#just….it’s very clearly NOT his hair even from just the teaser shot

[garbagecrow12]

Still just remembering seeing a post when the teaser came out where someone said with absolute certainty that the chess royal was absolutely Jaune and they’d recognize that banana hair anywhere.

[space-blue]

You know what time it is: Arcane trailer dissection time!!

Just your old Arcane obsessed terminally online person reviewing the most interesting screens (biased) from the teaser that just dropped.

Mamma Medarda just looks DOPE as FUCK in this mask, nothing else to say. She seems to be speaking to Mel, which would indicate she survives, which I hope for. We're clearly dealing with a soft Noxus invasion given the prevalence of Ambessa's troops.

Very interesting to see these troops activating. You have to wonder if they're a failsafe to Silco dying, or if they are being activated by Silco loyalists.

Not doing our girl any favours with that one.

VERY interesting to see Singed getting arrested in a teaser, because that hints it'll happen early on. I figure then that Warwick's escape would probably happen early as well. We may be looking at Singed and Heimerdinger old pal reunions weee

Gotta wonder if he ACTUALLY gets captured though, because Warwick might be a great get out of arrest card.

SEVIKA!!! WITH!! jINX'S GUN!!! I first though for SURE she must have stolen it, or found it, but do you know what?? She has a custom made Jinx arm!!!!

It doesn't seem haphazard, even if it's ungainly. There's a non zero chance that these two are united by Silco's death, instead of split apart!

This strike is clearly showing Medarda's fist. Mommy will be VERY active in this early on.

The previous fist image with projectile launch happens right after those shots. I wonder if that contraption has anything to do with Medarda instead of Jinx or someone else, because poison (spilling from the mouth?) is also a very Noxian thing (thank you, Singed)

What's with Smeech getting SUCH a highlight? What a dope design. Also that shot is the same colours and location style as Sevika shooting with her Jinx augment, so I am wondering if Sevika won't be the one killing him.

Freedom fight Jinx style art? Wow. With blue haired minions behind her? Unexpected! I wonder what Ekko and his firelights think about this, and whether they'll take her in despite everything. This seems to be very Zaun vs. Piltover now.

Our only proof of Viktor in season 2. He's in the Zaun depth with caped figures, most likely shimmer addicts. I wonder if the explosion is him saving them and starting his machine cult, or him defending himself. Anyway, he survives, and I also wonder how many physical augments he needs to heal himself from the explosion, courtesy of the hex core?

Of course the only proof we need that Jayce is alive is that Cait has an Arcane sniper rifle. I don't see Viktor making her one after the explosion........

All in all, interesting stuff!!

[mangacat201]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Coming back with a new snippet of the Eddie vs. bondage fic, since I managed to transcribe most of what I've written so far and add some today in a truly unprecedented amount of daily words (for me) rn. This is a bit later than the Teaser Tidbit, but introduces my OFC whom I'm very excited to get to know better. Tagged is who interacted with my first post, which I've pinned now, so if you'd like to be added to and updated, interact with that one, I guess. OK, here goes nothing:

Upon closer inspection, it reads “The Sphere” in a gorgeous cursive neon-light script, but there is no bass hammering from inside the walls that would point towards a run of the mill dance club. His feet make the decision for him before his head catches up. The entrance opens into a short stairwell that goes down in near darkness and then leads into an open space bar that has Eddie stopping dead for the second time tonight if for vastly different reasons.

This… is definitely not his scene.

It’s all read and burnt orange indirect lighting, exposed bulbs and retro shades that give it the vibe of a prohibition speakeasy with a modern twist. The centrepiece is a gorgeous mahogany bar and the booths set back into the walls are decked out with velvet of such a dark shade of burgundy, it looks black in the shadows. There’s a reasonable number of patrons around, but it’s not terribly busy. In his ordinary jeans, t-shirt and khaki jacket combo Eddie feels… not underdressed precisely, but just slightly to the left of what seems to be the norm here. It’s almost enough to make him turn on his heel again, but the few eyes that glance his way sweep over him without judgement and a stubborn little voice in the back of his head tells him to <i>stop fucking running already, it’s embarrassing.</i>.

It’s a bar, they serve alcohol, presumably, which is what he’s looking for right now – that, and a little quiet. So he makes his body move, sits down on a barstool at the far side and orders a shot of top-shelf tequila just because he can and after having thrown it back, tells the bartender to make the next one a double, which he plans to stretch out into a good couple of hours of wallowing.

Eddie has been slowly sipping at his glass, shoulders a little hunched and vaguely people watching through the mirror behind the shelves of alcohol for maybe not quite an hour as the bar has filled up around him. Still, his fuck-off-vibes have been strong enough that nobody has approached him so far.

“That drink looks like it’s got a long story attached to it.”

The voice drifts in over his shoulder and Eddie feels himself involuntarily snap to attention – the impulse still not trained out of him by almost a decade of civilian life – as a body slides onto the barstool next to his. The woman isn’t touching him, not even leaning in. Still, her unbidden presence is somehow too close for comfort. Eddie debates ducking lower over his drink, pretending he hasn’t heard, but at the same time, the sudden attention creates an itch to be present somewhere that is not the inside his own head at the same time.

He turns his head just enough so he can take in his new companion – gorgeous, full auburn hair, (which has kind of become like a red rag to a bull for him, but hers is darker, shot through with flecks of brown, like fall leaves), laugh lines settled around her eyes and graved into her cheeks that put her maybe a decade and half ahead of him. Not the usual kind of LA beauty, but with a spark in her expression that draws you in. She looks at him curiously, clearly aware he’s just as likely to turn down her offer of conversation than take her up on it, but also telegraphing that she wouldn’t judge him either way.

Maybe it’s that kind patience, maybe it’s the need to tell <i>someone something</i> of what a shit show his life is right now underneath it all, but that he’s trying, god, he’s trying so damn hard to keep it together, and…

“Have you ever done the right thing, but it sucked so much going down that it feels like it’s coming back all the way around to being the wrong thing again?”

The woman leans onto the bar, half turned towards him, lifts her eyebrow and snorts:

“Oh boy. One of those ones, huh?”

Eddie sinks down over his glass, momentary impulse to share already depleting.

“I’m sorry, you’re definitely not interested in wading into my mess, trust me.”

“Oh, I beg to differ. I’m definitely interested. See, I love to delve into people’s stories. Pull on each thread until the knot slowly unravels and you get a sense of what the whole tapestry might look like. Or put it together into a completely new picture, who knows… And you”, she circles the finger of her free hand at him, “look like a particularly interesting knot.”

@911onabc, @monsterrae1, @rewritetheending, @giddyupbuck, @bahorell, @pirate-hunter, @spn20freak

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[purple-fig]

WIP Sunday! - tagged by @ebiemidnightlibrarian

Thank you so much for the tag! <3

Here's a little teaser from a One-shot or a 3 chapter short fic I am writing for Jeb:

You have spent most of 1971 as a front desk receptionist, accepting packages and giving directions to visitors. You would make drinks, point and smile. It was a boring job that paid just a smidge above the minimum wage and made you consider quitting every Monday morning. 

Then just a little over two months ago, you received the excitement you have been craving, initiated by a misplaced envelope. It was handed to you at 9 am along with a couple dozen letters and documents to be sorted. By 10 am you have managed to allocate everything to the right employee and floor, except for that one little envelope. It had no name on it, but the office number indicate that it was for someone on the 49th floor. You knew straight away it was meant for someone really important. Only higher-ups worked on floor twenty and above.   

When you looked up the office number in your directory, you found that it belonged to a Jeb Stuart Magruder. According to your well-organised newspaper clippings, he was the Deputy Director of Nixon’s re-election campaign; just the sort of person that could put in a good word for you with HR and get you that job on the 6th floor as a junior admin.  

Magruder also happened to look dashing in a tuxedo towering over John Mitchell in a photograph for the New York Times. With that thought in mind, you took it upon yourself to head upstairs and hand-deliver the letter and hopefully a good impression.   

When you got to the right floor, you found the front desk empty. Not what you expected this high up. You were even more surprised to find the little front hall that led to office 701 was also vacant. It was clearly set up for a secretary with a lovely Mahagony desk in front of a beautiful sash window, yet there was no assistant insight.  

Now you were a little unsure what to do. It was the right office for sure, the nameplate by the door confirmed it, but, what now? You wouldn’t dare to knock. No one ever knocked on these doors. That’s what the PA systems were for. Yet it felt wrong to just leave the envelope unattended on the table. What if it was something classified?! Could you slide it under his door? You may not get credit for the delivery that way but at least you won’t be responsible for a classified document getting lost.  

The plan was flawed, you realised as soon as you bent down at the knee to slide the letter under the door. There was no gap.   

You groaned internally and leaned your head against the door in frustration. It was time to go. You would come back later and leave it with the assistant when they were back at their desk.  

“Mary?”   

You nearly fell into the office and through a pair of long, very long legs in front of you when the door opened.  

There in front of you stood Jeb Magruder. All 6'4 of him. When you glanced up and found yourself almost eye level with his crotch, you felt heat rush to your face and jumped up. You would have bumped his chin with your head if he wasn’t so damn tall.   

The sudden movement most have startled him, as he took a step back.  

“Can I help you?” He rushed out the words a little high pitched.  

Whether it was from blood rushing to your head or the sight of his handsome, chiselled face and lush brown hair you couldn't know, but you were seeing spots.  

“I-I um, here to --”  

“Hey, are you alright?!” Mr Magruder caught your elbow when your knees wobbled. “Here, sit down.” He guided you to the Mahagony desk and helped you get seated.  

He even opened the window behind you to get some fresh air in the room.  

“Better?” He asked as he knelt in front of you. One of his hands resting on the armrest of your chair the other on the table. You felt confined, but it was anything but unpleasant.  

“Yes, I am fine. I am so sorry Mr Magruder.” You truly were embarrassed. So much for first impressions.  

“That’s quite alright, Miss?” He prompted.  

“Y/N.”  

“Well, Miss Y/N, what can I do for you?” He smiled and you could swear his eyes sparkled.  

“Oh no, Mr Magruder, I am here to do something for you.” He let out a breathless ‘oh?’. His blue eyes terribly wide. Almost startled. 

“I work on the third floor you see, by the front desk, and this got mixed in with our mail. I figured I would deliver it myself to make sure it made it alright, as it has no name on it. Wouldn’t want it to get misplaced again.” You explained as you handed him the envelope.  

“So how did you know it was for me?” He cocked his head and frowned in the most adorable way.   

“It had an office number, so I checked in the building directory.” You explained.   

“I see. You are very resourceful Miss Y/N.” He praised and you felt yourself blush again. “I was waiting for this to turn up.”  

“Was it something urgent then?” You asked, excited to know that you did the right thing by rushing here.  

“Very much so.” Magruder said as he raised to his full height and lent against the desk to reach for a letter opener. You watched his every move with grave interest.  

“Tickets to the planetarium.” He grinned and turned what looked to be only a single ticket towards you.  

Oh. That was all?  

He must have noticed your face fall as he quickly explained that they were for tomorrow and he would have missed out on the show if not for you.  

“I am very thankful for your efforts, truly.”   

You just began to say that it was no hassle at all when a tall lady walked in.   

“Mary, there you are! I am sorry, I had to borrow your chair. Miss Y/N had a little dizzy spell I am afraid.”  

The woman eyeing you quizzically from the corner must have been his assistant.  

Mr Magruder was staring patiently down at you but as you stared back at him you heard Mary’s feet tapping against the carpet and you knew it was time to go.  

“I am all better now, thank you Mr Magruder. I better get back to my desk now, my lunch is almost up.”  

Something akin to concern or perhaps disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly recovered and backed away from the table to give you some space.   

“It was lovely to meet you.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. Something about him even momentarily turning away from you made you want to cling on to the moment.  

“The pleasure is all mine.” He laughed good naturedly and held out his large left hand to help you up.   

“Are you sure you are all right? You look flushed.” He frowned.  

How could you not? With your small hand in his large one?  

“Yes! All good!” You laughed nervously. You had to get back downstairs before you overstayed your welcome and embarrassed yourself any further.  

“Very well then. Thank you again for the delivery Miss Y/N from the third floor.” He chuckled and you muttered a quick ‘welcome’ and ‘have a great day’ before you scurried out of the room as quickly as you could. Unfortunately, not before hearing Mr Magruder and Mary share a laugh.   

You felt so stupid. Nothing went according to plan. You were meant to appear, organised and composed. Instead, you could barely stand on your two feet, or put together a coherent sentence. You kept replaying the event for days and weeks. It would pop into your mind at the oddest hours. Especially his handsome face and firm hands. Grasping your hand and your elbow. Did he touch your back? You tried to remember one night. In the end, you ended up picturing him catching you in an embrace. There was no harm in a little fantasy you decided. It wasn’t like you were ever going to see him again. It was a large building and you have yet to see him in passing in the year that you have worked there. You would have remembered spotting that 6'4 stud in the lobby.   

So, you thought about his strong arm, long legs, and if you were honest with yourself, his crotch before sleep claimed you. You daydreamed about his shiny brown hair at your desk, envisioned running your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer by his tie and grabbing onto his shirt.  

“Miss Y/N?”  

Thought about his defined cupid’s bow and expressive eyes.  

“Miss Y/N?”  

“Oh, Mr Thompson, I am sorry! I was lost in thought.” You apologised when you noticed your floor manager standing in front of you. He looked unimpressed; his mouth set in a thin line.  

“Well, try to pay some attention. There’s a new job opening, and you were recommended. Go up to HR on twelve if you are interested at 2 pm to interview for it.”  

"Thank you, Mr Thompson, it's really nice of you to let me know.” You called after him as he was already on his way out of the office for his lunch. Nothing stood between Mr Thompson and his pastrami sandwich at 1 pm.  

You had to rush to find a copy of your internal resume in your drawer and fix your make-up and hair before rushing to your interview. It was that admin job you had your eye on, no doubt. Could it be that Mr Magruder put in a good word for you after all? You doubted it was Mr Thompson.  

As nervous and unprepared you were for your impromptu interview, you surprised yourself by coming up with several well phrased answers and managed to make yourself sound fairly confident and smart if you may say so yourself.  

It was a couple days later, on a Friday afternoon that you got a call from HR.  

“Miss Y/N?”  

“Speaking.” You crossed your fingers.  

“I am calling to congratulate you on your successful interview. Mr Magruder is looking forward to having you join him as his personal secretary.”  

What now?  

“Mr Magruder? W-what?” You asked in the least eloquent way possible.  

“Your new boss? You interviewed to be Mr Magruder’s secretary on Tuesday.”   

Oh god.  

“Yes! Of course. Mr Magruder, my new boss.” You chocked out. “I am looking forward to working for him too.” You added hoping to save face.  

The man on the phone let out an unimpressed huff but wished you the best of luck regardless. You were to start on Monday. Apparently, you were quite replaceable at your current job and Mr Magruder needed someone urgently, which explained why you got the job.  

From Monday morning you would be Jeb Magruder’s secretary.   

You hardly slept a wink that weekend.  

I am tagging: @agirlinherhead @plainlo-inthemorning @prettyboyhamish @babelincolns

Ps, please let me know if that is too long of an intro for a fic that will mainly be smut no, porn with plot no, porn with fluff lol

[spaceskam]

welcome to another "I wrote this at work ignore the typos" situation featuring content in the little teaser for s3

ao3

"Michael Guerin with a cup of tea. Interesting."

"Bettering myself with soothing beverages," Michael said, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at Alex. He still felt a little off kilter, but he had no intention of guilt tripping Alex. It was a work in progress. He was a work in progress.

"Is that a quote from self proclaimed life coach Isobel Evans?" Alex asked, cocking his head to the side and smiling. Michael felt dizzy with it. It'd been so long without that fucking smile.

"How'd you know?" Michael asked, trying to keep the conversation light and not let it drift to an antagonistic place. He was good at that. Unfortunately, he was less good at keeping that at bay. "Where's the boyfriend?" Work in progress.

"He couldn't stick around, had to get to a meeting. He just met me at the bus stop," Alex said. Michael nodded and only then let his eyes drift away from his face, giving him a quick once over and tried not to be greedy with it. He still had his bags. "Is this seat taken?"

"Yeah," Michael said, casual as possible because Alex deserved that, "Saving it for this guy I met a few years back. You might know him. Around my height, dark hair, nice biceps, used to be in the army, killer thighs–literally, I almost suffocated me once."

"Shut up," Alex laughed, sitting across from him, "And I wasn't in the army."

"Same evil."

"Fair enough," Alex said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, "Man, what's a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?"

Michael absolutely did not get his hopes up about this.

"Just sit there and look pretty," Michael said, pushing himself to his feet.

He'd been working a little harder and getting Sanders to make the place look a bit nicer in the front so new comers would show up, both resulting in everyone making more money. It was the most money Michael had ever had saved up before and he barely knew what to even do with it. He'd never wanted it before, never wanted to act like he was here to stay, but now it was there and now he could pay for Alex's drink.

He allowed himself to feel a little good about himself for that.

He order a medium vanilla latte, extra vanilla and an extra shot of expresso like he'd seen Alex order when they were a younger. Before he was a complete fuck up. Before when ordering anything but black coffee felt rebellious. And he paid for him for the first time. And he absolutely wasn't prideful bringing it back.

The look on Alex's face said he was also aware that this was the first time he could afford to buy him something so trivial, but he wasn't going to say anything because he was Alex. He took a sip as Michael sat across from him again and he smiled with a tiny bit of foam gracing his top lip. Michael felt his chest constricting with some twisted sort of pride and he refused to let himself be embarrassed by it.

"Thank you," Alex said.

"No problem."

Then they lapsed into silence, drinking their respective drinks and staring. Alex never turned his head away like he usually did; Michael never broke the silence like he usually did. None of it was awkward or uncomfortable or tense. It was just... having non-alcoholic drinks with someone he loved in whatever sense of the word he could.

It was nice. It was easy. It was something so completely different than Michael knew what to do with.

He craved more.

"So, do you need a ride to your house so you don't have to walk with all that?" Michael asked, definitely not mentioning that Forrest at the very least could've taken it. Granted, there's a chance he offered and Alex declined, which would be very much like Alex, but still. If he can kiss him, he can help with his bags.

"Depends. Are you willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere?"

"So that was a sold sign," Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah. It was a nice house, but it didn't really feel like home, you know? And after everything..."

"No, I get it," Michael said, nodding, "So where are you staying now?"

"Old Valenti hunting cabin. My cut of the inheritance and what I'm getting for selling my house is gonna be used on making it decent," Alex said.

"And amping up the security system," Michael added. Alex grinned and nodded.

"And amping up the security system."

"Well, it's my day off, so I can definitely take you," Michael said, not saying he took the day off specifically to meet Alex. That wasn't necessary information.

"You don't have to."

"What if I want to?" Michael asked. Alex looked at him, still smiling but he was clearly a little wary. "Just let me help out. I'm even going to try to not make you feel bad about the boyfriend."

"Oh, well, thank you so much for your efforts," Alex said sarcastically, but his tone was light and his smile was even more so, "But you really don't mind?"

"Alex, it's the least I can do," Michael said. It sounded weird in his voice, but it felt right. Alex seemed to agree if the look on his face said anything. Michael was more than a little proud of himself for not second guessing himself or assuming the worst.

Maybe he actually did do some growing.

"Okay then. Let's go."

Having Alex in his truck again didn't feel real. He was giddy in a way he hadn't felt in awhile and the fact that his bags were on the floor and not between them made that feeling skyrocket. Alex was comfortable with him. Or, at least, he seemed to be.

"Did you have fun?" Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

"Well, I mean, I was doing dirty work, so not really. Forrest met me a couple times but I never wanted him to stay too long, was way too dangerous," Alex said, turning in his seat to face him.

"When I came out there with Kyle, you let me stay awhile," Michael said. He wasn't bragging. Absolutely not. He was simply useful for the task at hand and Kyle had to get back to work. Them eating take out on a hotel room floor and staying up too late was just convenient, a secret little addition to the trip.

"Yeah, but I trust you not to get killed by accident," Alex said, "Forrest had a good childhood. He's not at all aware of his surroundings like you are."

"Good for him," Michael said, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Alex may or may not have noticed.

"Also," he said slowly, "I'm kinda getting spoiled with the telekinesis thing, I'm not gonna lie."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to be unnecessarily happy with that.

"Well if you ever need to make use of it, I'm your man," Michael said. Alex hummed in response–Michael couldn't tell if it was an acknowledgment or agreement.

It was around a 45 minute drive to the Valenti hunting cabin and the trip there was a bunch of small, winding, hand-made paths. You couldn't find it if you didn't know it was there. It was perfect for Alex.

Michael helped him get his bags inside and took in the fact that most of the stuff that had been in his house wasn't present. The furniture was broken in and there were a few boxes around, but not enough to hold everything from his house.

"I need a change," Alex said, going to the breaker box to turn the electricity on, "I thought that when I came back the first time that would be my big change, but I just did more of the same shit. So this is a real change."

"Sounds like it'd be good for you," Michael agreed.

"Yeah," Alex sighed, looking around. His eyes eventually landed on Michael again. "Do you have to go?"

"No, not unless you want me to," Michael said. Alex nodded.

"Move some boxes for me, telekinesis boy?" he asked. Michael grinned.

"Sure."

The spent what felt like two hours rearranging and unpacking and cleaning, Alex encouraging him to show off in a way that felt so ridiculously good. Everything about this was good. Spending time with him without expectation and tension and time limits.

He loved him more than his body had space for.

"Michael!" Alex said, immediately followed by a laugh, "You're going to break something!"

"I won't, have faith," Michael said, pulsing with the attention, "And if I do, I'll fix it."

He twisted his wrist, manuvering the fully put together bed frame through the door with his mind. It bumped into the door frame once or twice, but Alex just laughed and lightly scolded him.

Later, once they did what they could and got settled, Michael found himself on Alex's back porch with cans of coke in hand instead of beer.

"I love the view," Michael said.

"There's deer that'll get close if you're quiet," Alex said, "You'll have to sit with me to see them sometime."

"Yeah, whenever you'll have me," Michael said.

"Whenever you want," Alex responded. He sounded like he meant it.

Him meaning it didn't stop his phone from lighting up, didn't stop the way Alex's face closed off, didn't stop the way he sighed and locked it back. He took a long sip of his drink before he spoke.

"Forrest is on his way," Alex said. Michael shifted in his seat and nodded.

"So I should go."

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Alex asked instead of saying leave, instead of saying stay.

"Yep, bright and early."

"Okay," Alex said, "If I bring my truck up there in the morning, do I get privileges where I can sit with you in the back while you look over it and tell me what I need to fix after it sitting in my yard for nine months?"

Michael swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. He was leaving, he had to go because it wasn't his place to stay right now. But there was a promise of tomorrow. Of spending more time together just because.

The privilege of it, Alex said.

"Absolutely," Michael said, standing up, "I'll squeeze you in."

"Cool. I appreciate it," Alex said, looking up at him with a smile, "And I appreciate you helping me out today. Made all of that a lot easier."

"Not a problem," he said, "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Wait," Alex said quickly, getting himself to his feet and coming closer. Without much of a warning about what exactly was coming, Alex wrapped his arms around his neck. Michael hugged him back easily.

Alex squeezed him; Michael squeezed back.

"I'm so glad you're back," Michael whispered against him.

"I've gotta come home at some point, right?" Alex whispered back. Michael nodded.

They held on for longer than they should.

"Alright," Alex said after awhile, letting go with a reluctance Michael wasn't so unfamiliar with it ached, "I'll see you in the morning. I'll bring food."

Michael didn't like to get his hopes up.

He decided not to be scared this time.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

alight with the lights out | diego hargreeves x reader [tua]

A/N: Thank you for all of your interest after I posted the teaser! It was VERY surprising and humbling; I’ve NEVER had so many people ask for a tag before. I only ask that if you asked for a tag, you interact with this fic SOMEHOW. And go find another story you love and REBLOG IT! LET THAT WRITER KNOW YOU LOVE THEM!

I’ll be honest, I’m very nervous about this one. I’m not sure if it turned out as good on paper as it did in my head. Please let me know what you liked and what you didn’t!

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x vigilante, powered!Reader; this one may read a bit more like an OC because I’ve given the reader backstory, powers. She’s (you’re) a vigilante who regularly runs into Diego. I keep the physical description vague, so I hope you can still imagine yourself! 

Warnings: Language; who doesn’t love getting a little sweary? Violence, fighting, references to a shitty childhood, and separately, implied sexual assault (nothing graphic, I promise); angst and angsty dialogue; SMUT-- 18+ ONLY PLEASE; lots of cocktease dialogue, fingering, pierced nipples (the reader’s not Diego’s-- sorry), biting, rough sex, choking. Romance is its own warning. Fluff.

Word Count: 12.1k of sexy, self-righteous vigilantism, half-baked metaphor and of course, at least one literary reference. 

Summary: Diego Hargreeves, aka The Kraken, is secure about few things in life; one of those things being his vigilantism. He’s a hero. Until he meets a fighter who shares the same hobby, albeit with different methodologies. Diego isn’t quite as certain about her, but her mysterious abilities make him think he and his siblings aren’t the only ones in this world with power. If only she and Diego could just stay out of each others’ hair. It’s a good, old-fashioned ENEMIES TO LOVERS, lads!

Link to my playlist of songs that inspired this fic: here

NOT MY GIF

----

You wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. That was rule number one. Hell, if you could get away with it at all, you wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

But Mr. Adler hated children. And he had made it his mission to not understand you. To regard you with the utmost disdain. And unfortunately for you, Mr. Adler had married your mother when you were six years old. 

You had never known another father. Your mother refused to talk about the circumstances of your birth, or of the man who had supposedly been responsible. The lack of identity loomed like a large question mark over certain portions of your life. 

And Mr. Adler, that loud, controlling lout, was not about to fill that void. 

When you were in elementary school, you began to feel like you were different from the other children. Watching them carry about their days with their steel-pressed pop culture lunch boxes and not a care in the world. While you sensed your music teacher’s sadness when her cat had died. You could feel every anxiety that passed through your classmates on the day of a spelling test. You didn’t know why you could feel these things. You just could.

Prominently above them all, you could feel Mr. Adler’s hatred for you, like a thick, toxic wall every time you passed through your front door and into what was supposed to be your sanctuary. 

He shouted at you for inane things, like the pantry door being left open, or the fact that your mother was tired after cooking dinner, insisting you never did enough to help. As a child of eight, what did he expect you to do? You kept your room clean, cleared and set the table, helped your mom water the plants in her garden. What more could Adler want from you?

Still, Mr. Adler’s hate for you colored your every interaction with him, the world you saw him through tinged with an orange-red lens of rage. 

You had never tried expanding upon your grasp of others’ feelings until you had witnessed a boy in your class push your pigtailed classmate, Annabelle, down on the playground. Anna’s shock, fear and sadness had bitten into you from the other side of the sandbox like an unwelcome spider bite, sudden and itchy. 

It didn’t sit right with you. To you, how was this boy any different from Adler? Reigning terror over someone else just because he thought he could. You’d recognize that red-orange tinge in another person anywhere. 

You stood, marching over to the boy, gripping his wrist firmly in your stubby, grubby fingers. Quick as a flash, you were met with every emotion this boy had ever felt -- annoyance at Anna (she wouldn’t share her toys. How selfish, the boy had thought); anger (how dare you grab him!); and finally, prominently, fear. 

Fear looked different for everyone, you had noticed. For some, like this boy, it was an ugly green, so like jealousy. For others, like Adler when he’d been drinking, it was an inky black you could drown in. Fear was clearly the strongest. You knew that now.

You gripped the boy’s fear in your own mind, pushing it to the forefront until he began to cry, his eyes welling with the sudden fear he couldn’t understand. 

“You won’t do that again,” you said. Turning to Anna, you offered a hand to help her up, but she just shook her head, pigtails flying, and scampered away from you. 

Your teachers were clearly afraid of you after that. Could sense that something wasn’t right. Anna? You thought she’d be grateful ... but the chilly pale yellow of her fear, and everyone else’s, followed you wherever you went. 

Fine, you thought. If they wouldn’t be grateful for what you could do, you may as well help yourself. 

From then on, you exploited your teachers’ happiness -- pop quizzes became less frequent. Everytime they wanted to scold you for incomplete homework, they were left grasping at straws and with the daze of an emotion they couldn’t name. 

Adler hated you for it. 

“I knew there was something wrong with you,” he sneered over your mother’s weeping objections. “I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s something.” 

Once you reached 18, you left for the neighboring bustling metropolis and didn’t look back. The world was full of people like Adler, like the boy in the sandbox, like your teachers, who tried to use their own fear to feed their hate, to exploit others. To exercise false power over them. 

Well, you wouldn’t have it. If it meant a few of those assholes got hurt, well, so be it. 

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

"I hope you choke on it," you hissed, watching the smoky black tendrils slither their way around the man, constricting -- bringing him to his knees, hacking and gasping. "I see your fear, I feel it all. You deserve this, you know you do," you lectured, advancing toward the man, your hands raised. 

He was seconds away, you knew it-- and then one more scumbag would be off the streets for good ...

Things were going your way, you were in your favorite position in an altercation-- you know, the one where you had the upper hand? Everything was coming up you, until--

Your ears were met with a whizzing noise mere seconds before a sharp, shiny something nicked your cheek and lodged into the wooden beam just past you. 

Your gaze left the piteous man before you long enough to see what looked like a small, but dangerously sharp, knife embedded in the beam. You reached up and plucked it from its resting place, spinning it in your palm before catching the hilt in a clutching grip. You turned to see where it had come from, your eyes catching a dark blur flipping from the fire escape of the opposite building, before said blur landed at your feet.

Standing at his full height, the blur-- no, the Kraken himself-- towered above you.

You had to admit, the stories didn't do him justice. Standing before you in head-to-toe black and a harness replete with shimmering, twinkling edges and danger, you could've sworn he was your knight in shining leather. His cropped hair and facial scars gave him the air that he was every bit as sharp and deadly as the many blades that adorned his body. His oilslick eyes so like mirthless pits of danger, daring to suck you beneath their surface. He was, in a word, imposing.

Regarding you from behind his Venetian domino mask, he spoke, "Miss I'm gonna need you to drop the knife and let this man go."

You snorted.

"You're joking, right?" Not giving him a chance to respond, you chuckled as you swung at him with the hand still holding what you now knew to be his blade. 

You'd give credit where it was due, Diego Hargreeves, aka Number Two, aka the Kraken, was every bit as fast as they'd said. In this regard, the stories and Umbrella Academy-related media hadn't been wrong. 

Diego dodged your swing, bending his body back before twirling around to strike at your torso, like a snake, with his heavy, hammered fist.

The hit knocked the wind out of you, effectively breaking your concentration, and, devastatingly, your connection with the previously fear-choked man cowering in the alley behind you. As you recovered from Diego's hit and swung around to check your quarry, you could only watch as he shook himself from your fear-induced trance.

He scraped and scrabbled to get up off his knees as Diego shouted at him to "Go, just get out of here!"

You snarled and swung a well-aimed high kick at Diego's head, connecting with just enough of his jaw to drop him. As soon as your proverbial window opened, you turned from Diego to run after the man. But even grounded from a blow, Diego was formidable. He shot his arm out and snagged your ankle, yanking you to the ground. 

The gritty pavement scraped your palms as you attempted to catch yourself on your way down, growling as you glanced up to see that loathsome cockroach of a man slip out of the alley, huffing as his bloated legs carried himself far away from you. 

You tossed a glance over your shoulder to see Diego righting himself as he stood up, looking down at you before shrugging, offering you his hand.

"Not a chance," you scoffed, knocking his hand away. You rolled slightly back, arched up, and used your hands to help you spring as you lept to your feet in one smooth movement. You landed with a thud of your boots, your feet spread apart, and arms raised in a boxer's stance. 

Diego had the decency to look slightly surprised at your obviously-dangerous athleticism. He shook himself slightly as he regarded you. 

Besides, he thought, taking in your stature, it's not as though you were any match for him. No way.

"Why would you get in my way, Umbrella douche?" You bit out harshly, glaring daggers at the knife-wielding Kraken.

"Come on, hot stuff," Diego shrugged. "If you know who I am, you gotta know it's not like I can just let you mug that man with … well, whatever you were doing to him." What he had seen you do in the alley seemed to be catching up with him as he cocked his head and queried, "What exactly were you doing to him, by the way? I mean, other than hurting a civilian?"

"A civilian?" You spat. "You don't know what you're talking about, do-gooder. If you knew what he was, you wouldn't be defending him so staunchly." 

“And what was he?” Diego pressed. 

“That dickless fuckhead would-be-rapist isn’t worth the shit on your shoe,” you snarled. “And you let him get away. Nice job, hero,” you sing-songed the last word mockingly, taking advantage of Diego’s lowered guard to level a swinging hit to his nose. 

Your punch landed with a satisfying crack, Diego stumbling back, shaking his head. 

“What in the ever-loving FUCK is wrong with you, lady?” Diego shouted. 

“Take your hits like a big boy. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of ‘Big Deal?’ ” you asked, advancing toward Diego, fists raised. 

“Honey, my reputation precedes me for a reason,” Diego quipped back, blocking your next swing and making one of his own toward your gut. 

The two of you sparred in the alleyway, whirling and spinning in a very violent dance between two unwilling partners -- Diego, clearly pulling his punches, while you were obviously preoccupied with your rage at your escaped quarry. 

Diego flipped and spun and swung his fists with a speed that bordered on unnatural. His jabs and kicks annoyingly landed, as you were really only able to block just about every other hit. Fuck him for being so fast. 

So it was true, you thought, the superpower hype was real. Well, two could play that game. 

At Diego’s next hit, you caught his fist, allowing the contact to create the connection you needed, feeling for Diego and any underlying emotion that would be his undoing, before latching onto your favorite-- past the overstuffed confidence, you tasted simmering rage. Beyond that? A tiny prickle of … was that??…Ah, yes, the stinging, burns-so-good zip of lust... File that one away for later … and beneath it all lay Diego’s stammering, stuttering, suffocating fear. 

You dug your proverbial claws into it once you found it, bringing it to the surface, manifesting it into your signature smoky tendrils. 

Drag them down with their own fear. 

Diego’s eyes widened as he looked down to see his legs wrapped in what looked like snakes. Suddenly, his worst memories of fearful days under his father’s tyrannical reign were the only things in his brain. The shouting proclamation his own inadequacies in his father’s too-posh voice pounded within his skull. It was all he could think about -- Your presence before him seemed to dwindle, he couldn’t focus on you, try as he might-- when he was overcome with the feelings of every bad memory he had ever suffered through bearing down on him like the crushing weight of the ocean, pulling him under with the riptide of his own panic and inadequacies.

What the fuck was this shit? 

He pushed through his sudden indifference toward you to regard you, the woman stood before him. Diego’s fist clenched as he took in your own grip clutching around his wrist. Your eyes were closed as your face was screwed up in concentration. 

Repulsive. You were repulsive, he suddenly thought. How could he have cared so much about hurting you when his own terror and agitation sat heavy on his tongue, like ugly curdled cream?

But he hadn’t always felt this way-- not his usual modus operandi, was it? So what was this? Was this-- you?? Was this what you had done to that man?

Diego began to dredge himself through his own agitation, past his father’s lilting abuse… through the mire of never-quite-being-enough against Luther... dragging his proverbial feet through a bog of his own self-hatred. Just long enough to wrench his wrist from your grip, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning around, slamming you probably a little too hard into the wall behind him. Your eyes snapped open as your head made a minor thwack off the  alleyway-- you had just enough time to tilt your head to the left as Diego brought one of his knives down, driving it into the wall a sliver from the space your face had previously occupied. 

Diego bore his weight on his toes, leaning his imposing height into and over you, panting and snorting heavily through his nose. You looked at his eyes behind his mask-- hardened flints of pissed-off-superhero glared back at you.

“W-wh-What the F-f-UCK was that?” Diego spit, lip curling over his teeth in a gruesome snarl. 

A fleeting flicker of shame passed through you. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve that, had he? Before you shook yourself out of it-- No! He let that rat-faced motherfucker get away! 

You fixed your face into an impassive mask of your own before you chirped, annoyingly, “What was what?” 

Diego chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head.  “Nuh-uh. How did you do that?” Diego pressed, leaning even closer to you, if that were possible.

“Do what?” you chimed innocently, tilting your chin up, eyes meeting Diego’s from beneath your lashes. Maintaining your feigned ignorance.

“Don’t do that,” Diego snarled. “Don’t play dumb. I think we both know at this point-- you’re alot of things, and dumb isn’t one of them.” 

“You’d know all about playing dumb, wouldn’t you, pretty boy? Or for you, is it not really playing?” You reached up and ran a finger along his sharp jaw before tweaking his chin and dropping your hand back to your side. You sighed at Diego’s stone face. Honestly, it was so boring when they didn’t bite back.

“I don’t know what to tell you, cutie pie. I can’t help it. People are just drawn to me,” you quirked an eyebrow. “Or repulsed by me. I really haven’t decided.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, ever the pretty picture. 

