#mentions of anxiety and recreational drug use

[astarionancuntnin]

Midnight's Embrace

summary: you can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep. your fight with the netherbrain is approaching fast and your anxiety is only increasing. halsin proposes to try a special brand of herbs to alleviate your mind. turns out this herb also awoke something else in you.

rating: E

word count: 3k

pairing: astarion x you x halsin (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. smut, porn with no plot, late act 3 business, reader is tav, massage turning into something more, polyamory, reader is sandwiched between her two bfs, recreational drug use, stoned sex, mildly dubious consent due to drug intake (reader & astarion), praise kink, threesome, dry humping, blood/vampire bites, unprotected sex, anal fingering and penetration, double penetration, creampie, aftercare, overall sane safe and as consensual as one can be under the influence.

a/n: taking a smol break from my angsty writing to deliver some smut goodness. hope you enjoy! (i sure did)

a/n²: this is absolutely self-indulgent stuff and i will not be sorry about it. i wish i had two loving boyfriends fucking me while i was high, is that so much to ask

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below ~

You can’t recall the last time you had a real, good night of sleep.

Since your arrival in Baldur’s Gate, your nights have been restless, and your anxiety related to your upcoming fight with the Netherbrain has only increased. It’s not uncommon for you to wake up sweating in the middle of the night, panting, and checking your surroundings. You feel as if you’re only one inconvenience away from crumbling and your lovers are worried about you. You keep trying to reassure them that you’ll be fine once the Netherbrain is dealt with, but they won’t hear you out; you’ve only ever taken care of your companions since the start. Everyone has found their peace but you. 

Halsin and Astarion urged you to start to focus on yourself, and you wanted to, but the truth is you had no idea where to start; you were used to taking care of everyone else, your own wellbeing never crossed your mind. One night, after Astarion feeds on you, he mentions how tense you are, and that he would gladly massage your neck to help with the tension you've accumulated. This makes you think about asking your other companions about their own techniques to decompress. Throughout the day, you ask around: “what do you do when you’re stressed out?” Shadowheart mentions that she meditates and stretches, and while it’s not a bad idea, with your mind constantly racing, you doubt you’d be able to easily meditate. Lae’zel mentions practice dueling, which she usually partakes with Wyll, and although it seems to be working for them, you wanna try to avoid more fighting before your upcoming fight. 

That’s when Halsin tells you about the medicinal benefits of some herbs, and how they could help you relax. Although you’ve never tried, you’re open to the idea; you’ll try anything that could potentially ease your night terrors. You spend the next day marching the streets to reach an herb shop. As you enter, a lady greets you cheerfully, offering her help to find you exactly what you need. They offered a great variety of consumables infused with their many strands available : pastries, desserts, drinks and potions, candies; if you could imagine it, they had it. The lady explains the effect each of their products have and their specialities. After looking around, you settle on a cookie with Midnight’s Embrace, a sleep inducing herb. You thank her and head back to the Elfsong for the night.

You finish your meal with the special cookie and soon after, you bid your companions goodnight before fetching your partners to accompany you through the night. After all, you still intend on holding Astarion to his word about that massage he mentioned the other night, and Halsin promised to be by your side as this was your first time consuming something like this.

You had reserved the room with the biggest bed they had, just for this occasion.  You reach for the bed first, lying comfortably on your chest, ready for your long-awaited massage. Halsin is next to join you, removing his shirt to get comfortable before sitting next to you with his back against the headboard, and Astarion joins soon after, kneeling behind you. The pale elf straightens up before laying his hands on your back, wasting no time to work through the knots in your tired muscles. The relief you feel is almost instant.

Halsin combs through your hair, pushing it aside to reveal your blissful face. “How are you feeling?”

“Sooooo good. A massage was the best idea.”

As it turns out, the massage combined with the herb-induced dessert enhanced each other, as the effect of the cookie you ingested earlier had already started settling in. When the lady mentioned they were “fast-acting”, you didn’t expect almost spontaneous-acting. Your skin feels more sensitive – in a good way – but you know that it’s the effect of the drugs, as if every touch was the softest caress you’ve received, and you found yourself leaning in the vampire's strong and graceful grip, only wanting more. As he makes his way to your lower back, a few unconscious moans escape your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I take it that you’re enjoying yourself, then?” Astarion asks, smiling, in response to your moaning.

“It’s just… your hands…” you sigh content, leaning into his touch. “They feel amazing.”

“I'm happy to provide, my love.”

His dexterous hands turn you to putty and you wish you could feel more, every inch of your body yearning for attention. He keeps working on your back while you reach out to Halsin, his much bigger hand holding yours tightly. You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him.

“I… want you to touch me too.”

“Tell me where you need me, my heart.”

“Can you hold me? I want to be held by you two.”

The two men look at each other in understanding before repositioning themselves on each side of you ; Astarion hugging your waist from behind, nuzzling himself in the crook of your neck, and Halsin sheltering you in his arms, his head resting on top of yours.

The effects of the cookie kept getting stronger : you felt lighter, more peaceful and happier, your mind was clear from any lingering anxiety, only taking in the love surrounding you. In the comfort of their arms, you let your hands roam over the archdruid's chest, exploring each crevasse. The drugs made you more sensitive, especially down there, and it doesn’t take you long to feel a familiar warmth pool down to your stomach. You gently rub your thighs together, chasing the feeling growing between your legs, when you feel the man behind you slightly pull away. 

“Hold on, are you–” He raises his head to look down your waist, “Oh, you little devil. You are touching yourself!”

It seems that you had lost all awareness, not realizing your movements were brushing against Astarion’s groin. Your blood rushes to your face and you suddenly feel warm, “I– Gods, I didn't realize–”

He clicks his tongue, “None of that. We're here for you to feel better, remember? Now, tell us, what does your heart desire?”

“I…” You feel bashful for all the thoughts swirling around your mind, unable to speak them aloud: you wish to be taken at once by both of your lovers, having them make you feel whole as they fill you with their love, touch, kiss, bite, every part of your body. Surely, you're influenced by the herbs, but you can't deny that even sober, the thoughts have crossed your mind. The drugs simply allowed them to wander freely and amplify them slightly. 

You finally manage to get a few words out, barely expressing the full extent of your carnal desires, “I want you… Both… to… massage me… everywhere.”

Halsin cups your face softly, kissing your forehead before getting up. “Let's get you comfortable, shall we?”

You nod hazily, and he helps you remove your camp clothing, before removing the rest of his own, leaving you both naked on the bed. While Halsin was helping you dress down, Astarion allowed himself to remove his own shirt, providing you the skin-on-skin you desired from both of them, all the while respecting his own boundaries. Now comfortably nestled between your lovers, you let your hands explore the man facing you. His warmth is overwhelming and you can't stop touching him, languidly going over his chest and shoulders, your concentration faltering.

“I believe our beloved is rather hungry tonight,” Astarion says, smiling.

The archdruid makes eye contact with you, lovingly holding your cheek, “Is this what you want, my love?”

“Yes, please, I've never wanted anything more,” you plead, now with a breathy voice.

Halsin gives you a soft smile and his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. Your hips buck on their own, brushing over Halsin’s cock already awakening to your touch

Astarion keeps massaging your tits, never letting you go from his embrace and starts kissing your neck.

“Do you like that, my sweet?” He said between two kisses.

“Y- yes… please… more.”

He drags his hand alongside your body, his nails lightly grazing your skin, tracing every curve, every scar and mark on your body, leaving goosebumps in its trail, before landing over your ass.

“Like this?” He asks with a husky voice.

“Yes…” you breathe out.

Halsin follows Astarion's lead, his own hand caressing your side before landing on your thigh, lifting it up to hook your leg around his waist.

“How about this?”

His hand finds its way to your cunt, softly stroking along your entrance.

You sigh content, your hips bucking into him more, trying to make his fingers enter you.

“More…I need more…”

The archdruid slides his finger inside you, giving you exactly what you want and you moan, letting your nails dig in the muscles of his arm. He steadies his rhythm and your hand finds its way in Astarion's hair, pulling him closer to you. His lips reach your ear, guided by your hand.

“By the gods, you're so beautiful,” he says, nibbling on your ear, getting a whimper out of you, as he leaves a trail of kisses down the nape of your neck.

The attention from your lovers makes you squirm under them as every inch of you is yearning for more contact. Halsin rewards your movements by entering you with a second finger and you cry out of pleasure.

“Keep singing for me my love,” Halsin says.

His fingers working your cunt and his thumb rubbing over your clit only awaken something stronger in you.

“Please Halsin, I need you.”

“You will have me, my heart.”

Your other hand reaches for his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, “All of you.”

He reads the urgency in your gaze and he removes his finger from you, giving them a taste and humming at your essence.

“By the Oak Father, you taste like the sweetest of honeys, my love.” His voice is deep, but soft; you can hear the admiration he holds for you, your body, your soul, and it only makes you want him even more.

He places his cock at your entrance before slowly pushing in fully, and you hold onto his face, taking in deep breaths as he gives you time to adjust to his size. 

“Look at you…” Astarion whispers close to your ear. “You're taking him so well, my love,” he rewards you by groping your nipples, lightly pinching them in the process.

You arch your back at the sensation, giving him easier access to not only your breast, but your neck as well, and his mouth instinctively finds its way to the familiar spot of his feeding. His cold tongue traces over your pulsating vein, seemingly asking for permission, and yet, you were the one reduced to a pleading mess.

“Please...”

He hums in the crook of your neck and you feel his smile against your skin, “Please what?”

Your chest rises higher with each breath you take “Bite me.”

He holds your head back by lightly pulling your hair and sinks his teeth into your neck. You cry out at the initial sting and quickly get lost in the feeling. The flow of your blood leaving your body is even more ecstatic than usual; as if you could feel the blood in every vein in your body being pulled away as Astarion drank from you ravishingly. Knowing your limits and accounting for the condition you're in, he pulls back earlier than usual, and you whine at the loss of his mouth only to moan more as Halsin finally starts moving inside you. What the vampire hadn’t thought of was the effect your blood was going to have on him, now that it was mixed with the drugs you took earlier. It wasn't rare for him to get hard drinking from you, but he usually dismissed the feeling since you've discussed taking things slow. This time however, his cock felt rock hard and the drugs now flowing through him made him chase the feeling that the fabric rubbing over him was providing.

He grabs your waist, grinding into your back, while Halsin pumps in and out of you with slow strokes. With any restraint gone, Astarion pushes his hips into you, rubbing himself down through his trousers. By now, his need is clearly showcased by the pre-come stain on his pants, and the head of his cock poking out of his waistband, flushed pink by your blood running through it.

Halsin notices Astarion's mood change and he reaches out to hold his face, bringing him back to him, before he can act on impulse.

“Do you want this?”

His eyes are sincere and caring; granted the reasons they're in this situation is for you, but that doesn't undermine their own needs as well. Astarion nods, affirming his consent, before freeing his erection to show his intentions. Now certain that his lover wanted this as much as himself, Halsin made sure you were ready for them.

He cups your face and gently strokes your cheek. As if he had read your mind earlier, he asks, “Do you think you can take us both, my heart?” 

“Yes,” your voice is merely a whisper, but the lust you express is clear nonetheless. 

He removes himself from inside of you to wet his fingers with your juices, only to take them back out to move them down to your tight hole. His finger coated by your slick gently enters your ass and you gasp at the sensation, surprised at first, but welcoming it as you push down against him. He slides a second finger and you moan in pleasure.

“That's my good girl.”

He prepares your hole, making sure you're accustomed to the feeling, then removes his fingers to spit in his hand, now to prepare Astarion for you. He grasps the vampire's length and slowly strokes him. Astarion hisses at the initial contact, but quickly melts into his touch, bucking his hips into Halsin's wet hand. The archdruid aligns his partner's cock at your tight entrance while he positions himself back against your pussy, ready to enter you again. He asks for one final permission.

“Are you ready, my love?” 

With partly lidded eyes, you nod and whisper a faint yes, and he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, while his hips and Astarion's thrust into you at once. 

You cry into his mouth, both overwhelmed by their sizes and the friction having both of them at the same time provided, and behind you, the vampire growls, steadying himself inside your ass. Having both him and Halsin inside you like this was a sensation you couldn’t begin to describe. It’s everything you ever wanted, you feel whole, but also vulnerable; you were entirely at their mercy, and you wouldn’t be able to get out from their strong hold on you, especially not in the state you’re in. You're completely helpless, caged between their imposing arms and legs, and yet, you’ve never felt more safe than you do right at this moment. For once, you could let go, let yourself be guided, your life between their hands.

You’re brought back to the moment when they start moving, picking up a slow and steady pace, and you let yourself be used by them; while one pulls out, the other enters you fully. You’re rendered speechless, reduced to moans and soft cries, but your lovers make sure to fill in for your silence.

“You feel so good.” The voice behind you groans close to your ear. His grip on your hips tightens, with his sharp nails lightly digging into your soft skin.

“So deliciously wet, just for us.” A honeyed voice praises you more and you start to lose your hold.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight.”

“You're doing so well.”

Their words of praise worked like a charm on you, and they knew the effect it had on you. They noticed how you reacted to encouragement on the battlefield, and it applied just as much in bed. 

“My love.”

“My good girl.”

The shock to your mind hits you like lightning. You convulse between them, crying out as electricity runs through you, your walls tightening against their cocks, milking them dry. 

“Ugnnh I'm– ah fuck- I'm close.” 

“Mnh- my heart, I’m gonna come–.”

You're still going through your first orgasm when you feel a second one hitting you brutally as they shoot ropes of come inside both of your holes, leaving you overflowing from them.

The sensation numbs you out entirely, still spasming around their members, but completely spent and breathless. Your mind is blank, with nothing but pure bliss swirling around. As if you were between two worlds, switching from dream to reality, you barely feel your lovers pull out of you and move around, cleaning themselves and you. You think you hear a distant voice saying “let’s get you cleaned up” as you’re lifted up from the bed. You don’t notice Astarion removing the ruined sheet, but too tired of his own to care about replacing it with another, and snuggling back in bed. You’re laid down next to him and you instinctively reach out for him; your hand reaching out for his, laying close to his undead heart, and your forehead leaning over his shoulder. Finally, the archdruid slides behind you, covering you three with a warm blanket, his arm circling over your waist. At long last, you let yourself drift to sleep in his loving embrace.

For the first time in weeks, you get a real, good night of sleep.

~

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat

[kurishiri]

ikémen villains content warning list .ᐟ

this is a work-in-progress compilation of complete content warnings per route (because ikévil tends to underwarn a bit maybe to avoid spoilers) that will be updated as we go. please let me know if I missed anything, regardless if it says ‘work in progress’ or not, or pitch in with warnings. ♡ and ↻ are appreciated!

some of the ikévil routes contain sensitive themes that may be triggering. so please remember to take care of yourself while reading 🫶

GENERAL ༉‧₊˚. 🕊️

canon-typical violence, (minor but named) character death, depictions of murder.

────────────────────

WILLIAM REX ༉‧₊˚. 🍓

near death experience, drug abuse, sexual coercion (not by love interest), corruption, romanticization of death.

───────── 〔🌹〕 ─────────

HARRISON GRAY ༉‧₊˚. 🦊

corruption of the police and higher-ups, mentions of human trafficking, coercion to commit crimes, mentions of kidnapping.

───────── 〔🍧〕 ─────────

LIAM EVANS ༉‧₊˚. 🐈

attempted suicide, suicide and suicidal ideation, depression, anxiety, implied self-harm, mentions of child abuse (physical and emotional), fire, severe burn wounds, human trafficking, mental breakdowns.

───────── 〔🎟️〕 ─────────

ELBERT GREETIA ༉‧₊˚. 🍎

objectification both by and against love interest, mentions of sexual assault or rape (not by love interest), domestic abuse, attempted child sexual assault, pedophilia, obsessive and possessive behavior, stalkerish behavior, grooming, non-consensual touching, depicted suicide, self-harm, mental breakdowns, mentions of animal death, kidnapping, mentions of human trafficking.

