off.

I interrupt his laughter with a slightly annoyed question. "So you wanted to see me?"

"Well fuck me! I'm just trying to enjoy a nice fucking damn near perfect glass of Scotch with the company of the Sanctuary's finest." His eyes slightly travel to one of the women sitting down. She has medium length brown hair and a worried look on her face. She refuses to make eye contact with me; she's just staring at the door.

"And who are they?" I refrain from making my voice sound bitchy but to be honest I feel like I'm in a strip club and it's just not my style. 

"Those pieces of ass belong to me. They're my wives." I bite my lip to hold in my laughter. What the fuck is wrong with this psycho path? His eyes drift down to my lips and I see his whole body shift to make himself look bigger. He looks like he wants to dig into my flesh just as much as rotters do.

Before the dead came to life I had this borderline sick obsession with knowing all the ins and outs of a person, it made me comfortable; no risk of being surprised. After the apocalypse I turned that talent into getting what I want. I try not to judge myself too hard because you could be killed by a rotter, or a person trying to get your bag of chips at any second. So it's hard to turn it off, I feel kind of evil, always plotting against someone for my benefit. I'm not too sure yet if I need to do that with Negan.

"Your wives...plural?" I question.

"Look I had that fucking hillbilly drag you here because I want you to see the fucking benefits of marrying me. These women have it fucking made. They literally sit around all day and paint their fucking toe nails." He flings his arm pointing at all of them.

"Well I'm not much for sitting around all day doing nothing." I shift my eyes to meet the brown haired girl whose eyes are lost in thought toward the floor.

He steps closer to me and grabs my chin with his gloved fingers. Instead of cowering I look him dead in the eyes. He seems to enjoy this because he then leans his face down towards my lips, still making eye contact. I can feel his warm breath on my lips and my body tenses. He brings his face over to my ear and whispers. "That's not all they do, it's a fucking team effort here."

You know all these fucking crazy people make me fucking thirsty. Eh, I need a drink.

I step back from his grasp and lean over the bar. I grab a bottle of Magellan; honestly because I like the color, and take the half full glass of scotch. I balance the bottle on my cast and direct my eyes to Negan. "Is it alright if I have this?" I say causally.

 He looks at me like I'm crazy, and shakes his head. "I'll let you have that bottle if you spend the day with me tomorrow." He lightly licks his lips. He does that a lot.

I stretch out my lips and slowly tilt my head from side to side. "Done." 

I start to turn around to leave and feel a hand on my shoulder. "I'll take you on the best fucking tour of your life." He looks so confident in himself. If he didn't have an underlining serial killer complex I might think he was sexy.

"Well Simon already gave me one." He shoots me a slightly pissed of look and I don't want to press my luck so I back pedal. "Alright if you want my company that bad come by my room tomorrow whenever, I'll probably be sleeping if you know what I mean." I hold up the Gin forcing the fakest smile possible, and head for the door. As I'm walking away I feel his eyes on me. I look over to the brown haired girl and this time she returns the glance. She gives me a disapproving stern look; great another women who hates me! Something tells me I'm going to get drunk off my ass every day to deal with these damn people.

As I finally find my way back to the main hallway and back to my room I see Dwight leaning against the wall fiddling with something in his hands. "Hey Dwight, do you know where Simon's room is?" 

He eyes the blue bottle in my hand, and then his eyes slowly drift back to mine. "Simon went on a trip this morning. Kind of a last minute thing."

I carry the disappointment on my face and he sees it. "He should be back just after dark tomorrow though." Dwight seems really nice, shy, but nice.

"Okay. Well thanks." This has really ruined my day. Why didn't he tell me he was leaving? Holy cow stop thinking that, Amelia! He doesn’t owe you anything.

As I turn to walk away Dwight speaks up. "Hey just wonderin, did you mean to choose the gin?"

"Of course. Why'd you ask?"

He smiles and looks down toward the ground. "Just wonderin."

I give him a nod and head to my room not needing an explanation. Are you really going to drink alone? "Where are you Simon?"

~~

"Jesus fucking Christ fuck!"

"Huh?" I shoot my head up off the pillow to immediately fall back down.

I can barely open my eyes and when I do, the bright light coming in through the window forces them back shut again. I'm barely able to confirm its Negan squatting next to my bed. "Girl, you fucking puked all over the floor! Haven't fucking drank in a while?" All I can muster is an irritated moan.

I suddenly feel water against my lips, my body takes over and I start chugging. I'm able to sit up a little bit to drink better. There's a steady stream of water falling down my chin to my lap. "Can you sit up all the way?" His hands guide my back straight up; I cling to his arm feeling like I'm going to fall. "Shh, it's alright." His voice soothes me as he rubs my back. 

My thinking is fuzzy. "I can't sit up right now. I need my bed." I slowly lay myself down and turn over to face the wall, and it all goes dark.

~~

"Baby girl you'll be alright. Boys will break your heart all the time. You'll grow up and you'll find one that makes you feel beautiful in every way." She says as she runs her fingers along the top of my head." No I won't mama. No one will be better than him!"

...

"You awake?"

I suddenly wake up from the middle of my dream to a familiar voice. I feel his hands stroking my hair and goosebumps rise on my body. "Simon?" I look to my window which is open, to see it's completely dark outside. Jesus you're pathetic. 

"It's okay you don't have to talk. You can rest." He continues to stroke my hair.

"No I'm okay." I start to rise and this time it doesn't take everything in me to. When I'm eye level with him I see his upper arm is heavily bandaged. Whilst he continues to comfort me I trace just below his wound with my cold fingers. "Are you okay? Your arm."

"Oh, this? Just another trick of the trade. I'm okay, not that deep. What about you?" I can tell there's a story behind this, but I don't want to pry. Although it kind of hurts he doesn't trust me enough. You've literally known each other for like a second.

"I had few drinks, apparently it's been a while.....I still feel horrible." I gently face palm myself, I could normally out drink a lot of guys. Guess that's what happens with you haven't drank in years and lost half your body weight. I just meant to drink to take the edge off, why do I feel like I got hit by a truck? I look up at him through my fingers, still pressed to my face. "You know this is your fault. You left me to drink alone, and to hang out with Negan."

He looks back at me stunned and then softly chuckles. He gently removes my hand from my face and lifts my chin. "How about we make a deal? You don't drink without me, and I'll always tell you when I'll be gone."

"Deal." I suddenly miss his touch too much. "You stopped playing with my hair." I turn my body a little to lay my head on his shoulder. This feels so nice. I really like Simon but I don't know if I would want anything more. It's just so nice to be close to someone again. I don't need to think about anything else right now.

Suddenly I can feel his voice vibrate on the top of my head. As if he was reading my thoughts he speaks softly. "I like being close to ya." My response is my hand traveling to rest onto his.