Diego leaned further into you, pressing your back further and further into the wall. All the while, his leather-gloved grip creaked around the handle of the knife he’d plunged into the wall next to your head as he gripped it tighter. 

“Huh,” he mused, scoffing at you lightly. “Ya know something, doll? I just don’t fuckin’ buy it.” 

“Babe, if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask,” you smirked as the stone face slid from his features and gave way to "surprised face."

“Honestly, honey,” you slinked up Diego’s body, propping yourself onto your toes and brushing his lips ever-so-lightly with your own as you spoke into his mouth, “Did you really think you and your reject siblings were the only ones in this whole wide world with a little … taste … of power?” you purred. 

Ah, you thought, and there it was. 

The warming, zinging hum that your ability recognized as Diego’s lust crept through your fingertips that were currently resting on his chin. You were sure if you took the time to analyze exactly who was feeling what, that this feeling of craving wouldn’t be as one-sided as you’d otherwise have hoped. Diego was, you had to admit, very pretty -- for a man. 

The swirling galaxies in his midnight eyes regarded you with confusionangerwant.  Had you really just -- kinda kissed him?

You took advantage of Diego’s surprised state to knock his grip from your shoulder and shove -- hard. Diego toppled back, and you took off as fast as your enhanced body would carry you, cutting down the alley and away from your fascinatingly frustrating new rival. 

Diego took in your retreating form from his final resting place in the disgusting alley’s concrete. Slamming his fist into the rough-gravel ground, groaning out his frustration and anger.

You were gone. 

What were you? 

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

Diego shuffled into Hargreeves Manor, determined to see who else was around. Surely they, or Pogo, would know if there were others like them out there. Had he been the only one to run into one? Was it all a hoax?

As he wandered into the cavernous, but simultaneously stuffy, living room, sure enough-- there was Klaus, sprawled across the couch, arm slung over his face in a restless nap. 

“Klaus!” Diego barked, startling the spindly man from his perch on the couch and onto the floor. 

Klaus looked balefully up at his brother from his spot on the carpet. “Jeeeesus, Diego, really? What do you want that made that necessary,” Klaus grumbled.

“Have you seen Pogo?” 

“I haven’t seen anything but the back of my eyelids for the last several hours, thank you very much,” Klaus replied, “Although, I did have a very good dream about running into an old friend of mine in the grocery store. He was always so convinced he was straight. But I think the rest of my dream calls bullshit.” Klaus chuckled to himself. 

“Yeah, whatever, man. I need to talk to Pogo,” Diego stressed, turning to leave the living room.

“Well, wait, wait, wait. What is so important?” Klaus queried, clambering up and lumbering across the room to catch Diego’s arm.

Diego sighed, facing his brother. 

“Do you think … Do you think we’re the only ones like us?” He asked.

“Well, there’s no one like you, brother,” Klaus chuckled, taking on a rumbling, Diego-esque mocking tone, “I’m Number Two!” He cackled to himself for a moment before coming back to himself with a sigh. “And honestly, we all know I’m an original. So I’m not sure I take your meaning.” 

“I mean… it couldn’t just be the seven of us, right? There’s a lot of other people in the world… it just makes sense others could do things like what we can?” Diego pressed.

Klaus started. He had never seen this look in his brother’s eye before. The unhinged mania of a fight? Sure. Crushing doubt? Obviously. But not this … fierce certainty buried beneath a question. This was new for Diego. He must be serious. 

Klaus blinked, regarding his brother, before slowly nodding. “I mean… sure… theoretically, there could be others. But I don’t know any. Why? Did you find someone?” 

Diego drew in a breath, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal to Klaus. After all, you were his nemesis. His pain in the ass. His whatever you were. 

Diego crossed the room again, back to the couch Klaus had previously occupied, before sitting down in a creak of leather and clink of blades still strapped to his harness. Propping his elbows on his thighs, he placed his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know. I think so? I found her while I was out patrolling, and I … I don’t really know how to describe what I saw.” 

Klaus placed himself next to his erstwhile sibling, tucking his feet beneath himself as he sat, reaching up to pat Diego on the shoulder.

“There, there, big guy. Just… tell me what happened,” Klaus crooned.

Diego launched into the story of finding you in the alley, choking the man with your smoke without even laying a hand on him. He described to Klaus how the two of you had fought, and how you had called the man a “would-be-rapist” before knocking Diego to the ground and making your getaway. 

“Well, she sounds hot.” 

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned. 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, sweet Dee?” Klaus chimed at the end of Diego’s story. At his brother’s nonplussed look, Klaus continued. “She’s just like you! She likes to put on her Batman underoos and fight crime,” he chuckled. “Even if she is like… us… she clearly can do something different. But I think the most telling thing is how obviously into her you are.” 

Diego sputtered, “Wh-what?? I am not into that … psycho. Whatever she can do, that’s all I want to figure out.” 

“The lady doth protest too much,” Klaus sing-songed. “Whatever you say, brother. But I think the only way you’ll really figure it out is if you run into her again. I mean, we know dad had his secrets. If he knew about other powered children, don’t you think the Umbrella Academy would’ve been a lot bigger? The world is a big place. I’m sure there’s more out there, but, um… we just didn’t know about it until now?” 

Diego sighed deeply. “Oh, joy,” he muttered. Ignoring the tinge of excitement that passed through him at Klaus’s suggestion he seek you out. 

Klaus clapped his hands joyously, cuffing Diego’s shoulder, shaking him. 

“A nemesis, Diego! How sexy! How exciting!” 

---

Your encounter with one of the Umbrella Academy had left you slightly shaken, to say the least. You were so careful when you went out. No one missed those assholes you took care of. Honestly, you were doing the city a favor. 

Patrolling on any given night would yield one or two men who were plotting something less than savory. And all it took was a brush of skin to determine their true intentions. 

You sighed angrily, ripping off your bodysuit and stomping across your apartment to your shower, yanking back the curtain and twisting the knob forcefully. 

Hot water began to pour from the showerhead, steam filling your bathroom. You regarded your reflection in your bathroom mirror, a distinctly palmlike-bruise adorned your shoulder from where Diego had clutched it, not to mention the scrapes that lined your body from your repeated meetings with the concrete during your sparring. 

You met your own eyes in your reflection, regarding yourself as balefulness gave way to venom. 

Honestly, that toadlike little nobody had deserved what you were about to do to him. You had watched him from the back of the bar as he had annoyingly pressed his presence onto a poor girl who was just trying to enjoy her drink. Her drink that the toad had slipped something in when he thought she wasn’t looking. He even went so far as to grab her wrist with his stubby little hands. That was the final straw. 

You steeled yourself, letting the lustful, rowdy feeling of the other bar patrons that permeated the air like thick smoke take you over. Putting on your best, beguiling smile, you crossed the room and brushed your hand over the man’s bare arm, letting him feel the tingling want that you had absorbed. Simultaneously, you felt everything of his disgusting intent-- the hateful, possessive desire for the girl, the hurt he intended to inflict to trample his own inadequacies and sadness. 

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole. 

He looked up at you, disgusting gaze lingering on you, before forgetting all about his intended prey, pushing back from his barstool and venturing behind you out into the alley. 

The rest, as they say, is history. And an annoying vigilante type who had an ass that just wouldn’t quit once encased in black leather just had to rain on your proverbial pain parade. 

Diego Hargreeves… Of course you knew who he was. Everyone knew about the Umbrella kids. And you knew the man once-dubbed The Kraken was still doing his best Caped Crusader (sans cape) and kicking ass by night. Annoyingly self-righteous, really, you thought. Choosing ever-so-delicately to ignore the hypocrisy laden in your thought. Is that not, in effect, what you were doing? Albeit with a little more emotional manipulation and bloodshed. 

As you thought of Diego, your fingers traced the slim, sharp cut his knife had made in your cheek as it surged past you. 

You let the remnants of Diego’s rage that you had felt overtake you, amplified by your own, as you slammed your fist into the small mirror over your sink, letting the shards clatter to the ground around your feet.

Payback was a bitch, and so were you. You didn’t know if Diego Hargreeves was a praying man, but he had better hope to whatever deity would listen that he didn’t run into you again.

You wouldn’t be so kind twice, you told yourself, climbing into your shower and letting the blood and grit from your body swirl down the drain. 

---

As luck wouldn’t have it, your gods were decidedly not on your side. And clearly whatever deity you had mentally implored Diego to pray to was on vacation. 

Because you ran into that maddeningly beautiful dipshit, several times over the following weeks. He would do his best to bust up your party, stopping you from exacting your special brand of vengeance. You’d exchange a few quips and blows before running off before he could ask you the question you knew was burning in his mind. 

You managed to evade prolonged encounters with Diego until about another two weeks later. Too soon, honestly. 

Or not soon enough? God, your inner voice was desperate and annoying. 

You encountered Diego again while you were propped against the wall of a seedy dive on the other edge of town, assessing each person as they passed. While your power worked best if you could touch, some feelings were perfectly easy to pick up from a distance. 

So far, nothing. Just a few gross, horny bikers and depressive barflies. It was a maddeningly slow night. And you doubted you were needed here. 

Just as you were about to call it and head to another hotspot, a familiar prickle passed through you. You glanced up, across the street. 

Sure enough, on the neighboring rooftop, perched Diego Hargreeves in the flesh, surveying you like some kind of Great Value Nightwing. 

You sighed, pushing off the wall and crossing the street. Diego watched as you clambered up the fire escape to meet him on the rooftop. 

“Of course you would be here,” you chastised. “Are you fucking following me? I’ve been a good girl. Haven’t killed anyone in a week. I promise!” You held up your hands in mock surrender, coming to stand in front of Diego’s gloriously firm, leather-clad figure. 

“If you say so, Princess. Maybe I’m just here for a drink?” Diego cocked his head toward the shitty bar whose entrance you were haunting mere moments ago. 

“Doubtful, Underoos. I think…” you trailed off, circling Diego, tapping your finger to your chin in a pondering gesture. “I think you’re babysitting me. Making sure I don’t do your job for you and clean up the streets too well.” 

You ceased your vulture-like circling, coming to stand before Diego. His eyes bore into your own, once again partially obscured behind that stupid mask. As if you didn’t know what he looked like without it. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you when you saw Diego’s eyes flash a quick up-down of your body before resuming his stern visage. 

Oh good, you thought. You recognized the latent feelings buried beneath Diego’s anger. A new one brushed over you-- confusion… He still hadn’t figured you, or, more than likely, your power, out…

You weren’t left in suspense too long. 

“Tell me about what you can do,” Diego pressed, advancing toward you. You took a step back to maintain some distance… best if you can perpetuate some veil of advantage. 

“Ah, ah, ah, baby. It doesn’t work like that,” you chided. “You think I’m just going to spill all of my secrets because why? You’re cute? Try again. Ask nicely,” you smirked, pushing your lips into a tantalizing pout.

Diego rolled his eyes. You weren’t going to play fair? Fine, neither was he. Honestly, his fuse was too-fuckin-short for your shit. He wanted answers, even if he had to beat them out of you. Quick as a flash, he strode toward you, jumping into a flip and kicking you down to the ground upon his landing. 

You looked up at him, standing over your body as it lay on the gravelled rooftop, bringing your hand up to touch your jaw, where his boot had collided with your face not moments ago. 

You grinned widely, savagely, around bloodied teeth and split lips. "So that’s how we’re going to play? Do your worst, Big Deal. I like when it hurts."

With that, you swung your leg at Diego’s, causing him to topple beside you, where you promptly rolled over, coming to straddle his hips, bringing your hands to his wrists, the direct contact allowing you to bring his fear to the forefront. 

Just as you were about to choke him with the smoke of his own fear, Diego surged upright, his arms breaking free from the grip of your wrists, his own hands coming to close around your throat. He squeezed insistently, enough to break your concentration-- the smoke dissipating as soon as it had come. With that, he had managed to roll the two of you over, you flat on your back as one of his thighs came to rest between yours. 

You gasped, looking up at Diego with fiery shock looming in your eyes. 

“Wow,” you rasped, “I told you before-- if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask.” 

Diego removed one hand from your throat, bringing it to his own head and ripping off his flimsy excuse for a mask. He regarded you with nacreous, tarpit eyes that glowed and glittered with the streetlights, his breath coming in ragged, uneven puffs through his sinfully full lips. His cropped hair was glistening with sweat borne equally from the heat of the night and your encounter. 

“Baby, I think you owe me an explanation first,” He pressed, squeezing your throat lightly, free hand pulling a knife from his harness that he spun in his fingers while gazing down at you. 

You whined, rolling your hips against where his thigh rested between your legs. 

“This would be so much more fun if you’d just do things my way,” you pouted at Diego. 

“Maybe I would, if you would bother to tell me what your way is,” Diego retorted.

“I could tell you, or I could show you,” you purred, rolling your hips again. “I’m all about more fun.” 

Diego sighed. The familiar buzz of lust radiating from your skin-- or was it his own-- that always seemed to hang over your encounters was pressingly prevalent and it was all he could do to not just give in. He gritted his teeth, and shook his head. 

“No. Come on. I know what you’re doing… whatever it is. Just … tell me what it is you can do. Tell me why you’re hurting those people,” he implored.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, using your free hands to knock his grip from your throat and coming to a sitting position, as Diego remained crouched over you. 

“All you hero-types. You’re no fun. You want to know what I can do? That pleasant little hum you feel? That’s you. Well, it’s me. But it’s you. I don’t make anyone feel what they don’t already… but I can use it against them. That first night at the bar? That,” you shuddered, “That rat was going to force himself on some poor girl. I could feel his every feeling as he was preying on her. I had to stop it. It’s simple, honeybunch. I do what you do, but better. I’ll make them choke in it, their own fear, their self-hatred, their inadequacy, their lust, I’ll drown them in it, and they’ll thank me for it. Because I’m nothing if not merciful,” you gritted out. 

Diego’s mind reeled, jaw slack from your confession. He knew it! You were an empath, an enhanced emotional manipulator. Except you seemed to be able to manifest emotions into something tangible, something harmful. 

Suddenly, the weight of your confession seemed to crush Diego, you had exploited every feeling of his during your encounters to gain an upper hand. And he hadn’t truly known about it until now. 

You felt the surge of his rage, his disgust, his fear with you before he could say it-- 

“You c-can’t-- you can’t do that,” Diego said. “Kililng people who haven’t even done anything yet? It’s w-wrong. Y-you’re w-wro-wrong,” He stuttered out, clearly distressed, but advancing even further into your space.

“As opposed to you?” You bit out. “You wait until someone’s already hurting or hurt someone else to do something. How are you any better? Who are you to judge me,” you spit through gritted teeth. 

“You’re a killer,” Diego pressed, pushing back from you and coming to stand.

“Sticks and stones. So are you. But I don’t hate you for it,” you snarled, jumping into a standing position, squaring your shoulders before Diego’s imposing form. 

“You could always work with me,” Diego offered, “ We could take what you can do and just… re-tool it a bit.” 

You ground out a harsh laugh. 

“Unlikely, you absolutely patronizing dick. You don’t want anything to do with me other than to change me, control me. You’re just like them.” 

With that, you unleashed a slew and flurry of attacks on Diego, swinging your hips around to level a kick at his gut, knocking him to his knees, where your arm was ready to strike a heavy blow against his cheek, your rage fueling the unnatural strength behind the hit. 

Diego sprawled against the concrete of the rooftop, half conscious after blows you’d dealt him. 

You stood over Diego now, looking down at his prone form. 

“I would never want anyone who only means to stifle me. To take me apart until there’s nothing left. Never.” You spit a glob of bloodied saliva at Diego’s feet, leaving him in his semi-conscious, battered state-- the guilt only slightly prickling you. 

His fear-- choking on half-gasped words from behind the tremulous task of tripping over his own tongue-- followed you like a stuttering stormcloud. It stung. Knowing that he was afraid of you.

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight. 

All he had wanted to do was help, right? 

Years alone with your power, the sting of Adler’s rejection as a child, it all weighed down on you like the crushing magnitude of Atlas. You didn’t really want to hurt him. 

You sighed, resolute. You just needed to make sure.

With that, you headed out in the storm. Headed toward Diego. 

---

The rain pounded on the walls of the Fighting Lion, plunking heavily like half-hewn nails tossed onto the small window in Diego’s back bedroom. He could hear as it landed on the brick, the wet stone and stormy atmosphere making the air thick with the scent of sagebrush and rain. 

A kind of whoosh passed through the room, prompting him to turn from where he was folding his laundry on the bed to see you propped against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, looking every bit as if you belonged. 

“Wow, Big Deal. Nice digs,” you said as you sauntered in the room, staring at the case at the foot of the bed that was full of Diego’s knives. “Not what I’d expect coming from a dude who hails from the city’s biggest mansion. But still -- homey.” 

Diego ignored the jab about his upbringing in favor of the real question.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, seemingly --and to you, maddeningly-- disinterested in your presence as he continued stacking his paired socks into their rightful place in his bureau. 

“Uh, have you seen this place? It’s not exactly rigged with ‘Entrapment’ levels of security,” you snarked, folding your arms across your chest.

“Does that make you a cat burglar? Are you Catherine Zeta-Jones in this scenario?” Diego glanced at you from his socks, cocking a strong eyebrow. 

“If you want me to be, sweetie,” you shrugged. “But, uh -- and don’t take this the wrong way, Diego, but you don’t exactly have anything I’d want to steal.” 

“Then I’ll amend the question. What are you doing here?” Diego asked, finally turning to fully face you, taking in your form as you stood by his bed. The sight causing a pleasantly-unpleasant little something to prickle across his skin. 

No, no, it’s not like that, he chided himself. Besides. You were an absolutely monumental pain in his ass. And his head. And basically every other body part of his you came in contact with. Nope, nope... Don’t think about her body parts “coming into contact” with anything of yours, he scolded. 

“Aw, well now, Big Deal. Maybe I just missed you?” You mused. 

“Doubtful. Did you come back to kick my ass with your freaky little homicidal chokehold some more?” Diego snapped.

Ouch. Maybe you had gone too far in your last little encounter. After all, wasn't that why you were there? To check on your favorite knife-wielding antagonist? To make sure you hadn't actually hurt him?

But what came out instead was--

"Is there any other kind of chokehold?" You hummed, arching your brow. 

Before he could stop himself, Diego retorted, “Based on our last meeting, I think you know there is." 

Momentarily stunned into silence, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the memory of his hands on your throat, you dropped your arms from where they were crossed at your chest down to your sides, hands flexing nervously. You chuckled.

"Heh. As tempting as that offer is, pretty boy, I only came to make sure I didn't ring your bell too bad."

Diego leaned against his dresser, tilting his head back and looking down his perfect, strong nose at you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I must be going fuckin' deaf. Did you just say you slunk in here with your little kitten tail between your legs to say you were sorry?" Diego snorted, obviously pleased with himself as he saw the obvious fluster cross your face.

Okay, now he was pissing you off. You came here with good will and he sasses you? Two can play at that, as you two so often do...

"You must be fuckin' deaf, dipshit. I didn't say I was here to say I was sorry. I did say I wanted to make sure I didn't kick your sorry ass into oblivion. Which, you're obviously fine, so I'll just be going." You crossed Diego's room, breezing for the door.

Honestly, why did you think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Diego caught your arm as you passed him in your hurried attempt at an exit. You gave a half-hearted tug to pull your arm from Diego's grip, surprised to find how firm it was. You turned your head to meet Diego's gaze, throat closing around your sudden nerves. Diego's eyes were molten, boring into you with quizzical questions and low-burning heat. His grip on your arm afforded you an insight into the unique blend that was his confusion and simmering passion.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Come on," Diego drawled. "You clearly know what I'm feeling. But I have no idea what you're feeling. You have me at a disadvantage. I don't like it."

"Every time we meet, I have you at a disadvantage," you snarked. At the brief hurt that flashed across Diego's face, you sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I meant what I said when I told you I was coming to check on you … I just--" 

You looked down at your feet, the laces in your boots suddenly incredibly interesting to you. Diego's other hand gently gripped your chin, his thumb pressing into its apex, fingers curled beneath your jaw.

"D-don't do that-- keep going. Tell me what you're feeling for once," Diego implored, eyes meeting yours once more, lips ever-so-close to yours. “Please,” he added, softly.

Had your heart been thudding like this the whole time?? Was your jacket always this hot? All you could hear was the pounding sheet of rain, pressing itself into your brain, growing fuzzier. Diego's proximity to your person was decidedly distracting. Wholeheartedly overwhelming. 

Could he really not tell what you were thinking? You were certain at this point it must be written all over your face. Were you not being obvious?? Your burning ardor for him creeping through every inch of your person, drowning your intentions and better sensibilities in anything and everything Diego Hargreeves. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm feeling-- was feeling … guilty. The last time I saw you.. I h-hit you...  pretty hard. So, you win. I guess I am here to tell you I'm sorry." You brushed your fingers softly over the bruise that adorned his prominent, proud cheekbone. "I… I just wanted you to be okay. Because I think you were just trying to help. And that's stupid. It's stupid. I'm sorry," you hurriedly stammered. 

Diego relinquished his grip on your arm, allowing his hand to travel down your side until it met your waist. He cocked his head and studied your eyes with his own mercurial ones-- searching for any hint of mistruth in your confession, but seemingly finding none. 

After all, he too knew the honesty behind words that struggled to come out.

"You were… worried about me? You?"

"Let's not make a big thing of this, big boy. You're obviously fine. I shouldn't have come… An honest mistake. Won’t happen again," you started to turn your head, breaking his gaze. 

But Diego's grip on your chin firmed, forcing you to look at him again before surging forward and crushing his lips to yours. 

And, oh, this was bliss-- you were just sure of it. Your yearning manifested itself in the hand you had placed on Diego's cheek, cupping your hands to the sides of his face before dragging them back to thread through the closely-cropped hair at the nape of his neck, then passing your hands up through his longer hair toward the top of his head and tugging. You took advantage of the gasp Diego elicited at that sensation, sweeping your tongue into his mouth. 

Your shared lust bled through your connected skin, hands on faces and elsewhere…  washing over you both like warm static, a pleasant buzz akin to drinking just a little too much champagne. 

Diego’s hands tugged at the hem of your rain-dampened hoodie, tugging it over your head. Your newly-exposed skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden chill. You had run over here in the rain, after all. Diego’s darkened, honeyed gaze reverently took in your form. 

Never one to waste an opportunity, you took the break in action as your chance to respond in kind-- peeling his skin-tight black crewneck shirt from his own gloriously-sculpted body. 

The two of you stood, staring at each other’s exposed torsos, ragged breaths dragging through the air of passion so-stifling the room like incense you’ve left burning for too long. 

Diego stared at your chest, breasts heaving from behind the scrap of lace that constituted your bralette-- were those piercings that made your nipples poke so prominently through the lace? WIth this realization, Diego felt himself harden. He lunged for you with a growl, scooping you by the waist and dropping you with a bounce onto his bed. 

His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking insistently while his powerful hands rested at the edges of the delicate lace trim of your bra, passing almost reverently across your ribcage. 

You gasped as he brushed a thumb over your nipple, feeling yourself growing wet beneath your leggings. You hmm’d a whine as Diego’s mouth found that spot on your throat, his thumb still rolling circles over your nipple. 

“D-Diego,” you gasped, sucking in air like you’d never properly breathed before.

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Take it off,” you glanced down at the scrap of lace that adorned your chest. “Please,” you intoned, sweetly. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Diego said,” creeping his fingers beneath the lace to lift it off your skin. Suddenly, with that preternatural speed he’d come to recognize as a gift of those who were enhanced, like himself, you seized his wrist and squeezed. 

“It wasn’t meant to be nice,” you ground out. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

With that, you released his wrist, and Diego gripped the lace where it rested beneath your breasts with this two hands and tugged, ripping your bralette cleanly in two, exposing your tits to his roving gaze. 

“There you go, Big Deal,” you preened in satisfaction, taking your own hands from where they had previously been resting along his strong abdomen, trailing them down to the top of his jeans. You popped the button on his fly and began tugging his zipper down, before Diego caught your hand as quickly as you had just done to him. 

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured. 

With that, he brought his mouth down to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple, taking the hand still clutching your wrist and planting it above your head. He released your wrist, trailing his hand, down your side until it met the waistband of your leggings. He pressed his fingers beneath the waistband, raking his fingers under your panties, to where you wanted him most. 

As he dragged a finger through your wetness, you gasped out a keening sigh. Diego’s long fingers working magic against your center, rubbing up and down your slit before pressing one, long finger inside. He lifted his mouth from your breast, pressing it to yours to swallow your moan with a searing kiss.

After a few more moments, Diego slid his finger from your center, retracting his hand from your pants, his other hand coming to meet it, peeling your leggings and panties from you in one fluid motion. You lifted and wiggled your hips to assist him. As soon as the leggings were free from your legs, you wasted no time in wrapping your bare legs around Diego’s waist, locking your ankles behind him and pulling him to you, dragging your hands up his neck and into his hair, hissing in pained pleasure as you rolled your hips against Diego’s still denim-clad hardness. 

Diego groaned as he felt your hardened nipples press against his chest, the microscopic bite of cold from your piercings as they touched his warm skin made him sigh.

The room felt like it was bordering on a hundred degrees, the previously champagne-drunk feeling of your shared lust now replaced with a frantic urge to taste and mark every inch of the other as their own. 

As you continued to grind your hips into Diego, he kissed you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, running along your own tongue and teeth, tasting every bit of your want for him as he succumbed to the heated buzz of the room. 

Your power had its benefits, he reasoned, if it meant this would feel so… resplendent. 

The mutuality of your shared passion was enough to do you in. You couldn’t be imagining that Diego wanted you as much as you wanted him. If that wasn’t the case, you both wouldn’t be burning like this, writhing atop his bed with pent-up passion and aggression. 

Diego broke his hands from where they had previously been digging bruises into your hips, coming up onto his knees to start shucking his own jeans and underwear off. 

And oh, he thought, you were a vision. As he looked at you while he stripped himself, he was overcome. Your half-lidded gaze swimming with hazy, unfulfilled promises, swirling lazily like the drizzle of sinfully sweet syrup over something forbidden. Your lips were flushed, swollen and lightly bruised from the punishing pace of your shared kisses. Your wickedly luscious curves and the glimmering slick between your thighs on display for only him. In this moment, he felt he could die under whatever your power would dish out, if it meant he died feeling like this. 

Now bared to you in his entirety, Diego positioned himself once more between your legs, his impressive length sliding to where he had guided it along your opening. 

You tossed your head back, eyes closed at the glorious feeling of his skin finally meeting yours where you wanted it most… but, still, it wasn’t enough. 

“Di- eh - go,” you panted, your glimmering gaze meeting his lustrously darkened one. “P-please, I need it. I need you,” you cried piteously, clutching his shoulders and grinding your hips once more against him.

Diego chuckled, only to happy to oblige. With a guiding hand and a smooth flex-and-thrust of his hips, Diego entered you with a powerful, needed thrust. You cried out, sound going straight to his cock, twitching from its rightful place inside of you. 

“There, now, baby,” Diego crooned, bringing his mouth back to yours and humming into your open lips. “Doesn’t that feel ... So. Much. Better?” He punctuated each of his last few words with hard, firm thrusts of his hips. 

You nodded, eagerly fusing your mouths together, rolling your hips in kind to meet Diego’s sweet, but punishing thrusts. 

“After all that shit you pulled with me,” DIego ground out, “It’s nice to know-- this is what you really wanted. Fuck--” he broke off as you clenched around him just right. “This is what you needed.” 

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched. 

“Mmmm, I want y-you, as much as you want me,” you gasped out, Diego’s brutal thrusting brushing your clit with his pubic bone, bringing you ever closer, closer, closer to that teetering edge. You lifted yourself up to balance on one hand and meet Diego’s face where he was hovering above you, your sweat-slicked bodies pressing into one another with a delicious, filthy heat. You looked into his eyes, your jaw slack with the stupidly good feeling of everything he was doing to you. 

You turned your head to face his sculpted shoulder, and grazed your teeth there, biting into the apex of his arm. Diego hissed, obviously pleased with the feeling, bringing his hand to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat and tearing your teeth away from his shoulder, guiding your mouth back to his with the pads of his fingers lightly pressing into your airway.

You gasped, the combined feeling of his kiss, his pressing, insistent touch, and his cock inside you brushing repeatedly against that spot of your inner walls causing you to clench, crying out your sudden, gushing release. 

Diego guided your head back to his pillow, clenching his fist, the same battered-knuckled boxer’s fist that had previously clutched your throat, now clutched around his bedframe as he hammered his final thrusts, pounding into you until he met his release, groaning as he came down from his sudden, bursting high. 

He sighed into your neck, the lovingly sticky heat of your sweaty bodies pressed together as he eased himself from you, pulling you into his side.

You sighed in contentment. 

Was everything Diego Hargreeves did punctuated with such beautiful, forthright power?

---

You both lie in the after, bodies pressed firmly together. It would have been romantically intimate had the primary motivator not been the lack of space on Diego's too-small mattress squeezed along the wall in his room. 

Nevertheless, you lie there in complete contentment, basking in the afterglow and Diego's delightfully even, rhythmic breathing.

Said lothario had his head turned into your cheek, nose brushing against your hair. His arm around you, curling you to him and trailing his fingers up and down your side at a slow, steady pace.

Why couldn't it always be like this? 

After all, fire doused with water still burns brightly at one time, but loses its penchant for destruction, tampered in cool, calming depths and leaving behind cooling steam. So, too, had you and Diego drawn a peaceable, but joyfully sweaty truce. 

In that moment, you could see yourself loving him. You know he'd let you, if you gave him enough time and enough of yourself. The man had not had enough love given to him in his life-- he fought for it, tooth and nail. And had come up woefully empty, like clutching at soft sand that slips through your fingers. He'd had the love of his siblings, sure. But this was -- understandably-- different. You recognized a chasm in him that you often thought you'd never mend within yourself. 

But he was so deserving of love. Whereas you? Well, the jury was still out. 

When you think of Diego, you couldn't help but think of strength. Assuredness. Agility. His aura burned red in your deeper sentiments. Power. You do associate his memory with annoyance, sure, but also a biting wit that he so-oft concealed. And an endearing sentimentality. And an iron will suffused with stubbornness.  

You had gleaned some of this from your foray into exploring his emotions, sure. But you don't use your power at every turn. The rest of it was every impression Diego had devastatingly left you with. You had learned so much of him, you yearned to share a piece of yourself, similarly eager for acceptance. Which then prompted you to share--

“You know,” you piped up in the dark, “You remind me a bit of the main character of my favorite books series-- Ever hear of ‘The Dark Tower?’ You know, the legendary Gunslinger?” 

Diego scoffed at that.

“Guns are for pussies, real men throw knives,” he stated primly, but still unable to conceal the smile in his voice.

“That sounds a little rehearsed, Big Deal. But I’ll let it slide. Besides, you don’t know what you’re missing,” you acquiesced, turning your head to face him, your noses brushing.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not into all that bookworm stuff. Cuz, ya know, I’m not a fuckin’ virgin,” he chuckled. Obviously pleased with his middle school-grade burn. 

You met his eyes, yours widening in mock surprise. “Oh no?” you gasped. “Well, then why do you dress like one?”

Honestly, it had to be some kind of world record, how fast Diego’s face fell.

"I'm kidding, big boy. You know I dig the black leather," you crooned. Ever eager to smooth the waters of this moment, of his now furrowed brow, back to the placid lake it had been.

"You're goddamn right, you do," Diego chuffed, his grin now prominent in his voice.

You looked at him, your eyes travelling between his shining, ochre eyes and his full lips.

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. 

“I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind.

"I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart," you recited.

Diego regarded you for a moment before brushing his lips across yours, kissing you warmly.

"What was that?" He asked.

"'The Dark Tower,'" you replied. "What? I like to read. You really do remind me of him. Surly, but just. Lost, but ever-searching. Pinpoint accuracy. Deadly. But hasn't lost hope." 

Diego kissed you again, running his hand down your body beneath the covers to grip your bum and roll your body over his, urging you to tarry with him on another burning exploration of one another's bodies.

Yes, you think, sighing as Diego's teeth graze that spot on your neck, his warm palm on your breast. You could easily fall in love with him… if you let yourself. You were probably more than halfway in love with him already.

Oh, no.

---

You awoke to the early-morning sun peeking weakly behind the remnants of fat, overstuffed rainclouds from the night before, purpling the sky as sunlight met grey. 

You took in Diego’s, sweet sleeping form-- his long lashes fringing his sweetly-closed eyes, his cropped hair mussed from a night of tugging, rolling, writhing. He breathed deeply, evenly, peaceably, as evidenced by the repetitive motion of his muscled torso, his long-fingered hands resting along his stomach. 

You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t taint someone so noble and beautiful with your special brand of poisonous manipulation. 

You couldn’t stop yourself as you spoke softly to the sleeping man beside you, coming to sit on the edge of his bed and brushing one hand through his soft hair. 

“You wanted to know about my power? It’s a curse. You think I want this? This? It’s isolation, Diego-- it’s eternal damnation. I shouldn’t be able to do what I can do …  No one should. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. And it dooms me to a life alone,” your voice cracks as your breath catches in your throat, hitching over tears that were now, suddenly pooling in your eyes. “There’s no trust. It’s what I … It’s what I deserve.” 

With that, you left Diego’s room. Leaving him to wake alone to a cold one-half of his bed, fingers clutching over air and the warm memories of the night before. He blinked in confusion, the sting of your rejection settling beneath his skin. 

---

When you saw Diego again, it was nearly a month after your last… encounter. The sharp knife of anxiety and longing you so regularly felt in yourself since that day, you recognized immediately as emanating from Diego as you watched him limp away from what you assumed was a particularly nasty fight. 

“Big Deal!” You shouted across the street and through the darkness. 

Diego’s head whipped up, head turning to the direction of your voice, before meeting your gaze. He shook his head, looked away, and kept walking. Away from you. 

Ouch. 

Honestly, you could understand why he would. You had done the same to him a month ago. Walked away. But the pinging sting of his rejection dug at you, like glass into the thin skin between your knuckles. 

All you had ever wanted was for other people to understand. But mostly, now, you realized… You really only cared that Diego understood. 

You took off after him, enhanced speed helping you catch up to his limping form outside of a boarded-up, long-closed bar. 

“Diego!” You called, stopping in front of him, causing him to halt.

“What could you possibly want with me, after all this time?” Diego spit.

“I.. I deserve that, Big Deal. I do,” you glanced at your boots, scuffing the toe into the pavement. “Please, just… hear me out?” 

You looked up at Diego. Really looked at him. His beautiful, tawny skin damp with sweat from a fight, his usually bright and mischievous eyes sunken under the weight of tired bags that sat beneath them. He looked drawn, more exhausted than you remember. You caught sight of a particularly nasty, jagged cut on the side of his neck that had clearly only recently stopped bleeding, the splotching clot like a raised, splintering cut from a large cat’s claws. A particularly nasty bruise was already forming around his left eye and onto his beautifully-sculpted, prominent cheek. 

You rushed to meet him, your fingers coming to brush along his cheeks, mindful of the bruise. He closed his eyes at your touch, lashes fanning downward in defeat. 

“Who hurt you? What did they do, Big Deal? Who the fuck did this? If anyone hurt you, I would make them hurt. I’ll make them pay”

Diego dropped the knife you now noticed was previously-clutched in his right hand, bringing his hand to meet your wrist. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Don’t do what? Kill the fucker who hurt you? Fine, I’ll just break their knees--” you started, before Diego shushed you.

“No,” he said, “Shut the fuck up. D- Don’t act like you give a shit. Someone who gives a shit wouldn’t bounce for a fuckin’ month. Not after a night like that.” 

Your hand left Diego’s face. 

“I… I deserve that,” you said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” And with that, you plopped yourself onto the pavement, sitting on the sidewalk at Diego’s feet. Annoying? Sure. Dramatic? Sure. But if something is stupid and it works, then it isn’t stupid. 

Diego sighed at you, rolling his eyes before coming to sit beside you, gasping out in pain and clutching an obviously bruised rib or two on his way down. 

“Fine. Tell me what the fuck happened. Why’d you go?”

“Diego--” you started… “I-- I can’t be with someone when I’m like this. It never works,” you confessed. 

“Like what?” He pressed, bringing his hand to your knee. 

“I’m-- I’m a monster,” you cried. “Adler knew it. Everyone I meet knows it. It’s only a matter of time before you know it too. I just… I don’t know how to stop.” The tears you thought you could hold at bay were now creeping up and causing your throat to close around your words of contrition. 

“You’re not--” Diego began, but you silenced him with a harsh wave of your hand. 

“You don't understand. You wanted to know how it works? I’ll tell you. The power works based on the other's emotion, sure. I amplify what they feel. Cripple them with it, even. But that's not all… it only works, really works, if it's something I can draw on. They feel what I want them to feel-- because I feel it too …" you admitted. “Everything I ever do to someone else I can only do because I know how it feels. If I want someone to hurt, they’ll hurt… I -- I don’t want to do that to you, too.” 

“You won’t. Not with me,” Diego pressed. 

“And how can you be sure? Even now, I feel how pissed you are at me for leaving. It’s humming beneath your skin. I can feel it.” 