───────── 〔🦋〕 ─────────

ALFONS SYLVATICA ༉‧₊˚. 🪞

description of children’s corpses, symptoms of depression, topics of mortality, attempted suicide, near death experience, self-harm, mental manipulation (?), dub-con: having sexual intercourse while one has “consented” in an intoxicated state or under the influence of a curse, (perceived) non-con, mentions of drug abuse and the effects of drugs, mentions of child abuse or labor, implied animal death.

───────── 〔🐈‍⬛〕 ─────────

ELLIS TWILIGHT ༉‧₊˚. ⛓️ —— warnings provided by @myusuchaa !!

romanticization of murder and death, family murder and death, suppressed emotions, emotional disconnect, people pleasing, attempted kidnapping, negative treatment of disabilities, coercion, child trafficking, gang activity.

───────── 〔🥀〕 ─────────

ROGER BAREL ༉‧₊˚. 🍻

a loott of alcohol consumption, drug usage or abuse (recreational drug use), cult activity, near/death experience of a side character, dub-con, self-harm especially in the past.

───────── 〔🧪〕 ─────────

JUDE JAZZA ༉‧₊˚. ⌛️

to be added …

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

I love your writing am and i always seem to go back to your sally face fic and i would love something similar to that but with sally and i would love to see if you could incorporate substance use (ex. weed) not to a dangerous extent but almost seen as inviting. with ftm reader again! ofcs you can take this request and do what you like with it!! i just love your writing sm and i want to see more sally face content:)

❝ If you think I’m pretty put your hands on me, know I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it ❞

Sal Fisher x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, slight angst | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | vers. bttm. reader | NOT PROOFREAD + written on phone | wc: 4K

warnings: recreational use of marijuana, some guilt from Sal because he vowed not to smoke as a child but r! reassures him, Sal mentions painkiller addictions, mentions of hospitals and wounds, mentions of scarring, shotgun kisses, handjobs, fingering, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock)

masterlist ; "I was the boy who was on your side"

authors note: I FORGOT TO FILL THIS UHM UHHH IM BACK?

*song on repeat: Romeo by Until The Ribbon Breaks

He's been drumming his fingers across his knees for a full 20 minutes now. A never-ending symphony of thumps occasionally disturbed by pauses of silence as he picked at the ripped edges of his jeans. You suppose you understand the anxiety that was racking through him, despite the reassurances you'd given him, he was bound to have some second thoughts. "Hey, baby," you tap the steering wheel, an elbow propped onto your window sill panel. Despite your eyes being glued on the road, you're acutely aware of his gaze on yours.

"Ya' didn't have to come along if you didn't want to," at your words he shakes his head. "No — Sorry, I didn't mean to come off that way, baby." Sal reaches out and places a hand on your knee, squeezing it just enough to have you decompressing your nerves.

"No, no. I didn't mean to make you feel bad," you clasp his hand and squeeze him back, the road will be fairly emptier now that you've driven past the bridge. "You just look a little nervous is all, I was jokin' 'bout you needing to follow along. I was just teasing you, Sal." "I know. I wanted to spend time with you, (Y/N). Which is why I followed along even though I knew you were just fucking with me," he sighs, allowing the song playing on the radio to filter in the silence for a few seconds. "It's just, buying drugs, makes me a liiittle nervous."

A chuckle escapes you and you risk staring at Sal for a bit. "You've dealt with poltergeists and the like, the baloney incident, and buying a little ganja is making you sweat?"

“Shut up,” he groans as he slips his hand up and lands a muted smack on your thighs. “Poltergeists can land me in a psychiatrist's office, this could land us in jail.”

“At least we’ll be together in a small cell,” you coo and Sal rolls his eye with a scoff. “We’re not gonna get caught, ya’ big baby. I’ve done this a thousand times with Larry, Todd, and Ashley — we’ll be fine. Promise.”

It went more than fine. Underwhelming actually. He had expected a more intense, whispered, exchanges with some weirdly firm handshake while the other dude slipped you the weed. He had even lifted the hood of his hoodie up to make the both of you less identifiable. It was adorable.

Your dealer had come down from their apartment. Sal seeing her brightly coloured pink tie-dye sweatpants from the slat of the stairs, and the cheerful wave she gave you once she took notice of your car.

“Was wondering when you’d text. I got your favourite.”

She’s leaned on your rolled-down windows, discretely holding the pink paper bag of weed in front of her chest and bouncing it around. She extends her other hand first, and Sal is silent as you reach for the cash from the cup holder.

In that pause of conversation, she takes notice of him and recognition is crystal clear.

“O-M-G, is that Sal, the boyfriend?” You chuckle while Sal stutters in surprise. Handing her the cash, she graciously exchanges it with the bag.

“Yeah, he’s following along with me running errands.” “Cute,” she coos. After a few pleasantries, she leans away. That small pink paper bag between your legs barely able to distract your boyfriend from her excited wave of goodbye — that you return obviously.

“You talk about me with her?” you glance at him for a second then laugh. “Dude, most of us get our weed from her. She eventually gets to know the side characters in our lives the longer she interacts with us.”

He scoffs, crossing his arm as he leans back in the seat.

“Side characters? Seriously?” “Duh,” you pick the bag up and shake it in his face teasingly. “Everyone knows the main characters participate in drug culture and the side characters don’t.”

“This is the peer pressure my father warned me about.”

You giggled at his joke as you place the bag between your thighs again. This time, Sal’s eyes follows it.

He’s seen you and Larry smoke before. Hell, most of his friends smoke on the back porch while he’ll be mindlessly cleaning up as he waits for all of you to herd back inside. He’s never felt left out, you guys were simply respecting his wishes is all. He wasn’t much of a fan of drinking or smoking. But he wouldn't stop anyone from doing it, as long as no one got too inebriated.

Though, for some reason, he just can’t take his eyes away from that pink bag.

“Mhm, next thing you know, you’ll look like those anti-bullying posters. All the stoners will point and laugh while you have big ole’ sad cat eyes.”

The imagery makes him laugh softly and he glances at your face as the scenery zooms past beside you.

When you reach home, the house is empty. A note was left on the kitchen fridge by Todd, something about him and his boyfriend going on a date.

Just you, Sal and Gizmo.

It makes his palms clammy and his nerves turning up his sensitivity a few notches.

You greeted Gizmo with a few chin scratches. Settling on the living room couch with crossed legs, you open the bag one handedly while you lean over to the catch-all bowl on the coffee table for the lighter and your MP3 player.

All the while, he stands in the kitchen threshold. Like a kid who knows they’ve done something they’re definitely shouldn’t have done — the guilt was just radiating from him. It made you toss your head to the side when you took notice of him, a joint hung loosely between your lips.

“You good, baby?”

He nods, your words setting him into motion as he sits on the couch.

“I’m not gonna smoke inside,” you reassure with a smile. Why else would he stare at you like that, right?

He nods again. Oddly quiet. Gizmo yawns and sinks further down onto the couch, watching the TV show with an almost human-like concentration. Nobody says anything about it anymore. He’s just a little guy, really.

You lean over, joint plucked out and resting between the second knuckle of your pointer and middle finger this time, and give his cheek a kiss.

“See you in a bit.”

He watches like he always does. There’s nothing to clean. It’d be weirder if he attempted to look busy. So he glances at the TV, then at Gizmo and then at your back as you sit down on the porch. He can hear the muffled sounds of you flicking the lighter, and shortly after he sees the white smoke that slithers upwards into the air along with the sounds of your favourite band quietly playing.

You thought you hadn’t closed the sliding doors properly when you hear the approaching footsteps. Turning your head to check, you’re surprised to spot Sal walk through the doors to move and settle next to you.

You cough out some smoke. Attempting to fan it away with your hand while you reach to put out the joint in the ash tray that Ashley had made. But Sal stops you as he knocks your knees together, his thigh pressing against yours as he peers at you.

“Sal?”

“...Say hypothethically, a side character wants to dip his toes in some drug culture." Your eyes widen considerably at his confession.

“Huh?” you squeak out. Sal sighs, regret creeping up on him as he scratches the back of his head. The smell of the weed doesn’t exactly help either — it was so distinct.

“Wait, no, sorry. I’m just, this isn’t because of peer pressure is it?” You did mini-hops, getting close enough to him for your thighs to press together. Yet you still held the clay ash tray an arms length away, especially as you note the sharp inhale and exhale he'd made.

Sal’s deadpanned expression makes your eyebrows jump.

“This was dumb,” He admits. “No — no, it isn’t. I was just caught off-guard. Are you...curious?”

Sal nods sheepishly. You lean back on the heel of your hand, the other still holding onto the tray, your finger mindlessly keeping the still-lit joint perched between your digit and the rim of the tray. You think for a moment, then huff in amusement.

“Damn, you still manage to surprise me even after all these years.”

“You’re making it sound like we’ve been married for 50 years,” he retorts. “We will be, I’m just practicing these phrases out loud so you don’t get heart failure in the future.”

This time, Sal’s shoulders shake as he laughs. It dies down as he sees you take a drag, and breathe out the plumes of smoke. Not directly at him, but in his general direction. The smell isn’t something he’s used to. Not this close anyways. Usually, it’s just stuck on your clothes but you reach for the bottle of Febreze strategically placed near the sliding doors anyway so it's more muted.

It. . .doesn’t completely suck. The earthiness of it making his shoulders less tense. You watch his reaction closely, the corners of your lips in a gentle curve as he leans back onto his hands.

You take another drag and Sal’s enraptured at the way the end of your joint glows bright orange. He feels almost envious of the way you swallow the smoke, how you harbour it within your mouth before it slips past your lips. You’re looking at him, just basking in the moment for a little longer before you ask him to play your favourite songs.

It was just beginning to get dark, the sky was setting up for its finale of the day and he was enraptured as you explain what shotgun kisses were.

"I have smoked a cigarette before," he says, brows furrowed as he unbuckles his prosthetic. "Yeah, and nearly coughed up both of your lungs. This will be smoother for you, trust me."

"So I just inhale what you exhale?" "Mhm, easy as pie, right?"

His placed his prosthetic next to him, turning his head and immediately seeing your face invading his vision. "Hi," he smiled at your attempt to keep your smile at bay by chewing on your lower lip.

"Hi," he replies, his anxiety lessening at the sight of your confidence and giddiness. You bring the joint to your lips. He can hear the paper burning and sees tendrils of smoke escaping through your lips. Your words echoed in his brain as you lean in further.

“Just breathe it in slowly, baby."

He feels the smoke across his face, your lips pouted as you blow it his way. Sal breathes it in, sucking the smoke in just like you’d demonstrated earlier. He coughs like you said he would. His eye-watering as he moves to sit and you carefully pat his back as he does.

“Shit,” your eyes squish at his flustered expression. His first time trying a cigarette playing briefly through your head. Though this time it wasn’t even half-bad.

“You did great. Didn't burn on the way down if you smoked it yourself, right?” he got what you meant. He was coughing but he didn't feel like the back of his throat got thwacked by a whip of burning paper and tobacco. The ride was smoother, way smoother with your help. “It feels like the smell is stuck onto my teeth." Sal only complains to see you look at him with that fond gaze. You took another drag as he smacks his lips a few times. Your eyes flutter close, sighing in relief, and tossing your head to the side as you feel yourself loosening up.

“Why do you think I always brush my teeth before I kiss you?”

Sal protests softly as you take another hit and you laugh as he leans in.

“Isn’t that too much — “

You breathe out and Sal seems stunned for a moment, so you apologize but he simply leans in further.

“If this'll be my first time getting high, I want it to be with you.”

"Slow down, baby," you bumped your foreheads together, cupping his jaw in your hand. "What's the rush, hm?"

Curiousity was a valid enough reason to start smoking, but your Sal wasn't the kind of guy to jump into these things head first. It wasn't anything special to him, all of your friends smoked and drunk. He wasn't some pre-teen being excited to finally "grow up" and get in with the cool kids.

Hell, even during his 21st birthday, he'd taken his first drink and smoked his cigarette and decided that he didn't enjoy any of them.

Sal sighs, dropping his weight on you. His head balanced between the curve of your neck and shoulder. You simply thread your fingers through his hair, combing out the indents of his buckles and straps from his hair.

"You think I can't take it?"

"Oh, I definitely know you can't."

He protests with an indignant but whiny 'hey' but settles. His arms wrap around your waist and despite the uncomfortable angle of your torso facing him while your legs faced ahead as they rested on the stairs, you stay like that for a bit.

He eventually pulls away and leans back onto his arms again, reaching for his prosthetic though only to fidget with it on his lap.

"...Is it bad I feel bad? Not physically, just...morally?"

Your silence urges him on. So he continues; “Drinking fucking sucks, and cigarettes don’t make sense to me. But weed as a concept always seemed...appealing to me.”

He feels your chin on his shoulder and he subtly breathes in the smoke that teases him as you exhale.

“But?”

“Argh, it’s stupid. But as a kid, in the hospital there weren’t a lot of people that got as messed up as I did. But the ones that were? Christ, babe, they were in so much pain. Even when the wounds were already scars.”

Your brows pinch. You squeeze his hand and he stops toying with feeling the shape of the bolts to instead gently press the pads of his thumb over your nails.

“The doctors scared me with the whole speech. Painkillers being addictive and all that, it made me scared to ask for ‘em even when the skin grafts felt like they were on fucking fire.”

He shuts his eyes and brings your hand to his face, the pressure and warmth across his jaw and cheek making the phantom pains ebb to nothing.

“I made a promise to my younger me that I would never end up like the adults I saw. I just, don’t want to be in constant pain.”

“You aren’t, Sal. And you won’t be.”

You put out the joint, turning his face to you and planting a kiss on his lips. He breathes out a sigh of relief through his nose and you tilt your head to deepen it. When you pull away, you both linger in the afterglow of it for a second.

“I’m here for you, Sal. If you ever stray from the path, I’m here to guide you back, right? You’ve got me and Larry, Lisa and your dad, Ashley, Todd, Gizmo —” his smile widens as you go on about the precious people in his life.

“Thanks,” he kisses you again and you happily reciprocate.

“By the way, you’re right, you should always brush your teeth before you kiss me when you’re done smoking up.”

Sal laughs as you shove him back, watching admiringly while you light the joint up again.

“...Can I have another hit?”

“You just said my breath smells like ass —”

“You’re overreacting!”

By the time the two of you walk back inside, Gizmo’s nose is twitching. You hadn’t taken too much too be completely useless, just to start feeling that buzz and take the edge off. Sal had expected more of a droopy, drowsy, feeling when he entered the house.

He still feels like himself. A little light on his feet, but still himself. You had paced him from his little smoke-sucking sessions — teasing that he just wanted to kiss you which wasn’t entirely untrue. But you always pulled away just as his eyes would flutter. Most likely you getting back at home for saying your breath smelled like weed. Little tease.

You spray your clothes down, then ask Sal if he’d like to chill on the couch. Something in his brain perks up hard enough to make his penis do the same. He feels a bit shameful of it, but then again, everything you do could make him hard.

The other day you’d been wolfing down some cheesy fries with Ashley and somehow it made Sal have to think of baloney to shut his penis down.

Gizmo’s tail flicks knowingly as Sal sits at the end of the couch, which was his cue to set off to the basement instead. When Sal hears the TV turns on from there, he simply decides to never question how dexterous Gizmo's thumbs were.

You're laid out on the couch with your tummy showing and your eyes just a bit hazy. He knows weed affects people differently; why does it make his lust for you feel so thick? Like cloying, thick, honey dripping down from the back of his throat. Fuelling him in an unfamiliar, alien, way. He climbs over you and the half-lidded gaze you look up at him with makes his mouth feel drier than it is.

This lust is new. It’s more languid in it’s desire — akin to a beast stretching its back only to flop down to its side and show its belly. Still undeniably dangerous, yet so inviting with its soft underbelly and demure paws.

You seem to recognize this beast, lips stretching into a toothy grin.

“Need something handsome?”

He narrows his eyes at you. Then, he places a hand on your chest, fingers brushing along your collarbones before it slowy slips downwards.

“...I really wanna finger you.”

He seems to catch himself. Through that haze that makes him caught between wanting to curl up next to you for a nap or fucking you nice and slow, he finds the part of him that remembers embarrassment.

But before it could throw away his new lazy bravado, you surge up to kiss him, moaning the second your lips made contact.

Stoned Sal decides pants are way too annoying very quickly on. He huffs and puffs at the obstacles that are called buttons and zippers. When he finally undoes them, he pulls your jeans below the swell of your ass and brings the heel of his hand to your clothed cock.

The pressure has your teeth brushing over your lips.

“I love your dick,” he murmurs, “it’s just s’fuckin’ pretty.”

You moan airily, wishing he’d pull your pants all the way down but he is just too entraced at the sight of the wet spots he’s seeing. He traces the fold of your cunt and your breath hitches as he presses a finger through. Not enough to be inside of you, but enough to have your dick twitch.

He brings his thumb to rub against it and you groan.

“Let me take my jeans off, Christ, Sal.”

He chuckles, suddenly abandoning your pussy to pin your hips down. “Barely touched you and you already wanna spread your legs f’me?”

You glare at him, feeling your cheeks heat up as you hitch yourself up onto the couch and stubbornly shimmying out of your pants. He simply watches, uncaring of the less-than-delicate display. You toss your jean away and your underwear follows along, piling onto the floor somewhere.

“The weed is making you so chatty, hm?” you don’t get much out of you after that as Sal immediately claims your lips again. He doesn’t even wait for you to lay back down as he brings his hand between your legs.

Not exactly hasty but not taking his time either. He pulls away enough that the spit between your lips break, but you can still feel him groan when he feels the dewdrops of moisture on your cunt; the slick that coats his finger makes him whisper your name.

“So wet,” he marvels. Your legs twitch at his movements. Sliding up and down, pressing in just to make your breath hitch but never fully slipping inside.

Oh fuck.

Stoned Sal likes to tease.

Your dread is shortlived as he descends his kisses to your neck. You groan, clutching onto the back of his shirt as he mottles your neck with unapologetically languid kisses.

You’re whimpering underneath him as he hums and groans. Using his teeth and making hickey after hickey, dark and tender — he’d even brush his teeth along them just to hear you gasp.

Meanwhile, he continues to torture your poor cunt. Bringing his thumb into the fray again as he rubs circles on the tip of your cock. The tip of his fingers spreading your slick around your lips, making it messier and messier.

“Sal, please just fuckin’ finger me already,” you whine out. Turning your head away and arching your back as he sets his eyes on your nipples.

“I’m already — Shit, Sal. I’m already so hard.”

He knows. You don’t have to remind him.

“Don’t make me beg, baby, please.”

Sal bites down on your nipple just as he pushes his finger inside of you. He groans at the feeling of your boypussy clamping down. Fuck, you felt good.

So soft and warm and wet and tight.

He slips another finger in and neither of you are surprised at how eagerly your cunt lets it in.

Sal’s lips pause in their conquest as he looks down between your legs. Fuck, what a sight it was. The happy trail you have that always makes his cock jump in his pants — there it goes again — and that beautiful dick that he always loves choking on to that boypussy that he’s convinced is made for him.

He starts pumping his fingers. In and out in a steady rhythm. Adoring every noise that comes out of you. You take them well, all the way down to the base and when he angles his palm just right your hips buck to grind your cock against his hand.

Fuck, you were perfect.

He kisses you. Breathing through his nose as he bites down on your already swollen lower lip — relishing in this. In you.

He adds another finger and you mewl. It makes him laugh.

You were usually much more headstrong. When he teases, you tease back. The weed is working in his favour, you were so pliant. Melting under him and already close to your first orgasm.

When he curls his fingers, you toss your head back, mouth opening in a silent scream. Your hand dives between your legs to rub your cock and Sal watches your face as you jeek yourself off.

“Just like that, just like that — Oh, oh—ah! Fuck!”

He doesn’t falter his pace, moaning out curses as you clamp down around his fingers.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum for me.”

His voice undoes you.

You buck your hips as wetness covers his hand. He groans, praising you as he continues to pump in and out. You let him, simply curling your toes and panting as you just kept on cumming and cumming.

When he kisses you this time, he doesn’t even let you breathe. Just swallowing your noises as he finger-fucks you through your orgasm and makes you barrel to your second with no breaks.

You clutch at his shirt, feeling lightheaded but unwilling to ask him to stop.

“Keep going, Sal. Please, please.”

How could he say no?

[foreverunraveling]

Is it just me, or does Young Royals really love to scare us, lull us into a false sense of security, and then pull the rug out from underneath us (in a way that's much worse than the original threat)?

For example, you see August clocking Wille leaving the movie before Simon in episode 2.

You (if you weren't too distracted by the scene itself) might have worried that he might show up when they were having their first kiss there. But he didn't. The show consciously created that tension and then relieved it as a foreshadowing of the much worse version of that to come later.

That tension is recreated at the end of episode 4 when August is shown outside a window at Forest Ridge.

There's a brief moment of relief--he's at Alex's window, not Wille's. While you know deep down where this has to be going, you still have a kernel of hope. And then even when he does make it to Wille's room, you can't tell it's a boy (let alone Simon) for five full seconds. Hope tries to stay alive. We all know how it ends, though--that tension snaps right back into our faces when August spots Wille and Simon moments later.

This happens on a different scale with Wille and Simon's planned weekend together in episode 3. When Wilhelm tells Simon that August will be staying at Forest Ridge, that introduces a tension of "will they get their weekend together?"

That tension of "will they get their weekend together" is relieved when Wille asks if he can come to Simon's in Bjarstad, only to AGAIN snap right back into our faces when a much bigger problem surfaces--Erik dies. So, they don't get their weekend anyways.

Hell, there's even a hint of this in episode 2 when August walks in on Wilhelm looking at Simon's Instagram before rowing practice. He doesn't actually see what Wille was doing, though--so it's okay--and he ends up taking a call from Erik.

In another way, this happens with Wilhelm and Felice's relationship from season 1 to season 2. She initially kisses him in episode 3, and we worry that he might just go with it. He doesn't, though. What a relief. In the next episode, though, once he's crown prince, Wilhelm is publicly flirting with Felice (despite her relationship with August) over how "cute" she looks in a video. But our worries about this fade with the release of the video and Felice's support into season 2...

Until they actually almost hook up in the third episode, that is.

And it's definitely not limited to Simon and Wille and their relationships. It comes up with Sara and August too. When he initially kisses her in episode 4 of season 1, you might worry that maybe Sara will respond in a less-than-healthy manner, or that she'll keep what happened to herself instead of telling Felice. Sara rebuffs him, though, and tells Felice about what happened in the stables later that episode.

Tension introduced and relieved, so we move on. But then in the final episode of season 1, Sara goes to August's room to confront him about the video. And she ends up kissing him. In season 2, they end up being in AN ENTIRE SECRET RELATIONSHIP that Sara keeps from Felice. The original fear that you might have had about August twisting his way into Sara's heart was well-founded, it seems.

There are also smaller examples. Like when you see Erik driving incredibly fast in episode 1, or when you see Wilhelm riding on the scooters with Simon, Rosh, and Ayub in episode 2, some people worried there might be some kind of accident. (He was going hands-free, for fuck's sake.)

Well, in both of those instances, everything turned out okay, while Erik's actual offscreen accident in episode 3 obviously did not.

The anxiety about Marcus catching Wilhelm and Simon kissing at the Valentine's party is momentarily alleviated when it looks like him and Simon are going inside, but then Marcus turns around and sees Wille (not to mention he sees Simon eyeing Wille throughout the entire song and during the applause).

Let's not even get started on the drugs. We thought that storyline was resolved, gone, done away with after Alexander was seemingly expelled during season 1.

But then he's back in season 2, and the question of whether anyone will tell Alex that Wilhelm was the one to pin the blame on him arises. It seems a minor issue--given that Alexander wasn't actually expelled, and he seems to like Wille, we don't necessarily expect it to matter all too much. In episode 6, though, the "drug thing" is back at the top of our list of problems. We thought that this had been dealt with! That we'd gotten past it!

But it's worse than before--there's a pill bottle with Simon's father's name on it, and August has it! August has a potential witness behind him (Alex) and is threatening to tell not just the school, but the cops!

Don't worry, though, the tension is relieved when Simon tells Wille he's not going to report August to the police... for approximately six seconds until we see that Sara is reporting August instead.

Anyways, following this pattern, you can draw some really interesting potential conclusions about season 3 based on some of the big tension reliefs that have occurred over the past two seasons. Not saying that any of these will happen, but I'm preparing myself for anything:

Wilhelm has some sort of drug OD—like Simon (and some of the audience, probably) worried on the night of the Society party. This is one I'm really hoping doesn't come up.

Wilhelm actually kills August—when Wilhelm puts that gun down, it's a massive relief for most of us (also the characters present). This would just be... wild. And would explain Omar's tweets about how crazy the season is, I guess.

Sara outs Stella's crush on Fredricka, like she was threatening to do when Felice was moving out of their room at the Manor House. Istg if she does this I might lose it.

Wilhelm's mother dies. This was definitely one idea on some people's minds when Wilhelm takes that call that turns out to be about Erik in episode 3.

Wilhelm actually abdicates. This is definitely a threat made in season 2 that was later assuaged. I'm pulling for Wilhelm taking the throne only to abolish the monarchy. That might be a bit too optimistic on my part, though.

ALTERNATIVELY, August gets the throne. They teased us with this when Wilhelm almost didn't give the speech. August was literally walking up to the podium when Wille leapt up to take his place and momentarily rescued us from the notion that August was going to be ascending the throne.

Wilhelm and/or Simon and/or Sara get pulled from Hillerska. After the video, both Simon and Sara were potentially not going to return to the school. Simon was even late for the first day back, when he missed the choir performance. And Wille was almost physically removed from the school in episode 2 of season 2. Given the statement in the trailer about the school potentially shutting down... this one doesn't seem like too much of a long shot.

It's hard to say what any of this could mean for Simon/Wilhelm's relationship—I mean, in season 1, we had about six instances where we thought we'd get Simon and Wilhelm together and originally didn't (the first music room scene, the conversation after Erik's memorial, the second music room scene/drug situation, the video leak, Wilhelm LYING about the video leak).... the reasons kept getting worse and worse, until there's a release of tension when Wille says he won't deny the video—only for it to be far more crushing when he does deny it having promised otherwise. It seems like there's a new, bigger problem every time they turn around. So far, they've overcome all of the obstacles they've faced (honestly, I don't know how)... but I can't imagine that they're about to be facing an easy course based on that trailer.

Anyways, these are my meandering thoughts about some ways that we can try to guess at what we might have coming based on the show's patterns and its use of foreshadowing. Like I said, I'm just trying to mentally prepare myself for some of the wild-ass shit that might go down. So these are some crazy scenarios based on a few fake-outs that we've had so far. I'm still hoping that they don't take the smallest, most hopeful bits of seasons 1 and 2 and crush them in season 3....

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Something Old, Something New

Title: Something Old, Something New

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Reader

Fandom: The 355

Word Count: 9.5K (whoopsie)

Summary: Your childhood best friend invites you to your old vacation spot for her wedding, and you have been catching up with your first crush: her recently divorced big brother Nick.

Warnings: infidelity, divorce, recreational drug use (marijuana), drinking, mutual pining, pet names (Gumdrop, baby), praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected p-in-v sex, mention of bodily fluids (creampie), public sex, if I forgot anything please tell me

A/N1: My tiles for @thebasementspouses VOTM Nick Fowler BINGO were: divorced, best friend’s brother, writer’s choice(prompt #802 from @creativepromptsforwriting), drunken confession, public sex. BINGO card at end of story.

A/N2: I have been working on this story for weeks and I really hope I have done the Nick Fowler fandom justice. It's my first time, and hopefully not the last time, writing for Nick. I thoroughly enjoyed writing him. Unbeta��d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Three Months Ago

The cardstock was rigid in your hands, the envelope discarded seconds ago. The confetti in the envelope litters around your Chucks as you bring your attention to the words embossed upon the invitation. You had been waiting for this day ever since you received the Save the Date announcement.

You ran your finger over the pretty lettering, its raised borders were a nice tactile touch. The peaceful pink, whispered white, and mellow merlot of the flowers against a hint of golden accents was a beautiful choice. Not too feminine, nor too masculine.

Turning the invitation over, you found more information. 

‘Accommodations will be completely covered for your 8-night stay at The Ocracoke Harbor Inn by the family of the Bride. You will be staying in the fully-furnished Treasure Chest Cottage. Amenities include full-service linens, complimentary wireless Internet, and guest boat docking. Guests have access to a sound-side beach. Password for WI-FI given upon check-in. Nonsmoking, no pets.’

Leave it to the Fowlers to go nuts and rent out the entire inn for their only daughter’s wedding, you thought to yourself. You were not surprised at all, growing up as a rich girl’s best friend had its perks.

As if on cue, your phone started to play the opening notes of Losing You by Solange to signal an incoming call. Pulling your phone out, you smiled seeing Deanne’s name. You clicked Accept and raised the phone to your ear.

“Hello to the future Mrs. Alexander!” Your cheery demeanor not letting on how jealous you were of your friend’s impending nuptials.

Euphonious laughter rings through the earpiece and you can’t help but join in.

“Girl, can you believe it? I am about to tie the knot, be off the market, and settle down. I’m only 12% nervous about everything so I’m doing great,” she snorted, and suddenly you were a bit less jealous if this kind of anxiety is what she had to deal with, “Anyway, um, I was giving you a call because I wanted to ask if you got your invitation and I also wanted to see if I could save myself time in waiting for your R.S.V.P. and bug and pester you until you agree to let my parents pay for you to come spend a week with us and come to my wedding and–”

“Deanne! Stop with the run-on sentence, doll. Did you think I was gonna pass up this opportunity? God, I love that you chose Ocracoke as your wedding destination. So many vacations were spent getting into all kinds of trouble,” you recalled, images of splashing in the water as kids and lounging on the beach as teens replayed in your mind.

“Yeah. Hey, when we were little girls planning our dream weddings, I was serious when I said I wanted it on the beach on Ocracoke Island. But not in the summer because of bugs and heat, but in the winter so we get that beautiful off-season fresh air,” Deanne mused.

“Dee, it’s gonna be gorgeous. I cannot wait to see you in your stunning dress walking down that aisle. Just know that since I am your oldest friend, you pretty much owe me the bouquet,” you laughed, only half-joking.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s already yours,” she bantered, clearing her throat before speaking again, “So, I also called because I wanted to vent a little, if that’s okay?”

“It’s always okay. You doing alright?” you asked, now worried that your friend was in trouble.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I have an update on Nick and Tori, though,” she paused, allowing your mind to wander.

The mention of your first crush’s name sent a shiver down your back. Many a moment had been wasted thinking about his pretty smile and grayish-blue eyes. You’d liked Nick before you knew you even liked boys. He was the heartthrob that trumped every teen dream of every other girl in America’s heart. In your mind, he was the closest to perfect you could imagine. 

You responded, “Oh?”

“So, their divorce is finalized. My big brother is officially a divorcé. I would have thought that a man who was with someone for so long might be partying it up right now. But he says he’s focusing on work and, I don’t know. I just want him to be happy. And like, he’s getting divorced as I’m getting married and it feels so weird. It doesn’t seem fair,” she lamented.