Diego nodded, picking up the knife he had previously dropped and beginning to spin it around in his hand. 

“I know it because I felt it. When we were together,” he sighed. “We both, we both can do these things. Anyone else would piss themselves if it was turned against them. But you look the danger of what I am in the face, and you laugh. When we’re together, we’re matched. The way that room felt? I know what that was.” 

You sat, stunned at Diego’s read of the situation. 

“I take back what I said the first night we met,” you said. At the question in his eyes, you continued, “You’re not dumb. That was… that was… something. But I know how to flex my power. I know what fells all men. Fear is a powerful emotion." 

Diego smiled at you. 

“I hate to break it to you, princess, but I’m not scared of you. I know you think I am, but I’m not. And you know what's even stronger than fear? Love."

You looked at Diego, blinked. He blinked back. You then turned your head with a mocking, retching, gag.

"Jesus, Big Deal. They teach you ‘Hokey Catchphrases 101’ at Dysfunctional Superhero Camp?"

“Hey,” he jostled your shoulder with his. “You know I’m right.” 

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?” 

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt. 

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.” 

With that, the two of you walked down the street. You matched Diego’s stride, mindful of his injuries. As you walked side-by-side, your fingers brushed. Before you could stop yourself or think better of it, you took Diego’s hand. 

When you reached your door, you turned to Diego, fiddling with your keys. 

“Everyone’s distinct, you know? Everyone feels differently. Wears their hearts on their sleeve, so to speak. But with everyone, it’s a different emotion. Some flaunt pride. Some are more passive. Do you want to know what I feel when I see you?” 

Diego glanced down to where your hands were still joined. He brought them up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I want whatever you’ll tell me. You’re such an open book,” he admitted sarcastically. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You feel... you feel...” 

At Diego’s urging look, you continued. 

"You feel like warmth. Like I could wrap myself in you and never feel the biting cold of my heart again. And when you're not around? The absence of you is worse than any feeling I could ever exploit. I hate it when you aren't here."

Diego stared at you in silence for a moment, before he spoke, “I really think you should open the door now and let me take you inside.” 

You smiled, pleased that your honest confession had gone over well, the smile morphing into a smirk. 

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

And in the morning? Well, In the morning, you and Diego were still wrapped up in one another. 

You looked into Diego’s swimming, honey-and-tar eyes, tracing your palms down the sides of his jaw and cupping his cheeks as you told him, “You have my whole heart. It’s yours -- crush it, hold it, bury it in whatever you feel ... Do whatever you want with it, I don’t care. Just say you want it-- that you want me.” 

“I want you.” With that, he kissed you deeply.

---

You were a master of emotional manipulation. To do that, you had to have a decent handle on your own emotions. For years, you’d rested on your own laurels of your mastery of self, indulging only in the most passing of forays into others’ feelings for the sake of your own.

So why on Earth were you so fucking nervous? Why couldn’t you get it under control?

Yet, here you were, hand in Diego’s, fingers laced, on your way to Hargreeves Manor to meet his siblings, months after your mutual confessions of want. The two of you had been inseparable. 

Diego clearly sensed your unease, because he turned to you, squeezing your fingers in his own, planting a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“They’ll like you,” he promised. 

“How can you be so sure?” You worried, trying to keep all of them straight in your mind based on Diego’s stories, anecdotes and descriptions. 

“Because I like you, and they love to annoy me. So they’ll definitely want to buddy up,” he chuckled with a shrug. “Baby, you’ll be fine.”

With that, you found yourself standing in the ornate living room with five nonplussed persons who introduced themselves to you one by one.

As the largest of the group approached you, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Luther,” you said, pumping your arm in a handshake where his hand comically dwarfed yours. 

Luther blinked. “How did you know?” 

"Easy,” you said, “You look like a 'Number One.’ " 

Luther straightened, obviously pleased. "Important?" he asked.

"Self-important."

This caused the lithe one with the smudged eyeliner who had introduced himself with a wink as, “Klaus, darling,” to howl with laughter. 

“She’s fuckin’ got your number, Luther,” he gasped out between his chuckles. He turned to the seemingly-empty air beside himself and said, “I know! She is fun!” 

The group found itself sitting around the living room on the various, overstuffed furnishings, in a fun little Q-and-A circle, which was only getting easier all the time, as you found the Hargreeves siblings’ obvious bond to be so endearing. The glamorous one you knew to be Allison had queried about your power, curious as to how you and Diego had met. 

Diego had recounted your first meeting to the group, and proffered an explanation of your powers with, "She takes the idea of 'wrapped up in your emotions' and makes it literal."

“And how did this come about?” Klaus queried, gesturing his long fingers between you and Diego. “It’s not like that first meeting was full of warm-and fuzzies.”

“I don’t know … We’ve …  run into each other a few times,” you offer with a shrug and a shy grin. 

Klaus clapped his hands, a large grin adorning his face.

“Oh-ho! I like this. Diego’s girlfriend beats the shit out of him on the regular!” Klaus happily sang to the massive living room. “Or is that how you two, you know, keep it exciting?” he intoned to Diego in what must have been the world’s loudest and worst attempt at a whisper.

“She does not beat the shit out of me,” Diego protested, rolling his eyes at his brother’s swaggering antics.

“Right, right, you beat the shit out of each other. Honestly, I get it. Kinda hot. No judgment from me, you crazy kids,” Klaus smiled and held up his hands in surrender, flashing you the “Hello” and “Goodbye” on his palms. “Diego told me about you the day after you first met. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it myself when I’m ever-so-alone at night,” he added with a wink. 

All you could do was chuckle. Who couldn’t love Klaus Hargreeves? 

After that, the questioning from the gathered siblings dissipated into a casual little party, with people pairing off to speak in groups of just them, and with drinks from the open bar being passed around amongst the siblings. Even Five. If you were honest, it was strange to see a thirteen-year-old boy drink frozen margaritas. But you’d had to remind yourself that he was actually older than all of you. Honestly, you’d tried not to think about it too hard. 

In between drinks, you found yourself engaged in silly banter with Klaus and Vanya, laughing at Klaus’s stories of eating bagels from dumpsters and his bantering memories with their brother Ben. You responded in kind with stories of your own-- making your elementary school teachers believe they’d had crushes on one another by exploiting their repressed desires, making your classmates piss themselves every Halloween with some prank or another ...

While Vanya was a bit more reserved with her amusement, you’d caught a smile playing at her lips. Klaus outright howled. 

“Oh, you truly belong here, don’t you? Reggie would’ve haaaated you,” he gestured at the stern portrait of their father. “Which means you’re absolutely perfect for our dear Diego,” Klaus proclaimed, lacing his fingers through your own. 

With that, Klaus turned to you with a conspiratorial giggle and hmm'd into your ear, "You know what they say, peaches. 'A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly.' And if we're being honest, Diego deeeeeeefinitely thinks he's fly." 

You laughed, choking on your sip of margarita. You’d never felt a kind of discordant unity like this one. 

With Diego’s family… with Diego, you felt like you truly did belong.

As you and Diego lay together in bed after the day with his family, he’d asked if you felt comfortable.

“Of course, love.” You pressed a small kiss to the tip of Diego’s nose, nuzzling your own against his. “They were wonderful. You’re wonderful. Thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

Diego gazed lovingly at you, eyes, a deep, endless pit of an eclipse, brimming with golden honey streaks of mischief. 

“I can’t wait to share everything with you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your shoulder and settling beside you comfortably. 

Ah. So that’s what that warm, soft, cotton-y, cloud-like feeling you had begun to experience since you’d began your relationship with Diego was ... Comfort. Funny how it blended so seamlessly into the burning, cinnamon-tinged, blooming one you’d come to recognize as his love.

---

Tagging: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @winters-buck @qveenbvtch @forever-rogue @ali-cide @fleetwoodmactshirt @stellarkyun @zeldasayer @ayeayecaptaingally @nappingtopknot @holographic-carmen @mandaloriane @pascalplease @phoenixhalliwell @white-wolf-buckaroo @melon-eyes @pancakepike @noturjacky @johnc0nstantine @amarachoren @outrebanx @yespolkadotkitty @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul @netflixandzayn @deadpoolcouldshootme @manchuria @flhorah @halerune @spideymanreads @athousandbuckys @imagining-constantly @dovesgrangers @ravenoussss @pyrosag @rzrcrst​ 

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 79 Review

i said i would and i will. i did like this issue! not as striking and attention grabbing as 78, but i think this issue was meant to be a foundation one, laying out the groundwork for the future. overall, pretty good. also there wasn't enough bitewing. as promised, overly extensive metaphors and me reading too much into things under the cut

i know i've talked about this cover before, but this particular thing is oddly important to me, so i'll talk about it again

this is me, once again screaming about how artists put nightwing in traditionally feminine poses and how every time i see it i just get whiplash. i mean, true, the main reason why is because nightwing is a so often sexualized character, and putting him in these poses just increases the objectification, which is a goal that dc producers have. but there are very few popular male characters that do this. the only one i can think of off the top of my head is deadpool, but that was so obviously a critique and a way to make fun of the media industry. when they draw dick like this, they’re being serious. they’re putting him in appealing poses meant to show him off, and that’s something that’s traditionally only been done to women.

it's a very direct and very loud breaking of traditional gender roles in media, especially for a character as high-profile and historic as dick grayson. colour also plays a factor in this. the entire background is pink. i was absolutely shocked when i first saw it, when the teaser came out, because i cannot think of any comic book covers of male comic heroes this high-profile where pink is even just prevalent in the cover, let alone the majority of the cover. the pink does look beautiful: it offsets and highlights the black and blue of dick's suit gorgeously, but does it with more finesse than orange or red. but the fact that the stylistic choice was made to accent and draw this cover with aesthetic and beauty in mind, completely ignoring traditional hard-set gender rules in art, was a conscious choice and one i wholeheartedly support.

just another example of the sexualization i was talking about. i remember seeing harley quinn in this exact pose in suicide squad.

so far, taylor's been pretty dead-set on bringing alfred to the forefront of importance in this series. he wants people to know how much he loves alfred's character, and how much the butler meant to dick growing up. he was dick's father too. but what i adore is how taylor managed to stress alfred's importance in a way that didn't insult or belittle bruce.

this is one of the best bruce and dick interactions i've seen, and it's done in one simple interaction. in this, bruce is tough and harsh. he knocked dick down hard, but then he reached a hand down and helped pull dick back up. let me analyze their dialogue for a minute

on your feet: this is bruce telling dick to get up. he's trained dick, he knows what the younger boy is capable of, he knows his limits, and he knows what dick can do. this is bruce telling dick i know you're strong enough to get up, so get up and prove me right

are you just going to knock me down again?: surface-level, it looks like dick's complaining. he doesn't like bruce's rough training, and he's tired of bruce knocking him down. but look at his face in this. he's smiling up at bruce, knowledgeable and a little hopeful. he knows that bruce is doing this to help dick better himself, he's completely on board with the rough training, because they both know the rewards are incredible. also, he's teasing. he's bantering with bruce. there's an ease in that joking statement, one that belies affection and intimacy. they've only known each other for a little bit, but they're already slipping into a close familial relationship.

it depends on how fast you learn: this is bruce bantering back. this is bruce not being a stoic, unfeeling asshole. instead, he's shown with the dry humor that a good batman writer knows is a staple of the character. he's teasing dick, telling him he'll basically whoop his ass if dick doesn't learn fast enough. it's incentive for dick to train harder, while also being lighthearted enough to tell dick that believes in dick and doesn't want him to push himself too hard.

gosh i love the titans. also it looks like wally's staring at dick's ass.

this was cute. a prod at dick's silly and playful sense of humor, while not dumbing him down for the sake of a laugh. instead, he's joking about food, which is stuff everyone jokes about. this is the kind of stuff that'll actually make me laugh, instead of just making me vaguely uncomfortable.

bludhaven's almost always portrayed as a cesspool of a city. and to be honest, it really is. but this panel gives the city a meaningful history, while also giving us a reason for why dick moved there.

it talks of a time when people still thought they could beat the monsters. that if they fought hard enough, they could win the fight. it was a tentative hope that you could always overcome hardship.

dick's little "i like that it's still standing" shows how he still believes that, despite what the rest of the world thinks. despite everything that he's been through, dick is still tentatively an optimist, and believes he can fight the monsters of the world and win. it's a beautiful testament to his character, and i'm like that they added his signature element of hope back in. it used to be what he symbolized as robin, and despite his growth and character arc from robin to nightwing, this is one aspect of robin that i'm glad nightwing still has.

remember when i said "things that make me vaguely uncomfortable??" yeahhhh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Shooketh Dick: A Sequel

(the expressions in this series are just,,,,on point)

this was an incredibly sweet and kindhearted thing for dick to do, but i found it kind of,,,,,,,,desperate? maybe that's just me, but let me explain.

dick's suddenly a billionaire, and he has entirely too much money that he knows what to do with. it's also alfred's money, what the man left to him, so dick forever links it with alfred. in addition to that, he's back and bludhaven and looking at it with "fresh" eyes. (at least, from a different point of view since he got shot in the head. then mind controlled.) he's desperate to do something with the money and he's desperate to help the people around him that so obviously needs up, so he comes up with an on-the-fly solution that's a little impractical and a little crazy, but it still helps and still does some good.

to me, dick seems a little lost. he hasn't completely found his balance yet, and he's trying to do things that will. he tries charity, because that's what bruce did and it's what he knows, even though he admitted that he always thought bruce could have done more as bruce wayne than batman.

they have a family group chat guys yall were right.

also, do i think that dick would ever actually get his wallet stolen?? no way in hell, he’d notice someone getting ready to pickpocket him a mile away. but i suppose it’s important to the Plot. 

okay this is getting interesting. first blockbuster, now maroni (+ the weird heart stealer guy). i can officially say that i am intruiged

this particular artistic quirk is shown a lot in this issue, and from this art team in general, but i feel like this panel is one of the best examples of it. it was stunning enough to take up a full page, and it’s well deserved.

the way they show dick moving is absolutely brilliant. as a reader, i like seeing these smaller versions of dick getting clearer and in more detail as they come closer to the screen. not only do they show depth in the picture beyond what a simple 3 dimensional piece of art does, it also shows the passage of time.

in addition, it showcases dick’s skill. dick spots these mobsters running after a group of petty thieves. he then, and follow me here, leaps off the roof of one building feet first, springboards backwards off the side of the adjacent building with his feet, gracefully continues his backflip, rights himself, shoots a line with perfect timing: just in time to soften his landing but not slow him down, execute said landing on top of a moving bus, keep running on the moving bus without missing a beat, shoot his grapple, use the grapple to swing, use the swing to build up momentum, then use the momentum to deliver a powerful blow to the mobsters. and he did all that fast enough to catch up with the mobsters, even though he was a ROOFTOP OVER. 

d a m n  s o n

this panel, the very first in the issue, is also another example of that art style, but a little more distinctive. i love the way they showed dick’s different costumes through the ages, along with him simply growing up. it’s a little heartbreaking, but a lot uplifting to see how far he’s come. thank god he got rid of the red. now all we need is the fingerstripes, and we’ll be golden

discowing my beloved. also i can’t clearly see discowing’s hair but it definitely looks like it’s pulled back. it looks like he put it in a ponytail. guys. guys. dick had a ponytail omg. 

he’s having a Hero Moment

are you talking about the city, dick, or are you talking about you? the kgbeast, the court, the joker. dick fell to each one of them, no matter how hard he fought. he won in the end, eventually and with his family’s help. but i think he’s feeling a little low, a little defeated right now. it’s almost like he needs a win, he needs to feel victorious, he needs to feel like he helped someone (hence the food and the hotel room), just because he needs to remember what it feels like.

these lines were supposed to resonate with you, and goddamn they did.

i looked at it from two ways. first, it’s the girl asking, begging nightwing not to hurt them. bludhaven doesn’t know dick the way gotham does, they’re still a little frightened of him. this child was brave enough to step in front of all of the other hurt and homeless kids and ask, to a strange man in a mask, if he was going to hurt them like the other men had. it’s heartbreaking, but commendable, and an echo of the city itself that dick’s decided to protect. they’re bloody and broken and terrified, but still gritty and brave enough to stare what they fear in the eye and ask it not to hurt them.

second, it’s dick seeing the question reflected in himself. recently, he got shot in the head and lost all his memories. while i think that the way ric reacted was a perfectly valid and human response to the situation, i think dick still regrets how callously and rudely he treated his family. then, he was manipulated by the court of owls, then he was brainwashed with a magic crystal by the joker. dick does have a guilt complex. it’s not a big as bruce’s, but it’s there. and right now, with this girl begging her not to hurt them, dick is probably thinking about all the times he hurt people, in control of his own actions or not, bc he “didn’t have a heart.” 

little ambitious don’t you think, dick?

also just look at the sunset colours loOK at the they could not make this any more obvious oh my godddddddddddddddddddddddd

in conclusion, i need more of her

[drawlfoy]

snake for a badger

masterlist requests are closed, but read this before you click away! message me/send an ask to be tagged :)

pairing: hufflepuff!reader x draco

request? nope this was something that i came up with myself but low key i had quite a few hufflepuff requests that i never attended to and i wanted to give the hufflepuffs some love (my longest fics have had either ravenclaw or gryffindor readers, so this is your moment y’all...if you’re a slytherin then i’ll have something coming up for you soon ;))

summary: 6th year hufflepuff y/n y/l/n doesn’t know if she be afraid of draco malfoy after her friends warn her about his potential status as a death eater...and the fact that he keeps showing up to save her isn’t helping. THIS IS A TEASER!!!! for a much longer oneshot that’s currently in progress!!

warnings: teen drinking, secondhand embarrassment, swearing

a/n: important note that THIS IS A TEASER. i honestly have no idea how the entire oneshot is going to look (even though i assume that this isn’t exactly a one shot if there’s this added onto it). i’m not even sure if this is going to be a scene--it’s just the very first thing i wrote for it, and i liked it. i feel like draco’s character in this is really tricky because i haven’t yet decided how “ooc” i want him to be. i just really liked this idea and i’ve always had the image of y/n saving draco in this particular movie scene. let me know your thoughts!

no music recs, this is just a teaser

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

word count: 2.5k

Her shoes dug into the back of her heels as she tried to keep up with Ginny around the corner. 

“I don’t understand why you insist on wearing those...torture devices,” the red-haired witch said without adjusting her stride in the slightest. Y/N was tempted to just rip them off then and there and attend Slughorn’s party barefoot and carefree, but she knew better. It was in her best interest to try and get on the good side of the professors. Even though she had no intention of holding an office in the Ministry or becoming an Auror, she still wanted a good scroll of recommendation from her Potions professor. Especially considering his connections.

“Why don’t you just spell the back of them soft?” asked Ginny. “That’s what Parvati does. At least, I think that’s what she does. I don’t know how else she’s able to wear them with her uniform every day.”

“She doesn’t know the first thing about shoes.” Y/N winced the tip of her heel wobbled for a moment in between the cobblestones. “Once you spell a shoe soft, they’re never the same again. They’re ruined. At least, that’s what my mother has always told me--she swears by that balm stuff I keep on my nightstand.”

“Ah, Mrs. Y/L/N. I’m glad she’s not here to see me. I think she would demand that I pay with my life for my outfit today.”

Y/N managed a smile. “Hey. You know she likes you. I think so, at least.”

They rounded the corner, and this time Ginny was kind enough to steady Y/N as they made their way up the final flight of stairs. “I don’t know how you’re going to make it through the whole night, Y/N. I bet you wish you’d taken up Nott’s offer to be your date this time, huh? Now that you don’t have anyone to lean on if your feet get too tired?”

“There’s something called taking my shoes off if they hurt too much,” she responded. “And I could never regret that--I know he only did it because his mother told him to. Something about a favor for my mother after we saved her at a gala, I’m sure.”

“Also the fact that Millie would crucify you if she saw you with him.”

Y/N laughed. “That too. Imagine being a Hufflepuff who accidentally put a target on her back…”

“You’d be dead.”

“But very, very stylish. And if I died, my feet wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Ginny tutted at her. “So morbid.”

The staircase had finally turned to their stop, and before the two girls had a chance to get off, Y/N heard a voice call out for her companion.

“Ginny! Hey, Ginny!”

“Harry!” 

She pulled Y/N up the last few steps and deposited her safely on the corridor platform before bounding off towards Harry and Luna at the opposite end of the hall. They must’ve come from a different direction. “I’ll catch up with you at the party, ok?”

Y/N just beamed at her friend as she closed the difference between her and Harry, pulling both him and Luna around the corner towards the music and sound of the party. If it was anyone else, she might’ve been offended, but she knew how much Harry meant to her. Even if Ginny didn’t know it yet. And Y/N would not, under any circumstance, slow her friend down because of her poor footwear choices.

She dusted her dress off before making her way further down the hall. It was slower going without the prospect of a steadying hand next to her, but it was getting easier. Maybe the balm she’d used on the leather really was softening with each step she took like it said on the box. 

Before she lifted the curtain to walk into the jovial evening, a flash of blond hair caught her eye. Platinum blond hair--the type that only belonged to one person she knew. 

“Malfoy?” 

His head snapped up from its previous spot on his knees that were folded up on the floor. The Slytherin was obscured by the darkness and the dividing wall that had been erected in the corridor, but Y/N was completely sure of what she was seeing.

She crept closer, inwardly cringing at the sound her heels made as they clacked across the stones. 

“Need anything, Y/L/N?” he drawled. Once she was close enough to see his face clearly, his expression made it clear that he was not in a good mood. Not like he ever was, though. 

“Why are you...er...just sitting here?” Fuck. She sounded so ditzy.

“Enjoying my Friday night.”

“Oh...ok.” Y/N swallowed. “You were invited to Slughorn’s party?” 

He shrugged. 

Her mouth felt dry. Obviously, he hadn’t been invited. Slughorn was notorious for wanting to keep a squeaky clean image, and entertaining the idea of inviting a Death Eater’s son was...out of question. And he never tried in his class anymore.

She dared another look down at him and nearly squeaked when she saw him staring directly back at her. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve at least told him goodbye or goodnight, but her words completely failed her. Instead, she just stared back, completely frozen. 

She couldn’t help it. Ever since last fall, she couldn’t act normal around him to save her life. Not after...that. 

A cat meowed in the distance, breaking whatever was paralyzing her. 

“I...I have to go. I think that’s Filch.” 

He said nothing--just tilted his head and raised an eyebrow like he was expecting something from her. She spun and walked as quickly as she could manage without breaking an ankle.

“What took you so long, Y/N?” Ginny asked the moment the curtain fell behind her, closing her back into the party. The tent that was magically set up was much more spacious than she was expecting, and the lime and peach coloring was surprisingly bright and cheery.

“I...uh…”

Her explanation was cut short by the sound of the entrance curtain being shoved aside with so much force that the nearest tables shook, the fine china clattering. 

Filch stood in front of them, holding a very peeved looking Draco Malfoy by the scruff of his neck. “Found this boy loitering around outside. I don’t imagine that he’s been invited to your party here.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Professor Snape appeared to her left, his robes billowing black behind him as he made his way towards the pair.

“Ok, ok, I admit it, I wasn’t--”

“Draco! Where have you been?” 

The words were out of her mouth before she even had the chance to think of the heavy, heavy regret that weighed down at her the moment they were spoken--not to mention the foreign feeling of the name “Draco” instead of Malfoy on her tongue. The tension in the room was tangible as Y/N took a few tentative steps forward. Snape whipped around to glare at her with a look that contained so much venom that it nearly stunned her.

“Miss Y/L/N? What’s going on?” Her sweet Potions professor materialized behind her. Y/N felt a twinge in her gut at what she was about to say--if she followed through, he probably wouldn’t ever give her the scroll of recommendation she wanted. “Did you invite him?”

Oh well. Here goes.

She drew in a shaky breath. “Yes. He’s my...uh...date tonight.”

Ginny spun around and sent her a death glare that said oh you are so telling me about this right now. 

Filch released his grip on Malfoy’s neck, shoving him forward into the crowd. Y/N met his eyes for a brief second, and the only emotion she could register was shock. And anger.

“Fine. Dumbledore will be hearing about this, though. And tell your date to stop breaking curfew in restricted areas.” 

With that, the curtain fell back and Filch was gone, leaving Y/N in the throes of her own despair. Malfoy was just a few feet away from her now, standing in all his gloomy glory. And she’d just told everyone that he was her date.

The music started up again, the strings echoing around the still room. A few couples hesitantly started dancing again, and the roar of conversation slowly picked back up to where it left off. Y/N and Malfoy were the only ones not doing something...coupley. 

“So,” said Malfoy. The sigh that followed was completely unreasonable. “I think you’re supposed to tell me to stop breaking curfew in restricted areas sometime soon.”

She gulped. “Yeah. That.”

He held out his hand, slow and gingerly like he was about to touch a hot stove. Y/N just gawked at it.

“We should probably dance. Or something. I don’t think you’re being a very believable date right now.” 

Y/N grabbed his hand and let him pull her into the mess of couples. It felt like her mind had taken a complete vacation. What had happened? How had this night ended up this way? “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she started.

“Yeah, well, me neither.” He was practiced and comfortable as he guided her through the steps of whatever waltz was playing. Y/N never paid much attention when she was young to the dance lessons that her parents painstakingly put her through--and it was clear from how much she needed to depend on him. Her shoes didn’t help, 

“Ginny is going to fucking kill me,” she said suddenly. 

“You think?” he said, his tone flat. “Why’d you say I was your date? Were you that desperate for someone?”

“I…” The words died on her tongue as she tried to get them out. Malfoy spun her as she clung to the silk lapel of his suit, hanging on for dear life as her heels teetered. “You know why.” 

If he had any strong thoughts on the matter, he didn’t let it show on his face. He simply let his gaze flicker down at her for a second before he dipped her. “You know, in my world we don’t really return favors. If I were you, I would stop trying to repay me. There’s no point.”

“There doesn’t need to be one. I just…”

“Just worry about yourself, okay? I don’t need you to be stirring up your own drama with fruitless attempts to pay me back. I’m perfectly capable on my own.”

“I’m not doubting how capable you are! I’m just being a fair person!”

“Nothing about any of this is fair,” he snipped. “It doesn’t matter what you do. You’re not going to set anything right. You should know better, anyways. You shouldn’t be trying to help me. I’m surprised Potter isn’t teaching you this.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew hot while the song slowly creaked to the end. “Malfoy--” 

“I’m going to get us drinks.” He dropped her hand and was gone before another word could leave her lips.

It took Ginny no more than a minute to have her friend cornered in a quiet spot of the tent, her eyes glittering. “When were you going to tell me that you were going to ask Malfoy to be your date?”

“I didn’t,” Y/N told her. She decided that she might as well be truthful. “I just felt bad for him. Snape seemed like he was in a bad mood, and I don’t want to put him through that. I don’t want to put anyone through that.”

“Ugh, you are such a Hufflepuff,” her friend groaned. “I can’t believe you. You’re kind to a fault sometimes, you know.”

“What’s the harm, Gin?” asked Y/N. “He can’t hurt me. He’s not all that bad. He’s just a prat sometimes.”

“Can’t hurt you--oh, dear.” Ginny let out a shaky breath and ran her fingers through her hair, messing up the pinned portions. Y/N resisted the urge to cringe at the sight. “Hasn’t Harry told you? You need to stay away from Malfoy. He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” increduled Y/N. “No way. He’s all bark, no bite. The worst thing he’s going to do is tell me that Hufflepuffs are stupid or something.”

“Y/N.” The intensity of Ginny’s voice made her snap to attention. “You really don’t know, do you? I can’t tell you now. But I’m sure Harry will later. Just...promise me you won’t let him get you alone? Ok? And please don’t do any other favors for him. You’ll understand later.”

They both turned at the sound of a male clearing his throat. Malfoy stood, uncomfortable and broody, carrying two goblets. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, not at all!” said Ginny, weirdly cheery. She leaned in, feigning to kiss Y/N’s cheek goodbye, but instead she whispered, “Don’t drink that.” And then she was gone.

“Trouble in paradise with Weaselette?” he asked.  

She took the goblet and faked taking a sip. “Er, no. Why do you ask?”

“You look awfully pale, my dear.” 

“It’s just the draft,” she told him, but in truth she knew that her face was suddenly flaming red again. 

“Hm.” He, on the contrary, took a real, genuine sip out of his goblet. “Want to sit down somewhere? I’m thinking I probably going to want to get out of here soon.”

“To each their own,” responded Y/N. She was slowly becoming warier after Ginny’s speech. There’s no way he would...no...not after what he did for her. “I’m staying around until I get Slughorn to talk to me, personally. I want him to really like me.”

“That old bat? I’m sure he already likes you, if he’s inviting you here and all.”

“I don’t think he likes me, per se. I think he just likes who my family rubs elbows with.”

A rare smile stretched across Malfoy’s face, but it didn’t seem sweet. “Ah, I remember your family now. If I recall correctly, your mother used to come do fittings for my mother?”

“Um, yeah. I believe so.” Y/N attempted to smile back, but something in her felt...off. What didn’t she know about Malfoy? Was he actually capable of hurting her? Did he want to hurt her?

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Malfoy said after a few beats of silence. “Unless you’d like to join my thrilling pursuits with breaking curfew in restricted areas, I’d better be off.”

“Malfoy…” Y/N started. She had no idea what else to tell him. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, sending her another one of those sly smiles that made her stomach turn. “Enjoy the rest of your night, alright?”

She made a sorry attempt to smile back. He kept looking down at her, so intently that it made her uncomfortable. He was thinking--about what, she couldn’t determine. But clearly it was something, and the gears were turning.

“May I suggest something?” His eyes glinted in the dim party lighting. Malfoy seemed to take her silence and wide-eyed stare as a yes, leaning in closer so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to spring away.

“You’re supposed to swallow when you fake drinking something.”

He plucked the goblet out of her hand and took a sip, raising an eyebrow at her as if to say see? 

Even long after he was gone, she could still feel his hot breath on her neck and hear the way his whispered voice sounded in her ear. 

final a/n: hehe here i am 1 minute late!! probably later once i get all my links set up/copy paste all my tags but here it is! this is a TEASER! so remember that! i hope to get the real oneshot out sometime after i get wonders of ohio p 10 out. let me know if this is something you guys want to read/if you like this version of draco. i rlly want to write a flirtier draco because i think we could all use that right now

[pastelwitchling]

Malex Shrapnel teaser.

*****

               Alex was in the hospital.

               Those were the words Michael had woken up to, the words that had him barreling out of Max’s bedroom and into his truck, leaving his siblings’ calls to him behind.

               He couldn’t remember much from their fight with Mr. Jones. He remembered Max and Isobel, and Liz and Maria, and even Gregory and Flint had fought because Alex had been there. Because Alex was always there to protect Michael.

               And then they’d been separated, and the world had turned dark, and Michael had woken up several hours later with Alex’s name on his lips.

               The truck’s tires screeched as Michael pulled up to a stop in front of the hospital doors, startling more than a few people.

               He leapt out before the engine had even shut off, storming up to the counter and growling out one name. Manes.

               The frightened nurse looked it up on the computer, casting wary glances at Michael, and muttered, “ER,” before Michael lost his mind all over again.

               He ditched the elevator and took the stairs two at a time. The ER. Alex was in the ER. Michael thought his heart might stop. He was envisioning a million different scenarios as he hurried up to the fifth floor, a million versions of Alex and diagnoses and very sorry doctors with very bad news that only got worse and worse. Michael may have blown a storage door off its hinges on one of the landings.

               Then he’d reached the nearly empty hall, his heart thrashing so wildly it hurt, and when he spotted Alex sitting against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest in front of the automatic doors of the operating room, the world turned still for a split second, and all Michael could hear was his own panting.

               “Alex,” he breathed before running across the hall, falling to his knees beside the airman, and wrapping him in his arms.

               “Alex, Alex, Alex,” he breathed into the crook of Alex’s neck, one hand in Alex’s soft hair, his other arm around his shoulders. “Baby, you’re okay. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

               He pulled back, holding Alex’s face in his hands. “You –” he kissed Alex’s forehead “—I heard you were at the hospital –” he kissed his cheeks “—and I thought –” he pecked Alex’s lips and pulled him in for another hug “—I couldn’t breathe, Alex. But you’re okay. You’re safe.”

               “I’m . . .” he managed, his voice barely above a mutter.

               Michael’s smile faltered. He pulled back again and saw now that Alex was in an even worse state than Michael was. He had cuts along his jaw, the bridge of his nose, his knuckles. There were bruises on his cheeks and wrists, and his hair was windswept as if he’d been running his hand through it all day.

               Michael tried to meet his eyes. Alex was staring ahead, his brows furrowed slightly. He didn’t speak. The look on his face was so lost, so numb, that Michael felt that familiar dread and panic since he’d woken return.

               He looked up and realized the other person in the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes on the door, waiting, was Flint.

               Michael looked back at Alex. “Where’s Gregory?”

               Alex swallowed with visible difficulty, his nails leaving deep lines in his other hand, his knuckles white under the harsh red of his wounds as he tightly clasped his hands together.

               “Critical condition, he –” Alex shook his head. “I was almost shot. He pushed me out of the way. Kyle’s doing what he can – please, Guerin, stop asking me, I don’t . . .” he trailed off.

               Actually it was more like Alex just couldn’t finish. His mouth opened and closed several times on a silent sentence.

               So Gregory had saved Alex, and as a result, he’d ended up in emergency care. Michael watched Alex stare into nothingness, the guilt and self-loathing evident in his face. Michael knew he shouldn’t be here. Knew he shouldn’t be touching Alex the way he was, knew he shouldn’t have kissed him the way he had. They weren’t a couple, and Alex and Forrest had only recently broken up, and Alex still couldn’t completely look at Michael after his relationship with Maria.

               Forrest had been avidly fond of Alex and painfully aware when it came to Michael, and when he’d realized that Michael and Maria had dated, Michael remembered the look of outrage and confusion the historian had dealt Alex. A look that clearly screamed; And you’re still hanging around this guy because . . .?

               After Forrest had left, unable to watch as Alex threw his own sanity away for the sake of keeping Michael happy, something had broken, and Alex had come to realize that the way he’d been treated actually wasn’t okay, and every bit of anger and disappointment he’d felt and stored away came leaking out, bit by bit, every day since then.

               That was months ago. And yes, Michael knew he shouldn’t have been here for Alex now, but it was months ago. Alex may not have wanted to see him, but Michael was going to die if he had to be away from him again.

               So instead of leaving this time as he knew he ought to, Michael nodded wordlessly, sat down beside Alex, and slung an arm around his shoulders. He gently pulled Alex in against him after some hesitation, and the airman moved as was wanted of him. But his eyes never closed, and the tension in his shoulders never faded, and his nails kept digging into his skin.

               Michael pressed his lips to Alex’s hair, but Alex didn’t seem to feel that either.

               Hours passed as they sat in the cold, Max, Isobel, Liz, and Maria having arrived to check on Alex and sit with him in shifts. Alex didn’t lift his head or answer any questions beyond a simple shake of his head or a nod, after which he would turn his face into Michael’s shoulder with furrowed brows, as if he was suffering a constant headache.

               “Leave him,” Flint muttered, his arms still crossed as he looked at his brother. “Just leave him.”

               Liz glared. “We want to help.”

               “You can’t help,” was all Flint said.

               They soon realized that Alex wasn’t going to go home or get any rest or have any food, so when Liz settled on getting Alex a fresh change of clothes and a first aid kit to clean up his wounds, Isobel was there at his other side, her head on his shoulder.

               Michael dozed off once or twice, his head resting on top of Alex’s, and he’d wake to find Alex idly playing with the hem of his shirt or resting his palm against Michael’s chest, feeling his heartbeat.

               “You cold?” Michael asked him at one point well after midnight. He wrapped both arms tighter around Alex, running a hand up and down his side. Alex didn’t answer, staring into nothing. Michael tried not to be worried by the emptiness in his gaze, or the furrow in his brows as if he was seeing something Michael couldn’t.

*****

I’d really like to take my time with this piece, but I also really wanted to share a bit of what I’ve written so far with y’all.

[mint-yooxgi]

False Alarm - Yandere!Ten X Reader X Yandere!Taemin

Yandere!AU & Bodyguard!AU - based off of these teaser photos and loosely inspired by False Alarm by The Weeknd

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Not a threesome, but someone gets pinned to a wall 👀)

Pairing: Taemin X Reader X Ten

Words: 28,650

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: On the fifth day of ficmas, Jackie gave to me~ It’s here~ Three months in counting holy shit. This is now the longest one shot I have ever written in my life, so I do really hope you all like it. I’m very proud of it! Here I was, thinking this would be maybe 10k at the most, but nope, lmaoo. Don’t mind any spelling mistakes that have made it past countless rounds of editing please, or any grammar mistakes lol. As always, I do not believe Taemin, nor Ten, would act like this, this is just my interpretation of the archetype. Please do let me know what you all think about this one, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

It shouldn’t surprise you anymore; by now, you should be used to it. Being the president’s daughter and all. Assassination attempts that is. However, you still cannot help the chill in your veins when certain incidents take place.