“Dee, come on. You know Nicky wouldn’t want you to think like that. He loves you. You’re his favorite sibling,” you jested, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ha ha. I’m his only sibling. I better be his favorite,” Dee chuckled, happy to be distracted, “So that brings me to you, Miss Missy. Last I heard, you were dating some engineer guy? Do I get to meet him soon?”

You inwardly cringed, hopes dashed of being able to avoid the topic of your relationship status. Things with Curtis kind of fizzled out when you found his tongue down an intern’s throat. You had been bringing him dinner since he’d complained about the late nights at the office.

Turns out he was hungry for more than your baked ziti. 

You explained all this to Dee, remembering the look on Curtis’ face when you poured the prepared food into his lap. He was so shook, it was beautiful.

“I didn’t want to waste all that food but he looked wonderful with my pasta all over his shirt and pants. He honestly deserved it. It was his favorite shirt too. I hope those stains never come out,” you huffed, feeling like you were right back in that office again.

“I have never been so proud of you. I wish I could put hot sauce in his underwear for hurting my girl. I’m sure if I just had a few minutes, I could come up with something more diabolical than that. But it’s what I have at a moment’s notice,” she retorted.

One thing you could always count on Dee for? Getting angry for you and using her beautiful and educated mind to come up with some way to make the person who slighted you pay for their misdeeds. It was both adorable and super embarrassing to have her tiny frame looking up into some bully’s face pointing her finger at them.

“Well, I appreciate your offer, but he is so not worth the energy. You have much better things to think about, like your wedding day. This is your cue to stop worrying about me, Dee,” you advised, a stern tone coloring your words.

“Fine, I will stop worrying about you out loud. You got it, girl. Anyway, I won’t hold you. Talk soon, ok? I miss you,” she said, and you could envision her getting bleary-eyed.

“I miss you too, Dee. We’ll get together soon, I promise,” you sighed, feeling guilty for letting your friendship dwindle over the years.

“I’ll hold you to it. Bye, babe,” she hummed.

“Bye.” You hang up the phone and close your eyes. Visions of what Dee will look like in her wedding dress cloud your thoughts. Little snippets of grayish-blue eyes and dark brown hair seep in and you can almost hear his laugh again. You open your eyes, blinking away the mental images that brought you joy for a moment.

‘This is fine,’ you thought to yourself. Yeah, totally. You’re only going to see your best friend from childhood get married, effectively ending your childhood with a pretty bow on top. You also were only going to be with the biggest crush you ever had for like, an entire week. 

And he’s single. 

And probably needy. 

And...you had better get your jaw up off the floor if you were going to get anything done.

Three months is enough time to get your brain, your body, and your emotions in check before you make a fool out of yourself in front of your second family.

Right?

January 20th, 2024 – Day One

Standing on the deck of the Hatteras Ferry, you watch as Ocracoke Island comes into view. The sun is at its highest and you are thankful for your sunglasses shielding the the bright sunlight bouncing off the crystal clear waters. You can taste the salty air and you are instantly transported to memories of running around the decks of this ferry with Deanne and Nick while your mothers tried in vain to wrangle you all.

The island comes into view and you search the docks for a familiar face. Dee promised to meet you at the docks, but when you approach them she is nowhere to be found. You pull your luggage behind you as your shoulder bag decides to slide off.

Before it can hit the ground, it’s caught by the strap by a strong hand at the same time you reach out to grab it. You thank the kind stranger as you both stand to your full height and you are face-to-face with a grown-ass Nicholas Fowler. He says something and you don’t hear hide nor hair of what the hell he just said, you look at him and break into a smile and he chuckles and speaks again.

“I hope you don’t mind Dee got me to pick you up. She had some wedding stuff to do. I wasn’t listening,” he explains, adjusting his sunglasses and putting your bag on his shoulder. He gestures over to his black Lamborghini Urus. 

Once you walk over, he puts your shoulder bag in the back seat. You step closer to him to hand him your rolling luggage. You are mesmerized as his strong forearms flex when he puts everything in the SUV. 

You clear your throat and look around when he looks back at you, catching you watching him. He closes the back door and guides you to the passenger side, opening your door for you.

“Oh, you’re a full-service driver today, huh?” you joke, stepping past him. Your platform espadrilles clacking on the asphalt. Adjusting your strapless sundress, you climb in.

“Whatever service you require, Gumdrop,” he replies with a smile, making sure you are comfortable before closing your door.

That fucking nickname… He would call you gumdrop instead of your name more often than not. That’s all, he didn’t mean anything by it, right?

When you are both buckled in, you start the drive across the island. Comfortable conversation is easy between you two. It’s like you fall back into a safe space with him. You talk about old vacations, funny moments, and what you both are up to these days. Neither of you mentions either of your failed relationships and you can’t keep the smile off of your face.

“Hey, we still have an hour until check-in. You wanna grab a bite or go to the beach or something?” he suggests.

“Are you sure they’re not waiting for us?” you counter, wondering if it’s a good idea to have a little moment with Nick all to yourself.

“I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission. No pressure, just a suggestion,” he presses, taking a second to look over at you and smile that smile that has had you in a chokehold most of your life.

After thinking about it for all of five seconds, you agree to have lunch at Plum Pointe Kitchen. You enjoy a generous helping of Drunken Chicken nachos while Nick gets the VooDoo Shrimp PO’Boy. You share half of your meal, and Nick refuses to let you pay for anything.

Making your way to the Ocracoke Harbor Inn after lunch, you finally meet up with everyone. Dee is in mid-conversation with someone when she sees you and Nick pull up into the parking lot. She walks over to you and pulls you into a very tight embrace. It’s like everything was chaos before you got here.

“Oh my goodness, I am so glad you are here. How was the trip? Did you eat? Did Nick bore you? I’m sorry that I couldn’t come and meet you, but we had a little mishap with the reservation for the hotel and then I thought I left my wedding dress at home, and then we–”

You cut off Dee before she can work herself into a frenzy again, “Dee! Breathe. You’re gonna be fine, I promise. And is that Matthew? Introduce me already, would you?” you encourage, trying to get your friend’s mind off of the previous debacle and onto the man walking over.

Dee introduces you to Matthew and he charms you with the way he dotes on Dee. He seems like the type to be able to handle her rambling and intense emotions. How he looks at her while she speaks makes you miss having someone look at you like that.

“Well, it’s just about 3 o’clock now. Let’s get checked in and settled, then we can get together later?” Matthew chimes in.

“Sounds good,” Nick agrees, turning to you, “Go ahead and leave your stuff in my car. I’ll take you to your cottage after we are all checked in.” You nod, trying to hide your excitement. 

Once you are done with the receptionist, you get your key and the wifi password to your cottage. While waiting for everyone else to get done, you fiddle on your phone until Nick’s shadow looms over you. Looking up, you are greeted with his eyes no longer shielded by his sunglasses in the dim lobby.

“You ready, Gumdrop? We still have some time before Mom and Dad show up. And I think I remember Dee saying she would call when she was ready to go out,” he concludes, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous about something. But you don’t push.

“All set,” you say, smiling up at him feeling bold enough to wrap your arm around his while you walk out of the lobby.

Dee shouts after you to behave yourselves and tense up a bit while Nick chuckles, seemingly amused by his sister’s thinly veiled comment on two single adults being close. Damn them.

Nick opens the passenger side door for you again, closing it once you are safely inside. He drives to the Margaritaville Cottage where he will stay with his parents during the trip. He instructs you to stay in the car while he just drops his bags off and is back outside in a few minutes.

The next stop is your cottage, called the Treasure Chest. You snicker at the name, thinking it sounded more like a pirate-themed strip joint. When Nick asks what you’re laughing about, you tell him your thoughts on the name of where you are staying. The slow smile that spreads on his face makes you involuntarily clench your thighs, wondering what his days-old stubble would feel like between your legs.

He tilts his head just slightly at you, then turns back to the road, smile still intact. Luckily the drive is short as the cottages are fairly close to one another. Nick parks in the driveway and you both get out and stretch your legs. He comes around and grabs your shoulder bag and luggage, motioning for you to lead the way.

Walking up the steps to the door, you unlock it and are welcomed by the scent of fresh linen. The central air of the cottage is just this side of perfect and you drop your purse on the dining room table. Turning around, you see Nick walking into a room off of the living room.

“Holy shit, you got a King-sized bed,” he shouts from the bedroom.

Walking in, you sit at the foot of the bed next to Nick and start to untie your shoes. He follows suit and turns to you biting his lip, a question at the tip of his tongue.

Facing him, you ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?” 

“No. I, uh...I’m surprised you haven’t asked yet,” he notes. At your confusion, he holds up his left ring finger. A band of untanned skin around the base clues you in that he’s talking about his divorce.

“Nicky, I would never make you talk about it. It can’t be easy in that situation. I mean, I only broke up with Curtis a few months ago and we were only together for six months. I couldn’t imagine how a divorce feels after how long you and Tori were together,” you insist, placing a hand on his knee.

He covers your hand with his and nods. “Mom and Dad are pretty good about it. They don’t ask me how I’m doing with that sad look in their eyes anymore. But Dee? Jesus, when I told her about the incident, she was out for blood. I had to end up calming her down. All because someone broke her big bro’s heart. Love her, but she can get a little carried away,” he finishes.

“This is not to make you feel like you need to share, but you mentioned “the incident” and now I’m curious. Feel free to tell me to shut the fuck up. But I caught Curtis with his tongue down another woman’s throat. I don’t know for sure how long it had been going on or if they had done anything else together, but I knew at that moment that I was done. I am worth more than that. And so are you, Nicky,” you encourage, feeling a bit of weight lift off your shoulders after finally talking about your breakup.

“My situation was similar. Tori had been cheating on me for the last two years of our marriage with her boss. I had a feeling something was up, just didn’t want to believe it was something like this,” he reveals, continuing, “But I am moving on, so to speak. I’m not holding out anymore for her to come crawling back to me with a sad story and all that. Even though I hope that she falls in a sinkhole.”

You both laugh and continue talking, taking your minds off of your breakups. You reminisce about all of the times you’ve stayed on the island during vacations. You giggle over dumb stories of you all as teens in high school, hiding weed from your parents and drinking on the beach til it was time to sneak back into the hotel.

You get an idea and you tell Nick to give you a minute before you go back into the living room to retrieve your purse. Coming back into the bedroom, you pull out a vape pen and wiggle it in front of Nick’s face, a devilish smirk on your lips.

“We’ll just take one hit each and we will be fine. Just a bit more mellow,” you offer, pulling him to the balcony off of the living room. You each occupy a wicker chair and you hand over the device.

“Gumdrop, you little devil,” he takes the pen from you and inhales, closing his eyes and holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it out. The smoke dissipates quickly and you can see the weight lift off of his shoulders. Handing it back to you, he exhales loudly and leans back in his chair.

Putting the tip in your mouth, you hit the button and inhale. Warm vapor fills you and you release the button, holding in the smoke for a beat and then letting it out toward the sky. You put the pen down on the table between you and fold your legs under you, letting your dress cascade down.

Sitting in companionable silence with Nick feels great. Neither of you feels the need to talk while you listen to the sounds of nature around you. People walking around the cottages, cars driving by, and the distant waves from Pamlico Sound make you wish you had gone to the beach earlier.

“Fuck, that was only one hit and I feel like my bones are made of jelly,” you remark, swaying to a song that isn’t playing with your eyes closed.

Nick looks over to you and smiles, “Must be jelly ‘cause jam don’t shake like that.”

You open your eyes and turn to him, your mouth twitches before you break out into uncontrollable laughter. Nick soon follows and you both are taken over by the giggles. You settle down soon enough, still feeling the buzzing calmness of being high.

“The world needs more people like you,” you beam.

“Nah, I like being unique,” he replies, his phone chiming. Picking up a video call from Dee, “Hey Sis.”

“Hey, me and Matt were gonna go for dinner and drinks, you in?” she asks.

“Yeah, that sounds...good,” Nick answers for himself while looking at you to get your answer.

“Ok, well get ready and meet us at Oyster Company. And tell my best friend that she is coming, no ifs, ands, or buts. See you both soon!” With that, she ends the call.

“So...our decision has been made for us. Do you need to change or anything?” Nick wonders, gesturing to your traveling attire.

“If I take this dress off, I am not going out. Besides, I like this dress. I think I look positively adorable. But I will change my shoes to something more comfortable,” you finish before Nick can comment on how he also likes your dress. You pick up the vape pen, make your way back to your luggage, and pull out some flat sandals.

Once you are ready, you make your way back outside and are surprised to see Dee and Matt parked on the street outside of your cottage. “We decided to pick you up. Matt is DD tonight, so we can all get a little loosey-goosey. Plus, I can always tell when Nick is high, so get in losers!”

Nick snorts, and you are mortified to be found out, but you quickly get over it once you are in the backseat of Matt’s Audi Q4. The short ride to the restaurant was spent with Nick’s left leg brushing against your right leg. He was either manspreading or he wanted to touch you and wanted to keep it under the radar.

Either way, you were excited to feel his warmth next to you.

When you make it to the restaurant, you sit at a high table and it almost feels like a double date. Especially when your waitress congratulates Dee and Matt on their wedding while remarking that you and Nick make a cute couple as well. Your face warms up and you suddenly feel like every eye is on you. 

Nick comes to your rescue, answering the waitress with a smile, “My girl’s a bit shy, is all. Can we get a pitcher of beer for the table to start? And also two shots of Crown Royal Vanilla for me and the little lady. Thanks.”

If it was possible, you would have melted through the floor and evaporated, but instead, you just hide behind the menu until Nick pokes his head in.

“That wasn’t to embarrass you, I swear. But I got nervous that she was gonna try and flirt with me, so I dragged you under the proverbial bus with me,” he admits, his lopsided smile only making you want him more.

“Fine. You’ll just have to make it up to me,” you warn, a devious grin appearing on your face. 

You put down your menu just as the waitress comes back with the drinks. Taking both shots, you hand one to Nick. Staring in each other’s eyes, you clink your shot glasses and then tap them on the table before taking the shot. The sweet burn of the liquor warms you from within while Nick’s eyes on you melt whatever nerves you had previously.

A cleared throat breaks your trance, your focus changing from Nick to Dee.

“I talked to Mom and Dad and they won’t get here ‘til Friday afternoon with the rest of the guests. Dad said he had a few things to take care of and not to worry. Of course, I worry tenfold because he told me not to,” Dee interjects, busying herself with pouring beer into her frosted glass.

“Baby, they’ll be here as soon as they can. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything,” Matt insists, moving a strand of hair away from Dee’s face before kissing her.

“Promise to keep me occupied?” she requests, a sinful smile on her face.

“I do,” he jokes, clearly proud of himself for making his fiancée blush.

“First of all, how dare you? Secondly, that was almost too cute so watch yourself,” she laughs.

You roll your eyes at the happy couple and smile, going back to looking over the menu. The waitress comes back to the table and takes your orders. Over the meal, you get to know Matt a bit more and you can see how Dee fell in love with him. He’s intelligent, funny, and charismatic. The way he talks about and to her makes you so happy to know your friend found love.

When they turn to talk to each other, you and Nick spark up a conversation about work. He tells you what he can about working for the government, keeping the specific details to himself. You regale him with stories of your time as a freelance writer. You’ve written for dozens of publications, but you just want to get your original works out there for people to enjoy. 

After mentioning a few pieces you wrote for GQ, Nick expressed interest in reading your articles. You try and downplay your skills, but he presses you for the links. Taking out your phone, you realize that you don’t have his number. 

While you exchange digits with Nick, you are too busy to notice Dee casting a sidelong glance and smiling to herself. You ramble on as you send him link after link of some of your favorites. With your face in your phone, you don’t notice the way Nick looks at you with a mix of pride and hunger.

“Well, I am ready to call it a night,” Dee yawns, getting everyone’s attention, “But I could use a nightcap. Who’s up for a trip to the ABC Store? We can make it before they close.”

Everyone agrees and after the check is paid, you all pile into Matt’s SUV for the quick drive to the liquor store. You browse the aisles for a bit by yourself. Filling up your basket with a bottle of wine, some whiskey, and a six-pack of hard seltzers, you surmise that this will sustain you for the week ahead and go in search of the others.

You find Nick in front of the beer cooler, hard at work trying to decide between a 12-pack of Sam Adams’ Cold Snap and Harpoon’s Long Thaw. You suggest he get both and he agrees.

Meeting Dee and Matt up at the front of the store, you stand next to Nick in line and he laughs at the contents of your shopping basket. He puts his beer up for the cashier to scan and has you do the same, paying for your items. 

A little piece of you feels taken care of and you thank him while continuing to tell him he doesn’t have to. He just shushes you and says you can make it up to him later. Before your mind can think about what that might entail, the sale is rung and bagged. Nick picks up the beer and you grab the bag of your things.

Nick asks Matt to just drop him off at your cottage since he left his car there. His cottage is literally next door, but you’re not exactly gonna deny yourself the company. Dee and Matt drive away and you turn back to Nick. You both laugh nervously and you surprise yourself by speaking up.

“So, um. I was gonna have a weed and whiskey moment to myself, but I’d be willing to share if you’re interested,” you hint, watching as he weighs his options. 

“Lead the way, Gumdrop,” he replies.

He follows you in, closing the door behind him. He puts his beer into the fridge along with your hard seltzer. You put the wine on the counter and take out the whiskey while Nick finds two short glasses in the cabinet. Pouring a generous amount in each one, he offers you a drink and you take a sip of the amber liquid. 

Letting the whiskey sit in your mouth, you savor the hints of vanilla and spice. You reach in your purse for your vape pen and take a hit of it before offering it to Nick. Taking a long pull off of the pen, he exhales and you watch as his shoulders relax. You both take another sip of whiskey and revel in the dual flavors of the weed and whiskey.

You take your glass and the bottle, moving onto the patio off of the living room, and sit down in one of the wicker chairs while Nick takes the other. The conversation comes easily enough. Mostly high thoughts and random memories come to mind. After a while, you put on some music and when 6 Underground by Sneaker Pimps comes on, you can’t help but dance in your chair.

Nick stares while you close your eyes and move your hands to the trip-hop classic. You spend the entire song moving to the downtempo beat and enjoying your crossfade. The trance you were under slowly dissipates as the song ends and Pendulum by FKA Twigs starts.

When you open your eyes, Nick is pulling you to stand up. You’re lost as to what he is doing until his hands go to yours, pulling them to rest around his neck while he holds your hips. As the song continues, you follow his slow lead and sway to the intimate and mesmerizing indie hit.

🎶

You're younger than I am broken

I dance feelings like they're spoken

So my conversation's not enough

So lonely trying to be yours

Running through sliding doors

So lonely trying to be yours

When you're looking for so much more

🎶

By the time the song ends, the heat between you is unmistakable. Your hand tangles in his hair when he pulls you impossibly closer. Mere centimeters separate your lips. All you would need is to lean just one step closer and you’d finally get to taste his kiss.

Nick beats you to it and his hands pull your face to his, crashing your lips together. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips and he swallows it adding in his own grunts and groans. Kiss after kiss, you radiate carnality and passion. 

Breaking the kiss, you watch as he licks his puffy bottom lip. You take in a breath of air and prepare to dive back in but Nick voices his thoughts.

“You are gonna be the death of me, Gumdrop,” he sighs, and at your brows furrowing he continues, “You’ve only been back in my life for a day and I’m already thinking of ways to keep you in it. Don’t hate me, but I think we should chill out, just for tonight. I swear, if you still want this by tomorrow night, I am all yours. But you better be all mine. Please, tell me you can wait for me?”

“Tomorrow night and you’re all mine?” you plead, and he nods.

“Less than 24 hours, baby. Show me that these feelings aren’t just from the substances in our system,” he insists, and you wanna fuck him even more now after he says that.

You nod and he speaks up, “Need to hear your words, baby, like a big girl.”

“Fuck...yes, I can wait. I can wait for you, Nicky,” you whimper and he rests his forehead against yours. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, lifting his head from yours, “Now, why don’t we call it a night before I go back on my word? You look so good in this dress and I really wanna be good.”

Agreeing with him, you clean up your empty glasses and move the bottle to the counter next to the wine. Nick pulls you into him one last time, snaking a hand down to your ass and grabbing a hefty portion of it before a hardy slap lands on your left cheek. He only snickers at your yelp and nibbles on your bottom lip. 

“Keep that same energy for me because tomorrow I’m not holding back,” he vows, and if you weren’t leaning into him, your legs would’ve surely buckled. If he notices the tremble go through your body, he makes no mention of it and for that you are grateful.

“Goodnight, Nicky,” you hum.

“Sleep tight, Gumdrop. And do me a favor?” he challenges, at your nod he continues, “Save it for me. I’m gonna take care of you tomorrow, so no need to touch that kitty tonight, right?”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, “Right.”

He leaves and once the door is closed, you lean back against it, your hand going to your neck where your pulse is playing a sick beat against your skin.

Less than 24 hours, you think. You got this.

That night, you dream of grayish-blue eyes and large hands roaming your body.

January 21st, 2024 – Day Two 

You wake just before 10:30 am and are greeted with a good morning text from Nick. He lets you know that he is taking you out, just the two of you. Since Dee and Matt are enjoying a couple’s spa package, he figures it would only be right to hit some of your favorite places on the island.

You are dressed and out the door by noon. Nick takes you to pick up lunch at Taqueria 504 Suazo’s and you drive out to rent a Jeep Gladiator at for a few hours to drive on the beach. One of the best things about this island is that everything is so close. After 5 minutes, you are at your destination. 

Nick drives out a ways past the other people enjoying the off-season and stops about a minute after the last two fishermen you see. Guess he wanted a secluded spot, you think to yourself. While you get the food, Nick grabs the beach chairs and umbrella that he rented. The ocean breeze is agreeable enough, but you are glad that you brought a thin sweater to keep the chill off.

Once you sit down, you hand over Nick’s food and he digs into his burrito while you munch on your fish tacos. When your meal is finished, Nick puts your leftovers in the Gladiator and lets down the truck bed. He beckons you over and helps you sit on the edge and he climbs up and sits next to you while you both look at the water.

“Ya know, the last time we came out here I was just finishing my third year at Virginia Tech. You and Dee were seniors. I remember hoping upon hope that you would apply to VT and I remember you telling me you were accepting a scholarship from Princeton. I just sucked it up and congratulated you. Even though I was hoping you would understand why I wanted you close, I was so proud of you for venturing off on your own. You were always one to go after what you wanted. I just couldn’t stop wanting to be what you wanted,” he confesses, looking off into the water.

“I wanted you, Nicky. Trust me, I did. But I was so afraid that I had a dumb little crush on someone who would never see me as someone other than his little sister’s best friend. The last time I saw you, I thought it was right to push away the idea of you ever having feelings for me. I also may have been afraid of what Dee would say. She’s kind of protective over both of us, ya know?” you finish.

“That girl can be a vicious little thing when she wants to,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “But don’t you think it’s kind of a sign that she had me pick you up from the ferry? And how suddenly today, we have a free schedule to do whatever we want together? I know my sister, and she’s done this before. She matched me up with my high school girlfriend, Beth.”

“Ugh, Beth with the braces and bangs. I used to call her Triple B behind your back. I hated her so much,” you mutter, trying to push the image of them kissing out of your mind.

“Yeah, well. I knew you hated her, but me being an idiot teenager didn’t exactly know that meant you liked me. I just thought you didn’t like her because she was kind of a bitch. She was plenty nice to me, but she could be...a little scary, at times,” he laughs, surprising himself.

“So...you think Dee would be ok with...this?” you say, gesturing between the two of you.

“I just think there is no way she would let us be alone together if she wasn’t halfway hoping it would work out,” he guesses, “Plus, honestly? We’re adults. We’re allowed to go after what makes us happy.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you pull Nick in for a kiss. You don’t want to jinx it but he makes you happy too. The way he looks at you like you hung the moon, the way he listens to you and asks questions and the way he kisses you? 

It just has to be real.

Packing up your beach equipment, you head back to drop off everything. Getting back into his SUV, you head around the island and view some of the sights. You go shopping and pick up some new knick knacks to take home. Visiting the lighthouse, you take some photos and make sure to bring Dee and Matt here before you leave the island.

Since most of the island’s restaurants are closed on Sundays, you venture to Ocracoke Variety Store and opt for cooking dinner together. After you have all the ingredients you need for a simple fish fry, you head back to your cottage and you and Nick get your hands dirty.

You have him cutting up potatoes for steak fries while you are preparing the batter for the fish. When dinner is ready, you sit at the dining room table with soft music playing in the background. While Nick wanted to take you out for your first date, he could appreciate the quiet setting with just the two of you enjoying each other’s company.

Finishing your meal, Nick takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile and warmth radiates in your cheeks. You hate to admit it, but you wish you had a little liquid courage right now. But the nerves you feel only cement that this is happening.

He pulls you up from your seat, the hunger in his eyes evident from his blown-wide pupils. Leading you into the bedroom, he stops just short of the end of the bed. Standing behind you as you face the bed, he runs his hands down your bare arms and whispers in your ear.

“I cannot wait to take you apart, Gumdrop. But,” he starts, turning you around to face him, “First, I just want to take my time and worship this beautiful body I know you’re hiding from me.”

If he wasn’t holding you up, you would have melted into the carpet. But he’s there with firm hands and a gentle grip. Helping you out of your dress, he lays it on the chair in the corner. Coming back, he admires the white lace bra and panty set that accentuates your body shape.

His lips come back to yours, tasting your desire and wantonness with every kiss. Wrapping an arm around you, he guides you to lay back on the bed while maintaining the liplock. He kisses down your neck and across your collarbone while his hand unclasps your bra and removes it from your body.

Laying a kiss between your breasts draws a quick inhale from you. You can tell he’s proud of himself when he looks up at you while he licks one pert nipple, the other between his thumb and forefinger. He sucks on it as if he could siphon gold from your tits. Switching to the other, he gives it the same attention. 

The noises that come from him as he plays with your breasts are enough to make you shiver. He whimpers when you moan and throw your head back. He groans when he kisses down your belly, stopping to look up at you before he plants a quick kiss upon your covered mound.

He pulls down your panties at such an agonizing speed. Nick has to squeeze his dick through his pants when a string of your wetness stretches from your pussy to your underwear. Spreading your legs apart, he feasts on the view of your lips opening like a flower before him.

He wanted to go slow, he really did. But once he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your swollen nub, he is mesmerized by the taste of you. He goes back and forth between sucking on your button and lapping up whatever nectar drips from you. You can feel yourself inching toward the finish line, and he is right there to talk you through it.

“Fuck...you taste like Heaven...that’s right, baby...let go and cum for me like a good girl,” he commands between licks and kisses.

You’re nothing if not a good listener and seconds later, your walls are clamping around his fingers. You’ve never cum like this before and it washes over you like a warm waterfall. He removes his fingers from your wet opening and sucks them clean before moving up the bed to kiss you.

Tasting yourself on his tongue, you are beyond turned on. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he sits up to pull it off. Running your hands over his chest, you pull at the button of his pants.

“Use your words,” he urges, his hands stopping yours from moving further.

“Need to feel you, Nick. Please fuck me,” you beg, all thoughts gone from your head.

“There’s my good girl,” he replies, standing up from the bed to undress fully. Climbing back on the bed, he kneels between your legs. He strokes himself slowly, eight inches of uncut cock staring you in the face. He squeezes the base and you can tell he is just as excited as you are.

You crook a finger at him and once again, he is on top of you. With nothing between you, you’re impossibly close and you only want to get closer. Your hand soon finds his erection and he hisses at the contact, groaning when you stroke him.

He leans on one forearm while his other hand guides his tip between your lips, gathering some of your slick before entering you. You both groan loudly once he is fully settled inside you. 

“You good, baby?” he asks, anxious to start moving his hips.

“God, yes. Fuck me, Nicky,” you plead, feeling so full when you arch your back.

Foregoing words, Nick retracts his hips and thrusts into you. The wet squelch as he fucks you is music to your ears, just like the way he tells you how beautiful you are in between kisses. He uses your breasts as handholds while he pummels your snatch.

The way he looks into your eyes while he plunges inside you excites you so much that you don’t even notice when a tear escapes your eye. He kisses it away, trailing his lips to your neck where he sucks at your pulse point. At this point, you couldn't care less about a hickey. You just want to be his.

Your next orgasm surprises you and you squeeze his cock from the inside, coating him in your cream. 

“Good girl, coming all over my fucking dick. Feels so fucking good when you tighten around me like that. You are taking me so well, Gumdrop. Yes. You. Are,” he grunts, punctuating the last three words with deep thrusts inside you.

Flipping you over so you are on top, Nick grabs your hips and you start to ride him. You bounce on his cock like it’s the last time you get to fuck. By the mewls coming from him, you are doing it just right.

You feel another climax on its way, slowly building up in your core. Nick swats your hand away when you go to rub your clit. He licks his thumb and massages your neglected pearl until you are unable to hold it in any longer. The dual stimulation is too much and you gush, soaking Nick’s abdomen and your thighs.

“Oh fuck, baby. Such a good fucking girl for me. You must want my cum inside you with the way you’re...riding my dick. Shit, baby, I’m gonna blow. Where do you want it, baby?” he asks, you reply by doubling down on your hip motions.

“Right there, Nicky. Cum inside me, please,” you implore breathlessly.

“Yes, baby. Gonna cum for you, gonna fill you up so good. Ugh, fuck, here it comes,” he whimpers, his hold on your hips so tight to keep you close to him. 

You feel every twitch of his cock, his muscles pulling taut across his arms and chest as he floods your canal. Your name on his lips as he comes down is a badge of honor. Yes, you did that shit.

He pulls you down to kiss him, shallow thrusts keeping him semi-hard before he pulls out. He lays you down next to him, cuddling you close and kissing your forehead. You start to fall asleep but you can feel Nick moving off the bed. Your hand shoots out to grab for him, but he shushes you.

He goes into the bathroom and you hear the faucet running before he comes out with a wet washcloth. Wiping down your sensitive folds, he takes care of you so well. Putting the washcloth back in the bathroom, he comes back and helps you get under the covers and he snuggles in with you.

With your arms and legs entangled in one another, you drift off peacefully.

January 22nd – January 26th 2024 

The days before the wedding are spent enjoying the island with Nick, Dee, and Matt before the other guests arrive. More than once, Dee has cornered both you and Nick, asking embarrassing questions. You both say nothing, feigning ignorance even though Nick has moved into your cottage over the week, abandoning the cottage that he was supposed to share with his parents.

That being said, once his parents do finally make it to the island, he doesn’t even try and act like he isn’t staying with you. The smile on his father’s face says it all, he approves. His mother is far too preoccupied with getting everyone together for the wedding rehearsal to notice anything. 

That is until she catches you and Nick making heart eyes at each other as you stand in for the Bride and Groom in rehearsal. Yes, it was a bit too soon to be playing Wedding Day with a man whose divorce is less than 100 days old.

But when you know, you know.

At dinner, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and you don’t notice Nick following after you. Before you can enter the ladies’ room, a hand on your arm pulls you into the nearby gender-neutral bathroom.

You turn around and are met with hungry eyes before he descends upon you. Turning you around to face the mirror, he puts your hands on the sink and sinks to his knees, his hands roaming under your dress and up your legs until he pulls down your panties. He pulls out his already hard dick and pumps himself a few times before sliding inside you.

“Don’t fucking move, baby. Keep looking at yourself in the mirror, and your hands stay right where they are. You thought you could get away with teasing me in this tight fucking dress,” he breathes, “I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you til you’re dripping for me like the good girl I know you can be.”