Surprisingly, there haven’t been too many attempts on your father’s life, but more recently, they have been increasing, becoming more dangerous each time. It started getting more serious when they started coming after your mother. Now, they’re even coming after you.

You have a feeling they have something to do with the new law your father is trying to implement on taxing the rich, as well as establishing a tighter hold on the underground markets. He wants to strengthen gun control, and create a more peaceful nation, but unfortunately, there are always those that oppose such ideals.

It’s early in the afternoon when your father calls you downstairs and into the first floor study. 

The first thing you notice as soon as you reach the main floor, is the amount of security now in your house. You’re glad that you have the added protection, but you hope your privacy won’t be affected too much.

Entering the study after knocking gently, your gaze is immediately drawn to the two unfamiliar men standing on either side of your father, who is currently sitting behind his antique desk. You see Siwon, your father’s personal guard, standing off to the side. Sending a nod his way, you see him nod back before you move your gaze to your father, locking eyes with him in the next second. Understanding crosses your features.

“Given the recent events, I can gather from your expression that you’ve already put together what I’m about to say,” your father begins, letting out a sigh as you stand before him, the two unfamiliar men staring you down.

“I can only assume until you tell me the truth,” you reply, quirking your brow at your father.

“You certainly got your mother’s wit, that’s for sure,” he chuckles, looking at you with amusement clear in his eyes.

“Damn, I could have sworn I got it from you,” you tease, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“Anyways,” your father clears his throat, becoming serious once more, “(Y/n), I’d like you to meet your two new bodyguards, Taemin,” he motions to the blond man standing at attention to his left, “and Ten.” He motions to the black haired man standing off to his right. “They will be accompanying you everywhere starting today, for your protection.”

“Understood,” you nod at your father, shifting your attention to each men standing to either side of him as you bow your head slightly. “It’s nice to meet the both of you, thank you for agreeing to be my personal bodyguards.”

They nod back to you, remaining silent as your father continues to talk, “their first priority is keeping you safe, no matter what the cost. Do you understand?”

“Yes, father,” you respond, bowing in respect towards him.

“Good,” he nods, watching as you stand back up. “That is all I wanted to talk to you about, so you’re free to go now.”

With a final nod towards your father, and a brief nod towards Siwon once more, you’re exiting the room, the two new men following you closely. Nothing is said between the three of you as you lead them through your house and to your bedroom. After all, you still have some studying to do for your classes tomorrow.

Once you reach your room, you leave the door open for them to follow you in, noticing how the door falls shut behind Ten after he enters the room. You walk back to your desk where your laptop rests, with a few notebooks and textbooks scattered around it. Waking it from sleep, you sit back down in your chair, wanting to focus back in on this assignment that’s driving you up the wall.

Ten minutes pass by, and you can feel their gazes locked on your back. You know they haven’t stopped staring at you since you left your father’s study, and it’s irritating you. You find it hard to focus when you can feel someone watching you; feeling as if they’re breathing down your neck.

Letting out a sigh, you turn around in your chair to face the two men standing guard by your door.

“Are you guys just going to stand there and stare at my back the whole time?” You question, clear irritation in your voice as your brow quirks.

“It’s what we’ve been instructed to do,” Taemin replies, expression blank as he continues to stare at you.

“That’s cool and all, but you’re making me slightly uncomfortable in my own room,” you sigh once more. “At least sit down and make yourselves at home. Knowing my dad, you’re probably going to be living with us from now on, or at least on certain days. Besides, if you’re going to be with me from now on, practically twenty-four seven, the least you can do for yourselves is get comfortable.”

They say nothing at first, instead looking at each other briefly from the corner of their eyes, having a silent exchange between one another before coming to a silent agreement. Taking your advice, they both move to the little sitting area you have in your room, Ten sitting on the couch while resting his one leg over the cushions and his one arm off the back of the couch, while Taemin chooses to sit in one of the armchairs. 

You turn back around, and even though you can tell they’re still keeping their eyes on you, their gazes aren’t as intense as before. The air in the room feels slightly less tense now, and you find you can now concentrate better on your assignment.

About an hour passes by, and you’re able to finish your assignment. Letting out a relieved sigh, you close your laptop after hitting submit, gathering all your books together to stack them neatly on your desk. Once you’re done, you swivel around in your chair to face them, eyes shining in curiosity. You wait for one of them to say something, but after about two minutes of silence, you realize you’re going to have to be the one to break it.

“Damn, if I wanted it to be this quiet I would have gone to the library,” you joke, noticing how one of Ten’s eyebrows twitch in slight amusement.

“We just wanted to make sure you had peace and quiet while you worked,” he replies, rolling his neck slowly with his eyes closed.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but I’m done now,” you smile, attempting to ease some of the silent tension that still permeates the air, “and considering we’re going to be spending an awful amount of time with each other, why don’t you guys tell me about yourselves. What’s your favourite colour? Animal? Food? What do each of you specialize in? Have you two worked together before?”

“You certainly ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Taemin replies, slight amusement in his tone as his eyes trail over your body, analyzing you carefully.

“Questions are the curiosities of the mind,” you quip, meeting his eyes and challenging his stare.

You hear Ten let out a laugh, shifting his position to sit forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees, “and we’ll answer all of your curiosities to the best of our abilities.”

You shoot him a friendly smile, to which he smirks back at you.

“Well, to start off, we’re brothers,” Ten continues, noticing how your eyes widen slightly.

“Adoptive brothers,” Taemin adds. “So, we’ve pretty much spent every case that we can working together.”

“He’s an expert marksman,” Ten motions to Taemin with his head. “I’ve never seen him miss once.”

“That’s because I don’t,” Taemin remarks smugly. “He’s a master at close quarters combat, no one has ever been able to pin him.”

“Give me a blade and it’s game over,” Ten replies, smirk still evident on his features as he leans back into the couch.

“Noted,” you nod, clearly impressed with what they’ve told you so far. “Remind me to never challenge you in a game of darts,” you joke, locking eyes with Taemin briefly before turning your gaze over to Ten, “and remind me not to challenge you to an arm wrestling match.”

At your words, both of them let out small chuckles.

“So, if you were worried we weren’t qualified to protect you, you don’t need to be troubled about it any longer,” Ten grins, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“As if,” you huff. “The aura the two of you give off when you’re together, not to mention individually, is very intimidating. I never once doubted your capabilities. Besides, I know my dad, and he’d only hire the best people that he believes are capable of protecting us.”

You see them both nod their heads slightly in understanding, noticing how as you’ve been talking, they’ve both seemed to relax a bit more.

For the next hour and a half, the three of you continue getting to know each other. The both of them are impressed with you, their original ideas of you being stuck up and full of yourself since you’re the president’s daughter, now being thrown out the window.

Before they met you, they were both a little hesitant to take this job. The risks aren’t what bothers them, no, it’s the fact that they’d have to spend almost twenty-four hours with you, seven days a week. They were expecting you to be completely different, but from what they’ve gathered, you’re a sassy, kind, intelligent woman who is very aware of her surroundings. Now, they’re both glad they’ve taken this job, for they both cannot wait to spend more time with you, and get to know you even better. Besides, it pays well, too.

Soon enough, you’re being called downstairs for dinner, the two of them following behind you silently. Once you reach the dining room, you take your seat and wait for dinner to be served. You make light conversation over dinner with your parents, fully enjoying this time with them for you all rarely sit down together anymore for a meal like this, given how busy they both are. It warms your heart.

“Don’t forget we have that lecture event at your university in two days’ time,” your mother reminds you.

“I know, mom,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink.

“I can’t wait to embarrass you in front of your entire school,” your dad teases, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

“Dad,” you whine, playing along, “please don’t do anything to ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation?” He jokes, wiggling his eyebrows at you, making you scoff in mock offence.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll just make sure to give a ten minute rant on how awful your snoring is,” your mother interjects, causing both you and Siwon, who is standing off to the side with Taemin and Ten, to snicker. Even Natasha, your mother’s personal bodyguard lets out a few chuckles of her own.

“Betrayed by my own wife,” your father shakes his head, letting out a few more chuckles of his own.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” your mom winks at you, “I got your back.”

“Thanks, mom,” you giggle, finishing the remnants of your drink.

Gathering your now empty dishes, you stand up, excusing yourself from the table and thanking your parents for the meal. Moving off to the kitchen, you place your dishes in the sink, and head back to your room for the evening, noticing your two bodyguards following your every movement once more.

Before you reenter your room for the evening, you turn to the two men standing behind you.

“The two of you should eat something,” you say, noticing how Taemin’s brow twitches slightly at your words. “Don’t even think about arguing, you both need to eat. I’ll be fine in my room for the evening, so get some rest afterwards.”

You can see Ten about to protest before Taemin cuts him off, “as you wish.”

With a slight bow of their heads, they’re moving off back down the hall to grab something for dinner.

Opening the door to your room, a small sigh escapes your lips. Closing the door behind you, you rest against it, thoughts swirling through your mind.

Those two can be really intimidating at times, and you get the sense they were very hesitant about you at first. You know it’s their job to protect you, but you’re slightly worried they might not follow their duties fully if they don’t like you very much.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. Your father would only choose the best people he thought appropriate to protect you, and you trust his judgement. From what you’ve gathered, these two men take their jobs very seriously. You just hope you can get them to open up a bit more, and not be so intimidating, at least, towards you. After all, you want to be able to befriend them. Who knows how long you’ll need them for.

Meanwhile, the two of them move around each of their new respective rooms, unpacking. They share a joint bathroom, of which the doors rest open, so the two of them can converse with one another.

“She seems nice,” Ten comments, hearing Taemin hum from the other room.

“Definitely not what I was expecting,” comes Taemin’s reply.

“One of our better clients, wouldn’t you say?”

“Better than the last one, at least,” Taemin rolls his eyes, slamming the drawer to his dresser shut. “That one was a real piece of work.”

“You can say that again,” Ten huffs, shutting the door to his closet once he’s finished hanging some shirts.

“Still, this one…” Taemin trails off, seemingly looking for the right word as Ten walks into his room, “she’s almost endearing in a way.”

“Her mannerisms are cute, yes,” Ten nods, leaning against the desk in Taemin’s room as Taemin sits on the edge of his bed, the both of them now finished unpacking.

“Nothing like anything we’ve seen before,” Taemin hums, a grin pulling on his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in our new client,” Ten teases, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“No, no,” Taemin replies, eyes darting over to look at his brother. “Not at all.”

“Good, cause we both know how that turned out the last time,” Ten shakes his head.

The last time either one of them got involved with a client in that way, it ended with the other one of them almost dying. Since then, they’ve agreed not to get too attached to their clients. Hence their cold and intimidating nature. Well, those aspects also come along with the discipline, but even more so now.

Bidding each other a final good night, Ten retreats back into his own room for the evening. Tomorrow is a new day, and they have to be well rested if they’re going to protect you to the best of their abilities.

The next morning, you wake up early to get ready for your classes. Luckily, you only have two, so you should be home some time in the early afternoon.

Once you’ve finished getting ready for the morning, you make your way downstairs. As soon as you open your bedroom door, you see both Ten and Taemin standing guard on the opposite side of your door, startling you slightly.

“Holy- how long have you guys been standing there?” You ask, shutting the door behind you as you pull your bag over your shoulder.

“Not long,” Ten assures you.

“An hour,” Taemin says at the same time, making you blink.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you continue your trek downstairs, the two of them now following you closely from behind. 

Walking into the kitchen, you see your mother making something for breakfast before she leaves with your father for the day. Sending you a smile, she plates the food before placing it in front of you.

“Thanks, mom,” you say, sending a smile back at her as she places the dishes in the sink before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and leaving the room, Natasha following behind her silently after sending you a small smile.

Eating silently, you scroll through your phone, checking what you’ve missed since last night. You love your friends, but having some in different timezones can make the group chat read like the morning paper at times. 

Noticing the time, your eyes widen slightly as you realize that if you don’t leave soon, you might be late for your first class. Shoving the last remnants of food into your mouth, you quickly stand up, placing your dishes in the sink while grabbing your bag which you had placed beside you on the other chair.

Heading to the garage, you grab your keys, ready to unlock your car and get into the driver’s seat. However, before you can open the car door, a hand quickly snatches your keys out of your hand.

“Hey!” You complain, frowning as you see Taemin now holding your keys.

“Get in,” he motions to the back, where on the other side, Ten already waits to get in with you. “We’ll be driving you to and from school from now on, and attending all of your classes.”

“Well damn, thanks for the warning,” you huff, taking a step back from the driver’s side in order to get into the back of the vehicle.

He says nothing in response, only choosing to open the driver’s side door and get in, a slight raise to his lips.

The whole ride over to your university is silent, Taemin pulling into the first free parking space when you arrive. The whole time, you’ve been texting your two friends in your first class to meet you just outside the lecture hall, to which they agree.

Getting out of the car, Taemin cuts the engine. You can feel the other student’s eyes on you as you walk towards Building C, flanked by your two new bodyguards. You can hear the whispers of the others as you walk past, but you don’t let it bother you; you’re used to it by now, being the president’s daughter and all.

Entering the building, you see your two friends anxiously waiting for you near the entrance of the lecture hall.

“There you are! Hurry up, the lecture is about to start!” Jongin complains, opening the door to the lecture hall and tugging Ayla along with him, you following close behind.

Checking the time, you roll your eyes slightly, “relax, we still have ten minutes.”

“Yeah, Jongin, relax,” Ayla huffs, amusedly. “We’ve got time. I’d just be worried about not finding good seats.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” you tease, “just because we won’t be able to sit in the front doesn’t mean we won’t get good seats.”

Walking into the main section of the lecture hall, you spot some seats in the second row of the back section, leading the way as the four of them follow you. You’ve noticed that since you’ve entered the lecture hall, most people’s conversations have halted, especially since two new males have walked in with you.

“Who are those two new guys with her?” You overhear someone whisper.

“Damn, I guess being the president’s daughter means you can get whatever guys you want nowadays,” another whispers as you all make it to your seats. Taemin and Ten share a look, sitting to your right.

“Isn’t she with Damien?” Someone else adds.

“What a fucking slut,” you overhear from a few rows over, the harshness in their voice making you suck in a breath.

“That’s it,” Ayla growls, slamming her palms on the table in front of her and preparing to stand up.

“Relax, it’s fine,” you say, gripping her arm to make sure she stays seated and doesn’t do anything drastic.

“No. It’s not,” she counters, Jongin nodding his agreement from beside her. “One of these days those fuckers are going to catch these hands.”

“Thanks, boo,” you send her a small smile.

“Besides, anyone with a brain knows you’re literally the best,” Jongin adds, to which you smile at him.

“Thanks guys,” you say, turning your attention to the front of the room after pulling out your supplies, seeing as how the professor is about to start the lecture.

For the first half of the lecture, you can feel both Ten’s and Taemin’s eyes on you, before shifting their gazes around the room, carefully observing everyone and everything. You fail to notice the slight furrow in their brows the whole time, confused, and slightly concerned, about you.

At the end of your first class, you’re bidding farewell to Jongin and Ayla, who walk away hand in hand after waving goodbye to you. A slight smile is on your face, sorrowful in a way, as you watch them walk away. You could not be more happy for them being together, but it just reminds you of your nonexistent love life. Being the president’s daughter can have its downsides.

Sighing, you begin moving off to your second, and final, class for the day, located in Building A. You walk in silence, the two men following behind you and serving to intimidate anyone who walks in your path.

Checking your phone just before entering the building, a small smile lights up your face. Damien’s already in class waiting for you, and he’s saved you a seat.

Entering the class, you see an excited Damien waving at you enthusiastically. Waving back, you make your way over to the seat he’s saved for you, noticing that Ten and Taemin will have to sit directly behind you if they want to stay close to you. For that, you’re kind of grateful. Having them next to you in your first class was kind of distracting, especially since they were staring at you for half of it. Luckily, this class is much smaller than your first, so they won’t be able to draw too much attention to themselves. However, it still doesn’t stop the whispers from forming at the mouths of the other students, which you choose to ignore for the time being.

“Hey,” Damien greets as you take the seat next to him. “Ayla’s already told me about what happened early. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m used to it by now,” you shrug, pulling out your supplies for the class.

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he mutters, frown evident on his face before his expression is lightening up in the next moment. “Anyways, what’s with the posse?” He motions to the two men sitting behind you with his head. “They your new bodyguards or something?”

“Actually, yes,” you nod, noticing how Damien’s jaw drops.

“Damn, that’s hot,” he wiggles his brows at you. “Are either of them single?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask them,” you quirk a brow, ready to turn around before he stops you.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of them, I’m pretty sure they can hear me,” he whines.

Sneaking a glance over your shoulder, you see both of their amused faces, causing you to laugh, “for sure they can.”

“Oh god,” he groans, face planting onto the desk. “I’m going to make myself feel better and just believe they can’t date on the job.”

“I don’t even know if they’re single,” you reply, a slight teasing tone in your voice.

“Whatever, I still have you, don’t I?” He grins, turning his head to look at you from his position on the desk.

“Of course,” you grin back. “Still down to get married if we’re both still single at thirty-five?”

“Damn right I am,” he sits back up, smiling along with you. “Who else could put up with you?”

“Excuse me! I’m a delight to be around,” you scoff.

“Oh, yeah? Says who?” He smirks.

“My elementary and high school teachers,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him as the two of you laugh. You can faintly hear a few chuckles coming from behind you, but you brush them off.

“I don’t think being ‘a pleasure to have in class’ counts,” Damien teases, nudging your arm slightly.

“You’re just jealous that all of our teachers liked me better,” you jokingly huff, nudging his arm back.

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles a few times, “whatever you say.”

“Anyways, did you manage to finish the assignment for today?” You ask him, taking out your laptop.

“Fuck, just barely,” he sighs dramatically, “I was up all night finishing it before class today. What about you?”

“Finished it yesterday,” you hum, setting up a fresh document for taking notes.

“Of course, I should have known,” he grins. “I don’t even need to ask anymore, you’re usually done assignments a day before they’re due anyways.”

“Procrastination is a hard habit to shake,” you mutter.

“You call that procrastinating!” Damien half-yells, eyes wide as you hear a huff of amusement come from behind you.

“Shut up, class is about to start,” you can’t fight the grin of amusement that pulls at your lips as you both turn to face front, looking at the professor as they begin the lecture for the day.

Again, the whole time you’re taking notes, you can feel Ten’s and Taemin’s gazes on your back. So much so, that halfway through class you type out a ‘stop staring at my back’ into your notes, bold it, and make it a bigger font for them to see as you subtly lean to the side so they can read it. They seem to take the hint and for the rest of the class, you barely feel their eyes on you, but you can tell Damien is feeling a bit uncomfortable. They must have shifted their gazes from you to him.

Eventually, class ends, and you agree to hang out with Damien for the next hour before his next class begins. Even though you’re done for the day, you enjoy spending time with your best friend.

Walking to the building where his next class is, you all grab food, sitting at a table just across from the lecture hall. You and Damien continue to converse as you eat, while the two other men eat in silence, continuing to observe the area, and more particularly, you.

“Wait, is that Minhyuk?” Damien says, squinting his eyes slightly at a figure across the way.

Your eyes follow his gaze as both Ten and Taemin turn around to look at the now approaching male. Minhyuk’s eyes lock with yours, a smile pulling at his lips, only causing you to groan in response.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” You groan, placing your head in your hands, only to look up in the next moment with a brilliant fake smile plastered on your face as Minhyuk reaches your table.

Ten and Taemin share a look.

“Hey, (Y/n), how are you today?” He leans his one hand on the table, completely ignoring the three other males that are with you.

“Well, my day was going great until you showed up,” you chirp, causing Taemin and Ten to look at you in slight confusion.

“Oh, baby, you hurt me so,” he mocks offence, placing a hand over his heart as if he’s actually been hurt by your words. “Anyways, I saw you sitting here and I couldn’t help myself but to come over and see if-“

“No,” you immediately cut him off, expression morphing into one of disinterest, no longer being bothered to act cheerful anymore.

“But you haven’t even heard what I was going to ask-“

“I said no,” you lock eyes with him. “It was a no last time. It’s a no this time, and it will always be a no.”

Ten and Taemin observe the situation, waiting to intervene at a moments notice, though they’re a bit confused, and curious, as to what this whole situation is about. Damien sips on his drink in amusement, watching the entire situation play out before his eyes as he leans back in his chair.

“Come on, babe, we both know I’ll be worth your while,” Minhyuk smirks, only serving to irritate you further. His eyes flick to the two unfamiliar males sitting with you as he goes on to say, “we both know I’m the only one who can really make you scream.”

“In frustration, yeah,” you reply, quirking a brow. “And don’t flatter yourself, I’ve had better orgasms from my own hand than what your two-inch dick can offer me.”

At your words, Damien nearly chokes on his drink from laughing so hard. You notice the two men sharing another glance between each other across from you.

Minhyuk simply sputters before you, face turning red. You can tell he’s fuming.

“Yeah, well, you’re just a bitch who sleeps with the first guy that gives you any attention,” Minhyuk seethes, only getting more angry the more unbothered by his words you look. “Fucking slut, who wants to be with you anyways. You good for nothing, stupid, waste of space-“

Before any one of them can react, you’ve stood up, causing your chair to screech across the floor and draw even more attention to yourself as you land a solid blow to his left cheek, sending him stumbling back a few paces. Damien watches on with wide eyes as you notice your two bodyguards stand up out of the corner of your eyes.

“You fucking bitch!” Minhyuk sneers, winding up to hit you back.

However, before his fist can make contact, you manage to catch it mid-air, surprising the two males once more, and only serving to make Damien’s eyes widen even more as he sips his drink. Your nails dig into Minhyuk’s skin, and you can see him struggling to pull his fist out of your grip as a crowd begins to form around the five of you.

“If I’m what you say I am, why do you always keep trying to get into my pants? We both know I’m not interested in you, so why waste your time on me? Leave me the fuck alone,” you spit, pushing him away from you as you let go of his fist.

He says nothing, only choosing to glare at you as he rubs at his closed fist, indents from your nails evident in his skin. You notice a few people in the crowd filming the situation, and with a sigh, you grab your things quickly, pushing past people to exit the building. Damien rushes after you once he grabs his things, Ten and Taemin sharing a final look before following as well.

“(Y/n), fuck, that was amazing!” Damien cheers once he catches up to you just outside the building. 

“Are you okay?” It’s Ten’s amused voice that manages to grab your attention.

“Never better,” you reply, exhaling a significant amount of air, noticing how he stands with his arms crossed as Taemin leans on the side of the building.

“He never knows when to quit, does he?” Damien sighs, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“Does he always bother you?” Taemin asks, intrigued. Neither of them thought you were capable of something like that, and they’re both greatly amused by this newfound side to you.

“You could say that,” Damien replies for you, and you roll your eyes.

“You drunkenly hook up with a guy one time in first year, and he never lets it go,” you huff. “All he wants is another round to say that he’s slept with the presidents’ daughter more than once. I can’t stand him.”

“He’s an asshole,” Damien confirms with a nod while patting your shoulder comfortingly.

“Sorry to make a scene before your class,” you apologize to him, only for him to smile at you.

“Are you kidding? That was literally the highlight of my day,” he grins, causing you to send him a weak smile back. “Now, go home and get some rest. Maybe curl up with a blanket and watch a movie, that always seems to cheer you up.”

“Yeah, if I don’t have to listen to my dad practice his speech for tomorrow,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Plus, I’ve got readings.”

“Fuck the readings,” Damien immediately replies, causing you to let out a breath in amusement.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” You hug him, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you feel him hug you back. “Have fun in class.”

“Two hours of physics with the most boring professor ever? Woo,” he says, unenthusiastically, causing you to let out a small laugh.

“Good luck, then,” you wave him off, sending him a small wink.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” he waves back with a laugh, heading back inside before his class starts.

A sigh escapes your lips as you watch Damien disappear from your sight, grip tightening on your bag. You can feel the stares of the two men on you once more as you begin walking back to the car, them falling into step beside you soon after, with one on either side of you. They say nothing at first, a sort of tense silence falling over the three of you as you walk across campus. Ten is the first to break it.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” he hums, amusement still clear in his voice.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” you sigh, seeing your car come into view.

“You have some pretty sharp reflexes,” Taemin comments, looking at you from the corner of his eyes with a smirk present on his lips.

“Thanks,” you reply shortly, putting your hand on the handle of the back door once you reach your car.

Once unlocked, you’re pulling the door open and sliding into the back. You fail to notice the amused twitches of their lips as they follow suit.

Again, a small silence settles over the three of you while in the car as Taemin pulls onto the main road after leaving the campus. You look out the window, watching as the scenery moves by in a blur, not really focusing on anything but using it as a means to distract yourself. You’re tired from the day you’ve had, and you just want to get home and relax.

“So, you and Damien,” Ten’s voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

Turning your head, you lock eyes with him, “what about him?”

“You two seem, close,” Taemin cuts in, making you turn your gaze to catch his own in the rearview mirror.

“He’s been my best friend since preschool,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “Nothing more to it.”

You hear Ten hum in acknowledgement at your statement, and sensing the end to the short conversation, you go back to absentmindedly looking out the window.

Arriving home, you hop out of the car, quickly making your way back inside your house with the two men following in pursuit. Before you can make it two steps, your father is calling you into his study. You sigh, already knowing what this is going to be about.

“(Y/n), although I’m happy you stood up for yourself, violence is never the answer,” your father reprimands you once you’re in his office.

“Yes, father,” you sigh, head down out of respect.

“In all fairness, sir, if she hadn’t acted beforehand, I was going to clock him myself,” Ten chimes in. “He was being a complete, and pardon my French, asshole.”

“Regardless of that fact or not, she should know better than to act out like that,” he frowns. “We’re lucky the news outlets won’t get wind of this. How would people react if they saw you, the presidents’ daughter, punching someone in the face? How do you think the public would perceive me as your father for ‘influencing’ you to act that way? What does that say about me as a parent? We have to be careful with our images. You know this. Otherwise, people will create these false presumptions about us. Now go, I have work to do.”

With a nod of your head, you turn around and exit the study, making your way to your room. You don’t have to look to know that your two bodyguards are already following you.

“Whether they see it or not, people are already going to have their false presumptions about us,” you mutter under your breath, releasing another sigh as you open the door to your room.

The two of them say nothing as they follow you into your room, closing the door behind them. They watch as you toss your bag onto your desk before moving over and flopping face first onto your bed, releasing a groan in the process.

Both of them are greatly amused by your actions today, not to mention impressed. Never would they have thought you would have had it in you to do what you did. Neither will admit it to the other, but they enjoyed this side of you, both intrigued by you and who you’re turning out to be. They can’t help but want to see more.

Moving over to sit on your couch, they allow themselves to relax slightly. Nothing unusual came up at your university, but they remain on high alert, as tomorrow would be a prime opportunity for something to happen given the events that will be taking place. They just know that whatever does happen, they’ll make sure to keep you safe. Not only is it their job, but after the events of today, you’ve sparked something within them, something that they haven’t felt in a long time. Something, that if given the chance, they want to feel again.

Eventually, the next day rolls around, and you manage to pull yourself out of your sour mood from the previous day. You’re currently sitting front row before the small stage they’ve set up outside for your father to give his speech on. People from all over campus, and the city for that matter, file in and take their seats, wanting to catch a glimpse of the president at this presidential event.

“Hey stranger,” Damien greets, nudging you gently as he takes the open seat beside you to your left. “How’re you feeling today?

“Could be better, could be worse,” you shrug, turning your head to look at him. “How about you?”

“Heard Minhyuk complaining about his face about an hour ago,” he replies with a hum. “You really got him good, dude’s sporting a nice shiner.”

“Serves him right,” a voice cuts in, shadows falling over both you and Damien.

Looking up reveals your two bodyguards now standing in front of you. You can tell Ten was the one to say that, for he wears a smug grin on his face as Taemin scans over the crowd.

“We’ll be positioned at the front of the stage during the speech, so if you need one of us, just wave us over,” Taemin informs you, to which you nod at.

You notice the earpieces they’re wearing, taking in their entire black ensembles. You lick your lips before taking a deep breath, turning back to face Damien in the next moment as the two men walk over to stand at the bottom of the front of the stage.

“Those two men are such fine, cool glasses of water, and I’m parched,” Damien says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you, only causing you to burst out laughing.

“Well, they’re all yours, boo,” you grin back, shooting him a wink. “Drink up.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he hums, turning his gaze to the front where Ten and Taemin are standing at attention.

The two of you continue on your conversation for a short amount of time, seeing as the event will be starting soon. You’ve noticed how the crowd has really filled out, a small smile resting on your lips as you feel pride for your father swell in your chest. He can be a bit difficult at times, but you love him, and you hope beyond anything that nothing goes wrong today.

Soon enough, the crowd has settled down and the dean of your university introduces your father who receives a tremendous amount of applause in response. You take this time to look around at all the media sources broadcasting this event today. News outlets, magazines, even those filming on their phones for their own social media accounts.

Figuring you should get comfortable in your seat for your father’s speech, you lean back in your chair, crossing your left leg over the other, and your arms over your chest. You notice Damien lean back in his seat also, choosing to rest his hands in his lap as he gets comfortable. 

A gentle breeze drifts through the campus, the sky dotted with clouds as the sun peeks out from behind one. You can see your mother smiling in her seat behind your father as he begins his speech, the dean nodding along enthusiastically. All of your private bodyguards line the front of the stage on either side. Taemin and Ten standing closest to you, while Siwon and Natasha stand on the opposite side.

Just as your father takes a slight pause in his speech, the first shot is fired.

A scream sounds from the crowd somewhere behind you as the bullet makes contact with the ground just before your feet. You recoil in shock, nearly falling backwards in your chair. The next moment, chaos ensues as another bullet whizzes right past your head and hits the person sitting behind you. 

People begin panicking, getting up and running in multiple directions while screaming in fear for their lives. You see both Taemin and Ten rushing towards you, but they’re two seconds too late.

The sound of a bullet making contact with flesh makes you flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. Your whole body tenses as you wait for pain to overtake you in the next moment. Except, it doesn’t come.

Opening your eyes, you look to your left where you see Damien on the ground, clutching his right shoulder as blood begins to flow from his fresh bullet wound. You barely register Ten grabbing your arm to lead you away from the scene.

Quickly regaining your senses, you rip your arm out of his grasp, a firm ‘no’ passing your lips as you drop to your knees beside Damien. Taking off the sweater you’re wearing, you immediately press it to his wound, keeping the pressure until medical help can arrive.

“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” Taemin says, going to grab for you himself this time.

“I’m not leaving him,” you state, staring into Damien’s eyes as tears gather at the corners of his as the pain washes over him.

“Our number one priority is keeping you safe,” Ten responds, looking around the crowd as both he and Taemin draw their guns. “No matter the cost.”

“I’ll be fine,” Damien assures you through gritted teeth. “It’s only a flesh wound.”

“Flesh wound my ass,” you mutter.

The commotion around you prevents you from seeing if your parents got away safely, but you’re hoping that they did. No more shots have been fired since Ten and Taemin have reached you, so you’re hoping the shooter has moved on and is in the process of being chased.

Another bullet whizzing past your arm is all the answer you need, your heart beating erratically in your chest as you’re overcome with fear. No matter how badly your mind is screaming for your body to run, you won’t leave your best friend here to die like this.

“I can’t leave him!” You shout over the commotion.

“Shit,” you hear Taemin cuss as he turns towards the direction the bullets have been coming from in hopes of getting a glimpse of the shooter. However, at this distance, his handgun is not going to have much of an effect on a long range shooter.

“Can you stand?” Ten asks you, to which you simply nod your head. “Good, get up.”

“I told you, I’m not leaving him to die!” At your words Damien lets out a pain filled groan.

“Go, get out of here,” he manages to get out. “Your life is more important than mine, anyways.”

“What the fuck are you saying? Of course it’s not!” You yell, tears blurring your vision as you feel the amount of blood on your hands despite your best efforts of putting pressure on the wound. “You can’t say things like that, I don’t know who I’d be without you. Come on, you’re going to get through this, stay with me.”

Before you can register what’s happening, you feel yourself being pulled up and off of the ground. You begin to protest as Taemin drags you away from Damien, struggling in his grip as he leads you away from the scene of the crime for your protection, gun raised the whole time. 

Pulling you behind a building and out of view from the sniper’s range, Taemin pushes you against the wall, scanning the area to make sure it’s safe before turning to lock eyes with you.

“Relax, Ten’s got him,” he says, motioning with his head to his brother who has now caught up to you and is carrying Damien over his shoulder.

You manage to breathe a sigh of slight relief, your blood still rushing through your veins due to the adrenaline. You’re not safe yet, but at least you know Damien won’t just be left out there to bleed to death.

“You know, when I imagined getting carried away by prince charming, this is not what I had in mind,” Damien pipes up, causing you to let out a laugh in disbelief as Ten places him back on his own feet.

Pushing past Taemin, you manage to catch Damien as he stumbles slightly, wincing as his wound throbs in pain.

“You idiot,” you laugh, a single tear escaping your eye as you throw his arm over your shoulder. “This is seriously not the time for joking around.”

“You’re right-“

“(Y/n)!”

“Get behind us!”

“No!” A shriek escapes your lips as you hear a gunshot fire from in front of you, a masked figure now standing mere metres away from you. 

It all happens within the blink of an eye, yet everything still seems to happen in slow motion.

You watch as the bullet inches closer to your chest, Ten and Taemin rushing in front of you to try and protect you, but they’re going to be too late. Your eyes widen as you register Damien pushing you out of the way just in time to take the bullet for you. Stumbling slightly, you can only watch on in horror as his now lifeless body falls to the ground in front of you. You’re ears are ringing, and you barely register Taemin firing his own gun, killing the assailant instantly.

Taemin and Ten begin to scan the area, guards high incase another attacker is to make themselves known. They stand guard on either side of you as the swat teams arrive, only now noticing how you’ve dropped to your knees with silent tears streaming down your face as you stare at Damien’s still frame, bleeding out on the concrete in front of you.

“D-Damien,” your voice comes out as a broken whisper, barely having the strength to crawl over to him, but you manage, choking on a sob along the way. 

You manage to turn him over, wiping the hair out of his face as you come to rest his head in your lap, just like how you would sit when you were kids. A tear falls on his cheek, and you can’t help but think he looks almost peaceful like this; as if he’s only sleeping.

“You idiot,” you choke out, cupping his face gently in your hands and ignoring all those around you for the moment. “That bullet wasn’t meant for you.” Another tear lands on his cheek. “You weren’t meant to die for me. How am I supposed to go on without my best friend?”

Tears continue to flow down your cheeks as you sob for the loss of your closest friend. How cruel of fate to take him away from you so soon, that he should die while you continue to live on. Why would he do that for you?

All these thoughts, and more, race through your mind, and you can come up with the answer yourself, which only makes you sob harder. The love you have for your best friend is also shared by him. He did this because he wanted to, because he loves you. If the roles would have been reversed, you would have done the exact same thing for him.

A comforting hand is placed gently onto your back, startling you out of your thoughts. Letting your eyes refocus, you notice you’ve been subconsciously brushing Damien’s hair out of his face this whole time, only serving to streak it red with his blood that still rests on your hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, completely ignoring whoever it is that’s come to comfort you at this time in favour of gently placing Damien’s head on the ground. You back up slightly in order to give yourself enough room to lean down to place one final kiss to his forehead while whispering a small thank you. “I love you. You will always be my best friend.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you sit back up. Looking to your left, you see Taemin standing there with a hand placed comfortingly on your shoulder. He looks at you with slightly sorrowful eyes as you stand up, stumbling slightly on your feet. Luckily, Taemin is there to support you.

“Take me home,” your voice is barely above a whisper as you find yourself leaning into his side. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know the sadness that reflects in them, for he can hear it clearly in your voice.

By now, the reporters have made a reappearance as special ops forces take care of the scene. They throw questions your way while shoving microphones in your face as you walk past. Taemin does his best to push them out of your way, but in the end, some of the swat team has to step in to control them in order to get them to leave you alone. 

Ten is currently busy filling in the superiors on what events have just taken place. He watches as Taemin leads you away, an arm wrapped securely around your figure. He bites his lip. That should be him. He knows what it’s like to lose someone close to you, someone you love. He should be the one comforting you in this time, not Taemin.

The whole time shots were being fired, Ten’s heart was racing in his chest. Normally, he loves the thrill of adrenaline that rushes through his veins during times like these, but today, he couldn’t help but worry. He worried for your safety, and yes, even though you are his client and he should regularly worry about your safety, this time was different. No matter what happens, he doesn’t want to see you get hurt. Or worse.

It stuck with him, how attached you seemed to be to Damien, and how you refused to leave his side, even in the face of danger. He finds your loyalty admirable, and genuinely enjoys your caring nature. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself yet, but it pained him to see the horrified, heartbroken look on your face when Damien was killed. If he can help it, he never wants to see you hurt or in pain again, and he’ll start by doing his job right. His number one priority now, is protecting you at all costs, even if it means giving up his own life.

Meanwhile, you rest your head on the cool window of your car as Taemin drives you home. Nothing is said between the two of you, and you’re grateful for the silence. Closing your eyes, you attempt to get some rest while on your way home, but every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Damien’s dead body bleeding out on the ground.