When he places his hands on your hips, he begins a steady pace. He watches you in the mirror as your orgasm takes you over without warning. You squeeze him, your walls fluttering and coaxing him to follow you when you cover him in your juices.

But he surprises you when he pulls out and pulls your panties back up. When you turn around to ask why, he only kisses you and whispers in your ear, “I’ll get mine later, don’t you worry.” That only fills you with a little dread, your legs still wobbly as Nick tucks himself away and straightens his outfit. “Can’t have them knowing I just got my dick wet, right baby? See you back out there.” 

He exits the bathroom and leaves you with slick running down your legs and your brain falling out of your ears. And he’s worried about you being the death of him?

You straighten yourself and use the bathroom for its intended purpose. Once back in the banquet hall, you pray to any god who will listen that you don’t look like you just got some dick. You see Nick and Matt in a conversation like he’d been here the whole time. When Dee asks why you look flustered, you lie and say you’re just a bit tired.

Nick overhears you talking to Dee and interjects himself into the conversation, “Why don’t we go get some fresh air? Don’t worry, Sis, I’ll take care of her.” Helping you out of your chair, you both say goodnight to those at dinner.

Nick takes you back to the cottage, pulling you behind him as he walks out onto the balcony. Crashing his lips to yours, his hands scrunch up the fabric of your dress until you feel the night air chill your skin. 

“Hands on the railing, baby,” he says, peeling your soaked panties from you.

Nick’s pushing inside you in the next breath and it’s like he belonged there all along. Holding onto your hips, he begins his onslaught. All you can do is hold yourself up and be happy that no one is walking down this road because fuck they would be able to see you getting absolutely railed without abandon.

Your grip on the railing is faltering as he slams into you and he takes pity on you. He uses the grip on your hips to pull you back so you sit on his lap while he sits in the wicker chair. He moves you up and down on his dick while saying the filthiest things to you.

Once your climax hits, his pace falters and he thrusts up into you. His tip hits your cervix as he pumps you full. He holds you against him and kisses up your neck as you lay back on his chest. For a few moments, all you both can do is breathe and caress each other.

His dick slips free of you and you feel his load dripping from your thoroughly used hole. 

“Come with me back to Virginia,” he whispers, surprising both of you, “Don’t say no just yet. Think about it. We don’t leave for a couple of days. I have not been this happy in a very long while and I think I make you happy too. Just think about it, Gumdrop.”

A million things go through your head at the thought of giving up your life in New Jersey. This was a big step after only a week of playing house. Your brain comes up with so many what-ifs and reasons to not leap. But then one thought sticks, and you smile.

When you know, you know.

January 27th, 2024 – Wedding Day

You were never a big crier, but you shed many tears watching your childhood best friend marry the love of her life. It fills you with hope that everything does happen for a reason. While listening to their vows, you wonder if you could ever make that type of commitment. At that moment, Nick squeezes your hand and you smile up at him. Like he could read your mind, he seems to always know what to do to give you comfort.

Then again, he has known you most of his life. And when you think about it, it has always been him. A distant memory replays in your head of him simply putting a band-aid on your skinned knee when you were nine and he was twelve. Even then, he was there for you with a smile and a friendly hug.

The wedding reception is an all-out party but you expect nothing less from the Fowlers. The music, the food, and the atmosphere are perfect. Dee enjoys herself and is just happy to be married to Matt. And you are so happy for her, to see her without a care in the world. 

Nick focuses on you the entire night, making sure you are comfortable and that you have everything you need. You sit in his lap, effectively confirming any rumors that may have spread about you two. His hand on your knee is warm and you want to sneak out of here and take him to the nearest closet. But he doesn’t let you move an inch once he has you in his clutches.

The wedding photographer snaps a pic of you squealing when Nick plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. The guests around you simultaneously swoon and groan, depending on their relationship status. Not that you care, you had your man. That’s all that matters.

After the wedding, you and Nick sneak off to a secluded area of the beach to look up at the stars. Taking off your shoes, you don’t mind the sand between your toes. You spend most of the night on the beach, just enjoying each other’s company under the moon. 

You are lucky enough to see a few shooting stars, and you can’t stop yourself from making a wish or two. Wondering if Nick made a wish, you open your mouth to ask him but close it just as quickly. You know his wish already and only you could make it come true.

Coming back to the cottage is bittersweet. The last night of your vacation is spent lying naked with Nick. No sex, just intimate cuddling. You loved how safe you felt in his arms, and you couldn’t deny yourself this feeling.

January 28th, 2024

You’re nervous all morning and Nick tries his best to keep your mind off leaving the island. But all you want to do is spend all day in bed with him.

Saying goodbye to Dee that day is full of teary-eyed hand-holding, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You hug her mother and father and thank them for inviting you. 

Nick drives you to the ferry, thinking for all the world that this is the last time he will see you. But like you continue to do, you surprise him when he’s helping you with your bags.

“So, I have some things to clear up in Jersey, but I was thinking Valentine’s Day is just a couple of weeks away. You can come to my place and we can spend some time together. I may not be ready to move 7 hours away just yet. But I know that I am not ready to be without you. I want you to know that I want this, whatever this is,” you admit, gesturing between the two of you.

“I can be amenable to that. On one condition,” he offers, taking your hands in his.

“And what is that one condition, Nicky?” you press, wondering what else he could want or if your terms weren’t enough.

“When we are with each other again, I get to call you my girl. That’s it. Be mine, and all that?” he laughs, watching as the frown lines on your forehead disappear and a smile grows on your face.

“You had me for a second, Nicky. But, why wait? I’m all yours already. Plus, I’ve already planted my flag in your back pocket,” you tease, snaking your hand around to goose him.

“So that would make me your man, then? And you’re my girl. Makes me wanna ask what made you decide to try this with me?” he hesitates, half wanting an answer and the other half just happy that you said yes.

“Hey, like I always say,” you start, wrapping your arms around his neck, “When you know, you know.”

END…?

A/N: All of the places in this story are real, this is not an advertisement for Ocracoke Island, NC btw. I just loved vacationing here so much, that I wanted to use it in a story lol.

**Tag List** (since I never wrote for Nick, I didn't know who else to tag)

@gummydummy19 @blackwood4stucky

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

My BINGO Card:

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

TW: Drugs --- WIBTA if I continued getting high🍃 even though someone in the building doesn't like interacting with high people?

🍃🍲 for finding later:)

Specific ages don't matter, just know that everyone involved is over 21 and under 30, and we're in a place where recreational weed is legal. Names changed for privacy.

Context:

My husband (Luigi) and I (Bowser) lucked into qualifying for a relatively large apartment. We converted one of the bedrooms into a DnD / TTRPG room and we own a lot of RPGs, so we have people over basically every other night to play. Our apartment is like, a hub for queer/ally TTRPG nerds.

Husband's brother (Mario) DMs a game in my apartment on Mondays- the end of my work week. I used to play in that campaign with them, but my job is extremely demanding both physically and mentally so late last year I dropped the game so I could have more time to relax. It was mostly with people I don't know, and I openly would take a nibble of an edible before we would start to help calm my severe social anxiety. Mario has partaken in edibles with Luigi and me, and everyone else at the table was ok with it / took edibles too.

Summer of 2023 Mario got a girlfriend (Peach). She randomly swings by to watch us/them play, and has been there on some of the Monday night games. She comes over sporadically due to her own work schedule, so there's no way to know if she'll be there or not. Luigi and I have partaken in front of her before and there were no issues that we knew of.

Now here's where I may be the asshole.

A couple weeks ago, Mario mentioned offhand that he'll never bring Peach over when we're high, because she doesn't like being around high people. He said she had some kind of trauma associated with it and not to ask her about it because it could trigger her.

Mortified, I was like 'we've used edibles while she was here before, is that a problem??' Mario responded saying she never noticed so it wasn't anything to worry about.

Now that I'm not a part of the Monday game anymore I use my very limited free time while that game is going to sit in the bedroom, get high, and play video games. Everyone in the group knows not to disturb me while I'm resting, and I won't disturb them. Due to having pets (and asthma) Luigi and I don't even own any smokables- it's all edibles, so there's no smell. They're securely locked away from pets so there's no way to accidentally take one either.

WIBTA if I continued getting high in my bedroom, even though Peach could possibly show up? We don't interact during Monday nights anyways, but I genuinely don't want to hurt anyone so I don't know if my casual weed usage would still be an asshole move.

Other possibly relevant details: there's a bathroom connected to the bedroom, so if I stock up on snacks I genuinely don't have to leave while people are over. She could literally never know I was there.

I don't take weed medicinally, it's just casual usage.

Monday nights are my only me-time, so that's why I kinda don't want to give up the option of taking edibles on the off chance that Peach might show up- but I don't know if it's a dick move to continue partaking even though I know she could be there.

Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König's Time Clubbing

NSFW 18+ MDNI

tw recreational drug use and alcohol mentioned

Alright, so we all know that everybody in König's hometown saw him as a loser. But, his siblings cared about him and they'd introduce him to new people, and though he never got close enough to call anyone a 'friend', he did get out a fair bit.

When König wasn't dying his long hair black and learning really shitty metal covers of songs, his siblings would drag him out of the house with their friends and cross the borders nearby to either Germany or the Czech Republic. Once over the borders, everyone treated König differently.

Suddenly, he was being invited into underground clubs with his brothers and dancing in dark rooms lit by strobing lights and glow sticks. There were so many people that he wanted to throw up, but his brothers and sister convinced him to stay, and slowly, the anxiety melted to the back of his mind.

People liked him for his industrial goth aesthetics. They liked how he could recite poetry in different languages and help them understand it on a deeper level. He was thoughtful and gentle, so people really liked him. In the clubs, everyone was a social outcast, so he fit in perfectly.

When in the clubs, König could dance. People gave him a decent berth to let him move his body freely, and he soaked it all in. With drugs and beers flowing through his system, he could let go and relax. Nobody could take it away from him.

The next day, he'd wake up in somebody's house (an embarrassing amount of times in somebody's bed) and all the social anxiety would kick in, so he'd be left scrambling to make his way home.

His older brothers used to tease him for loosening up at parties and then promptly turning back into a hermit the next morning, but his sister, Lisa, would calm him down and help him get home early. He learned to really get close to Klara during this time.

Gentle reminder that I do still take CoD requests.

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 20: Trapped in limbo

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung

🗡️ word count: 22.8k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ warnings: lots and lots of crying; grief; medical stuff i am only pretending to understand; hidden doors; anxiety, panic, fainting, & PTSD; mention of past abuse; dream gore that borders on romantic; graphic & violent nightmares; recreational drinking & drug use (mdma, cocaine, weed); miscommunication & lack of communication due to emotional distress; smut (oral and vaginal sex; not quite somnophilia but almost; orgasm denial thanks to medication; sex while on drugs; fingering; use of restraints; a hint of booty play; cum swallowing); every smut scene is a fucking mess.

🗡️ note: grief is a deep sorrow that we experience for so many more reasons than when someone passes away. sometimes we grieve people who are still with us. other times, we grieve a relationship before it has come to an end. this chapter, and every remaining chapter of Collateral, is going to deal a lot with grief. this chapter was tough to write, and then i couldn't stop. all it was meant to be was a handful of scenes with heavy dialogue interspersed with anxiety and adjusting to medication and messy smut, and somehow we reached that bonkers word count. i didn't once stray from the outline, i am just incapable of being brief, these days. anyway, there will be some time skips/blurs because of the medication, and between one and a half and two weeks pass.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on sept. 2023 | read on ao3

It is unclear what time you hear a knock at the door. You are unsure where your purse ended up in last night's scuffle, the hints of sun that would be visible are blocked by deep burgundy curtains, and your vision is so blurry from exhaustion and tears, that it is hard to parse whether or not there is a clock amongst all the strange antique furnishings of Seokjin and Hoseok's living room. 

The sound of footsteps scampering behind the couch, presumably from the kitchen, surprises you, and you wonder whether you truly have been awake this entire time, or somewhere in an in-between of consciousness and unconsciousness. 

Voices chatter low and hurried, and then a figure rushes over and sits at your side. It takes two heavy blinks to realize that the man settling in beside you is Taehyung dressed dapperly in all black, and when you cock your head to the right in question, his plastered smile falls into a frown.

"I'm so sorry about everything that happened," Taehyung begins. You want to shake your head and tell him that it is not his fault, but all you can bring yourself to do is stare and blink. "Let me start off by saying everyone is alive."

"Everyone," you mumble quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. With a heavy exhale, you attempt to smile. 

"Jimin was shot in the shoulder, and it was the impact of hitting the ground that knocked him out. Although he has not suffered too much blood loss, and his vitals are stable, he has not woken up, and I am unsure when we can expect him to, but there does not appear to be any brain damage."

These are a lot of words—too many words, in fact, for you to follow along with, and you simply nod. All you hold onto is the fact that Jimin is alive; for now, that is enough. 

"Yoongi," you mutter, elongating the vowels. Once more, Taehyung frowns.

"Yoongi has a gash across his eye, starting above the brow and extending to the apple of his cheek." As Taehyung describes the wound, your heart pounds, and nausea fills your insides. He continues, "But, luckily, his eyeball is intact and unharmed. There does not appear to be any vision impairment."

"How…" you begin, brow and lips falling into a frown, but the words die on your tongue. 

Taehyung says your first name, low and slow, like someone gently regarding a child. Hearing your name spoken aloud, rather than a nickname, causes the hairs on your arms to stand, and you swallow a lump of worry. 

"What do you remember, after Jimin was shot?"

You search Taehyung's face while the events return in fragments. Once Jimin fell, you reacted by shooting his assailant multiple times. At the time, you were worried—in fact, convinced—that Jimin was dead, and all you could feel in that moment was rage. Once your bullets ran out, you wanted to bash the man's face in, but you were held back. Then you took out your knife, which was pulled away from you. 

"I emptied my clip but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to stab him," you say. "The man, I mean. But my knife was taken away."

Taehyung leans close and reaches for both of your clammy hands, holding firmly while rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles as he speaks very softly. "When Namjoon attempted to pull your knife away, Yoongi was—" Taehyung sighs, "—he was standing too close. You and Namjoon both yanked at your arm, and in that motion, the tip of the blade sliced his face."

It takes several tense, quiet moments before anything Taehyung says fully computes. You stare at him, searching his face while the synapses fire inside your brain in an attempt to communicate what you see, feel, and hear. And then, like a thin layer of dust settling over all it can touch, the information begins to trickle down and shroud you.

"I…" you mutter, feeling tears well and fall. You have cried so much that you neither sniffle nor tremble as your cheeks grow wetter and wetter. And then, you say it. "I cut Yoongi."

"It was an accident," Taehyung is quick to add, and you rip your hands from his grasp and ball them in front of your face, feeling your chest tighten and tighten, squeezing the air out. 

This cannot be. You cannot be responsible for injuring Yoongi. How will you ever face him again, knowing what you have done?

"I'm dreaming," you mutter, suddenly feeling hysterical. Laughter works through your chest just as quickly as panic rises, and you shake your head, unable to control your emotions. "This is just a bad dream. There's no way—"

"Would you like to see him?" Taehyung asks, snapping you back to reality. 

With a sniffle, you shake your head, horrified at the prospect of facing Yoongi after what you have done. 

"How could I?" you mutter uselessly into your balled fists. "How could I face him? How could he ever look at me again?"

Again, Taehyung says your first name as he gently reaches for your hands and attempts to remove them from in front of your face. You allow him to, sighing as they fall into your lap. "It was an accident. He does not blame you. None of us do."

But you know that at least one of them does. "Jeongguk," you mutter, remembering his snarl as he told you, You've done enough.

With a sigh, Taehyung shakes his head. "Jeongguk was just scared. He was angry in the moment, but he does not hold it against you."

With a scoff, you shake your head in return; there is no way Jeongguk would forgive you so easily. It took months to get on his good side and only seconds for him to turn on you. Your voice is weak and soft as you rasp, "I doubt it."

"Come with me to the mansion," Taehyung says, sitting up and scooting a fraction of an inch closer. "Yoongi and Namjoon want to see you, and our family psychiatrist Christopher is on standby, should you need to talk to him."

"What I need is to be sedated," you grumble as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your eyes momentarily shut. "I couldn't sleep. Just kept seeing the man's head explode—the man Hoseok shot."

Taehyung's lips twitch upward as he says, "We can figure something out."

Looking down at yourself, you see Hoseok's black pajamas and sigh. "I'm keeping these," you say, resolved not to change into your dress again. 

"They're yours," Taehyung responds with a soft laugh, glancing over your shoulder for a brief moment. You wonder whether Seokjin or Hoseok are standing back there, but you also don't care enough to turn. 

"Alright," you concede with a huff and sit forward, stretching your back and letting out a deep, low yawn. "We can return to the mansion, but I'm not…I don't know how much I will be able to talk. I'm so fucking tired."

Taehyung smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. It is the smile of someone who is exhausted but pleased with the way things are going in the present moment; the smile of someone glad he does not need to convince you any further to go home. "Christopher can recommend something for you to take, and we can get you straight into bed, if you prefer."

"My purse," you grumble, looking around. 

"It was in my vehicle," Taehyung says. "I gave it to Namjoon for safekeeping."

With another nod, you shift, sitting forward, then you stretch your legs from where they had been bunched and pretzled beneath you. As you stand from the couch and stretch again—this time extending all your limbs, twisting your back, breathing deeply—it hits you that you are returning home, and anxiety swells. 

But you know that there is no way you can stay away from home. No matter how badly Yoongi has been injured, and how guilty you feel about what has happened, you need to face it. You need to return to your home, to your bed, to your men. 

"Ready?" Taehyung asks softly, rounding the couch toward the front door. 

Only then do you turn to your left and find Hoseok leaning against the banister at the bottom landing of the stairs, barely out of view from where you had been sitting. Although he smiles, it is a sad expression, and he watches you silently. 

"I'm ready," you respond, gaze lingering on Hoseok before dropping to the floor. 

Your limbs are heavy as you shuffle toward the door. On the arm of the couch, your black dress is folded neatly, and you take it in your hands, rubbing your fingers over the soft satin material. 

"Thanks for the pajamas," you say softly with a hint of a smile, doing your best at humor despite feeling lower than you think you have ever felt. 

Hoseok smiles when you glance back up and catch his eye, responding, "My pleasure. I hope the garments treat you well."

This makes you laugh, but it also forces more tears to work their way out with a soft sob and a sniffle. With an arm gently wrapped around your lower back, Taehyung guides you to the entrance, where you slip on your ballet flats, and head out the door. 

The sun is high and bright, signaling late morning, and you squint and lift your hand to block the light. To your surprise, parked beside a large black sedan is a little white golf cart, and Taehyung steers you toward it. 

"Sick ride," you grumble with an attempted grin. 

Taehyung's hand drops away as you lean forward and step into the cart, taking a seat on the little white plastic bench. It only takes a moment for Taehyung to round the front and enter, and then you are off, making your way from Hoseok's home down a short gravel and dirt road tucked away in some trees, to Yoongi's mansion. 

The driveway is packed with vehicles, making you substantially more nervous than you already had been, and you swallow thickly while attempting to steady your breathing. Rather than driving to the front door, Taehyung takes an immediate right and stops the cart on the side of the mansion. From here, there are no clear paths to the gardens or the pool, and you are confused when Taehyung gets out of the vehicle and begins to walk toward where there is a shrub wall that intersects with the side of the mansion.

It takes a moment to process the fact that you are in charge of manually moving your limbs, and with a sigh, you step out of the cart, hugging your black satin dress tight to your chest. Taehyung walks to the intersection of shrubbery and building, and then he reaches into the greenery at chest height before pushing a section of it open and revealing a hidden door. 

"I bet you have no idea how many secrets this place holds," he says with a grin, and you shake your head before scurrying after him, through the shrub-covered door. 

A narrow path between shrub wall and dark brown wood greets you, and Taehyung walks toward the back, to where a door can be found against the side of the house. He punches in a code, leans forward to scan his retina, and then twists a knob, gaining entrance. 

"Yoongi is currently meeting with the security team and some others, hence all the vehicles," Taehyung says as he holds the door open for you to enter. "They should be finished soon."

As you step inside, you are greeted by a set of stairs that travel down under the mansion. Although there is a light that Taehyung switches on, and the steps are carpeted in a welcoming royal blue, there is something so foreboding about a surprise set of stairs leading down into the earth.

"Where are we?" you ask as Taehyung closes the door tightly behind you and begins to descend on your right. You do your best to keep up, loosely holding onto a wooden railing on your left while your other hand grips your satin dress close to your chest. 

"Beside the kitchen," Taehyung responds. "Between the kitchen and living room, to be exact." 

Once you reach the basement level, Taehyung flips on another switch and turns off the stairwell light behind you. There is an large room carpeted and furnished in blues, blacks, and tans, and you are surprised as you look around at the space. It smells somewhat musty, and you wonder when the last time anyone actually came down here may have been. 

"We don't use this space anymore," Taehyung says as if reading your mind. "But when Yoongi's parents were still alive, this was where he would spend a lot of his time."

You hum and nod, glancing around further. Along a back wall is a wooden bar, now empty, but you imagine it stocked with bottles of whatever liquors a younger version of Yoongi may have liked. There are also recreational table games on the far end that look unfamiliar, as well as a pool table. A dartboard and pool cues share the same wall with the bar top, and you try to imagine Yoongi and Namjoon, and probably also Ryujin, spending their evenings down here as teenagers. 

"Our group used to come down here to party and debrief in the early days," Taehyung adds as you continue to walk through the space toward a door along the wall ahead. "But that was before Yoongi owned hotels, casinos, nightclubs, and all that."

"Oh," you mutter, trying to imagine a Yoongi who did not own half of Seoul. You wonder how much of his empire he inherited from his father versus how much of it he built himself. 

You almost feel remorse over never knowing that side of Yoongi—a younger man who was not so tied down to his duties as a mafia king. But then you remember the scars along his sides, chest, and stomach, and you wonder whether there was ever a carefree man in Yoongi's skin. 

"Just a little further," Taehyung says, holding his hand up toward the door at the far end. 

"Where does this lead to?" you ask. 

"We are going to go up one more set of steps and end up on the other end of the hall, " Taehyung explains, voice soft, deep, and measured. "From there, we will tip-toe up the stairs and wait for Yoongi and Namjoon. Although this is the scenic route, I thought having to walk through the front door might be too stressful for you. I also thought it would be in your best interest to become well acquainted with these more hidden parts of the home."

This gives you pause, and you stumble on your next step ever so slightly, catching the toe of your right ballet flat against the soft carpet beneath. "Oh?"

With a soft sigh, Taehyung stops and turns to you, and you halt, doing the same. 

"Just in case," he says, regarding you with a hint of a frown. "I don't want to worry you or anything…but I feel like these are secrets you should know because, well, you never know."

The two of you stand facing one another for several quiet seconds, and then you nod and heavy-blink, turning your attention back toward the door. Everything feels so ominous, even simple gestures of kindness, and you attempt to swallow down the fact that this is your reality. 

"Thank you," you mutter quietly, clearing your throat to speak more clearly as you glance at Taehyung once again. "I appreciate it."

Taehyung cracks a smile, then holds his hand out to the door, sing-songing a corny, "Ladies first," and you chuckle, hesitating before reaching for the knob and turning it. It opens to another dark stairwell, and Taehyung steps forward and rubs along the wall before light illuminates the narrow space. You note that the light switches seem to be along the same wall on both ends of the room, just in case the information may one day come in handy.

As you begin to ascend, Taehyung closes the door behind you and steps in line to your right. You make your way further up, closer to your destination, and your heart begins to pound. Faced with the opportunity of seeing Yoongi and Namjoon again has you feeling so many ways, and they all swirl uncomfortably in your gut. You know they are likely not angry with you…but what if they are?

Rather than go straight up, this stairwell stops halfway and curves around, much like a standard building stairwell, only carpeted. At the top of the stairs, Taehyung reaches in front of you and very gently, slowly pulls on a large metal handle. 

He opens the door just as slowly, and you realize that he must be attempting to be as silent as possible. Although you are unable to detect any sound coming from whoever must be meeting in the main hall, you are surprised that Taehyung is going to such great lengths to be silent. 

Or maybe, you consider, he is not doing this because he feels you need to be silent in this moment. Maybe Taehyung is doing this to show you just how silent this door is so that you can store the information for later. Although you certainly feel paranoid for considering the notion, it does make sense that he would both reveal a somewhat secret passage to you and showcase just how secret it may be. 

And you nearly question how secretive a door presumably at the end of a hallway could possibly be, until you step out into a room that is certainly not the hallway, and Taehyung closes a panel of wall that does not look at all like a door. His fingers pass over a section along the very well-concealed crack about chest height and press in. Silently, the door unlatches and pushes forward, and you watch with your mouth hanging agape as he demonstrates opening and closing it. 

The dining room you stand in is the larger of the two. During your tour with Felix and Changbin all that time ago, you never came to this room. It was simply described as the much larger one at the end of the hall.

The scale of this room is rather enormous. It appears as if more than twenty people could sit around the long dark wood table, and the décor is very similar to the smaller room—brown leather-topped chairs with intricately carved patterns, dark wood wainscoting and blood-red wallpaper, with brass sconces and crystal chandeliers. 

You stand in the far corner along the wall containing the entrance, which is mid-way through the room, to the right. The door hangs open, and now you can hear the faint voices of men coming from down the hallway. As you step out, you realize you are at the very end of the hall. Ordinarily, this door is closed, and it is one you had never considered going into, before. 

"Come, now," Taehyung says quietly, toeing out of his shoes and bending to pick them up. 

You do the same and scurry ahead as he begins to make his way toward the large stairwell ahead and to the right. Now that you are in a part of the mansion that feels like home, your nervousness turns to nausea. 

Taehyung is no longer attempting to be silent, and he walks ahead, seemingly blocking you from the view of others as he waves to the men from over the banister of the stairwell and then straightens out. You have no desire to be perceived in any way just yet, so you prance up to the landing on your tiptoes. Listen as you try, you do not hear a familiar voice speaking. 

"Should I join you for the time being?" Taehyung asks as you reach the top, and you turn toward the master suite, swallowing thickly. 

"Yes, please," you mutter, somewhat embarrassed by how small you sound.

A warm, gentle hand rubs over the small of your back, and it is all the encouragement you need to continue forward. Although you cannot confidently guess how the others must feel about you at the present moment, you are at least grateful to have an ally in Taehyung. 

The two of you drop your shoes outside the bedroom door, and you walk ahead into the space that you have come to know as your haven. Floral and musk are light in the air, but you can only detect traces of Yoongi and Namjoon lingering. 

Taehyung walks ahead, straight to the sofa, and he reaches for the remote. It is so casual and domestic that when he turns to you with a soft smile and pats the cushion beside him, a wide, happy grin tugs at the ends of your lips. 

"I heard you like Ghibli films," Taehyung says as you walk over, and as soon as you plop down to his left, he swings his legs up onto the cushion and leans ever so slightly closer. His scent is subdued, but it is the spicy, earthy blend you remember from the night he carried you close to his chest.

"I do," you respond, staring ahead at the black screen of the television while attempting to get your bearings.

"Which have you seen, so far?"

You think back to the private jets, to Yoongi and Namjoon, and also to Jimin. Your lips fall to a frown before you school your expression and wet your lips. 

“Howl's Moving Castle and Spirited Away,” you respond. “And part of Princess Mononoke, but we fell asleep.”

Taehyung shifts beside you excitedly, lifting the remote and clicking through menus as he says, “Princess Mononoke is my favorite.”

This calm, gentle side of Taehyung might just be your favorite. While snarky Taehyung has been entertaining and quite suggestive, mafia Taehyung has been deadly and protective, and doctor Taehyung has been an actual savior to the family and to you so many times, this Taehyung is patient and considerate. This is the same Taehyung who held you gently in his arms to take you to a bath and to check in to make sure you still felt comfortable and safe with everything that had transpired in his sex room. This Taehyung feels like a friend.

"How long will they all be meeting?" you blurt as Taehyung finds the title and presses play. 

He shifts forward to set the remote onto the table and then sits back, placing his hand upright and wiggling his fingers. You take the invitation and slowly lower your hand into his, which he gently caresses with his fingertips. A voiceover introduces the film, but Taehyung does not seem to care about pausing or lowering the volume. 

"Hard to say," he responds softly, eyes on the foggy opening scene. "When I came to get you, they were still pretty deep into their conversation. Things like this can sometimes take all day."

"All day," you mutter unhappily under your breath. Sure, you may worry about seeing Yoongi and Namjoon, but not seeing them fills you with the same amount of angst. 

Taehyung sighs, and rather than continue delicately playing with your hand, he grabs it and twines his fingers between yours. The gesture makes you frown despite how warm your chest becomes. 

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” he says, eyes still on the screen but inattentive. Perhaps this is his way of consoling someone; perhaps, for once, direct eye contact is too much for him. 

You scoff slightly and shrug, looking down at your hands. “I’m not really sure how I’m feeling,” you admit. 

Taehyung shifts beside you, and you turn to look at him. His eyes are wide and caring, and they peer straight into your heart. All at once, you feel shy, and you rip your gaze away, to the wall just below the television as you realize he was likely not avoiding eye contact for his sake but for yours. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly, filling you to the brim with sadness. 

You heavy-blink and attempt not to cry, muttering, “I injured someone I love. What’s there to talk about?”

Taehyung is quick to say, "It was an accident," but not in a way that is placating or defensive. 

"Accident or not," you begin, eyes falling to your entwined hands as you imagine all the ways in which you have caused Yoongi harm with one simple accident. With a sigh, you continue, feeling the tremble that works its way through your words. "What if I had blinded him? Or cut him somewhere life-threatening? I could have caused so much harm, I could have—"

"But you didn't," Taehyung interrupts insistently. "You did none of those things. And dwelling on all the what-ifs is not going to do you any good."

Taehyung is correct, and you are thankful for his calm, assuring presence. "I know," you utter, defeated. 

Sure, it does no good to dwell on all the possibilities, but knowing that does not make it any easier not to. 

"You've been through a lot in these past couple of months," Taehyung speaks over the movie, eyes once again watching as characters move across the screen. You see light, movement, and color, but you do not fully register anything taking place. You are not sure you could if you tried. 

As Taehyung's words settle over you, you scoff, muttering, "That's a fucking understatement."

To your surprise, Taehyung chuckles softly. Barely any sound emits, but you can feel the rise and fall of his shoulders beside you. Although levity is nice, you cannot ignore the glaring truth. 

"Is it always this way?" you ask. 

This is not the first time you have asked a question like this, but you feel the need to, anyway. And when silence hangs between the two of you, speaking volumes louder than anything Taehyung could offer, unease settles deep. 

With a sigh, you close your eyes, feeling tears build. And when you admit aloud, "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this," you feel the grip on your hand loosen and then tighten.

"Do what?" Taehyung asks, although you cannot imagine he requires prompting; Taehyung knows damn well what about this situation you cannot withstand. He has been present for each moment during which your foundation has been forced to crack little by little. 

"All of this," you respond through another sigh. You pull your hand away from Taehyung's and lift your feet to the cushion, wrapping your arms around your shins and resting your forehead in the valley between your knees. 

"I love Yoongi," you mutter into the small space that warms with each of your exhales. "And Namjoon, and to an extent, all of you. But this lifestyle is killing me, and I can't take it anymore."

"Killing you?" Taehyung asks somewhat teasingly, making you crack a smile over your dramatics. 