You don’t even notice you’ve started crying again until you feel a gentle hand on your cheek, wiping away your tears. Your eyes flutter open to see you’re back home already, the car now parked in the garage.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says softly, eyes full of sorrow as he retracts his hand from your cheek slowly.

You don’t say anything in response, not trusting your voice to not crack if you were to speak. Instead, you find yourself nodding once at him, swallowing briefly. 

Never have you seen Taemin show this much emotion in front of you, but you appreciate it none-the-less. You’re also grateful he doesn’t push you to talk, opting to get out of the car and help you walk into the main part of the house in the next moment.

He can feel his heart clench slightly in his chest, seeing you so upset and hurt by the events of today. He won’t easily admit it, but the whole time shots were being fired, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to protect you. He’s intrigued by you, and ever since yesterday, he’s wanted to get to know you better. Sure he acts a bit cold and distant, but he knows he’s starting to warm up to you.

You have this effect on him which sets his heart racing, and knowing how much you care for your best friend just made his interest in you spike. He admires the loyalty and dedication you’ve shown so far, selfishly wanting that for himself in the future. You’ve definitely caught his eye, and once he sets his sights on something, he never lets go of his target.

He only wishes he could have been able to comfort you better in the car before the two of you went inside.

As soon as your mother sees you enter the house, she rushes over to you, “(Y/n), oh my god. Thank goodness you’re alright! We were so worried about you, are you hurt?”

“No, mom, I’m fine,” you reply, brushing her off in favour of wanting to retreat to your room for the rest of the evening. You just want to be alone right now, or at least away from your parents and their questioning gazes.

“You don’t look fine,” your dad comments, worry evident on his features as he frowns. “You have blood on your hands.”

“There’s blood on your hands?” You mother panics, immediately grabbing your hands in hers and looking them over worriedly as she takes in the sight of the now dried blood covering your hands.

“It’s fine, it’s-“ you hesitate, closing your eyes briefly as you swallow your emotions for the time being, “it’s not mine.”

“Then who’s-“ both your mother and father’s brows furrow as they fully look at your red eyes and tear stained face.

“It’s-“ you choke on a breath, your emotions overcoming your weak walls that you’ve put up for the time being as you feel the weight of the events from today come crashing down on you. “Damien’s”

“Is he alright?” Your mother asks, squeezing your hands gently in comfort as she looks at your face in worry.

You shake your head, refusing to meet her eyes as you hear her gasp.

“He sacrificed himself for me,” you let out a shaky breath, only now being able to look up into your mother’s eyes, and you can see the sorrow reflected in her own as she wraps you in her arms.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she says, gently stroking your hair as you sob into her shoulder. You can feel your father come over to place a comforting hand onto your back, gently rubbing soothing circles the whole time. 

You all stay like this for a few minutes, your parents comforting you as you sob in the main hallway of your house. After a little while longer, you manage to get your emotions back under control, enough to pull away from your mom as she wipes your tears away.

“Why don’t you go and get some rest, honey, we’re well protected here at home,” she suggests, to which you nod in response.

You don’t say anything as you walk past them and to the stairs, slowly trudging up them and to your room. Closing the door gently behind you, you feel as if you’re untuned to your surroundings, moving around your room slowly as if in a daze.

Grabbing a fresh pair of pyjamas to change into consisting of an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, you make your way to your bathroom in order to wash off the events of the day. You find that the hot water helps clear your mind slightly, serving to wash away the dirt and grim that’s stuck onto you. It takes you several minutes just to wash the blood off of your hands, it now being caked into your nails. The sight alone makes your eyes sting with unshed tears.

You end up taking longer than you thought you would to get ready for bed, seeing as how your movements are sluggish at the moment. Once you deem your hair dry enough, you throw it in a bun on the top of your head, exiting the bathroom and coming back out into your main room.

Just as you groggily start to make your way over to your bed, you hear a faint knock coming from your bedroom door. Releasing a small sigh, you head over to see who it could be.

Opening the door reveals Taemin standing there. You notice his eyes roam over your figure briefly, taking in your appearance, before looking back up to meet your gaze.

“Your parents wanted me to check up on you after debriefing them,” he says, not wanting you to know that he was also concerned about how you may be fairing after the events of today.

“I’m just going to try and get some sleep,” you reply, bringing a hand up to rub at your eyes.

“Well, if you need anything, let me know,” with a final nod, he goes to turn away.

“Wait,” your voice halts him in his tracks.

“Yes?” He turns his head to look at you from over his shoulder.

“I know that this isn’t really a part of your job description, but I don’t really want to be alone right now,” you say, looking down at your feet somewhat nervously. “Do you mind staying with me for a while? At least until I fall asleep? I’d feel safer knowing you were with me, watching over me.”

Given the circumstances, he knows his heart shouldn’t be skipping a beat at your words, but it does anyways. It takes him a moment to think of a response, but you take his silence as a denial to your request.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, I can always ask Ten when he gets back-“

“No, no,” he cuts you off before you can finish. There’s no way he’s letting his brother take this opportunity away from him. “It’s fine. Just let me shower first, then I’ll be right with you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” You say, your eyes flitting upwards only to look down again in the next second. “Do whatever you have to do first. I’ll be here.”

With a final nod from him, he’s moving quickly down the hall and to his room. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting for long, but he does want to wash off the events of the day before keeping you company. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for him to freshen up a little bit for you.

Not even fifteen minutes later, you hear another soft knock coming from your bedroom door. Getting up off of your bed, you go over to let Taemin into your room, closing your door gently behind him.

“Thank you, by the way,” your voice is small as you move past him to sit on the side of your bed. “You didn’t have to agree to this.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, moving to sit on your couch that faces your bed, serving to give you space, but also letting you know that he’s still there for you incase you should need him.

Crawling underneath your covers, you attempt to get comfortable. You’re able to relax slightly better knowing Taemin is in your room to protect and watch over you for the time being. However, the more you allow yourself to relax, the more your body begins to shake. Your mind now has time to think about all the events that have taken place today, and thanks to your adrenaline wearing off, all of your emotions are coming crashing back to you. Fear, grief, anger, shock, and sadness all flood your senses as you attempt to lull yourself to sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, you see glimpses of the horrific scenes that played out in front of you during the day, but none of them are as prominent as watching your best friend get shot over and over again; you can still hear the gunshots ringing in your ears.

A small whimper escapes your lips as tears threaten to fall from your eyes once more.

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you curse yourself. Yes, it’s good to have emotions, but your father has always told you not to let them get the best of you. You can’t help but just feel so weak after the events of today. Never before have you been so scared for your life, and never before have you had to face this kind of terror head on. Never has it affected you this horribly before.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a gentle hand place itself onto your back, successfully serving to pull you out of your thoughts. 

Turning to look over your shoulder, you stare at Taemin with slightly wide, tear-filled eyes, and he can feel his heart clench in sorrow for you.

“Are you okay?” His voice is gentle, concern clear on his features.

You sit up in bed, turning to face him fully as you choke back a sob, “no.”

Moving quickly, he sits on the edge of your bed, wrapping you in his arms. He gently rubs his one hand along your back as you come to rest your head in the side of his neck, letting all of your emotions out that you’ve so desperately kept in since retreating to your room for the evening.

He lets you cry into him for as long as you need, comforting you in any way he can. He wants you to know that he’s here for you, in more ways than just being your bodyguard. It pains him to see you this upset, but he’s glad that he’s the one able to be with you in your time of need.

Eventually, your sobbing begins to die down, with you only shaking slightly from your emotions now as you begin to calm yourself down. He refuses to let you go just yet, wanting to make sure you’re okay before having you pull away. He wants you to be the first to pull away, so as to not deny you of his comfort when you need it most. Besides, he’s enjoying the fact that he get’s to hold you in his arms, though he wishes it was under better circumstances.

“Thank you,” you whisper in his ear, nearly causing a shiver to run down his spine.

All too soon, you’re pulling away from him to look into his eyes while wiping away your remaining tears. You send him a weak smile, one that still manages to pull at his heartstrings as he sends you a small one back. This surprises you slightly as you don’t believe you’ve seen him smile at all until now.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies lowly, slowly going to stand up before your hand on his wrist stops him.

“Do you-“ you pause, biting your lip slightly as you avoid his gaze, “can you-“

He can see your eyes flicker briefly to him before flicking to beside you on the bed, the hesitant yet hopeful look shining in your eyes only serving to make his heart race faintly in his chest.

He nods his head slightly, “of course.”

The breath you let out in relief is followed by a small smile which overtakes your features. You both know that this isn’t in his job description, but you’d feel better having him stay with you for the night.

Making room for him, he crawls under your covers with you. You can tell he doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, but you feel better when his arms are around you. Especially in this moment, you need the comfort only he can provide for you.

Letting out another small sigh, you turn to face him, noticing he’s already staring at you. The two of you continue to stare at each other for about a minute, a small silence settling around the both of you. You shuffle closer, averting your gaze in the next moment.

“Taemin?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he still manages to hear you.

“Yes?” He hums.

“Hold me,” it’s not a question, yet not a demand either, but it feels as if the world has stopped for a brief moment as he takes in your request.

He doesn’t say anything in response, and you’re worried you might have gone too far, but once you feel his arms loop around your figure and pull you close to him, you’re breathing another sigh of relief.

He’s sure you can hear the way his heart skips a beat as you bury yourself into his chest, wrapping your own arms around his waist as you seek comfort in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t read too much into this, you’re only asking him to do this to comfort you in your time of need, but it’s the fact that you’re asking him to do this for you that sets his heart racing.

He hasn’t felt this way in a long time, and even though he wishes the events leading up to this moment were different, he’s just glad he gets to experience holding you in his arms for the night. Whatever you need, he’ll give to you.

As he watches you sleep in his arms, he makes a promise to himself that night. No matter what happens, he’ll always be there for you. To protect you, and if you’ll let him, to love, and cherish you for as long as you both shall live.

Waking up the next morning, you hear faint breathing coming from beside you. Furrowing your brow slightly in confusion, you go to sit up, only to find a pair of arms resting around your waist. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Taemin’s sleeping face; everything from the previous night coming back to you now.

Managing to wiggle out of his grasp, you sit on the edge of your bed, warmth rushing up your neck as you realize he slept with you the entire night. The more you think about it though, the calmer you feel, for he did comfort you the entire time he’s been with you. You don’t think you would have been able to sleep at all if he didn’t stay.

“Good morning,” you hear him say from behind you, voice still groggy from sleep. You can feel the bed shift as he sits up. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” you reply briefly from over your shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you stay with me last night.”

“Don’t be,” he replies, shifting slightly so he can rest a hand on your back. “I’m glad I could help. Besides, you needed it.”

You say nothing in return, choosing to nod slightly instead. 

Standing up from your bed, you move over to your bathroom to get ready for the day. Once by the sink, you splash some cool water onto your face to wake yourself up. Looking into your reflection in the mirror reveals how red and swollen your eyes are from crying last night. You let out a sigh.

Today isn’t going to be any easier. You know you’re going to have to have a meeting with your parents to fully discuss what happened yesterday, as well as possibly make arrangements for Damien’s funeral with his family. To say you’re not looking forward to any of that would be an understatement.

Once you’re finished in the bathroom, moving back into the main section of your bedroom reveals that Taemin has already left. You figure he’s probably gone to get ready for the day himself, seeing as he’s back on formal duty now.

Moving over to your closet, you mindlessly shift through your clothes, not feeling up to changing at the moment. You just want to lay in bed and rest, but unfortunately, your life has to go on. Such is the pain of being apart of such an important family.

Deciding you should at least put on some proper pants, you change swiftly, trudging downstairs slowly afterwards, and bracing yourself for the day you have in front of you.

Meanwhile, Taemin changes quickly in his room. His skin is still warm from where you had been touching him before you had moved, and he misses the comforting feeling of you being in his arms. His only wish was that it could have lasted for even just a little while longer.

While washing his face, the door attached to Ten’s room opens, revealing him now casually leaning on the doorframe and staring at his brother expectantly.

“You weren’t in your room when I got back last night,” Ten states, a small inquisitive quirk to his eyebrow.

“I was with (Y/n) last night,” Taemin replies casually, noticing the way his brother’s eye twitches at the mention of your name.

“Sleeping with the clientele, are we?” Ten muses, shaking his head in mock disappointment. He always thought better of his brother to not intrude on personal space, especially not after a day like yesterday.

“Relax, it wasn’t like that,” Taemin rolls his eyes slightly, turning to face his brother while leaning casually on the bathroom counter. “She asked me to stay with her for comfort. She said I make her feel safe.”

Though he looks visibly unaffected, Ten’s jaw can’t help but twitch in clear annoyance. Again, he should have been the one to comfort you in your time of need, not Taemin. He only wishes he could have been given that opportunity to make sure you were alright last night. He wants an opportunity to get closer to you, and learn more about you, just like his brother did. Or so he believes.

“We should get going, they’re expecting us downstairs,” Taemin’s voice manages to pull Ten out of his thoughts.

Ten finds he can only nod his head once in response. Pushing himself off the frame of the door, he retreats back into his room before making his way downstairs. They both make sure to check your room first though, just to make sure you’ve already made your way to the main floor of the house.

Sitting at one end of the dining room table, you watch as your two guards enter the room, moving to stand on either side of you once in position. Now, you’re just waiting for your father to arrive. He had to leave early this morning for a press statement, or so your mother tells you.

You let out a small breath, fiddling with your phone in front of you as you receive a barrage of messages from both Ayla and Jongin, as well as your other friends around the globe who’ve heard of the news. Most of them have heard about what happened yesterday, and want to make sure you’re okay. They also know about what happened to Damien, so they send you their deepest condolences, of which you’re grateful for. You don’t know what you’d do without them still in your life.

Soon enough, your father is arriving home and you all begin your discussions around what the next week will look like. Your university will remained closed until further notice while the investigation is underway, as well as to honour Damien’s memory. They’re going to hold a public wake at the school in about a week’s time, after his main funeral takes place. His main funeral will be in three day’s time for only close friends and family. You make a note to let Ayla and Jongin know about that as soon as you can.

You are to be on lockdown in the house for the next little bit to make sure that no one else will come after you in public. The only exceptions to this rule are the day of Damien’s funeral, as well as the wake if you choose to go.

Your parents will be busy doing press interviews for the next little bit, as the special ops forces work to catch whoever is behind these assassination attempts. They also want you to pick back up on your old self defence training, and they’ve assigned your bodyguards to help train you.

Not only do your parents want you to brush up on your hand-to-hand combat skills, but they also want you to learn how to properly shoot a gun. They tell you that it’s for your own protection, and also in case of emergencies, which you simply nod your head along to whatever they say.

At this point, your mind is on information overload, and you just want to retreat back to your room, curl up in bed or on the couch, and watch a movie to take your mind off of things. At least you have the next little bit off of school, though you just wish it was for better reasons than this. You sigh.

An hour and a half later, you’re all finished talking, all updated on the most recent of events. Your parents each have something they need to do, and you’re glad that they’re allowing you time to yourself to do whatever you need to. Whether it be grieve, scream, or lay in a silent emotional void for a bit, you’re unsure. What you do know, is that as soon as they dismiss you, you’re standing up from your seat and practically rushing back to your room.

Reaching the safe confines of your room, you grab your comforter off of your bed, and move over to your one couch facing your television. Taemin and Ten follow your every movement, watching as you toss the blanket over the couch while moving over to grab your laptop in the next second. Setting up the screen, you plug in your laptop adapter to reflect your screen on the television, deciding that you’re going to watch your favourite movie to take your mind off of things.

Sitting down on a corner of your couch once you’ve set everything up, you wrap the comforter around yourself. Looking over your shoulder, you see both Ten and Taemin standing a little ways away from you, eyes shining with curiosity. You can also see the concern reflected in their eyes still, a fact that makes you sigh.

“The two of you might want to get comfortable and join me, I’m probably going to be here for a while,” you say, turning your attention back to your screen as the opening of your favourite movie begins to play.

They say nothing as they move over to join you. Ten takes the opposite end of the couch you’re on, while Taemin takes the chair directly beside you. Both of them spare a glance towards you before locking eyes with each other. They’re both surprised with how calm you seem at the moment. Honestly, they’d say you appear more tired than anything.

About halfway through the movie, Ten looks over to see that you’ve fallen asleep. Your head rests slightly on the back of the couch, but the angle you’re sitting in looks fairly uncomfortable.

His eyes briefly flick over to Taemin before letting out a small breath, noticing how his brother is focussed on the screen.

Shifting slightly, he moves closer to you, gently pulling you down on the couch so your don’t wake up with a sore neck. However, what he doesn’t expect is for you to sigh and lean into him.

His heart races in his chest as you manage to push him back on the couch slightly, hand resting on his chest as his one arm naturally wraps around your shoulders, allowing you to comfortably rest your head on him. He looks down at you with slightly stunned features, noticing how a little bit of your hair has fallen over your face. He goes to brush it away.

“What are you doing?” Taemin’s voice manages to halt any movements Ten is about to make.

Looking up, he meets the hard gaze of his brother, a smug expression on his face as he sees Taemin’s eyes failing to hide the slight jealousy in them.

“Getting comfortable,” Ten responds, gently brushing the hair out of your face all the while maintaining eye contact with Taemin.

You simply hum at Ten’s touch, shifting slightly to bury yourself deeper into his warm embrace subconsciously. You remain asleep as the two brothers stare each other down, Taemin’s jaw clenching as the corner of Ten’s lips turn up slightly. Now, it’s his turn to hold you.

Reluctantly, Taemin tears his gaze away from you being held in Ten’s arms. His jaw remains set in a firm line as his emotions begin to take over his thoughts. He knows he got to hold you last night, and that it didn’t mean anything, but he can’t help but think that it meant something. You went to him for comfort. You asked him to stay with you last night, and now, seeing you curled up in Ten’s arms sets his blood boiling. He doesn’t care that Ten’s his brother, he’s the one that’s going to protect you, the one that will keep you safe. He’s the better option for you, not Ten.

Meanwhile, Ten basks in the glory that is you curled up, sleeping in his arms. You look so peaceful like this, as if the events of the previous day haven’t had the chance to affect you yet. He takes this time to admire your features, memorizing every detail and falling deeper into the feelings only you seem to be able to stir within his chest. It only makes him prouder that you’ve leant into him considering he didn’t get to comfort you, or hold you at all, last night like he so badly wanted to do. Now, he gets you all to himself in a way, and he couldn’t be more content. Knowing his brother is fuming only makes this feeling that much more sweeter. After all, he’s the one who’ll make sure nothing bad ever happens to you again. He’s what you deserve.

You manage to sleep for the next hour or so, the movie long over by the time you wake up. Noticing the position you’re in, heat rises up your neck as you sit up from Ten’s hold, retracting back to the opposite side of the couch while muttering a small sorry, and avoiding his eyes. He simple smiles warmly at you in response, thinking about how cute you look avoiding his gaze. All the while, Taemin stares at him with narrowed eyes.

The three of you remain in your room for the rest of the day, them keeping you company as you watch movies to pass the time and take your mind off of things. The only time you leave your room is to grab food and drinks, opting to skip a major meal for dinner that night, thinking you won’t be able to stomach it due to the fact that you’ve barely had a large appetite since the incident.

“Your parents want you to start your self-defence training as soon as possible,” Taemin’s voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts after a while. “Do you think you’ll be willing to start tomorrow?”

It takes you a moment to think over his words, letting out a small sigh as you answer him, “the sooner, the better, right?”

“As long as you’re feeling up to it,” Ten adds, shooting you a soft look, eyes reflecting his concern for you. “It would probably be for the best.”

“Then tomorrow it is,” you nod, closing your eyes briefly as you take a deep breath.

“You should get some rest,” Taemin says, standing up from his chair and stretching slightly.

You simply nod in response, watching as Ten stands up as well.

“Are you going to be okay for the evening?” Ten asks, looking down at you, who has tucked the blanket all the way up to your chin.

“I think so,” you nod, shifting your gaze upwards to lock eyes with him, and noticing something flash behind his own, but it’s gone just as quickly as it came.

“If you need us, don’t be afraid to come get one of us,” Taemin tells you, already moving over to your door to retreat to his room for the evening.

“Thank you,” comes your simple response, sending one final nod your way as they both exit your room for the evening, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

A sigh escapes Ten’s lips as he shuts your door behind him, noticing Taemin already making his way down the hall and to his own room. He had hoped you’d ask for him to stay with you for the night, just like you had done the previous night with his brother. Holding you in his arms today has only made him realize that he wants to be able to do so more often, but without the added company next time.

As soon as he had asked that question, Taemin caught on to what his brother was doing. He couldn’t help but smirk slightly at your denial of his hidden advances, although, he would have preferred if you had asked for him to stay with you for another night. Seeing you wrapped up in his brother’s arms just made him want to show his brother that you don’t belong to him. After all, he shouldn’t touch what isn’t his.

The next day, the three of you make your way to the sub-basement, where a designated training area has been set up for times like these. As you step into the large room, filled with sparring mats, amongst other things, your eyes widen. It still amazes you how they can fit a small shooting range down here, kind of like your own personalized bat cave, only significantly smaller and less cool.

“What did you want to start with first?” Ten asks as you turn your attention towards him.

“Maybe shooting? Seeing as sparring might take more of my energy later,” you say, failing to notice the subtle smirk that pulls at Taemin’s lips at your words. “I’d rather be able to lift my arm without it shaking from exhaustion.”

“Fair enough,” Ten nods, eye twitching slightly as he sees his brother’s smug look. He has to keep telling himself it doesn’t mean anything that you chose Taemin over him to start. After all, this is just training. Even so, he can’t help but frown as he turns away, noticing how you walk closer to Taemin, and away from him.

Pulling out his gun, Taemin leads you over to a side table. Once there, he swiftly pulls apart the pistol, placing each component carefully on the table in front of you.

“First things first, if you want to shoot a gun, you should learn exactly how each piece fits together with the other,” he says, looking over at you and watching your eyes flick over the separate pieces of his most prized possession. “If you want to know how to shoot a gun, you need to learn to assemble it first.”

Grabbing each piece he needs, he slowly begins piecing each part back together, you watching him closely the whole time. You listen intently to everything he says, eyes hardly ever leaving his hands as they assemble the gun into one solid piece.

Ten watches all of this with a slight scowl on his face. He doesn’t appreciate how close his brother is standing to you. There’s no reason your arms should be almost touching as Taemin explains the mechanics of the gun to you. 

He knows exactly what his brother is doing to him, and he hates it, for he knows that Taemin is doing this on purpose, just to torment him. It’s been a long time since either one of them has wanted the same thing this badly, and neither are going to give up easily until they obtain their goal.

Another thing that bothers Ten is that he knows Taemin is using his favourite gun for this training exercise. Taemin rarely ever lets anyone touch, let alone assemble his favourite gun. Hell, Ten’s only used it twice before in his life, and he got scolded both times, even if they were both in critical life or death situations. This just makes Ten’s brow furrow further in discontent, knowing that his brother is this serious about you to let you train with his prized pistol.

This fact only makes him more antsy for his own turn to train with you. Then, he might be able to turn this on his brother, for he’ll be able to keep you close to him for nearly the entire time. After all, sparring is a contact sport.

Soon, Taemin is disassembling his gun once more in order for you to reassemble it this time. He places each component back on the table, turning his gaze to lock eyes with you.

“Got it?” He quirks a brow, and he sees you smile softly.

“I think so,” you nod once, and the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly.

Reaching out your hand, you grab the first piece, slowly assembling the gun just as Taemin had done previously. He watches you carefully the whole time, noticing how you bite your lip slightly in concentration as you put the pieces of the weapon together again. He can feel his heart racing slightly in his chest, not only from having you so near to him again, but also from seeing you holding his favourite gun. The way you hold it, so gently, carefully putting the pieces back together, makes his mind wander. 

Is this how delicately you would treat your lover? Holding them as if they’re the most precious thing in the world? Or maybe the way you would care for a child, gently caressing them as you cradled them to your chest. These thoughts, and more, race through his mind, serving to distract him.

“Done!” Your proud voice manages to pull him out of his thoughts.

Looking down at the gun now placed on the table, he admires how quickly you’ve picked this skill up. A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips as he glances to you fondly, pride swelling in his chest at how well you’ve handled his prized possession. He knew you wouldn’t disappoint him.

“Good,” he nods, taking the weapon once more into his hands and disassembling it agains. “Now do it once more.”

He sees determination shine in your eyes as you nod your head at him. Your movements are much quicker this time as you’re more sure in your actions. He watches you with a content look on his face, amusement and pride swirling behind his eyes.

“By the way, this is a really nice pistol,” you comment, putting the last of the pieces together. “Is it custom?”

Once whole, you run your thumb over the engravings of the vines on the side of the barrel, staring down at the weapon with wonder shining in your eyes. You notice the small L.T.M carved into the side of the gun, just above the handle, as you flip it around in your hand to pass it back to him.

“It is,” he confirms, smirking down at the object now placed back in his own hand. He surprised you noticed, but the fact that you have just makes you appear more endearing to him. A fact that makes him confident that he’s made the right decision in wanting to pursue these emotions you stir within him. “It’s my favourite gun in my entire collection. I always carry it with me.”

“I see,” you respond, taken slightly aback by his words. You’re surprised he’s letting you use his favourite gun for training. “Thank you for trusting me enough to use it.”

“Of course,” comes his blunt reply, turning away from you so you can’t see the smug smile that wants to break out on his face, but Ten does. “Come on, let’s check your aim.”

Moving over to the small shooting range that has been set up, Taemin grabs two pairs of protective earmuffs, and eyewear for you. Handing you one of them, he briefly explains how to go about aiming the gun, and the kickback. You nod along to everything he’s saying, listening intently and taking in every detail you can in order to help you with your shooting.

“Those are the basics, so let’s see what you can do,” he says, handing over his precious pistol to you once more, after checking to make sure that it’s loaded.

“Right,” you respond, taking the gun once more into your hands after putting the protective gear on your head.

Raising the gun with both hands, you take aim, feeling the solid weight of the item in your grasp. You let out a small breath as you fire your first shot, slightly caught off guard at the kickback of the weapon, despite Taemin’s previous warning. You notice him chuckle beside you as you readjust your stance, taking aim once more and firing off a few more shots.

In total, you’ve fired six shots out of twelve, and only four of them have made contact with the target. A small pout resides on your lips as you notice the shots that did hit the target are way off their mark. Adjusting your earmuffs, you pull one off on one side, resting it just beside your ear enough so that you can better hear the world around you, noticing Taemin doing the same.

“This is harder than I thought,” you grumble, only causing Taemin to chuckle once more.

“It takes a lot of skill to handle a gun, especially for the first time,” he says, grin never leaving his lips as he takes a step towards you. “Still, I’m impressed. Most people miss the target the first time.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only saying that to make me feel better,” you huff, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.

“He’s not,” Ten’s voice cuts in, making you blink in surprise. You had almost forgotten he’s still in the room with you guys, given how quiet he’s been. “You should be grateful, he rarely praises anybody.”

Noticing the look his brother is giving him, Taemin smirks. He can practically feel the jealous eyes of his brother on him the whole time, only serving to make Taemin more smug about this whole situation. In fact, he’s even going to take this a step further, and show Ten just how close he can get to you.

“Here, adjust your grip and hold it like this,” moving closer to you, Taemin takes your hands into his own, guiding your hands over the gun as he leaves his overtop of yours. Stepping behind you, he fixes your stance to better accommodate your aim. His arms encase you between them, guiding you, and showing you how to shoot properly.

The whole time, he whispers the instructions into your ear, sending a slight shiver down your spine. A fact which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, making him smirk. He can practically feel the burning gaze of his brother on his back as he holds you in his arms, taking aim and telling you to shoot once more.

Ten bites his lip as he watches Taemin do all of this with you right in front of his eyes. It wasn’t enough for his brother to just stand close to you, but now he has the audacity to flaunt being able to touch you like this right in front of him. He clenches his jaw as your next six shots are right on target, never missing once.

Thank goodness the two of you are almost done for the day, and his turn is next. He’ll make sure to show his brother exactly where he stands with you, and put him in his place. If Ten has to suffer through watching you being held and touched by Taemin, he’ll make sure to show him exactly how it felt. Except, he’ll make sure to make it much worse for him. No one, not even his brother, gets away with touching you like that. No one.

Shifting your gaze to look at Taemin, a large grin spreads across your features. He stares back, a satisfied grin on his own face as he reluctantly releases you from his hold and takes a step back.

“Well done,” he praises, only serving to make your smile widen.

“That was amazing, oh my god,” your words come out in a slight jumble as they spill out of your mouth, handing him his gun back as you remove the protective gear and place it to the side. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Neither can I,” Ten grumbles under his breath, yet Taemin still manages to hear.

Shooting his brother a victorious smirk, Taemin turns his full attention back to you. “Why don’t you take a small break before you begin sparring practice. You’ve earned it.”

The smile never leaves your face as you reply to him, “good idea.”

Walking over to where his brother is now standing with crossed arms, Taemin smirks, “what’s wrong, brother? Is something the matter?”

“You know exactly what’s bothering me, don’t act so coy,” Ten replies, meeting Taemin’s intense gaze with his own deadly stare.

“I didn’t realize how attached you would get,” Taemin replies, mirroring Ten’s stance and crossing his own arms over his chest.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, brother,” Ten hisses, eyes narrowing as he watches Taemin laugh lowly.

“Do you really think you can win against me?” Taemin quirks a brow, daring Ten to challenge him. “I always get what I want, and I don’t intend to lose.”

“Well, you better be prepared for what’s to come then, brother,” Ten states, confidence high as he raises his head slightly in order to intimidate Taemin, “because I intend to win.”

Meanwhile, you move over to the side, grabbing the water bottle that you’ve brought with you for this occasion. Taking a drink, you let out a small content sigh once you’ve had your fill. Wiping at your forehead with the back of your hand, you take in a deep breath. If only Damien could see you now.

He was always fascinated with this sort of thing. Well, at least in video games. You know he would have loved every second of this, and you just wish he could have been here to experience it with you.

Another sigh escapes passed your lips, this once more sorrowful than the last. Closing your eyes briefly, you hope that wherever he is, that he’s in a better place now. At least that’s what you’d like to think.

Opening your eyes back up, you place your water bottle back down. Stretching briefly, you raise your arms above your head, tilting it from side to side and hearing a few satisfying pops sound from your spine. Dropping your hands back to your side, you begin to make your way back over to your two guards, who have both seemingly moved over to where the sparring mats have been set up.

Catching Ten’s gaze, a small smile takes over his features as you move towards them, one which you return.

“Ready to begin?” He asks once you’ve gotten close enough to them.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you joke, attempting to lighten the tense atmosphere you’ve just walked into.

“Good,” he nods, moving over to one side of the mat. “Then let’s begin.”

With a nod, you step onto the sparring mats, Ten standing directly across from you. After a few quick stretches to make sure you won’t pull anything, you’re ready to begin combat training.

“Alright,” Ten says, moving into a fighting stance, “show me what you’ve got.”

Jumping into action, you manage to catch him slightly off-guard, for he’s not expecting you to move right away. You manage to throw a punch at him, only for him to dodge your fist and have you pinned to the mat in the next second.

Your eyes are wide as you stare into his own, him wearing a slight smirk on his face. Your reflexes may be fast, but his are faster.

“That was good,” he comments. “You seem to have good speed, but you don’t know how to read your opponent properly yet.”

In the blink of an eye, you flip him over, pinning him to the mats beneath you.

Now it’s his turn to look at you with wide eyes. No one has ever been able to pin him before. He can hear Taemin laughing in disbelief off to the side, only causing him to grit his teeth in response.

“First rule they teach you in any sort of combat training,” you grin, leaning in closer to his face, “never underestimate your opponent.”

“You got me,” he chuckles, already missing the feel of you on top of him as you move to stand up.

You offer him your hand, to which he takes, as you help him get back onto his feet. Your grin only seems to widen as the two of you get back into your starting positions.

A few moments pass by, the both of you now taking your time to size each other up. This time, you don’t want to be the one to make the first move.

“Don’t hold back,” Ten tells you.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you reply smugly, causing his heart to skip a beat. Your determination is admirable, a fact that he likes about you.

In the blink of an eye, Ten jumps into action. You barely have time to register his attack, but your body seems to move on its own accord, narrowly dodging the hit he sends your way.

He continues throwing hit after hit your way, a few landing as you attempt to keep your defences up. His speed is incredible, though, and you struggle to keep up.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you wait for an opportune opening to counter. However, it doesn’t look like you’re going to be getting one any time soon. He really knows how to cover his own ass.

The whole time, Taemin watches on in amusement. Never has anyone been able to keep up with Ten like this for their first time. To say he’s impressed would be an understatement. You just keep surprising the both of them today, and they couldn’t be happier.

Ducking underneath a kick Ten sends your way, you manage to lose your footing. A small ‘shit’ leaves your mouth as you land on your back, Ten taking the opportunity to pin you down in the next moment. This time, he makes sure to lock your body beneath his, so you can’t flip him again.

Holding your arms down beside your head, Ten leans down towards your face. Both of you are breathing heavily, attempting to catch your breaths as you stare at one another intently.

“You are very surprising,” he manages to say between breaths, making you smile.

“So I’ve been told,” you giggle, struggling slightly to get out of his grip.

Feeling your attempts to get free only causes him to smirk. He loves the feeling of you pinned beneath him, the sight being an incredible one to behold. Now, if only the two of you were alone, then maybe he would just be able to lean down and attach his lips to yours. Maybe he still might, just to prove to his brother that only he can have you.

“Ten?” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, his eyes focussing back in on your face which is reflecting slight discomfort at the position you’re being held in. “Do you mind getting off of me now?”

“Right, sorry,” moving swiftly, he hops back onto his feet, helping you to stand up in the next moment. He would have preferred staying in that position for longer, but he doesn’t want to push you, or make you uncomfortable around him. “Here, why don’t we test the strength in your kicks and punches now, seeing as you haven’t been able to land a single hit. There’s more to sparring than just evasion.”

“Sounds good to me,” with a quick nod from you, the two of you are moving over to the punching bag set up in the corner of the room.

“First things first, we need to wrap your hands,” grabbing a fresh roll of tape, Ten gently takes your hands into his own.

As Ten wraps your hands for you, he can’t help but note how perfectly they seem to fit into his own. He makes sure to hold you as gently as he can, showing you how careful and delicate he can be with you. After all, you deserve nothing but the best.

“There, that should be good enough,” Ten says after a few minutes.

Ever so slowly, he removes his hands from yours, his fingertips tingling from where he had just been touching you. He already misses the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips, and he only hopes he can feel it again soon, but next time, he wants to feel more.

Shooting a glance over at Taemin, Ten notices how his jaw seems to be clenched, only causing him to smirk in response. Now his brother knows how it feels, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

Looking down at your now taped hands, you flex them a few times. They feel slightly foreign to you now, as you’ve never had them taped like this before, and each time you flex them, you can feel the tape around your skin, pulling slightly. You smirk.

Shifting your gaze up, you see Ten already standing behind the punching bag, staring at you with a soft expression on his face, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came. You quirk a brow, moving over to stand in front of him.

“Judging from the way you clocked Minhyuk the other day, I’m assuming you already know how to hit properly,” he says, watching as you nod at him in response. “Good. Now, let’s see what you’re got.”

With another nod from you, you’re getting into a fighting stance, preparing for what you’re about to do. As soon as Ten gives you the okay to start, you begin to hit the punching bag with all you’ve got. Each hit of your fist against the material makes a small sound on impact, and you can see Ten adjust his stance to accommodate for your hits as he holds onto the punching bag.

As you continue to strike the bag, Ten gives you tips to adjust your stance to make your hits more powerful. You listen intently, immediately implicating his advice and seeing the power behind your punches, as well as your stability, increase.

The whole while, Taemin watches on with fondness shining in his eyes. He could care less about his brother being as close to you as he is, but seeing you working hard, and enjoying what you’re doing make his heart warm. You really are something else.

You start to add a few kicks into the mix, but you’re not quite used to them yet. You’ve never really needed to kick anything or anyone before, so the first time you nearly lose your balance. Luckily, you’re able to catch yourself before you fall.

Chuckling slightly, Ten move beside you, allowing for you to catch your breath for a minute as he give you tips on how to land a solid kick. You listen closely, nodding your head along to every word. Once he demonstrates though, your eyes are widening in awe.

“Wow,” you can’t help but mutter, causing a smug look to cross his features as he spares a glance towards a fuming Taemin.

“Now you try,” he says, seeing you nod, and getting into position.

Your foot makes a solid impact with the bag, causing it to sway slightly as Ten hadn’t been holding it in place that time. A large smile rests on your features as you take in your efforts.

“That was really good,” Ten praises, only serving to make your smile widen. “Ready to try sparring one more time?”

“Sure!” You confirm, heading back over to the sparring mats while Ten follows closely behind.

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” he says, the both of you now back in position.

You waste no time in attacking him now, but he easily avoids you. This time, as he moves to counter you, you observe him carefully, getting a sense of his attack pattern. 

About half way through your sparring match, neither of you has managed to take the other down yet, and you notice something akin to surprise and fondness shining in Ten’s eyes. A fact which you’ll use to your advantage.

Letting him get in a hit on your side, you react accordingly. Hissing slightly, you stumble back, noticing out of the corner of your eyes how Taemin takes a worried step forward, anger shining in his eyes as he stares his brother down. You nearly furrow your brow in confusion, but you have a plan to stick to.

“Shit,” you hear Ten curse, not realizing how powerful he made that hit, and thinking it’s worse than it is.

You take this opportunity as he moves in with a lowered guard to swipe his feet from under him, landing him on his back. Moving quickly, you pin him down, smirking victoriously.

“You shouldn’t let your opponent distract you,” you tease, a smirk pulling at your features as he looks up at you in shock. “Second rule they teach you in combat training.”

You let out a small giggle, staring into Ten’s eyes as his expression morphs into one of awe. He still can’t believe you’ve been able to pin him. Not just once, but twice.

All too soon, you’re standing up off of him, and helping him to his feet. Again, he misses the feeling of you touching him, whether it be above or beneath him.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough training for one day,” you yawn, stretching your hands once more above your head. Your shirt manages to ride up slightly this time, exposing a sliver of skin on your stomach, and driving the two men wild. Taemin licks his lips while Ten swallows slightly.

“You’ve done well today,” Taemin comments, coming over to hand you your water bottle, of which you thank him.

“Yeah, you’re already further along than we both could have expected,” Ten adds, making you look down in slight embarrassment.

“Oh, you guys are just saying that,” you chuckle, feeling your face heat up in the next moment.

“No,” Ten shakes his head.

“We’re not,” Taemin finishes.

Their words only serve to make you more bashful, turning away slightly as you take a drink of water. You fail to see the both of them staring at you fondly before turning to narrow their eyes at each other.

Letting out a small sigh, you place your water bottle on one of the tables off to the side. Just as you’re about to unwrap your hands, a gentle touch stops you. Looking up reveals Ten smiling softly at you.

“Here,” he says, beginning to undo the tape, “let me.”

You don’t say anything in response, opting to nod your head slowly instead. Silently, you watch Ten work, eyes following his every movement as he slowly and carefully removes the tape from around your hands. 

His touch is so gentle, so soft, that it warms your heart. His touch makes you feel as if he’s treating you as if you’re a delicate glass object, but you know he doesn’t think that. A fact which only causes a small smile to grace your lips.

It’s as if the two of you are in your own world once he finishes taking the tape off of your hands. The two of you unaware of your surroundings for a moment as you stare into each other’s eyes. You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you see him glance at your lips.

A clearing of someone’s throat manages to break the two of you out of your silent bubble. Ten forces himself to tear his gaze away from you, looking over to see Taemin standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Come on,” he says, turning away from you in the next moment. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, Taemin grabs his things and heads out of the room towards the stairs, the two of you following close behind. 

Ten can feel his heart racing in his chest, thinking back to only moments ago. It felt as if it was only you and him. He knows the two of you just shared an intimate moment together, and he could not be happier. It would have been better only if Taemin didn’t interrupt. He sighs, already planning his next move carefully. He knows he has to get you alone. Then, and only then, will he be able to make you his, once and for all.

The next few weeks seem to pass by in a blur for you. Between Damien’s funeral, his wake at your university, not having to go to class or worry about assignments, and also training practice, you’ve been fairly busy. Luckily, you’ve had a good support system consisting of your family, friends, and even your two bodyguards.

Over the past few weeks, the three of you have grown closer to one another. So much so, you gladly consider them your friends, rather than two men hired to protect you. You wouldn’t trade them for anything, and you’re glad you have them with you. However, you’ve noticed that their behaviour has been a little off the past few days.

As for Ten and Taemin, their mock rivalry has become even more intense between them since that first day of training. Their competition over who will have you, and win your heart, is at the forefront of their minds. Well, besides looking after you, of course, but that’s just second nature to them by now.

If one gets an opportunity to spend alone time with you one day, the other gets an equal opportunity the next. Neither of them have gained an upper hand yet, for you don’t seem to favour one over the other, a fact that bothers both of them. Each of them believe they’re better for you, they just need to get you to see that before it’s too late.

Currently, you’re sitting at the dinner table for the evening with your parents, discussing what the upcoming week is going to look like. You let out a sigh as you pick at your food, each of your guards respectfully stationed around the room.

“We’ll be hosting a charity event in a few days’ time at our home here,” your father explains, and you nod absentmindedly. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour, and for you to dress appropriately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” you quirk a brow, looking up from your plate to meet your father’s gaze.

“You have to wear a dress this time, (Y/n),” your mother chimes in, taking a sip of her drink.

“Excuse me?” You state in disbelief. “I can wear a dress if the occasion calls for it.”

“We know, sweetie. It’s just that it’s not your usual style,” your mother adds.

“Just because I don’t particularly like wearing fancy dresses doesn’t mean I can’t,” you sigh.

“Alright,” your mother chuckles. “Maybe you can go out tomorrow to look for a dress with Ayla or someone.”

“I actually think I already have a dress I can wear,” you reply, taking a sip of your own drink.

“I think I know the one you’re talking about,” your father nods. “That will be acceptable.”

“Thanks dad,” you shoot him a small smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Standing up, you clear your dishes from the table, bringing them to the kitchen to place them in the sink soon after. You let out a sigh as you begin to make your way to your room for the evening shortly afterwards. You don’t even have to look to know that Taemin and Ten are following close behind.

Stopping just in front of your door, you turn to them.

“I think I’m just going to head to bed early tonight, so you guys are free to do whatever,” you shrug, entering your room in the next moment and closing the door before they can respond.

You’ve been noticing that they’ve both started to stand closer to you than usual lately, going the extra mile to make sure you’re safe. You almost feel suffocated, but you know they mean well. You just need an evening to yourself for once.

The two of them share a look before heading down the hall to their own rooms for the evening, silence hanging thickly in the air. Neither say anything as they enter their respective rooms, both thinking about what dress you could have possibly been talking about. Either way, they both cannot wait to see what you decide to wear when the time comes. Even they get to dress up for the occasion, and both of them cannot wait to show you just how good they can look, especially for you.

Eventually, the day of the event comes and you’re currently in your room getting ready for the evening. You can faintly hear people moving about throughout your house in preparation for the evening, and you begin to wonder why the event is being hosted at your own house. Considering your family is still under threat, having this event at your own house seems a bit counter productive. You just hope there’s a bigger plan in action tonight in case anything goes south.

Letting out a small sigh, you lay the dress you’re going to be wearing this evening on your bed. Luckily, you’re able to get ready by yourself, seeing as your two guards also have to prepare for the evening. 

Moving over to your bathroom, you turn on your shower, making sure the temperature of the water is just right before stepping in. Taking your time, you make sure to scrub your entire body clean. After all, there will be a lot of press coverage of the event tonight, and you want to make sure you’re looking, and feeling, your best.

Stepping out of the shower once you’re done, you dry yourself off slowly. Throwing on your robe, you work on doing your hair and make up before changing into your dress for the evening. The last thing you want is to ruin your dress.

About an hour and a half later, you’re finally done your hair and makeup. Checking your phone for the time, you inhale sharply. You didn’t realize how late it got, and guest should start arriving any minute now.

Sure enough, you can hear cars starting to pull up your driveway in the next minute. So much for being ready on time.

Sighing, you move out of your bathroom and back into the main area of your bedroom. You decide to take your time change into your dress for the evening, seeing as you’re already running a little behind on time. If you’re going to be late, might as well make a stunning entrance.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve finished pulling on your outfit for the evening, making sure everything is in place and that you haven’t ruined your hair or your makeup. Looking over yourself one final time in your mirror, you smile at yourself. You’re happy with how you look for the evening, your entire look suiting your figure perfectly.

Slipping on your heels, you smooth out your dress one final time before heading out of your room for the evening, moving to join the guests downstairs.

Making it to the top of the stairs, you find yourself halting. Your eyes scan the crowd of people, all dressed up for this occasion and conversing amongst themselves. You can faintly hear the soft music of the string quartet playing in the background, creating a nice ambiance for the event at hand. 

No one has noticed you yet, you just silently watching from your location. All except two men who stand just below you.

“Wow,” Ten breaths out as he watches your form descend on the staircase slowly. 

Taemin is able to maintain his composure slightly better than his brother, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from widening slightly as he takes in your full appearance. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears as you make your way towards the two of them, an air of confidence surrounding you like never before.

To say you look stunning would be an understatement. The way your golden gown wraps around your figure makes it look like you’re wearing liquid gold, giving you an almost ethereal glow; makeup and hair done to perfection.

As you walk over to them, you take this time to fully take in their appearances for the evening. Taemin is wearing a dark pinstripe suit with a black and white striped dress shirt underneath, completed with a silk tie tied loosely around his neck with a black and white polkadot pattern scattered upon it. Ten is wearing a simple black suit and tie, but with a red dress shirt tucked underneath. To say they look good would be an understatement.

Reaching the two men, you send them a small smile, causing their hearts to race in their chests.

“Wow,” Ten repeats, eyes continuing to drink in your figure. He can never seem to get enough.

“You look-“ Taemin continues before being cut off by Ten.

“Breathtaking,” Ten finishes with an exhale.

Taemin briefly shoots him a hard look, mad at his brother for taking the words right out of his mouth. He wanted to compliment you before his brother got a chance to.

“Thanks,” you grin, somewhat shyly.

Noticing the way a few men begin to stare at you, Taemin scowls, “that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Than what were you going to say, exactly?” Ten quirks a brow, a silent challenge for his brother.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Taemin narrows his eyes slightly at Ten, on edge already from the continued looks you’re receiving from the males from around the room, as well as from his brother. “Maybe, overdressed.”

His comment catches you off-guard, and you find yourself taken aback slightly. You could have sworn that he looked like he liked what you were wearing.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel,” you grumble, expression falling slightly. This is why you don’t like getting dressed up. Every time you think you look nice, someone always seems to slap you with a backhanded compliment.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” Ten says, shooting a look towards Taemin before turning to look at you with a soft gaze. “I think you look stunning. Care to dance?”

At this, he offers you his hand, a small smile resting on his features as he watches you carefully. His eyes light up as he sees you smile slightly, gently placing your hand in his as he guides you to the open space of the dance floor.

Placing one hand gently on your waist as the other holds yours in his own, he pulls you closer to himself. As soon as the waltz starts, the two of you are moving across the room, captivating those surrounding you.

Meanwhile, Taemin stands off to the side with a scowl on his face. He knows he did this to himself, but he didn’t mean for his words to come out the way they did. He let his creeping jealousy control his mouth for a moment, and it cost him.

Now, instead of dancing with him, you’re being held in his brother’s arms as you move gracefully around the room. He finds himself biting the inside of his cheek as he stares on, wanting nothing more than to share this moment with you himself.

The whole time, Ten can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He can sense more and more people’s eyes on the two of you as you move around the room, and he couldn’t be happier. He can’t help but to think that now everyone can see that you belong with him. After all, thanks to the whispers from the crowd, he’s confirmed that the two of you are perfect for each other.

Once the music ends, the two of you stand momentarily in the centre of the room once more, just staring into each others eyes. Faint sounds of people conversing with each other as well as the quartet starting up another song can be heard in the background, but you don’t really pay much mind to them. All you can focus on right now is Ten, and the way he’s making you feel.

Staring into his eyes, you can see a certain type of fondness reflecting in them, causing your mouth to go dry. No one has ever looked at you like that, like you’re the greatest thing in the entire world; a gift to be treasured and valued.

“What an entrance!” Your father’s voice manages to pull you out of your little bubble, practically jumping out of Ten’s hold in the next second to stand tall and face your father. “I’ve been overhearing nothing but good things about you since you walked down those stairs.”

“Thanks, dad,” you mutter, a small heat creeping up your neck.

“You look beautiful, dear,” your mother smiles at you, causing you to mirror her smile.

“Thank you,” you subconsciously smooth your dress out once more. “As do you.”

“The charity auction should begin in a few minutes,” your father informs you, to which you nod your head, noticing how both Ten and Taemin have come to stand beside you now. “I expect you to continue to be on your best behaviour.”

“Yes, father,” you sigh, having to keep yourself from rolling your eyes at him.

Your mother simply sends you a wink as they walk away arm in arm. You let out another sigh, shaking your head slightly.

“Just for one fucking event, I don’t want to have to be ‘prim and proper’ like this,” you mutter under your breath, low enough so no one can hear you, yet your two guards manage to do so.

At your words, they share a brief glance between each other, their brows quirking slightly as they follow you to the side of the room.

The next ten minutes or so pass by fairly slowly for you, having to converse with some of the upper elites, and those your parents work with. Many of them either rub you the wrong way, or treat you as if you’re incapable of having a coherent thought, which just irks you to no end. Yet another reason why you dislike getting dressed up like this, many people just equate you to simply another pretty face, basing your worth in how you look, rather than your intelligence.

You hear the sounds of the quartet slowly coming to a close as the tapping of a microphone draws people’s attention to the front of the room. You’re grateful for the interruption, considering you don’t think you could have lasted much longer listening to this senator talk about how much times have changed.

“Good evening to all, and thank you all for coming,” your father begins to speak as people shift towards where he and your mother are standing. “I would like to take the time now to-“

You zone out slightly to what he’s saying, no longer that interested in what’s going on. You just want this event to be over so you can put your feet up and rest for the evening, and you haven’t even been socializing for more than a few hours. Shifting from foot to foot, you attempt to get comfortable on your feet, which are beginning to ache from standing for this amount of time in your heels.

Taemin stands to your right while Ten stands off to your left, both of them glancing to you out of the corner of their eyes every now and then. They can see your disinterest in this whole ordeal, even though you hide it well.

Taemin takes this time to look around the room too, scanning for any potential threats that may be lurking around if they’ve managed to slip through the tight security at your home. 

Ten, on the other hand, chooses to observe you more closely. He notices how you keep shifting from side to side like you’re uncomfortable, and he realizes that your shoes must be making standing like this quite difficult. He has to resist the urge to wrap his arm around you and tell you to lean on him for support, or better yet, take you into his arms so he can hold you, letting you relax while also showing you how he can care for you. However, he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

Letting out a long breath, you allow your eyes to wander around the area as the auction begins. Your eyes catch movement off to the side, thinking it unusual for someone to be ducking low through the crowd, almost as if they do not wish to be seen.

Your eyes widen slightly as you see the figure draw a small metallic object from their side. Without waiting, you nudge Ten beside you, motioning to the figure off to the side with your head, soon doing the same with Taemin who already seems to have his gaze locked on the mysterious figure.

Moving swiftly, they both stand to guard you, Taemin taking the front while Ten takes the rear. Just in time, too, for in the next moment, a scream is heard from the side of the room, the crowd parting to reveal a security guard on the floor with a knife sticking out of his neck. 

The stranger soon moves quickly towards the front of the room where your parents are. The figure draws a gun, but before he can raise it in the air, he’s gunned down by Siwon.

A moment of silence passes over the room, and you’re just about to breathe a sigh of relief when all hell breaks loose.

Many people standing in the crowd pull weapons from their clothing, turning either against your parents, or coming to surround you. Many of the others simply attempt to run out of the house in fear, scrambling as people push over each other to escape harms way.

“Why does this not surprise me,” Taemin huffs, hearing Ten grunt in response as they both pull out their respective weapons.

Three men and three women begin to close in on the three of you, setting your heart racing in your chest. You can see both Natasha and Siwon already in combat with a few others, doing what they can to protect your parents as separate guards lead them away to safety. You hope they get out okay.

Taemin is quick to make the first move, firing his gun and managing to kill the man in front of him. The others spring into action immediately following, and you stand tense in between it all.

You have no weapon on you, nor means of escape at the moment. You’re just lucky someone hasn’t shot you yet, but you suppose you have Ten and Taemin to thank for that. They’ve managed to get the group of six down to two, facing off the last one’s still standing.

Bodies surround you, and you can feel yourself becoming lightheaded. You need to get out of here, just as your parents have managed to do.

“Step aside, you’re not the one who has to die,” the female in front of Taemin says, holding her gun pointing at his head as he does the same to her.

“But you do,” he replies, a slight crazed look in his eyes as he fires a quick shot into her skull.

No one threatens you and gets to live. No one.

He turns to check on you in the next second, making sure you’re not hurt, and still breathing. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he looks you over briefly, noticing how Ten is still locked in combat with his final opponent.

Your eyes catch movement on the balcony above you, noticing a sniper taking aim at where you’re standing. Your eyes widen significantly.

“Taemin, look out!” You manage to push the two of you down just in time to avoid the first shot.

“Fuck,” he manages to get out through grit teeth, rolling the two of you over so his body now covers yours since you landed on top of him when you pushed the two of you down.

He manages to jump up in time to take aim and kill the sniper, but not before being grazed by the second bullet.

At this point, Ten has finished off the final attacker and moved over to the two of you. Taemin grasps his side as Ten helps you off of the floor.

“Shit, are you okay?” You worriedly look over Taemin, noticing the blood starting to seep from between his fingers from where he holds his hand over his wound.

“It’s only a scratch,” he assures you, managing to hide his wince in pain. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“We need to get her out of here,” Ten says, the two of them locking eyes and nodding their heads briefly at one another. If there’s one thing they can agree upon, it’s your safety.

Without another word, they begin to guide you over to the exit in which your parents have taken which is hidden behind the staircase. However, before you can enter, a bullet whizzes past your head, making impact with the wall.

Glancing over your shoulder reveals four new figures approaching the three of you, guns raised and ready to shoot.

“Get her out of here, I’ll catch up with you guys,” Taemin says, pushing you behind his back to cover you.

“Right,” Ten nods, grabbing your arm and practically dragging you to the hidden exit.

“But you’re injured!” You see Taemin briefly glance at you from over his shoulder. His heart warms knowing you care about him.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you, a subtle grin pulling at the corner of his lips as he hears the worry in your voice. “Now go! I’ll be right behind you.”

Without waiting for you to respond, Ten drags you down the hallway of the exit, grabbing your hand in his as he runs down the hall. Your shoes manage to get kicked off, for which you’re grateful for as you continue to run down the passage which leads to the secret garage.

Bursting through the door, Ten immediately leads you over to one of the cars. Opening the back door for you, he motions for you to get in quickly. You shoot him a worried look, glancing back to the now closed door which you’ve just come through.

“He’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “Now, let’s go, we need to get you out of here.”

You simply nod your head in response, shuffling into the back seat. Once you’re seated inside the car, Ten quickly closes the back door in order to jump into the drivers seat in the next moment.

Flipping down the visor, the keys fall into his lap. Moving quickly, he puts the keys into the ignition, starts the engine, and practically tears out of the garage. You grip the seat anxiously, feeling as if your heart is about to burst through your chest at any moment given how hard it’s beating.

After a few minutes of driving in silence, you manage to calm yourself down enough to speak.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, and you can see his eyes glance at your figure from the rearview mirror.

“To a safe house,” he replies, eyes flicking back to the empty road in front of him.

“What about my parents? And Taemin?” You shift slightly, brow creasing in worry.

“They’ll be fine. Your parents have their own agreed upon safe house, and you have your own. Taemin will contact me when he can, and so will either Siwon or Natasha,” he explains, and you find yourself only relaxing slightly. You can tell that you’re still very on edge, Ten’s words not comforting you as much as you want them to.

“What is this safe house, and how come I’ve never been told of it before?” You look up to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror for a moment before he’s shifting his gaze back on the road once more.

“It’s mine and Taemin’s old house which we agreed upon to use with your parents when we were first hired, if a situation like this ever arose,” Ten goes on to say, and you nod your head slightly, moving to rest your forehead against the cool glass of the window.

“I just hope they’re all okay,” you mumble, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

His heart pangs in his chest, hearing how small your voice sounds at the moment. “They will be. I’m sure of it.”

Nothing else is spoken between the two of you for the rest of the car ride, and before you know it, Ten cuts the engine. It feels like you’ve been driving for hours, but you’re pretty sure that’s only because of how wound up you currently are, and Ten making sure the two of you aren’t being followed.

Stepping out of the car, you wince slightly. Looking down reveals a gravel driveway, the small rocks digging into the skin of your bare feet.

Ten follows your gaze, noticing how you’ve lost your shoes. The corner of his lips twitch as he moves beside you, helping to support you weight as the two of you walk to the door.

Unlocking the front door, Ten is the first to enter, flicking on the lights as you shuffle in behind him. Once you’re inside, he closes the door behind you, locking it as soon as it shuts.

Taking this time now, you look around the entranceway of the house. A small smile pulls at your features as you take in small photos lining the walls, and little trinkets on the hallway table. It’s simple, but nice.

The house is located surrounded by a few hills, a forest to the front while a cliff dropping off to the ocean resides at the back. It’s a simple one story house, but it’s bigger than it looks. One thing that’s most surprising though, is how clean everything looks.

“Nice place you have here,” you comment, moving slowly through the hallway as you take in everything around you.

“Thanks,” Ten hums, slipping off his shoes and following you down the hall.

“I’m honestly shocked at how clean it is,” you say, and you can hear him chuckle.

“We have an old friend of ours look after out place while we’re gone,” he tells you, leaning on the side of the wall as he watches you now stare out the back windows. “He’s the only one we trust to do so.”

“That’s nice,” you shoot him a small, forced smile over your shoulder, and he can feel his lips tug downwards. 

He can tell you’re still very worried about everything that has happened tonight, and whether or not your parents are okay. In the back of his mind, he hopes that worry doesn’t extend too much to his brother.

“Here, I’ll see if I can find something for you to change into,” he says, pushing himself off of the wall and heading towards his bedroom.

From the soft footfalls of your feet behind him, he can tell you’re following him. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest as you nervously chew on your bottom lip, worry clouding your mind.

Entering his room, you immediately sit on his bed, eyes following his movements without fully registering his presence. It’s only when you feel the bed dip beside you, as well as a gentle hand being placed upon your shoulder, do you jolt, startled out of your thoughts by the sudden touch.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks, concern evident on his features.

“I will be once I have some answers,” you sigh, rubbing the side of your head.

“I’ve laid out some clothes for you,” he says, motioning beside him on the bed with his head where an old pair of sweatpants and t-shirt lay. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

He shoots you one final look before standing up, and going to leave you alone in his room. You notice him grabbing a separate change of clothes before he slips out the door, closing it softly behind him. Once he’s gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’ve been holding.

Looking down at your hands in your lap, you curl and uncurl your fingers a few times to calm yourself. Standing up, you think over the events of the night once more, anxiety eating away at your nerves.

For starters, you do not have your phone on you, so you have no way of checking social media or news outlets, nor do you have a way of contacting anybody. You’re now in an unfamiliar area, despite it being a safe house for you in times like these. Taemin has been shot, and you don’t know if he’s actually gotten out alive. Not to mention the fact that you don’t even know if your parents have gotten out alive.

At this point, all you can do is wait for an answer, and hope for the best.

Releasing another breath, you move over to the dresser, deciding it would be a good idea to let your hair down for starters. Taking a look at your reflection, you notice your makeup slightly smudged from the events of the night.

Moving over to the bed, you grab the change of clothes left for you, soon moving over to the adjacent bathroom attached to Ten’s room. He won’t mind you having a quick shower, hopefully. Besides, you want to wash your makeup off. You’re just hoping you don’t turn into a raccoon from your mascara.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re stepping out of the shower. The warm water helped to relax your muscles slightly, and wash away some of the worry on your mind. Changing quickly, you decide you’re too warm for pants at the moment. Luckily, the shirt he’s given you is quite large, managing to cover all the important bits.

Folding your dress nicely, you place it on the dresser once you’re finished. The last thing you want is for it to wrinkle considering how nice the material is. 

You spare a glance at yourself in the mirror one final time, grateful that you’ve managed to avoid looking like a racoon after washing off your makeup. Taking a deep breath, you exit the room.

Making your way back to the living room, you hear the faint sounds of the television drifting down the hall. From the sounds of it, you can tell Ten is watching the news as the anchor reports on the turn of events this evening at your parent’s charity auction.

Hearing movement, Ten glances over to the entrance of the living room, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in your appearance. Shamelessly, he allows his gaze to trail your body, taking in the sight of your bare legs as you stand in nothing but his shirt. His whole body feels like an electrical current is running through him at the moment, feeling himself become warm.

Noticing his gaze, you shuffle on your feet briefly before moving to sit beside him on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind that I took a shower.”

“No,” he takes a deep breath in, and fuck, you smell like him now. He clears his throat, “not at all.”

“Any updates?” You ask, curling your legs beside you on the couch as you focus your attention on the screen in front of you. Ten has yet to stop staring at you.

“Yeah, Siwon called about ten minutes ago. Your parents are both fine,” he sees you visually relax, shoulders dropping in relief as you let out a sigh of relief. “Looks like the special ops forces were able to make it in time to catch the leader behind the attacks as well.”

“Who was it?” You eyebrow quirks, now turning your full attention to him.

“Just some underground, rich, drug lord,” Ten shrugs casually. “I think his name was Donnie Yu.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” you smile weakly. You have a feeling your troubles have only just begun.

“Yeah, you might not need me anymore after tonight,” Ten jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, but you can sense the hint of seriousness in his voice. He almost sounds disappointed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you shoot him a smirk, nudging him playfully on his thigh with one of your feet, allowing your leg to rest over his soon after. From the way he drapes his arm over your skin, you know he doesn’t mind. “Speaking of, how’s Taemin? Any news on him?”

You feel him tense slightly beneath you, looking at you from the corner of his eyes as his expression drops slightly.

“He’s fine,” comes his short reply, only continuing after the look you send his way. “He called shortly after Siwon did. Said he’s at the hospital getting his wound sorted out, though he said he wanted to get here as soon as he can.”

“He should rest,” you answer, running a hand through your damp locks slightly.

“That’s what I told him, too,” Ten huffs, nearly rolling his eyes as he recalls his brother’s words. “He told me he was worried about you.”

“That’s… sweet of him,” the corner of your lips twitch upwards.

“He said the hospital wants to keep him overnight for observation, so he should be here sometime within the morning,” he replies, doing his best to ignore the fact that even when he’s not here, Taemin still has some sort of effect on you.

You simply nod your head in response, moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand in the next moment while leaning your elbow on the arm of the couch. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, and you notice how Ten begins to rub his thumb gently against the skin of your leg, sending a small shiver up your spine. He smiles slightly.

As the news continues to cover the events of the night, Ten notices you shifting slightly in discomfort beside him. Grabbing the remote, he opts to change the channel. Anything to get your mind off of things.

“Thanks,” he hears you mumble after a moment, causing him to hum. “I don’t know if I could handle reliving that again.”

“I understand,” he squeezes your leg softly. “Those kinds of moments can be difficult to process, and considering what you’ve already been through, you’re taking things surprisingly very well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You lock gazes with him, eyebrow quirked in question.

“What I mean is, you’re stronger than you think you are, and I admire you for that,” he admits, another small smile gracing his features. “You’re not all you appear to be.”

“Oh,” you breathe, looking down at the floor in slight embarrassment. You’re not expecting this to come from him, but it warms your heart nonetheless. “Thanks.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” his face becomes serious in the next moment, taking you slightly aback. “You don’t know how scared I was tonight.”

“Scared?” Your brow furrows.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” looking into his eyes, your own widen slightly seeing the serious look in them.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you tease, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

“Who says I want to?” He smirks, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip a beat.

Nothing is spoken between the two of you for a moment. Instead, the two of you opt to stare into each other’s eyes. You can sense the mood between the two of you has shifted, the noise from the television becoming drowned out in the background.

At this point, the two of you have sat up slightly, subconsciously shifting closer to each other. Ten has yet to move his touch from your leg, his hand itching to feel more of your skin beneath him. You look so beautiful like this, and now there’s no one here to interrupt you.

Your lips part slightly, and you notice his gaze flicker down to them. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, heart racing in his chest as his thoughts run wild. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, especially not after the evening you’ve had, but he wants you. He needs you.

Just as he begins to lean in, you manage to blink a few times, clearing your head and pulling away slightly. You want this too, but you don’t know if you’re making the right choice. 

You’ve been getting the impression that Ten cares for you, in more than a client sort of way, but you don’t want to get your hopes up. If this truly is the end, and you don’t need him anymore for your protection, does he view taking you to bed as a reward for his service? You don’t know, and you don’t really want to suffer through that heartache. You’ve already lost enough as it is.

You clear your throat, successfully pulling him out of his trance and causing him to look at you with mild concern on his features. Is he reading the situation wrong?

“I think I’m going to go to bed now,” your voice comes out as a whisper, but he still manages to hear.

“You can take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch,” he almost sighs, heart clenching in his chest as he leans back slightly. He’s so close to having you all to himself. So close.

You don’t respond, simply opting to nod your head instead. You need to get out of there before you do something you’ll regret.

Sliding your one leg off of his lap, you stand from the couch. Moving slowly, you exit the living room, eyes holding a specific type of sorrow for not being able to take what you want. You don’t want your status to be used as another notch on somebody’s belt.

The whole time, Ten follows your movements with his gaze until he can no longer see you. His breathing begins to deepen as he catches a glance at the sorrow in your eyes as you turned to leave the room. He knows what you’re thinking, and like hell is he going to let you slip through his fingertips like this. Not when he has you all to himself, and most certainly not when you want him just as badly and he wants you.

Pushing himself off of the couch, his thoughts begin to swirl with desire and desperation for you, and only you. He cares too much for you to not show you exactly how he feels, and how well you deserve to be treated. Determination flashes in his eyes, along with something else, but it disappears as quickly as it comes.

You make it about halfway down the hall when you feel yourself get grabbed by your shoulder, and pushed into the wall. Your eyes widen as you see the dark look in Ten’s eyes; the lust that swirls deep in his irises.

“Ten, what are you-“

You don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence before he’s smashing his lips to yours, hands coming up to cup the sides of your face as he presses himself into you. Your breath gets caught in your throat momentarily, hands frozen at your sides as he pulls away briefly to stare into your eyes once more.

“Like I said,” he says, his voice a few tones deeper than before, “I’m not letting you go so easily.”

With that, he reattaches his lips to yours briefly before trailing his lips along the side of your jaw, nipping at your skin. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel him bite down lightly on your neck, your eyes falling shut in bliss.

“Just tell me to stop and I will,” he mumbles against your skin. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave you be.”

“Ten,” the way you nearly whimper his name sends a shiver up his spine, feeling you wrap your arms around him to tangle your fingers in his hair. “I do want this, fuck, I really do, but-“

“But nothing, darling,” he cuts you off, leaning his forehead against your own. “Those others before me, they never deserved you. I want you. Not the president’s daughter. Not anyone else. Just you.”

His words cause you to inhale a sharply. Your heart flutters in your chest at how sincere he sounds, him being able to sooth your worries with every word that is spoken. 

“Even if it’s just for one night, please,” he nearly begs, “let me have you. Let me worship you the way you deserve.”

His hands now drop to your sides as he falls to his knees before you, looking up at you with such admiration and want. Your head begins to spin as you barely manage to nod your consent, one hand coming to tangle itself in his hair as he smirks up at you.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve just made me, baby girl,” he hums, pressing his face into your stomach as his hands begin to run up the sides of your thighs. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Then what are you waiting for,” you smirk down at him, your persona immediately flipping, only serving to turn him on further as his eyes darken even more.

“Nothing,” he hums, pushing your thighs apart slightly as you lean back into the wall.

Bringing his hands up, he allows them to slip underneath the material of your shirt, feeling your skin beneath them and biting his lip as he feels you shiver beneath his touch. He takes this opportunity to trail his lips over every inch of your skin bared to him, leaving small nips here and there on the insides of your thighs.

He takes his time, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties as he drags them down your legs, tossing them to the side once he’s gotten them off of you. He locks eyes with you, placing your one leg over his shoulder as he breathes in your scent deeply. He can’t help but let his eyes fall shut in bliss as he turns his head to bite a mark into your thigh. You smell amazing, and all his.

Feeling you fingers tighten their hold in his hair, he smirks. Deciding to give you what you want, he turns back to face your aching entrance, seeing your lips twitch in anticipation. Flicking his tongue out, he gently grazes your clit, making sure to keep eye contact with you, and not wanting to miss a single reaction you give him.

The gasp you offer him is like music to his ears, and he can hardly wait to elicit more sounds from those gorgeous lips of yours tonight. He’ll take everything you have to offer him, and more.

Diving back in, he licks a strip from your entrance all the way to your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth as he watches you throw your head back in bliss. His hands tighten their hold on your thighs as he circles his tongue over your clit, bringing it back down to collect the sweet nectar that drips from your core.

He can’t help but hum at the taste of you on his lips, allowing his eyes to fall shut once more. This all he’s ever dreamed of, and more. He could never get tired of this, of you.

“Fuck, darling, you taste so good,” he hums against your core, causing a moan to escape your lips, grinding down slightly on his face.

Bringing his tongue back to your entrance, he begins to thrust it into you, feeling your walls clench around him. He feels you starting to move rhythmically against his tongue as he circles your clit once more, loving how you begin to fuck yourself on his face.

By now, your juices are running down his chin, his hands pulling you as close to him as possible. Unfiltered moans of his name slip past your lips, and he swears something within him has finally snapped. Seeing you like this, and hearing you call out for no one but him drives him insane.

Picking up the pace, he can tell you’re getting closer to the edge. He continues to eat you out like you’re his last meal, wanting to see you fall apart for him, and only him.

With a loud cry of his name, your back is arching off the wall, legs trembling as you come. He swears there’s no sight more beautiful, nor sound as sweet, and he wants to experience this again, and again, and again.

He’s so glad that he gets to experience you like this, that he nearly growls at the thought of his brother having gotten to you before he could, and in that moment, he makes a vow to himself. You’re his, not his brother’s. His brother will never have the joy of knowing what you look like when you come for him, of having you sigh his name in pleasure. No, Ten won’t allow it. After tonight, he’ll never let another have you like this, ever again.

Pulling away from you, he licks his lips. Your chest rises and falls with every breath you take, and he smirks to himself seeing how your legs still shake slightly as he sets you back on your own two feet. 

Slowly standing back up, he’s painfully aware of how hard he’s become, feeling himself strain against the material of his pants. He takes a moment to take in the sight of you, still in his shirt, a panting mess from the orgasm he’s just given you. He swears you’ve never looked more perfect than in this moment.

He feels your hands sneak beneath the material of his shirt, taking the hint and removing it in the next second. This time, a shiver runs down his spine at the feeling of your hands trailing over his skin. He attaches his lips to yours once more, thumbs gently brushing over your erect nipples through his shirt.

A small moan escapes past your lips as you feel him grind himself into you, feeling how hard he’s become. Your arms sneak around his back, pulling him even closer as he deepens the kiss, a low groan sounding in his chest.

Breaking away from his lips, you allow your own to travel down his neck, sucking marks of your own into his skin, and eliciting small whines from his lips. He tilts his head back in bliss as he feels you bite down on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, pride filling his chest as you mark him as yours.

Feeling his hands trail underneath your shirt, you move to take it off, but he stops you.

“No, leave it on,” he growls, nails biting into the skin of your hips. Seeing you in his own shirt ignites a possessive spark in him, loving the fact that you’re covered in nothing but him tonight.

He bites his lip as he sees you nod out of the corner of his eyes, feeling your hands beginning to fiddle with the waistline of his pants. Your fingers hook at the top, sliding the material down his legs until he can kick it off and to the side. A low groan escapes his lips as he feels you wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him a few times before lining his tip up with your entrance.

Through his haze of lust, he manages to remember something, grabbing your wrist to halt your movements.

“Wha-“ he cuts you off with a brief kiss to your lips, moving to pull away from you in the next second, but you stop him, seemingly reading his thoughts. “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

“Shit,” he barely gets out through gritted teeth as you reposition him at your entrance.

Ever so slowly, he begins to enter you. He can hear his heartbeat racing in his ears and his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head at the feeling of you fully wrapped around him. Nothing could have ever prepared him for the feeling of your warm walls pulsing around him, fitting him so perfectly. Almost as if you’re made for him.

Resting his arms beside you on the wall, he buried his face into the side of your neck. He needs to take a moment to catch his breath, and once he’s calmed down enough, he feels your own arms wrap around his back, nails biting into the skin of his shoulders.

Testing the waters, he give a shallow roll of his hips into yours, loving the way your head tilts back, allowing him better access to your neck. You seem to read his mind, for in the next moment, your one leg comes to wrap around his waist as his hand grips the skin of your thigh tightly. He pulls you closer as he pushes you harder into the wall, wanting to feel all of you pressed up against him.

He sets a slow pace to start, making sure to hit deep with every thrust. Your sounds serve to edge him on, small growls of your own name slipping past his lips as he succumbs to the feeling of all of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he moans, hearing your breath hitch as he hits a certain spot within you. “You take my cock so well, baby girl.”

A low groan of his name is all he receives in response from you, smirk pulling at his lips as he begins to pick up the pace, feeling you tighten your hold around him. He loves the effect he’s having on you, and knowing that he’s the only one able to do this sets his head spinning.

“Right there, fuck,” you whimper right in his ear, and he can feel his cock twitch in excitement.

He can feel you getting closer to the edge for the second time that night as he starts to pound into you. The way your walls are squeezing him so tightly has another moan of your name slipping past his lips. He never wants this moment to end.

Your whimpers of his name are starting to become more frequent, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening once more as you near your peak. You nearly scream once you feel his free hand reach in between your bodies to flick at your clit.

He locks gazes with you, and the almost primal look in his eyes is the final push that sends you tumbling over the edge and into your second orgasm of the night. Your scream gets lodged in your throat as you lean forward, biting into the skin of his shoulder as pleasure shoots through every nerve of your body.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he praises, feeling himself following you over the edge as he comes within you, burying himself as deep as he possibly can, “just like that, fuck.”

Nothing is heard besides the sounds of your panting, breaths mingling together as you both come down from your highs. You release the hold your teeth have on his shoulder, legs shaking as he sets you back onto your own two feet. 

Resting his forehead against yours once more, he looks deep into your eyes, “you’re amazing.”

His words have a small heat rising to your cheeks as you shoot a small grin his way. You allow yourself to relax as he pulls out of you, feeling his seed spill out of you and begin to drip down your thighs.

“So much for my shower,” you giggle, and he smiles at you, feeling his stomach flip at the sound of your laughter.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, taking your hand and leading you to his room.

After a warm bath together, the two of you head to bed, with you falling asleep wrapped in Ten’s arms. He smiles down at you, gently brushing your hair back from your face before leaning down and placing a soft kiss onto your forehead.

His heart swell in his chest, one constant thought repeating itself over and over in his head until he’s able to drift off to sleep. Mine.

Ten wakes up the next morning earlier than you, but he doesn’t mind. Sunlight streams through the window, casting a warm glow over your skin and making him smile. You look so peaceful like this, and he couldn’t be happier. He can still hardly believe the events of last night.

Reluctantly, he gets out of bed, deciding to make you both something for breakfast. He runs a hand through his hair, searching around his room quietly for a pair of sweatpants to slip on. Once he find them, he slips out of his room, gently closing the door halfway so as not to disturb you.

Walking down the hall, he notices both of your discarded clothes from last night. Smirking to himself, he decides to clean those up later. After all, it’s just proof that what you did last night actually happened, and wasn’t some made up fantasy his mind conjured up.

Making it to the kitchen, he begins to hum a small tune to himself as he prepares the food. Nothing could make him happier than he is in this moment in time, knowing that you’re his now, and he’s yours.

Meanwhile, the sound of an engine cutting out comes from outside. In the next moment, Taemin steps out of the car, letting out a sigh as he sees his familiar home. All he wants to do is get inside, check on you to make sure you’re okay, and then maybe sleep for a few hours. He’s been on edge ever since last night, and he needs to see your comforting face in order to know everything will be alright.

Stepping through the door, Taemin tosses his jacket to the side, sliding off his shoes in the next moment. Making his way towards the kitchen, he can smell the faint aroma of food cooking. In the back of his mind, he hopes it’s you that’s cooking for him, something he would have no problem getting used to.

Instead, he’s greeted by the sight of his shirtless brother, standing in front of the stove as he cooks something, you nowhere in sight. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Taemin focusses on the red scratch marks lining his brother’s back, and his jaw clenches. Looking to his side, and down the hall, confirms his suspicions, seeing his brother’s clothes scattered on the floor, as well as a pair of panties laying close by. Through the crack in Ten’s door, Taemin spots you curled up in his bed, blissfully unaware to the storm brewing just outside.

Taemin’s anger flares. “What did you do?”

Ten turns around, and it’s at this point that Taemin spots the bright red bite mark displayed proudly on his brother’s shoulder, setting his own blood boiling. That should be him covered in your marks, not Ten.

“Oh, hello there, brother,” Ten smirks, turning off the stove and turning around to see Taemin standing tense in the entranceway to the kitchen.

“How dare you,” Taemin seethes, eyes narrowing as he takes a threatening step towards Ten.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ten feigns innocence, knowing that this will only serve to make his brother even more furious than he already is.

“How dare you touch her,” Taemin’s voice is low, dripping with venom as he feels white hot fury coursing through his veins.

“Well, you weren’t here,” Ten smirks, staring his brother down with a malicious look in his eyes, “and considering how things went, she couldn’t get enough.”

Taemin can feel something within himself snap. He’s supposed to have you, not Ten. You’re his, and if he can’t have you, no one can.

Pulling out his gun, Taemin aims right at Ten’s head, “give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now for touching what’s mine.”

“Now, now, brother,” Ten’s grin only widens as he shifts slightly, hand resting on the counter behind him as he feels the handle of the knife against his fingertips. “There’s no need for violence. Haven’t we seen enough?”

“After all this death, what’s one more life?” Taemin tilts his head slightly, almost mockingly.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ten replies, voice full of malice as he grips the handle of the knife firmly in his hands.

In the next moment, the two of them spring into action, Ten whipping the knife at Taemin, causing him to move out of the way just in time as the knife gets imbedded in the wall. Ten uses this opportunity as Taemin’s gun is lowered to rush over, kicking the gun out of his brother’s hand.

Taemin manages to land a hit against Ten’s side, only to receive a kick to the leg in return. The two men are now caught in a battle back and forth for a good minute before Ten sees an opening, going to attack Taemin’s injury.

Striking quickly, Ten hits Taemin’s bullet wound, causing him to cry out in pain. Using the opening that this has created for him, Ten grabs Taemin, flipping him over and slamming him into the kitchen table.

The loud sound of something breaking jolts you out of your sleep. Rubbing your eyes slightly, you hear the faint sounds of grunts coming from the direction of the kitchen. Furrowing your brow slightly in confusion, you toss the covers off of your body, and begin making your way cautiously out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

The sight that greets you has your eyes widening in shock. A knife is embedded in the wall near you, while the kitchen table is smashed to pieces. However, that’s not what’s most surprising.

Taemin has Ten pinned against the opposite wall, gun poised right at his head as both their chests heave. You faintly notice a dark red stain slowly spreading on the side of Taemin’s shirt that he must have gotten from the hospital last night, meaning his wound has been reopened.

“You’ve forsaken me for the last time, brother,” Taemin spits, and you take this time to shake your head, pulling yourself out of your temporary frozen state.

“What, the ever-loving fuck, is going on?” You nearly screech, eyes wide as you stare at the two men before you.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll make sure he’ll never be able to touch you again,” Taemin says from over his shoulder, and due to the angle you’re standing at, you fail to miss the crazed look in his eyes.

“Excuse me?” Your voice holds nothing but pure disbelief.

“How can you be so sure she even wants you?” Ten says, calm despite the situation he’s in at the moment.

“How can you?” Taemin counters, jaw setting in a firm line.

“I think the events of last night are pretty self explanatory, don’t you?” Ten quirks a brow, almost mockingly. “Can I just say, she tastes divine.”

Taemin cocks his gun, moving to press the barrel right against Ten’s forehead, eyes vicious. “Give me one good reason why I should let you live.”

Even though you know Ten’s words are only to provoke Taemin, you can’t keep your eyes from widening. This is all too sudden for you, especially after the events of last night. You thought you were finally safe. You thought you were free.

“What the fuck is going on here?” You repeat your question, locking eyes with Ten as he simply smirks.

“You see, darling,” the gun is pressed harder into his head, “we seem to have both taken a particular interest in you, and now we both want you to ourselves. In our line of work, sharing isn’t really apart of our vocabulary when we want something, and what we want, is you.”

“Do you really think you’re the better option for her?” Taemin growls out. “I can give her everything she’s ever wanted, and so much more. Protect her. Cherish her. Love her.”

“Is that so?” Ten shifts his gaze over to his brother, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. “Then why don’t we let her choose.”

“What?” Once again, you’re taken aback by his words.

Taking a step back, Taemin relaxes his shoulders slightly, while Ten lets out a small breath in relief. Both of them are confident you’ll pick them in the end, knowing that whoever you choose, the other will kill in an instant. They’ll make sure they’re the only ones that can have you.

“Go ahead,” Ten locks eyes with you once more, “choose.”

“What are you talking about, you can’t make me choose-“

“You can, and you will,” Ten’s hard voice cuts you off, continuing to stare you down as a chill runs down your spine.

“So who’s it going to be, Princess? Him,” Taemin nods his head briefly in his brother’s direction, narrowing his eyes as they lock with yours, “or me?”

[iamacolor]

fashion queen! which nct era has the best fashun in ur opinion?? and if u were a designer which neos would u pick as ur models?

I was so excited to answer this that I wrote several pages and it basically turned into a style analysis for each unit so I sure hope you have some time on your hands to read everything I’ve just written! (I did not reread so sorry for any typing mistake)

NCT is known to be experimental in their music and that’s also the case in their styling so there’s a lot for me to get into even though sometimes it’s a miss. One thing I will say though is that when it comes to the styling in mv/teasers, what’s around the clothes is super important because if you have a very specific styling concept, your set design or graphic design needs to complement that and give the audience more clues on how to read all these elements together (the cherry bomb era is a great example of that with all the added graphic elements and the predominance of the colour pink) and recently I’ve found that the creative team has not really gone further than just putting nct in an outfit in front of a basic background so it makes for a pretty underwhelming result

But let’s move on to my favourite styling eras. I’m going to do this per unit (I’ll finish with NCT U) and define an era by its teaser pictures and the mv (and not go through all the performance looks during the promotion period)

I’m putting this under a read more because it’s reaaally long (I put pictures so that it’s not just one big chunk of text)

NCT 127

Easily the most experimental unit when it comes to fashion, especially in their first years where they would wear mix of sportswear, grunge references, avant-garde fashion and a lot of layers. When it comes to their debut “Firetruck”, I think it fitted the song really well but that it didn’t fit all the members equally (especially the younger ones, for me Taeyong and Taeil pulled it off the best – it’s expected of Taeyong but I also think that Taeil always stand out when they go for edgy/unconventional look, I think it really suits him).

Anyway, just to say that they were off to a very strong start and then I’m just going to kindly ignore the Limitless styling and move on to Cherry Bomb!

One thing nicely done for CB is how when you look at a group picture they’re clearly all following the same concept but they’re not necessarily matching or giving off the same vibes if you take them individually. I love the use of the colour pink which brings a) a great visual impact (you don’t ever see that much pink at once – especially on men) and b) an harmony despite the shapes and styles of their outfits being so vastly different, you’ve got ties, tousled, shirts, little frilled collars, stripes and all-over prints, sportswear and formal wear… (ex: taeyong’s short jacket is reminiscent of something a little luxurious, even maybe historical/noble with the little added embroidery-like details, it reminds me of these boleros jackets worn by toreros that are often red/gold VS doyoung’s overalls is an outfit that has a much more recent origin as it was first worn by factories workers, it’s usually blue or grey and is meant to be practical rather than pleasing to the eye -> here it fits very well with the general setting of the mv in what looks like an empty industrial storage space)

This second look is more of a game on how to deconstruct formal wear (there are less prints and no bold colours, their hair is less messy…) but they don’t just add sportswear like the bomber jacket, you can find rock or more “modern” elements with the leather jackets or the jean jackets. All in black and white so great contrast with the previous looks, although that mix and match concept is still there. My favourite elements are the checkered ones (worn by taeyong, taeil and haechan) as it reminds me of the strategy element of the chess game which fits pretty well with all the weapons and other arms visible in the mv (a bit like a nod to the game battleship)

This one I love that they developed their own print, especially since it’s another graphic element used elsewhere (see their album cover), because it’s a great way to really introduce their identity as a group, through the different visual elements they put out in a comeback, it’s like a logo but as a print. And all the teasers and the mv did a great job at mixing 2D/3D contents so that’s another nice way to be cohesive. It’s not my fave look out of the 3 (especially because I do not approve of that belt-suspenders-bag they gave Johnny, it’s like everything you don’t want to put a dancer in and it’s ugly as well) but I still like the fact that’s it’s another nod to the battle/strategy aspect of this comeback, like they’re on a mission to hit the stage and conquer it

Then fast forward to my other favourite one, Simon Says! (No teaser pictures here because they don’t show anything or they show not enough lol)

First of all THE MASKS

Oh how I wish they could’ve been shown more (imagine teasers with the members wearing them!!! I would’ve loved individual teasers based on each of the masks concepts) Once again, a great to have group concept without making everyone wear the same thing. They’re all super different and full of details. Haechan’s is the only one from what I could who’s mask is actually a mask and not a fully covering hood. The materials and techniques used on these are either evocative of “fragile” things like glass and flowers but theses elements have their own hidden strength. Some others are covered in lace, pearls, fringes or fur…all these things are usually considered to be precious or even luxurious but it covers their faces and their identity and they throw it away in rebellion (and I think it’s also super interesting how Taeyong who takes off his mask first has the least ornamented one)

Then the outfits themselves. Simon Says in an interesting MV because unlike most others they wear one outfit for most of the MV (the second one appears quite late in the mv and is lit and staged in a way that makes it less visible). It’s a mostly grey/white set of outfits which is usually a colour combo for office wear or maybe factory workers, it’s not something that can seem very exciting or edgy. The styling in these outfits reminds me of the works of Japanese designers who came to Paris in the 80’s and kind of shook the whole high fashion system by bringing a different type of shapes, aesthetic and purpose to fashion (Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto…). These designers  went on to become super successful and inspired another wave of “avant-garde” designers nicknamed “the 6 of Anvers” (Anvers is a city in Belgium), this group includes Martin Margiella, Dries Van Noten…And to me the outfits in Simon Says really fit into this aesthetic. Unconventional fits, various layers, it’s not so much mix and match than a work on contrast between structure and fluidity (Yuta’s half skirt with un-trimed edges, Haechan’s long shirt with the long bow and the fitted jacket, Mark’s top with the various see-through layers of different lengths…).

An other interesting details (which to me calls back to the mask and that tension in the song/concept of letting go/being free of expectations), is the way they all have thick strings tied on their feet/ankles. Not holding them back because their feet aren’t tied together but there’s still this clear restriction of the garment itself, a reminder that there are tied to something and not completely free (also an interesting choice when dressing dancers who would need to have no added weight or discomfort in their outfit to dance but visually something is holding their ankles)

Honorable mentions:

Kick It– they managed to create very memorable outfits while taking inspirations from already well known elements (both for the fighting/training outfits and the bomber jackets). The black and white outfits especially are very original as performance outfits/dancing clothes since the og garment they’re inspired by has already such a strong identity outside of the performing arts and I don’t think I’ve ever seen it be used as a stage outfit? Or concept? It’s a nice exemple of how you can take inspiration for something designed to be useful and to be efficient (in fighting) and turn it into an aesthetic.

Truthfully, martial art training outfit was already an “aesthetic” on its own but they made it a performance costume and now I do feel like it’s one of these looks that everyone will remember (like if there was a “most memorable kpop outfits” list it could easily have kick it’s black/white fits). The rest of the outfits for that concept weren’t as memorable/original to me although I feel like it showed a new approach to the styling of nct 127 as a group since they all had very similar outfits this time (especially when wearing the jackets).

Also, interestingly,  that shot of Jaehyun that had everyone go “wow” ? Well it’s impactful because it’s him and he looks like that and it’s shot in a very specific way, but it’s also even more impactful because he’s the only one who gets to wear that kind of outfit in the mv. Everyone else has 3 sets of outfits (black and white, shiny black, red jacket and black pants) but he has 4 and that suit is only used in that shot which makes for a greater impact!

And I feel like Kick It in terms of styling opened a new era for NCT 127 has it kind of broke their usual mix and match/edgy concept. This time they were clearly referencing something already well known (either martial arts, the 90s…), and the members were all matching and they kept on doing that with the military jackets in punch, the other 90s concept in nct 2020…

Touch – for the way the outfits match the sets (in all their individual sets their outfits have a detail in a matching colour), the focus on colours !!! You can see that this whole concept was designed with this colour game/colour progression between the outfits and the set in mind. It’s just very pleasing to the eyes and a great contrast to their usual stuffs (also I wrote my graduation paper on colours so I am really into creative use of colours like this)

OK now moving on to Dream!!

The interesting thing about Dream compared to NCT 127 is that from the beginning although their outfits had to match the song an the concept of the comeback it also had to match their age. Dream’s a group that had to look young when debuting (to the point where they wore outfits that made them look even younger than they were which is rarely done for boy groups) and then they had to transition into adulthood, and all of that had to be made visible. In that aspect, I really like the styling for We Young and Boom (especially when you look at them at the same time).

For We Young, the styling is meant to be reminiscent of school/boy scout uniforms but with a marine vibe. It makes for playful outfits that aren’t too childish but that also aren’t grown up. I prefer the “seaside” outfits as I don’t really like school uniforms as a concept for styling and I think it’s really a choice that suited them and the song so well, it really fitted their energy. It’s playful but it also has a vintage touch to it as these outfits with their stripes and their squared flap at the back date back to the XIXth century (I just found out that it all started with the queen Victoria dressing up her kid in an outfit inspired by the royal navy uniforms for a painting after a cruise ).

Boom on the other side is their first proper “grown-up” concept. We go up was already more grown up but still very “teenager-ish” and although they were mostly teenagers when they did Boom it was clear that this was supposed to be their first entry into “adulthood” as a group at least. And although they did wear a sportswear/casual outfits which is something that isn’t related to age (and I really like the black and white “skeleton” set which already feels more grown-up and more “stylish” than the other casual outfit) , they wore two other “grown-up” elements: suits and all-jean outfits.

And yeah teenagers, and kids wear jeans too but a full jean-on-jean outfit is more of a “grown-up” fashion choice and it makes them look like young men rather than boys. As for the suits, I just really love when stylists play with the codes of that garment (length of the jacket, tightness of the pants, the way the shirt is tucked in…).

Notice how Renjun has a really short jacket, Chenle’s pants are wide, Jeno has a tail…Once again, a really interesting aspect of Kpop is the variations of the same concept based on the members. In the mv, there is a tension between their more grown up selves (the one in suits, the one with a craft/a path) and their young selves (the one running around in the field, the one laying down in the flowers and eating a cake). And there is also in these outfits and the contrast between them this tension, this contrast…which path should they go? The jeans are the more laide back, innocent outfits, whereas the suits come with responsibilities and status (and you’ll notice that in the scene where jisung is left alone to blow his candle it’s when he’s wearing jeans not when he’s in the suits).

Now on to WayV!!

WayV are different from the two in the sense than when they debuted they couldn’t have an “age” concept or an edgy concept because 127 and dream had already taken those and I feel like for that reason they’re still looking for what makes them stand out visually from the others (and in my opinion it’s not in whatever they were wearing for turn back time!). WayV’s concept is space and time travel, it’s building a new life, a new worl, going beyond anything! In my mind, they’re either supposed to feel a bit “otherworldly” (either spectacular or literally like they’re from another world/another universe, a little bit futuristic maybe?) or to look like explorers/travellers (they have a lot of travel/transportation “gears” references in their outfits). Their MVs also have a very different production than the other nct mvs (the scale and the way it’s filmed, the sets…it’s a different approach and it’s usually much more “grand” for their title tracks). The great thing about WayvV styling is usually that they match the outfits well with the world that the mv is set in (like in Moonwalk for example you get a sense of the world they’re in and the fact that it’s not ours or at least not as we know it now through the way they dress – you can’t really say oh it’s inspired by this era or by this or that because -at least- to me it immediately gives me a vibe of something that could be worn in a sci-fi movie, almost like a costume) or that they allude to travel in their styling.

When they debuted with Regular they went for a very sleek and high fashion look which worked really well for them! Even their more “casual” looks were a bit striking and I think that’s very “wayv-like” to me.

Same goes for Take Off where they mix the individual styles (and I don’t like ten’s leopard fur sleeveless jacket at all) and the group concepts – the “flying” outfits and the “racing” outfits (that last one is my favourite! I love the silhouette it creates with the tight pants and the larger tops with an emphasis on the waist).

There’s something a bit extra to WayV - which is why some of their outfits remind me of costumes more than fashion while at the same time they’re the most “high fashion” unit– like the “flying” outfit in Take Off are recognizable as “flying gear” but you can’t really tell what they’re flying, it feels once again like something that they could wear in like star wars or a similar kind of story.

Imagine a movie about 7 men on another planet trying to come together to overcome the dark forces or whatever’s bad on their planet in a futuristic society with a mix of “traditional” and “trendy” outfits? That’s WayV. The movie the 5th Sense? That’s WayV but on steroids. They’re also the only group with actual characters in their mvs, they’re all supposed to have a backstory or an individual setting and find a way to get together in their mvs.

Anyway all that to say that it’s hard for me to pick an era for them because they’ve only had a few and they still feel like they’re looking to solidify their concept, and since moonwalk and turn back time really set the styling in different worlds than ours, you have to look at how they fit in that world rather than ours and I think Moonwalk does it best since it’s the most cohesive one visually. But then I think Regular had the best individual styling!

Okay this is super long but we’re finally getting to NCT U!!!!

Number one favourite:

The Year Party outfits!!!! I’ve already talked about this but I love when they say we’ll put them in suits and then since they have to make a different one for each of them they cut bits an dpieces of the suits here and there, play with lengths. It’s not a revolutionary concept but in terms of searching for a shape, searching for variations of an already so famous, so well-known garment (everyone has seen a suit, and so many designers have already deconstructed it and then put it back together and so on) it’s so nice, it’s almost like a full collection given how many members there are and it’s just a good tailoring work.It almost feel like an exercise of how many variations of an outfit can you think of? And it looks fun to do! It’s all about the details and the way the layers are set together.

The accessories add to the “formal attire” aspect of it. It almost has a ceremonial look to it. A bit of royalty with the futuristic vibe usually associated with WayV. The dark blue suits were pretty classic, the most interesting details (for me at least) were on the light blue ones. Especially since it’s a rare colour to find in formal wear or in ceremonial wear. In general, I feel like it’s a pretty rare colour in fashion outside of like shirts and baby clothes? I think it was a great styling choice for a content like the year party although I do wish they (either NCT or WayV who’ve touched upon this kind of outfit a bit already) would do a full comeback with this kind of styling (like the lighter version of the black and green outfits in SuperM’s One). It’s not revolutionary but it was something new for NCT and I really hope they use that elegant/futuristic concept once again.

Also in these outfits, the jewelry is super important and adds to the “grand” aspect of these outfits. The concept is that these aren’t ordinary outfits for ordinary men, we’re witnessing something “special” and so they aren’t wearing their usual jewels either (of course the big chains are still there but differently look at that necklace jaehyun is wearing)

Honorable mention:

Boss & Baby Don’t Stop (they’re different but they go together in my mind lol). Look at them in their uniforms! And also they had doyoung wearing these sunglasses

Ok I think I’m done, if you’ve made it this far thank you so much and I hope it was a nice read!!

As for who would I chose as my models…it really depends on what I’d make them wear tbh for menswear the things I’d like to design would either be something like formal wear or knitwear – I’d pick Lucas, Taeyong and Doyoung (I think they’re the most model-like members and could pull off pretty much anything even my non-edgy concept because I can’t do that lol and they pose very well) and then depending on the concept I’d pick between Winwin, Jaehyun, Kun, Jungwoo, Taeil, Haechan and Shotaro (the way I struggled to remember all the members at once…there are too many really)

[dogcopter]

Jane is Lore 2020

Ok, here’s the round up of the ghost part of the situation with @keepbeachcitysafe​ and @keepbeachcityweird​.

Theory: Ronaldo’s girlfriend Jane is the key to figuring out Rose Quartz is not gone, largely via a constellation of background clues. If that sounds ridiculous, I understand. I’m Ronaldo. Actually I’m not Ronaldo, but hopefully I’ll have a post about him too soon. I hope we can all have fun together tho

This post is very, very long and involves a lot of images. It will be confusing at first, but please entertain the thought and keep reading, and I hope it clicks into place. I may need to update it later. 

Three sections for supporting evidence:

1. Restaurant Wars, Jane, KBCW/KBCS blogs’ interaction & contents

2. Astral projection/ghosts/fusions

3. Dogcopter secrets

Restaurant Wars Saga & Jane’s appearances

So Ronaldo has a blog at @keepbeachcityweird​ - he also published a book based on his blog called Keep Beach City Weird: You Can’t Hide the Truth!!!, which is available for purchase.

On April 23, 2014, Lion 2: The Movie airs. Jane appears for the first time working the ticket booth at the movie theater and sees Lion and the kids fight a killer robot. Dogcopter 3 is playing at the theater.

April 23, 2014, Ronaldo at Keep Beach City Weird also posts about seeing Dogcopter 3 at the movie theater, where the parking lot is a mess, presumably from Steven, Connie and Lion’s robot training fight.

He mentions “First of all, it’s a huge mistake to turn the last Dogcopter book into THREE movies.”, but that’s less relevant to this particular post. The important thing is that he, like Connie, follows Dogcopter, who’s also associated with Jane. (We’ll get to Dogcopter’s appearances in SU in the last part of this once the context is established) 

Ronaldo’s posts in general document specific events and details in his home Beach City, but that’s another post entirely.

Exactly a year later, Ronaldo on April 23, 2015 posted about receiving a mysterious letter, which might be from Jane because (beneath a great deal of smudging) it appears to call Ronaldo the CUTEST GUY EVER! (This isn’t crucial or anything, just noting it as one of our first Jane points).

I GOT A LETTER TODAY!!!  But for some reason it was all wet and I can’t even tell what it says.  Is it a love letter?  Is it a death threat?  Please tell me!  I need to know if I should lock my doors or open my heart!

Jane also appears in Beach City Drift. After Beach City Drift, keepbeachcitysafe posts an episode reaction blog, on July 22 2016, and takes special notice of Jane.

Hey did you guys notice that girl that keeps appear. We saw her when Steven took Connie to the movies and now she’s here. I wonder if she’s involved in something. Hmmmm. So Stevonnie raced Kevin down the hill in his Himitsu X12, that’s secret in Japanese.

(Kevin’s Himitsu X12 is his car, in the middle there. We’ll come back to this and what KBCS means in a second.)

July 25 2016, Restaurant Wars airs, the third of Jane’s four appearances in SU. In this ep, Jane comes a long way to return Ronaldo’s Koala Princess DVDs, and catches Ronaldo with Kiki and is upset. 

KBCS posts another episode reaction blog, pays attention to Jane again, and says they plan to message Ronaldo.

Ronaldo says he can’t do it because of his girlfriend. Ooo, he has a girlfriend, that’s pretty cool, you just know whats gonna happen next.

Ok so, Ronaldo’s, GIRLFRIEND, (imagine me saying that in slow motion) showed up at the worst possible moment.

Everything was back to normal. Except poor Ronaldo, I should sent him a letter to cheer him up. Seen ya next week.

Almost immediately the KBCS and KBCW blogs play out a little interaction online:

Ronaldo goes through some stuff.

No post today.  If anyone needs me I’ll be at Brooding Hill… where I’ll be CRYING. I usually cry at Crying Canyon, but it’s closed right because of some flash flood warnings.  

Then Ronaldo posts KBCS’s letter.

Note how KBCW caps this message so the name is clearly visible? It’s referring to Ronaldo’s bio:

It’s not very cheering...but things work out shortly thereafter. Jane likes one of Ronaldo’s posts and all seems well.

I think it’s going to work out you guys.  Thanks for all your support.

After this, Ronaldo doesn’t post again until Rocknaldo several months later, and one last time after publishing his book. 

That’s April 18 2017. The KBCW tumblr is never updated again. KBCS’s final post is not long after, Jul 4, 2017.

Finally, Jane makes a cameo alongside Ronaldo in the very last scene of Steven Universe Future, “The Future.”

Koala Princess, Astral Projection and Psychic Ghosts

So some interesting patterns come up when you connect the two blogs, the clues associated with Jane, and some understanding of Steven’s powers. Let’s revisit Keep Beach City Weird, a Ronaldo’s primary blog, and Keep Beach City Safe, which contains mysteries too big for this simple Dogcopter/Jane-hime lore post.

Keep Beach City Weird - Ran from September 2013 to April 2017, with a lot of posts made in October 2015 and July 2016.

Keep Beach City Safe - Ran from June 2015 to July 2017, with most posts in 2016 of course.

Let’s look at a timeline of posts. I’m going to call out things that we’ll connect to the Jane lore at the end.

Keep Beach City Weird: Ronaldo’s blog

Nov 1, 2013, days before Steven Universe first airs: KBCW’s first post is all about Astral Projection.

Astral Projection!  The ability to travel outside your physical body and into other planes of existence!

I began to feel lightheaded and before I knew it, I was floating above my body.  Amazing!  I walked out onto the boardwalk in my new ASTRAL FORM, and you know what the weird thing was?  Nobody even said hello to me.  I was COMPLETELY INVISIBLE!  I mean, usually nobody really notices me, but this was a different kind of not being noticed.  This was not being noticed on another plane of existence - so I didn’t feel bad about it.Anyway, after being ignored in the arcade and Fish Stew Pizza, I got bored and I went back to the fry shop to re-merge with my body. 

Astral projection is a power Steven demonstrates a number of times, and you’ll see among these posts that certain powers of Steven involving this stuff are called out by the blog. 

Connie: What? Where are you? How are you...? Steven: I’m not sure, but I think it’s a classic psychic ghost type situation. Connie: Ah, of course! So, what’s the plan?

from Reunited

Steven: Oh man. I fell asleep and had this weird dream. I opened the door and Lapis was there, and- Pearl: Well, that doesn’t make any sense. Lapis is fused with Jasper at the bottom of the ocean. Steven: You’ve never had a dream before, huh? Pearl: Uh, I don’t think so.

from Chille Tid

August 28, 2014, Joking Victim, Ronaldo posts about ghosts. And an arsonist from about 150 years ago.

September 04 2014, Steven and the Stevens, Ronaldo posts about "cross dimensional travelers”

And all the cross dimensional time travelers I know don’t want to go on the record about their experiences.  

Not mentioning posts that don’t mention ghosts/astral projection/dimensions in some capacity, but in realtime Ronaldo liveblogs in response to episode events.

Ronaldo also answers some fan asks. On October 31 2014 after Keep Beach City Weird he answers this question about floaters with “BACTERIAL GHOSTS” in all caps, this one about his first encounter with the supernatural (the events shown in Horror Club, which aired February 12, 2015)

Nov 2014, Ronaldo posts twice about Watermelon Stevens and a review of the anime Soul Blaster, “Like every anime, Soul Blaster is about a high school student.  Our hero is a cool dude, with even cooler hair named Kyosuke.  He battles rogue spirits with the help of his Soul Blaster - which happens to be powered by the spirit of his deceased younger brother, Kettaro. “

On December 4, 2014 Ronaldo posts about Koala Princess, who will become important in this post when we get back to Dogcopter and Jane. Koala Princess is repeatedly used as a stand-in for talking about Steven’s journey. In this post Ronaldo says:

AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ok, so I just finished the final episode of Koala Princess and I don’t want to get too emotional on you guys but I CAN’T STOP CRYING!  Koala Princess goes on a walkabout and enters dreamtime and finally MEETS HER KOALA MOTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! SLKDJFSDJ:FS

I’ve got so many feels!  These feels are the real deals!  On wheels!  WHAT AM I SAYING?! I’M GOING CRAZY!!!

Lion 3: Straight to Video aired on the same day as Ronaldo’s post. In this episode Steven meets Dogcopter in a dream, and then sees his mother Rose Quartz for the first time - she speaks to him via a VHS tape.

After Alone Together, Ronaldo posts about Stevonnie, who is a fusion. He also gets stuck under a fridge for a bit after Future Vision in January 2015.

And I want TO GET OUT FROM UNDER THIS FRIDGE!

He posts like five times about it in the same day because he’s freaking out.

And also I want my body to be shot into space with a print version of my blog so an alien civilization can find me reconstruct my body and worship me.

On February 19 2015 after Winter Forecast, he posts about using time travel to fix bad decisions:

Sometimes I think about all the bad decisions I’ve made and how they’ve affected my life, and I wish I could go back in time and change them.  But unless I can find a way to break into the Pentagon and steal a time bike, I’m just stuck with having regrets.  

After Political Power Ronaldo claims glowsticks are filled with ghost blood.

Anyway, then stuff happens. 

January 4 2016, after The Answer, Ronaldo posts about seeing Dogcopter 4 and shares the poster for it.

One interesting thing about the poster is that if you invert it and mess with the contrast a bit, a strange diagram appears on the left. A true mystery.

And after months of avoiding and spoilers or teasers or trailers, I was in line for Dogcopter 4, and then some dummy walking out of the theater TOTALLY SPOILED EVERYTHING and was like, “I can’t believe that Dogcopter’s parents are actually cats.”  

Coming back to Dogcopter in a minute, but these are relevant details.

Dogcopter dies defending the planet but then he comes back to life because he’s actually part cat and cats have 9 lives.

On Jan 5, Steven’s Birthday, Ronaldo posts about celebrating his birthday on a different date every year.

Every year, I celebrate my birthday on a completely different day.  Why?  To keep my birthdate a SECRET so that no clandestine government agencies can steal my identity!

July 2016, the saga with Jane and KBCS above happens. When he’s sad about Jane breaking up with him, the same day Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service comes out (in which Steven astral projects into Kiki’s dream), he listens to sad music.

Ugh, I wish I had some sad music to listen to at work.  All I have is a playlist of video game soundtracks and some EVP recordings of ghost hauntings.  I guess ghosts are sad.  I’ll just listen to those.

But if you’re feeling happy, I do suggest listening to the “Go-Go Gorilla Go-Go Kart Racing” soundtrack.  Some solid 16-bit J-reggae.

This post may partly be a reference to the Sadie Killer song G-G-G-Ghost, which is performed in The Big Show and wouldn’t air for a bit, but is also astral projection related.

Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? I think I might be A g-g-g-ghost. Can't you see that I exist? And I don't need an exorcist To let me out Look at me and I'll appear Why can't you see that I'm right here? That I'm right here? Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? I think I might be A g-g-g-ghost. I'm calling you from the other side

Once Ronaldo has gone through grief and anger, he resorts to begging her to come back. This post is from July 28, the day Alone at Sea aired in which Jasper begs Lapis to return.

Much like Koala Princess’ vision in the Eucalyptus Jungle in Season 5, Episode 13 what you saw on the Boardwalk the other day was not what it seemed. I was only pretending to date Kiki to defend my family’s honor, just as the Kanga-ronin did in Season 1, Episode 3!

Here is another Koala Princess reference. There are a couple SU references in the episode numbers in this post.

The events of Season 5, Episode 13 of KP was not what it seemed: for Steven Universe, this is Your Mother and Mine, in which Garnet tells a story told to her by Rose Quartz. It later turns out to be a false origin story to cover the truth that Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond.

Kanga-ronin pretended at something to defend family honor in Season 1, Episode 3, which in SU is Cheeseburger Backpack - where Steven buys a novelty backpack so he can carry things on missions to be useful for the gems, fails his first mission and pretends he’s fine. The events of this ep are later referenced in The Test.

Finally, Koala Princess’ vision in the Eucalyptus Jungle is a reference to Stevonnie’s vision in Jungle Moon, which is Stevonnie’s first interaction with Pink Diamond via a memory dream. In this dream, all was not as it seemed either.

Then the KBCW blog doesn’t post until Feb 2017, after Rocknaldo. A couple ghost and dream-y quotes from here:

In my searches for THE TRUTH, I’ve done a lot of listening.  I’ve listened to haunted houses to hear ghosts from other dimensions.  I’ve listened to radio signals from the cosmos for signs of alien life.

I’ve also learned that HUMANS NEED TO SLEEP.  I didn’t sleep for 48 hours and I PASSED OUT FOR DAYS.

Ronaldo’s final post is an ad for his book, which comes out during a hiatus, and he references Koala Princess again: 

I did have a little help from some fellow truth-stigators I met on a Koala Princess forum, Ben Levin and Matt Burnett, but most of the work was definitely done by ME!  

Now let’s look at Keep Beach City Safe.

Keep Beach City Safe: [???]’s blog

For KBCS, I’m only going to skim to address ghost/astral projection related content that comes back to the business with Jane, Dogcopter, Koala Princess and Rose. The rest of this blog is a little too big for right now. 

It’s interesting that KBCS seems to have mostly flown under the radar, but between the Jane arc and a couple other things I believe it to be legit. Suffice to say I’m treating it as real and you will see why in a minute.

For KBCS I’ll mostly mention which episode a post is associated with, but not the date like with Ronaldo’s.

KBCS’s reaction blog to Nightmare Hospital includes a couple relevant lines:

Where was the Gem M.? I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around! It was mom!

Don’t tell me It’s on the other side of the hall corner. That would mean it saw mo- Connie’s mom!

KBCS posts a blog between Too Far and The Answer, in which they review a number of events. (They post another blog about fusions in which they describe Garnet and Stevonnie’s components as well)

During the movie the TV just shut down and they were being chased around by a “ghost”. It was actually a gem stuck inside the house, making the house seem like it was possessed.

They also get pretty excited about Steven’s birthday.

Only a few more minutes until Steven’s Birthday!

Eeeeh! Only a few mins left until midnight. We finally get to learn about Garnet’s past! Are guys happy, I know I am. I can’t even express how happy I feel, but I’ll try. And I will not act crazy while doing it, Imma keep it cool. So it’s like Peace and Love had a son, and his name was Steven! Then Steven fused with Connie, who was the daughter of Happiness. And they formed Stevonnie, who was made of everything right within the universe!

On Steven’s Birthday they also post about the Dogcopter 4 movie.

I’m gonna be a Smart Spoiler and drop hints in my post for you guess. Only those who have watched it will notice the clues. Yep, watching it 9 times.

This clearly references Ronaldo’s post about Dogcopter having nine lives, but KBCS is a little more considerate about spoilers.

In KBCS’s “It Could’ve Been Great” post, they’re still talking about Steven’s birthday. There’s a promo image attached as well.

To start things off I just wanted to say: I did see Steven turn into a baby? And I would also like to say: DID YOU SEE STEVEN TURN INTO A BABY!?!?

So, by now your probably wondering what the second image is aren’t you? We clearly it’s a pic of Rose holding a cupcake candle.

We, here at Keep Beach City Safe, thought that Steven would’ve liked to have his mom at his birthday party. Happy Birthday from all of us at KBCS. Hope you like it.

Future Vision reference. (Some of this is less relevant to the Jane thing but I’m pulling quotes that are related to fusion and stuff in the hopes it gets clearer)

This reminds me of the time that Garnet gave Stevens her future vision. I don’t know what happens exactly, but I think you see what’s going to happen in the future hence the name future vision. Being able to see into the future would be awesome, yet terrified at same time.

There’s a great post about Pie Day - in fact, KBCS posts about Pie Day a few times. They call out Pearl, too, which reminds me of a certain prolific fandom video editor’s handle.

You know who else knows about Pi. Pearl, but also Peridot.

Pearl Doesn’t Like Pie. Happy Pie Day!

This is not a good photo of Pear let’s see if we can find a better one. Now that’s better.

Sorry for the tangent. Let’s talk koalas now.

KBCS posts about The New Lars. They have thoughts about Steven’s ability to hop into other bodies, namely the question of whether Rose could do this as well.

Steven is worried that Lars isn’t being truthful about his feelings. So through his dreams, Steven jumps into Lar’s body, and trys to make his life better. But he only makes things worse.

Steven somehow possessed Lars’s body through his dreams. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again, we have a word for it now: Dream Possession. But he can also enter dreams.

He did it with Lapis, the Watermelon Stevens, and now Lars. That’s one gem, one sentient plant, and one human. Well with lapis he was merely communicating with her. This, new power, is seems to activates itself whenever Steven wants to help someone, but can’t because something getting in the way. Could this be a power passed down from Rose, or is this a power he himself posses?

#koala vs sloth

in The New Lars, koalas come up twice. Koalas in SU are associated with Steven’s astral projection powers. Remember how Koala Princess met her mother in the dreamscape? 

Steven: For your consideration...The koala, a marsupial from the forests of Australia, and the sloth, hailing from the forests of South America. Who should be crowned the king of the "Hanging Around Doing Nothing" mammals!?

Steven in Lars’ body: Whatcha doing? Hanging out? Buck: Yeah. Steven: That's cool. Would you say you hang out more like koalas or sloths? Uh, I'm asking for Steven.

Steven: Um... I'm really, really sorry about yesterday. I got you a card, it's got a koala and a sloth.

From The New Lars. Steven references koalas three times.

KBCS gets to Beach City Drift. They take notice of Jane and of Kevin’s car.

Hey did you guys notice that girl that keeps appear. We saw her when Steven took Connie to the movies and now she’s here. I wonder if she’s involved in something. Hmmmm.

So Stevonnie raced Kevin down the hill in his Himitsu X12, that’s secret in Japanese.

So while we’re back on the subject of Jane, here’s something interesting about Dogcopter and the Himitsu X12. They both show up in advertisements together in the background of Empire City.

Mr Greg

Same Old World

This is what KBCS is talking about - Dogcopter has a secret.

For Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service, KBCS has more to say about dreams.

She has a nightmare and Steven, coincidentally, falls asleep after eating and enters Kiki’s dream. Now Steven The Dream Warrior, must help Kiki battle her dream, and finally end this nightmare once and for all.

Steven, who for some reason keeps going into people’s dreams, goes into Kiki’s dream.

Steven fought for about week, and he’s was tired by day four. And we know from experience that a sleepless Steven, is a cranky Steven.

This is the same power Steven used in Chille Tid. and look who showed up again?

After Monster Reunion airs, KBCS posts a liveblog and includes a far-fetched accusation that Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond.

Think about it! A Diamond should have access to all gem controlled tech, right. And if Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond, which she is, then she should be able to too, right. And Steven has Rose’s gem. So now Steven can access gem tech. And one more thing to prove this theory once and for all.

But there’s one thing that doesn’t add up. Rose Quartz… is a Quartz. How could she be a Diamond?????? Maybe I’m wrong, she could have been just working along side Pink Diamond. Maybe this just a crackpot theory about the impossible. I don’t think gems can turn into different gems? who knows, I guess we’ll find out sooner or later. 

When KBCS gets to Crack the Whip, they take note of Lion and tag him thrice:

Crack the Whip! Is it just me or is that foreshadowing?

Oh, did I mention that Lion was there. He was just there, when Connie opened the door, he walked up and just started hanging. It was so cool! It was like, Just Lion Things 2! So the snack break, that takes the whole day, ends at the beach, where the idea originally began.

Amethyst faces off Jasper, gem to gem, while Steven and Connie, and don’t forget Lion, fight the corrupted gem.

Lion was keeping the Gem Monster busy while all of this was happening. I was so stunned when Steven and Connie fused, without doing a fusion dance! How well they worked, together, they rode on Lion, and defeated Jasper, and poofed the Gem Monster all at the same time!!!

#just lion things 2 #lion fights #lion still fights

There’s also a weird Google Slides slideshow connected to the KBCS account, which includes this image featuring Lion, Tiny Floating Whale, (and Connie and Greg) and the word TRUE with Steven’s affirmative!

More Koala Princess

Two more Koala Princess references - although only one is immediately relevant - 

In Gemcation, Ronaldo keeps texting Steven about Koala Princess. Steven’s lockscreen is a selfie with him and Lion.

Also, as a sidenote, Koala Princess is implicated in sneople trolls on anime message boards.

Dogcopter

These are just the Dogcopter appearances (Thanks to SU wiki as well as my brain) Dogcopter fights robots in at least one timeline, and the book is allegedly really long. Bold Dogcopters are the pink dogcopter, everything else is an ad or grey.

Lars and the Cool Kids - Poster

Lion 2 - The movie they all go see.

Lion 3 - Gives Steven advice.

Chille Tid  - Shows Steven how to find Lapis. Meows. (Dogcopter’s parents are cats.)

Same Old World & Mr. Greg - Advertisement

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service - flies Steven away.

In Dreams and Growing Pains (Note this is grey Dogcopter) - Flies away in Stefan’s nightmare, proposes to Drew the driver (or at least offers them something) in the Dogcopter 6 Till Death Do Us Bark I Now Pronounce You Man and Woof trailer.

Snow Day - Pupcopter, a spinoff for babies.

And for Steven’s Birthday - Connie points out a Dogcopter constellation.

Astral Projection

Another quick summary. I’ve written a lot on this psychic ghost stuff so check my blog if you want the tags, idrc. Summary of astral projection powers Steven has shown:

Leaving his body (Reunited, Escapism)

Possessing other bodies (New Lars, Escapism, SWI)

Traveling to others’ dreams (Kiki’s Pizza, Chille Tid)

Interacting with fusion components within the fusion’s mind (Chille Tid, Mindful)

Regarding KBCS’s question of whether Rose could have done this, it doesn’t seem impossible - and as of Fragments and Homeworld Bound, we know that Gems don’t die when they are killed. (Lol.) That is, the personality/soul can appear in the same gem if it’s shattered and repaired. And Steven’s mom’s gem is perfectly intact, inside him. 

Literally what is the point of all this

So after KBCS and KBCW spent so long talking about astral projection, ghosts, dreams, fusions, etc etc. they never actually got to the point - just pointed us in the direction of a bunch of clues that 

Rose Quartz isn’t gone.

Obviously. She’s in his gem in him, like Lapis and the mirror, or the lighthouse gem. She uses astral projection to help Steven in his dreams as well as see him in Rose’s room, like other fusions speak in the mindscape. (There’s a lot more to this but this is enough to ask anyone to wrap their head around atm) 

She also interacts with him through other bodies, the same way Steven takes over Lars’ body, or the Watermelon Stevens. 

Remember this?

We, here at Keep Beach City Safe, thought that Steven would’ve liked to have his mom at his birthday party.

Who came to Steven’s birthday in which Connie points out that Dogcopter constellation?

Who gave Steven advice when he wished he could talk to his mom?

Who showed Steven where to find the tape?

Who else could have asked Steven, “What do you want” in Susan Egan’s voice? 

(Why did they choose to hire Susan Egan to voice a cameo in Under the Knife in the first few seconds of Fusion Cuisine, where she says “It’s my son!” while Lion is onscreen)

Or reassured him that Rose’s tape was telling him the truth?

Who first brought him to Pink Diamond’s moon base?

Who knew where Rose’s armory was and how to train with it? (Note the giant penny)

Who showed Steven the location of Pink’s fallen palanquin?

Who found Rose’s lost scabbard?

and knew where Pearl would run to when she’s upset?

Who (reluctantly) brought Steven to the landfill and Pink Diamond’s ship?

Who showed him how to find Malachite?

Twice?

Who showed him how Pink Diamond tried to stop the Earth’s colonization, and who to ask for the truth?

Who tried to entertain him on Mask Island when he was trapped on Homeworld?

And then rescued him from the open sea?

Who showed Stevonnie the password to Yellow Diamond’s moon base?

Much like Koala Princess’ vision in the Eucalyptus Jungle in Season 5, Episode 13 what you saw on the Boardwalk the other day was not what it seemed. 

So yeah Rose is Lion 2020. Thanks for reading this extremely long nonsense.

Also thanks to @babybeetlebongos​ for both mindscape lore and fixing Ronaldo’s cheek in the banner image, lol. I made a Twitter thread about this as well (and the more in depth Lion and astral projection theory threads are quoted at the top, if you need them. the #mindscape deeplore 2020 tag/tags on this post have stuff too.)

[yourfavewriteress]

always a priority | jack eichel

Teaser: “I’d clear my whole plate for you if you needed me to.”

I coughed intensely for at least five minutes before my body eventually gave out. Laying back on the couch, completely out of breath and sweating, I groaned to myself, fighting back tears.

The light hum from the TV was no distraction from the pain that I was feeling in my entire body. My head was pounding, my neck was sore, my chest felt empty, my lungs felt bruised. Overall, every part of me felt like shit.

Jack was gone for his away games. He left three nights before and was coming back home later tonight. He has no idea how sick I am. I haven’t told him because he’s dealing with so much being captain of a team that should be playing well but just isn’t. He’s one of the only players on his team delivering, and technically as captain, he takes a lot of blame for the Sabres’ setbacks. In my opinion, he’s the only reason why people even still mention the Sabres. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jack’s teammates, but Jack has really been carrying the team on his back, and that I do not like. He’s stressed all the time, constantly pushing himself to be better, when he’s already one of the best players in the league. 

“Babe?” My eyes shot open as I heard Jack’s voice sound through our apartment. No, no, no, no. Why is he home so early? I was banking on at least having time to shower and look less like shit, especially since I purposely failed to tell him I was sick in the first place. The worst part was, I couldn’t physically move my body due to the pain I was in. Clearly, I should have told Jack as soon as I started feeling like this but I didn’t want to add to his already full plate with hockey.

“Are you sleeping?” I heard him mumble, probably to himself. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Hey,” I smiled softly.

“Hi, how ar- what’s wrong?” He asked, looking over me and the living room. I was laying on the couch in a tank top and shorts. I took our comforter from the bedroom, using it as my blanket. There was an open container of VaporRub on the table, as well as a container of ibuprofen. Plus, untouched soup I made that barely made its way down my esophagus before it came right back up into our bathroom toilet.

“I, uh,” I tried to sit up, failing miserably. I gasped at the pain in my chest and back.

“Baby,” Jack said, crouching down next to me. “What is going on?”

“I’m sick,” I said. “And, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? You broke your ankle and didn’t even break a sweat. You can barely sit up and breathe right now,” He responded.

“I just have a bad cough,” I said.

“You’re lying,” He stood up, taking off his coat.

“Okay, it’s bad. But, I’m fine,” I sighed, attempting to sit up again.

“Y/N, stop,” He said, helping me. “How long have you been like this?”

“Two days?”

“Ah, man, you’re killing me,” He mumbled. He grabbed all the stray tissues on the table, tossing them in the trash. “I see you didn’t eat.”

“Jack, stop, seriously, you can’t get sick,” I said, grabbing his wrists to stop him from touching my infected tissues.

“I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you,” He said. “Is this why you didn’t want to facetime me last night?”

“Maybe,” I pouted.

“You’re so annoying,” He smiled. He kissed my lips and I almost kissed back before I realized what he was doing.

I pushed him back gently. “Jack, I don’t know if it’s contagious.”

“I haven’t seen you in four days, I don’t care if you’re contagious,” He responded, pressing his lips to mine once again. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” I said. “But, kissing to the very minimum.”

“Fine,” He rolled his eyes. “How much pain are you in? On a scale of 1-10.”

“6, maybe?” I shrugged.

“Okay, so that means 9 actually,” He said. “I’m tempted to take you to the hospital.”

“No,” I widened my eyes. “I can get through this, I promise.”

“I know you can, and you will. But, should you?” He raised his eyebrows. “Just be honest with me, do you want me to take you to see someone? I love you and you know I think you’re the most beautiful person ever, but you look like shit right now and I’m sure you don’t feel any better.”

“I think I’ll survive if you take care of me.”

Jack smiled, kissing my hand. “Fair enough. But, just so you know, if I feel like it’s a lot, I’m taking you to the hospital. No arguments.”

“I know,” I rolled my eyes. “And, do not kiss my hand again. I’ve been wiping my snot.”

“Anything that comes out of you isn’t disgusting to me anymore,” He laughed. 

“My head hurts,” I sighed, laying back down. “Everything hurts.”

“I’m gonna change really fast, and then I’ll be back, okay?” He asked. “Can you give me like 5 minutes?”

I nodded, laying back down under the comforters. 

“When was the last time you ate?” I heard Jack ask a few minutes later.

“Uhm, last night?”

“It’s 2!” He exclaimed.

“One, my head. Two, I tried to eat this soup but I threw it up seconds later.”

“How many times have you thrown up?” He asked.

“You’re making me think so much, Jack,” I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“Well, I’m sorry, but maybe if you would have let me know that you were sick, I would already know these things. I’m just trying to do a little catch up so that I know what you need,” He said softly, leaning over the back of the couch looking down at me. 

“I’m sorry,” I pouted up at him.

“It’s fi- babe, holy shit,” He looked surprised as he placed his hand on my forehead. “Your head is so hot.”

“I know.”

“Okay, I’m gonna get you saltines and ginger ale, does that work?”

“I’m going to throw it up but go ahead,” I shrugged.

“I mean, I would recommend something a little more filling but if you’re gonna throw it up anyway, I’d rather not put you through that.”

“Okay.” He disappeared into the kitchen, coming back minutes later with the ginger ale and crackers. 

“Can you at least try to eat some before you go to sleep?” I heard him say as I felt a squeeze to my leg. 

“Do I have to?”

“No, but I would like you to.”

“Fine.” I ate one cracker and Jack laughed as I laid back down. I could hear him moving around before he pulled the blanket off of me. 

“Can you move closer to the edge?” He asked.

“Why?” I sighed. He ignored me, simply wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me towards him and the edge of the couch. Once I was practically hanging off, he climbed into the empty space, squeezing in.

“When you get sick, I really do not want to hear your whining,” I mumbled.

“I’d rather get sick than just watch you suffer from 5 feet away,” He responded, pulling the comforter over the both of us. He put his arm under my neck, his chest pressing into my back. His other hand wrapped around my waist. I turned around in his arms, nuzzling my face in his neck.

“You’re literally burning up,” He said, tangling his fingers in my hair. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’re in so much pain.”

“I just-, I know you’re going through a lot with the team lately. You’ve been stressed and I didn’t want to worry you and just add to your plate,” I admitted.

“You’re more important to me than hockey, Y/N,” He said.

“Yeah, right.”

“What, you think hockey is more important to me than you?” He moved his head back, looking down at me.

“I mean, it’s your job.”

“Exactly, it’s a job. You’re definitely more important, and I’m sorry that you even think I want you to keep things from me to not add to my plate. I’d clear my whole plate for you if you needed me to.”

“Jack, relax,” I smiled. “I’m just sick, not dying.”

“No, seriously,” He sat up. “We’ve been together for 4 years and we live together now. You do know that you’re always a priority for me, right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Okay, good. If you ever need me, at any time, no matter what I’m doing or who I’m with, all you have to do is say the word and I’m there. I’ll leave in the middle of a game if it’s about you.”

“You’re sweet,” I hugged him. “And, I know, Jack. That’s why I didn’t tell you. It’s not as bad as it seems, I just need to keep drinking fluids and sleeping. You always tell me how important I am to you, I haven’t forgotten, trust me.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” He sighed. 

“Well, you’re here now, so can you lay down and be my pillow now?”

He laughed. “You’re so annoying.”

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Red alert

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 22 | Part 23 Red alert | Part 24 >

Disclaimer: A little naughty (maybe not entirely PG13? What do you kids watch these days anyways?) and a bit of travel sickness 

Author’s note: 🔥(That’s all I have to say) 

Word count: 1.919

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

I never thought I would come to say this, but I think I’ve learned to appreciate the cold. I’m still not a great fan of it, let that be clear. But there’s something quite funny about the routine you build around such extreme temperatures. Digging yourself out of your trailer? Check. Doing jumping jacks while letting your dog pee in the snow? Check. Ice fishing and making Maple Syrup Taffy (which I adore by now)? Check.  

Today is our last day here in Canada and I’ll miss the polite fun folk we have met, the film crew whom are absolute rockstars no matter how extreme the cold got and I’ll most definitely NOT miss the trailer we lived in. Three broken heaters. A leaking shower. A bed that was barely large enough for me to stretch my legs (poor chocolate cake had to almost sleep folded in half) and no place to properly dry your clothes meant it smelt like old fart if you didn’t light some scented candles.

But no more old farts! We are going home!

See you soon dear parents, friends and other good acquaintances. I can’t wait to share all my stories with you in person!

Ali

‘Oophh..I’m not feeling so well Hen.’ I croaked, gripping the arm rest of the airplane seat tightly. I felt about as green as the puking bag I held in my other hand, ready in case my body would no longer hold in the two puny sandwiches I had for breakfast.

Henry rubbed a strong hand over the nape of my neck, cooing some comforting words in my ear over the loud noise of the plane engines and storm outside.

And…DROP…there went the plane again, my bowels drifting for a few milliseconds too long, making the bile rise in the back of my throat. Shaking my head in terror I opened the bag, trying my utter best to breath in deeply through my nose.

Somewhere in the racket of the aerial doom I could hear the quiet whining of Kal, the poor dog folded in between Henry’s legs.

Quite a pair we were, hmm? Scared Kal, sick Alice.

Slowly I felt my breathing calm, the bile sinking back where it belonged, the cold sweat on my skin drying somewhat.

‘Please tell me it..’

DROP. The plane made another dive through the air, my previous green hue right back where it was just moments ago. My face got sweaty again and my breath choked as I kept my mouth clenched tight to prevent any bile from exiting any orifices. 

Usually I was pretty okay with flying. But this? This?! Oh my word. This was something else! I wasn’t even sure if Henry was an actual human, his body calm and relaxed, voice soothing. Like nothing was the matter and we weren’t right now looking right in the gaping mouth of a hell storm, ready to be devoured.

‘I can’t do.. This.’ I gulped, sitting back up and looking white as a sheet, my eyes trying to focus on the chair before me.

‘You’re doing real well.’ Henry praised, his warm hand pushing some sticky strands of hair away from my face. ‘Deep breath in and puff puff puff out.’ He puffed along with me and the very act made me somewhat forget about our predicament. I swallowed back another bit of bile and quickly looked over at him, his mouth still shaped in a little “o” as he helped me puff. ‘I’m not having a baby over here Hen.’ I sniffled, then felt my body protest again, the bile jumping back up in my throat.

Henry laughed. ‘If it works, it works. Besides, a little practise is always good.’ I could clearly distinguish the humour in his voice but feeling sick as a dog I first needed another one of those long inhales followed by a series of puffs before I could look back at him. With an exasperated look I puffed into his face, making him laugh even harder. ‘You’re nearly there baby!’ He cheered, taking the piss with me a bit. I growled and shook my head in annoyance. ‘You…’

‘Just another..four more hours.’ He winked, pointing at the screens that showed the flight time.

‘I hate you right now..*breath in* Cavill *ppfffff pfff pfff*’

‘Just wait until I put an actual baby in you.’ He whiskered huskily in my ear.

Oh how glad I was that nobody could hear us over the loud racket. That nobody could hear my stomach make an actual somersault - both in a good and bad way at the same time. And oh how glad I was I wasn’t physically able to launch myself at him right now, because truly..this man? This man was the greatest of teasers and right now he could most definitely need some..well..let’s say “putting in place”?

—

‘Home sweet home!!’ Henry turned the key of the blue slated house, the hour late and Kal lagging behind us as he was making a reintroduction with the front yard. Tail wagging, nose sniffing, he was acquainting himself with his new home. Our home. Our very own home. A very empty home, too.

We had not really had any time to move and buy furniture, so right now the large house only had a few basic pieces; a bed, a small couch, a kitchen table with two chairs and a few lights. Henry flicked his hand over the light switch to turn it on, but darkness did not evaporate with the burst of yellowish light. It remained dark instead. Grumbling Henry took his phone from his back pocket and used it to shine some light on the light switch.

‘Strange.’ He grumbled, looking over at me as I was calling Kal inside. Stepping in behind him I noticed that something was amiss. ‘Missing a spark there, sir?’ I winked and just like that his annoyance was forgotten, his face breaking into a smile. ‘Looks like it’s going to be a romantic night in the dark ages, my fair lady.’ - ‘Mmm…sounds terribly romantic.’

Closing the door behind us and following Henry’s flashlight into the kitchen, our feet echoing loudly in the empty hallway, we found some groceries his parents had done for us earlier that day. We filled Kal’s bowl, opened the bottle of red wine we found and decided to drink our first celebratory glass of alcohol in bed, the house being a bit chilly as the heating also seemed to have died along with the electricity.

‘I think the dead heater has cursed us.’ I mumbled, trembling under the sheets, body propped up against the headboard and Henry pouring us two glasses. He chuckled. ‘We’ll make sure to sacrifice a virgin later. But first things first; a toast!’

I laughed and clinked glasses with him, the mattress shifting as he moved in close beside me, his lips quite instantaneously finding mine before I could even take a sip. ‘Mmmm..it may have taken me a good 37-ish years to woo you, dear Alice, but please let me tell you that I am the happiest man in the world right now.’ He kissed me again, more passionately.

I chuckled into his kiss, pulling back slightly. ‘I am glad about that too. Even as I lay here in all my clothes, shivering under a blanket, stinking of airplane and probably tasting of bile, too.’ I winked at Henry, his features half-lit by the light of his phone’s flashlight that he had now placed on the foot end of the bed. He laughed and pressed another kiss on my lips. ‘Oh no. Nothing can quite stop me from loving you, I’m sure. Absolutely..’ He pressed a kiss lower on my neck, his teeth gripping onto the neck of my comfy, but totally un-sexy turtleneck sweater. ‘Nothing.’ He growled, tugging at it playfully, making me laugh even harder.

We had taken only two more sips of our wines before we busied ourselves with reacquainting with another piece we had missed very much; his bed. Now, our bed. Limbs tangling together, lips locking, there were a few things that simply didn’t change. Henry was a bear in every..sense..of the word. Big, bulky, sweet, hairy bear hugs. 

And apparently next to family planning, long airplane flights ALSO got him terribly horny.

—

Squinting my eyes I looked to my side, finding a still asleep Henry entangled with my arms and legs. Which, in and of its own was quite unique as Henry was usually up way before I even managed to blink open a heavy eyelid. Grumbling I shifted my hip and felt something weird on my leg.

Was that a …SNAIL?

Squirming and huffing in disgust I quickly shot out of bed, only realising a moment too late what it actually was. Not a snail or anything of an animalistic nature. A condom. Gasping quietly I saw Henry wake up as well, his blue eyes immediately searching for me and finding me next to the bed. Quizzically frowning at me he grumbled. ‘Mmwhat is it?’ He rubbed his eyes and yawned, then saw what I was pointing at. The condom.

‘Oh..’ He blinked, picking it up with deft fingers, then blinked a few times more when he realised that it was not just a condom. It was a..broken..condom. We both held our breath, the last remains of sleep immediately lifted.

‘Holy crap.’ I gasped, our eyes meeting in a moment of silent understanding. Henry sat up and swallowe harshly. ‘I’m SO sorry. Oh..’ He quickly tossed the condom aside and pulled the sheets away, large crusty stains everywhere. ‘Oh god I’m so sorry Ali. I didn’t know..I…’ He gave me a pleading look, large hairy chest heaving with terror.

And yet, despite the fact this was not truly a funny thing, I laughed. ‘Oh my..’ I chuckled, shaking my head slightly. ‘Well that was an adventurous night, for sure.’ I said, slowly crawling back on the bed, evading the large crusty stain in the middle. Henry sighed and rubbed his face again. ‘Damn. Do you want to go to the pharma..-’

‘No.’ I cut him short. Our eyes met again and just like that another silent agreement was made, Henry’s pleading eyes melting into ones of tender love. ‘Really?’

I giggled and crawled into his lap, nuzzling his nose and enjoying the warmth of his arms as they wrapped around me. ‘Really Ali?’

‘Henry! Please do not make me regret a thing that feels good.’

Henry’s chest rumbled with a deep chuckle. ‘So.. it’s okay?’

I nodded and looked deep into his ocean blue eyes. ‘To me it’s okay. Is it for you?’ I asked with honest curiosity, but I couldn’t keep a serious face for long when I saw Henry’s over enthused face. ‘Alice..Alice Alice Alice..is this what I think it is?’ He whispered, eyes large and expecting, his hands rubbing slow circles over my lower back. I grinned and nodded, shrugging ever so slightly. ‘It’s not like we aren’t on the same page. No matter what happens. We want this, right?’ - ‘Right.’ - ‘Then let this happy little accident make it so.’ - ‘Okay.’ Henry said, still coming up to speed with what we had just decided upon.

‘AAAHH!!’ He exclaimed rolling us over, the dirty sheets sticking to our bodies, making me laugh with joy. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you!’ He whispered with great contentment, his lips travelling down my jawline, pressing sweet kisses on every inch of skin he could find.

‘I love you too Henry. Now better warm me up before we’re going to probably have our coldest shower EVER.’

‘With pleasure.’  

--

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69​ @madbaddic7ed​ @luclittlepond​ 

Fluff lovers squad: @star017​ @perhaps2remember​ @pterodactylterrace​ @witchersqueen​ @desperate-and-broken​​ @toomanyfandomsshreya​​ @deliciouslysassyarcade​​ @pamacs-macs​​ @cavilladdict​​ @scorpionchild81​​ @lebguardians​​ @sofiebstar​​ @amberbabem​​ @mis-lil-red @aestheticqueenb​​ @misslalaland-blog-blog​ @ilieherecharmed-fics2readnrec​ @michelehansel​ @henryfanfics101​

Want to be added to or removed from the tag list? Shoot me a message!

[bangtanfancamp]

Of Dusk and Summer

✨ Teaser ✨

Sneak peak at my upcoming one shot!!!

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

∴ one shot

∴ playlist/ soundtrack

∴ pairing : Park Jimin x reader

∴ teaser length: 1.8k words

∴ final length: at least 25k + words

∴ rating: Mature (is very soft. And probably doesn’t need one this high but just in case. I’ll amend if need be once story is complete)

∴ genre : coming of age, angst, fluff, romance, bf2l (best friends to lovers), high school au

∴warnings: mentions of emotional abuse and dysfunctional family dynamics, light smut? Sort of? (Intense makeout-still SFW)

Graduation and academic excellence is all Jimin has had his eyes fixed on for as long as he can remember. Today, it finally happens. Today, he finally walks the stage and graduates. Today, his goals finally become reality. Or at least, that’s what he thought-until the best friend he thought he knew inside and out shows up in his window while he’s getting ready, and his life is never quite the same.

Alt: Park Jimin and his best friend have one incredible night that changes what they are to each other forever.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

There it is again- that clattering sound.

That’s at least the fifth time he’s heard it. It’s almost like fingernails tapping against the glass behind him, but that can’t be possible- he’s on the second floor. Every time Jimin looks back at his bedroom window, there’s nothing there.

Not even a pollen drunk honeybee bumping against the glass- nothing. He’s beginning to feel like he’s losing his mind. Turning his attention back to his mirror, he chooses to ignore it this time- he’s finally almost got the knot right in his tie. It’s taken him the better part of twenty minutes to even get this close.

But there it is again.

That sound- the tinkling against the glass.

Before he can stop himself, he’s whipping his head back to look and...there goes the knot. Dang it. Brow furrowed, he frowns down at his tie before giving up completely, sliding it from beneath his collar to chuck it on the floor. Agitated and swearing under his breath, he stomps, disgruntled, toward the accursed window and flings it open.

“For the love of God, what is — Y/n??” Jimin looks positively gobsmacked, because there you are- your palm full of rocks, arm cocked mid-throw as your silky red graduation robes flutter in the breeze.

“There you are! Took you long enough.” You taunt him from the lawn.

“What the heck are you doing here? Graduation’s in less than an hour!” Jimin is a patient man, but this is not remotely the time for shenanigans.

“Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I’m here?” You roll your eyes, striding across the lawn before hiking up your robe to reveal denim shorts and hoisting yourself up the ivy trellis on the front of the house.

“I don’t know why you’re here! That’s why I’m asking- y/n, what are you doing? My mom just fixed that trellis! You know she hates when you stomp through her garden! Why can’t you just use the front door like a normal person?” Jimin tips his head to the side in frustration, strands of his silky black hair falling into his eyes before he can push them away.

‘Because, Chim, I don’t need to go through the rest of the house when I have a direct route to the person i'm here to see. Now move- let me through.” You dip your head and crouch as Jimin resignedly steps back to give you room to slip through the window.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here, y/n, or why you couldn’t just call to say whatever it was. We’ve got to get ready to go.” Turning back to his dresser, he begins to hunt for his black bow tie from Prom- maybe he’ll have better luck with that.

“That’s just it, Chim. That’s why I’m here.” You’re still standing resolute in front of the window, dodging as a pair of Jimin’s swim shorts fly past your face in his hunt for his bow tie.

“Do you need a ride to graduation?” His confusion is apparent in his tone as he moves to ransack his closet. “Goddamn it, where is my bow tie?! I don’t have time for thi-

“No, because I’m not going, Chim.” Your voice is so quiet, he almost misses it.

“I know i put it right— wait. You’re what?” His face goes slack as he turns back to face you. “What do you mean?”

Sighing, you cross the room to grip his shoulders. “I mean- I can't do this. I’m not going to graduation today, Jimin.”

“Are you crazy? You have to go!” He searches your eyes for some sign that this is a joke but doesn’t find one.

“No actually- we don’t have to go. It’s optional,” you say softly as Jimin frowns.

“I don’t think that means what you think it means, Y/n.”

“If you’ve completed all your finals and have a high enough GPA, you don’t actually have to walk. Pietro Salazar got strep last year the day before and didn’t attend and still got a diploma,” you shrug.

“Because he had strep! Do you? Are you ill?” He questions as he presses the back of his hand to your forehead. You swat it away and frown at him.

“No, I don’t have a fever! I’m serious.” There’s a grit in your tone that he’s not used to and doesn’t understand.

“Are you sure? Because you’re clearly either mad with fever or just plain lost your mind because this is crazy! You’re being crazy,” he huffs. He doesn’t mean to sound so belligerent- really, he doesn’t- but he doesn’t understand. The clock to graduation is ticking down, and you’re standing in front of him like a lost sheep while he has an aneurysm over the fact that he can maintain a 3.9 GPA but can’t manage to tie a goddamn tie. He loves you, he does, but he just doesn’t have the patience for whatever this is right now. Still, he thinks, She’s your best friend: word it better than that. He sighs and tries again when he realizes his frustration isn’t going to get through to you.

“Y/n, we’ve been looking forward to today for years. You can’t just decide to not go half an hour before-“ he glances at the wall clock behind you as his throat suddenly seizes up.” Oh my god, it’s only half an hour til four?? Y/n, we can talk about whatever alien tried to do a biopsy on your brain later, but we have got to go!” He tries to slip out of your grasp, but your grip around his biceps only tightens.

“I’m serious, Jimin. I’m not going.” You look more resolute than he’s ever seen you before- much too focused, with much too much clarity for a woman who’s clearly lost her mind.

“B-but you’re Valedictorian! I would’ve killed to make valedictorian. You know how hard I tried. Why in the world would you just not show up?” He looks at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“Because! I’m just not. That’s all there is to it. I’ve got to get out of here, Chim. And I... came to see if you’d come with me.” Your eyes are softer then as you brace for his reaction.

“Come with you?” The words feel strange leaving his mouth.

“Yeah, I took the truck. It’s got a full tank of gas. I’ve got a backpack full of everything we’ll need- I just... need my best friend.” Your eyes meet his, and he realizes you’re serious.

“I - Y/n, what's really going on?” Brows pinched, his dark eyes search your face for a reason you aren’t ready to give him.

“Look, I know today is a big deal for you. I’m not a complete jerk. You know I know that. I just- I need to do this. And if you can’t come, I at least wanted you to hear it from me so-“

“Y/n where are you even gonna go?” He cuts you off. Breaking out of your grip to card his fingers through his hair, he studies you as he waits for your response.

“I don’t know for sure,” you say honestly. Jimin is not amused by how little you’ve prepared for this.

“ Are you leaving- like permanently? Or just like, going to hide out down at the froyo spot?” He frowns, wincing at how caustic his stress is making his tone. You look a bit hurt, and he tries to soften his voice to hide his impending hysteria as the clock ticks behind you.

“Cause if you’re asking me to run away with you indefinitely, I can’t leave my cat behind. You know my mom can’t stand her. Do I need to bring her? Cause if you’re thinking this is long term and I don’t bring her, I won't have a pet to come home to when we come galavanting back from Narnia.” His eyes are far off, detached as he rambles over the semantics of it all. That’s what he does. He’s the thinker. You’re the dreamer. He’s just doing his best to get a grasp on it all.

“What? No, Jimin- Calico’s gonna be fine. I have a couple of ideas- I just... know I need to get out of here, at least for today.” There’s something off. About all of this. This isn’t like you. You don’t do things like this. What is going on with you?

There’s a look in your eyes he’s never seen before. Five years of friendship and somehow there’s a panicked terror in your gaze that’s entirely brand new to him. Except, it’s not. Somehow, it’s strangely familiar. It’s just never been this bad. It makes him wonder…

“Y/n...is it your mom again?” His face is soft with concern and the second he sees your features shift he knows he has his answer. He catches the way your eyes harden, the way you swallow, the way it looks like you’re about to crawl out of your skin. There it is. Dang it. He can’t leave you like this. Not again.

Shaking your head, you plant your feet and try one more time to meet his eyes. Sniffling, you tell him in a voice laced with conviction, “It doesn’t matter. Chim, I’m leaving- are you coming or not?” You palm your keys in your hand as you pin him with a look.

A heavy sigh tumbles from his chest as he realizes what he’s about to do. “I know there’s something more to this that you’re not telling me…” he states calmly as your eyes fall away from his. “But I’m not gonna leave you alone with whatever this is.”

Your face snaps up to his, relief flooding you as you crash into him, embracing him in an excruciatingly tight hug. “Oh my god, thank you.”

He holds you back, arms firm around your waist, and gives himself a minute to realize what he’s committing to. No official cap and gown. No cheesy pictures with his parents. No walking with his classmates to receive the paper declaring that he’s finally, officially an adult. No final milestone of high school.

But there’ll be you….

And as he feels the warmth of you melt against his neck, maybe that’s all he needs.

His mother will probably kill him. No, she’ll definitely kill him. But if today is supposed to signify his transition into adulthood, then maybe it’s time he makes his first real stance in what kind of man he’s going to be.

To make his first proper adult decision.

Figures it would somehow be tied to you.

“All right, all right,” pulling himself out of your grip, Jimin tries to ignore the way your relieved smile and watery eyes tug at something in his chest. He’s never been able to explain his irrational soft spot for you, least of all right now. “If we’re gonna do this, then we’ve gotta go now. Just let me grab a few things,” he sighs.

(to be continued)

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Author’s note: hey guys!!! Hope you enjoyed. This piece is incredibly special to me. And I can’t wait to share the rest with you. The story will be told from both Jimin and Y/N’s perspectives and will hopefully be going through final revisions in the coming week. - christiana ✨

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!!!!