You lift your head just enough to turn and face him, returning his fond smile with a weak one. "Emotionally, yes. I feel like I am dying."

Taehyung's smile only dips some, but his eyes remain just as bright. "Trauma tends to make us feel heavy or a little numb, but it will all pass."

"I don't want that," you bite back, feeling a burst of annoyance. "I just want to live a normal fucking life. How hard is that?"

This time, when Taehyung laughs, the sound is deep, playful, and perhaps a little mocking. "What the fuck is a normal life?" he asks, sounding just a bit defensive. 

"I don't know," you admit. "Something that does not involve gunfire and hard drugs. I can't keep watching men die. And I can't keep watching as my loved one get injured."

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes drift up and widen. His posture shifts, sitting up only slightly taller, and you hesitate before turning, scared of who you might find. 

"Knock, knock," Namjoon calls, and your heart kicks up hard and fast between your ribs. 

All trepidation you may have felt about seeing him melts, and you throw your legs to the floor and stand-spin with such a start it makes you dizzy. Namjoon stands in the doorway with a loving smile, wearing a black tee tucked into black jeans—surprisingly casual, considering he seems to have come from an important meeting. His hands, which are in his front pockets, slide out, and he lifts his arms high, asking without words for a hug. 

You run over on bare feet and hop up, throwing yourself into Namjoon's chest as your arms wrap around his neck. He bends and holds you in a tight, firm hug, groaning softly against your forehead as he squeezes and releases. 

"Moments away from you always feel like a lifetime," Namjoon utters softly, tugging at your heart and ripping the air from your lungs. You wish he wouldn't say shit like this. 

"I missed you too," is all you can bring yourself to say, and as he releases from the hug, you slide your hands to his chest, gently grip at his shirt, and bury your face against him, breathing in his scent and blocking out the rest of the world. 

The way Namjoon rubs his hands over your shoulders and arms, giving gentle squeezes, feels like gestures of impatience and makes you think he would like you to stop this sorry attempt at an embrace, but you hold on tight and close your eyes even tighter, silently insisting on just a little while longer. 

"Are you watching Princess Mononoke?" Namjoon asks over your head, resting his chin against you. 

"Watching is a strong word," Taehyung responds in the teasing tone you have come to expect but have not heard from him yet today. "Doll was mostly sitting here being sulky."

"Wow!" you respond defensively, finally releasing your hold on Namjoon to turn and glare at your so-called friend who stares back with a wide, playful grin. 

Gently, Namjoon places the side of his finger under your chin and motions for you to turn to him. "There you are," he utters sweetly as you meet his gaze.

Your heart sinks as you take in his sweet, welcoming expression. Namjoon, standing here like this, is the epitome of love, and all you can think about is how badly you need to get away from the lifestyle he is a part of before you have to watch another one of your closest friends get shot. 

Namjoon's smile falters, and he cocks his head so slightly, it is hardly a movement. Anguish rises, and you swallow it down, then make your best attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," you utter weakly, nibbling on the inside of your lip as you attempt to sort out what exactly you want to apologize for this time. "I, uh…I don't feel very good. I don't want to…I'm scared to…"

See Yoongi. 

No matter how many ways you attempt to formulate precisely how you feel, there is no way to finish that sentence, and you close your eyes in time for tears to break. 

How many more times are you going to feel hopeless and sad over Yoongi? How many times will Namjoon have to console the two of you? You are certain that the two of them—that everyone in this family—would be better off if you were not here. Clearly, this lifestyle does not affect them the way it does you, and there will only be so much that they will be able to tolerate until you become more of a burden than you are worth. 

"Don't want to, what?" Namjoon asks gently, hands rubbing from the tops of your shoulders down to your elbows and back up. 

"What if he hates me?" you mutter, tears becoming hot streams pouring down your cheeks. 

Namjoon chuckles, and you frown; now is not the time for him to be making fun of you. But his voice is soft and kind as he asks, "Sweetheart, how many times are we going to have to go over this?"

Although you know his question comes with good intentions, it only makes you feel worse. Because yes, indeed, how many times are the three of you going to have to go over this? How many times is Yoongi's lifestyle going to cause crushing grief and sadness? How many fucking times are you going to have to fear facing him? 

It's not fair. None of this is fair. 

"Yoongi is not upset with you, or with me," Namjoon insists. "So we gave him a little cut, so what? He already has plenty of scars."

"That's not—" the point, you fail to say. "I don't want—how can I look at him knowing I've given him a scar?"

Bile rises, and you feel sick. All you can picture is blood seeping from between Yoongi's fingers, blood splattering against concrete, blood staining all of your hopes and dreams a deep, menacing red. 

Taking two steps back and spinning to rejoin Taehyung on the couch, the blood seems to leave your head, causing you to wobble on your feet and crash back against Namjoon. The room is stilted and tilts to a fro, and you swallow a lump, closing your eyes tight while two warm hands steady you by the arms.

"Sweetheart?" Namjoon asks, but his voice is too distant, and although you know that he is directly behind you, holding onto you, you fear that if you responded, he would be too far away to hear you. 

Firmly, Taehyung says your first name, hand holding your jaw at an upward angle while your limbs sink heavily into the couch. When did you approach the couch?

"I'm gonna…" you mutter, mouth dry and full of cotton, body feeling a million miles away from your head as you feel the urge to faint. You attempt to look around, but light and shadow only trail and smudge uselessly. You feel like you are going to be sick, and you squeeze your eyes closed.

When you open your eyes again, you are lying on the couch, on your back. Your lower legs are propped up by pillows, and a violent shiver rocks through you.

"Ah, here you are," Taehyung says, and you turn to find him sitting on the floor beside you. His kind, disarming smile returns as he says, "You fainted, buttercup. How are you feeling?"

Sweat covers you from head to toe, making you cold and clammy and uncomfortable. "Shitty," you reply. 

"Hmm, yes, fainting takes a toll on the entire body. But at least you are shitty and alert." Taehyung holds up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Your voice is rough as you croak, "Three."

"Very good," Taehyung responds, reaching to give your cheek a tiny pinch, which you attempt to flinch away from. 

It occurs to you only now that you neither see nor hear Namjoon. When you look around for him, Taehyung softly clears his throat, pulling your attention back to find him frowning. 

"They left the room."

"They…" you begin, watching as Taehyung tongues the inside of his mouth.

"Namjoon seems to think you don't want to see Yoongi. And Yoongi…well, he's not too pleased."

"Oh."

Taehyung sits up a little higher on his knees, and in a rare moment of uncertainty, he knits his brow. "What I mean to say is, his feelings were hurt. But he isn't angry."

"No, no," you mutter, rolling onto your side and pulling your knees as high as they can go. "I get it."

"The thing is," Taehyung continues, "Yoongi has to leave town for a little while."

At this, you flinch, attempting to quickly sit up. "Wait, where? For how long?"

"He didn't say."

Although you know Yoongi is not present in this room, you look around and ask, "Has he left already?"

Taehyung frowns once more. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so."

Everything is happening too quickly, and you brace yourself to get your bearings and steady your pounding heart as you slowly stand from the couch onto your feet. Taehyung raises and holds his hands out as an offer to assist, should you need it. 

"You good?" he asks, and although you do not feel a modicum of anything you would consider good, you nod and slowly turn toward the door. 

And then you run. Your feet are sweaty and they slide against the floor, but you push forward as hard as you can, ignoring the whorl of nausea in your guts. Once at the door, you shove at it with all your strength, and when it flies open, revealing Yoongi and Namjoon standing close, muttering sweetly, you gasp; you were not expecting to find the two of them this easily. 

Namjoon stands to the left, gently cradling Yoongi's chin with both hands, and Yoongi stares up at him, hands lifted to Namjoon's sides. In contrast to Namjoon's more casual attire, Yoongi is in his usual black button-up and black slacks. 

You mutter, "Yoo—" and halt in place when he turns his attention to you, smile faltering as his one visible eye holds you in its gaze. 

Although Yoongi's hair is down and wild, you can see the black eyepatch covering his other eye. Above the patch are little black stitches that rise up to his forehead, and you worry you might faint once more. 

"Darling," Yoongi says, dropping his arms from Namjoon's sides to fully face you. 

Namjoon's hands only fall to Yoongi's shoulders, and the look he gives you is indiscernible and a little cold. You feel childish and small standing before them in Hoseok's pajamas, which are a little too big.

"I'm sorry," is all you can say as your right leg twitches in an attempt to continue forward, held back by the full-body weight of your fear. 

"I'm so glad you're awake," Yoongi says as he smiles. The ends of his mouth flinch twice, and you wonder just how forced his smile is. "Taehyung said you fainted."

You hum and nod in quick, shallow movements. All you want to do, in this moment, is run. Run toward Yoongi, but also run far, far away, and never look back—run and run until your lungs threaten to explode. But you stand paralyzed in the doorway of Yoongi's bedroom, staring at the two men who seem intent on keeping their distance.

"Where are you going?" you manage to ask, swallowing a ball of saliva and anxiety. 

Yoongi hesitates, and as Namjoon drops his arms from his shoulders, Yoongi straightens his posture and slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks. 

When was the last time Yoongi has held this much distance? When has Yoongi been this reserved and shut away? You regret not wanting to see him before, and now that he is holding so much space between the two of you, you cannot, for the life of you, move your feet forward. 

"I have important business," Yoongi simply says, licking his lips and saying no more. 

"Ah—are you…will you be gone long?" you try, chest trembling and terrified. 

Yoongi merely shrugs. "Hard to say."

"Oh."

Yoongi stares a moment longer, back tall and straight and hands tucked away. The hair on the left side of his face falls slightly over his eye, encasing the eyepatch in a dark shadow, making him appear far more dangerous than he already is. 

And then, as if a switch is flipped, his shoulders relax, his smile softens, and he pulls his hands from his pockets. You let out a deep, shaky exhale and silently beg him to step toward you. 

"I'll miss you," you try, knitting your brows in desperation. 

Yoongi smiles widely and finally takes a step. "I will miss you, as well," he says as he closes the distance, and all at once, your legs turn to gelatin and wobble beneath you before stepping forward. 

You all but throw yourself into Yoongi's embrace, body sagging and crashing into him as he wraps his arms around you, pinning yours uselessly to your sides. Yoongi's musk is strong and overwhelming, and you nuzzle against his chest and neck, breathing deeply enough to choke on it. 

"I'm sorry," you mutter into him, feeling tears well once more. "I'm so sorry, Yoongi."

Yoongi whispers, "Shhh," as his hands rub over your back, and you lift your hands just enough to let your fingers catch at the fabric around his hips. 

"I'm sorry I have to leave so abruptly," Yoongi says, "but the guys here will take good care of you. I shouldn't be long."

"Please be safe," you beg, horrified of what could happen to him while he is away. 

"I have a team coming along to look after me," Yoongi says. "But I can assure you, I will be fine. I can't say much for now, but I will be meeting with the Hong Kong crew, and we will be working on a deal of sorts so that an attack like that will not happen again."

"A deal? In…in Hong Kong?" 

Yoongi releases the hug and takes a small step back, then lifts one hand to the bottom of your chin. Looking up into his one eye makes your heart squeeze, but even with an eyepatch covering the other, he is the prettiest man alive. 

"Please don't beat yourself up with worry while I'm away," he mutters sweetly. "I'm not upset with you. Had I gotten to that man before you, I would have done far worse to him for hurting one of my best friends. And besides," Yoongi chuckles softly, tilting his head to the side, "this is going to make for an amazing story when Jimin wakes up."

"Stop," you grumble, lifting your hands to shove at Yoongi's sides, but not hard enough to make him do more than sway. 

"You are so brave," Yoongi says, smile widening. "You shot that man right between the eyes. And I know it had to have been traumatic and horrendous, but I'm still proud of you."

As it stands, watching the man who hurt Jimin die by your bullet is so low on the list of traumatic events that play through your mind. Perhaps you have compartmentalized the event, and once the dust settles and Jimin wakes back up, you will begin to fully process the weight of the event. Or, perhaps you are already becoming as numb to being a killer as the rest of the family. 

"Did it hurt?" you ask, feeling the urge to lift the patch and see his wound.

Yoongi shrugs. "Nah, my adrenaline was so high, I didn't feel a thing. I had no idea I was cut until the blood began to cloud my vision."

The thought of Yoongi's beautiful face dripping with blood makes your stomach churn, and you mutter, "Oh my god."

"It only hurt a little while Tae was stitching me up."

"Why the eyepatch?" you ask, despite feeling nervous to know the answer. But you were told that Yoongi's vision had not been altered.

"Taehyung felt that the stitches along my eyebrow and lid would heal faster if my eye remained closed as often as possible."

Again, your stomach tosses. Did he say lid? As in his eyelid?

"Oh."

"And it makes me look cool, right?" Yoongi adds, waggling his one good eye, making you laugh despite how sad the entire situation feels. "Don't worry, darling. I couldn't dream of being upset with you two."

You exhale deeply and wrap your arms around Yoongi's ribs, throwing yourself once more into his chest. Yoongi chuckles deeply and drapes his arms over you, cradling your head and shoulder gently in his large, warm, familiar hands. 

"I won't be gone long," Yoongi insists, pressing a kiss against your temple. "But I will miss you deeply while I am away. So please text me as much as you want to, alright?"

"Alright," you respond, feeling tears build once more. Yoongi insists he will return safely but you fear for the worst; how could you not?

"Seokjin and Hoseok will be coming with me, which leaves Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jeongguk here with you. We have shut down Paradise for the time being, and there will be a strong security detail on the property, but don't feel like you have to stay cooped up inside. The streets of Seoul are safe."

"Hmm," you utter, finding it hard to believe him. But you do not press him. Yoongi said he would reveal more about what deal he has struck once he returns home. 

A single-note ringtone chimes loudly, and Yoongi lets out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

"That's Seokjin," Namjoon says, and you remember that Namjoon has been standing here the entire time, causing guilt to pang within your guts. 

"Time to go," Yoongi mutters sadly against your temple, attempting to pull from the hug, only for you to squeeze tighter. Yoongi chuckles as he adds, "I'll be home before you know it."

"I miss you," you complain, overwhelmed with sadness. You are so sick and fucking tired of crying, but more than that, you are tired of missing Yoongi.

This time, when Yoongi pulls away, you allow it, tilting your head to slot your lips together. Yoongi holds steady against you, kissing slow and sweet and only skirting his tongue across your bottom lip after several long, warm seconds. You sigh, dropping your mouth open, but Yoongi kisses your temple and backs up further, giving your arms a squeeze before releasing you. 

"I love you, darling," he says, and your heart sinks as you all but whisper, "I love you, too."

Yoongi spins on his feet and takes two steps to Namjoon, giving him a chaste kiss and muttering something deep and indiscernible. Namjoon responds with, "Of course, baby," and then Yoongi leaves, taking the steps two at a time without turning back. 

Something feels off, but you are too exhausted to dwell on it, so you turn your attention to the man who is still around, stepping forward and reaching for him. Only Namjoon takes a step back, halting your movements as he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. 

"Sorry," he says, eyes on the floor and not on you. "I just need a moment. I'll be back."

Without another word, Namjoon runs down the stairs, and you watch as he disappears around the banister, toward the front door. Your right arm is slightly lifted, hovering near the empty space Namjoon had just occupied. 

As the seconds tick by, you struggle to fully comprehend what is happening. Clearly, both Yoongi and Namjoon are upset about something, whether that upset is directed at you or not, and they are not doing the best job of convincing you that things are fine. And, truth be told, you do not need everything to be completely fine. But you expect them to be honest with you, or at the very least, to not shut you out. 

Your hand drops to your side, and you spin on the balls of your feet, listlessly allowing your arms to fan out in the motion, making your way back to Yoongi's bedroom. Rather than return to Taehyung and Princess Mononoke, you hang a left toward the large window that overlooks the front driveway. 

Standing forehead to forehead, Namjoon's face is angled just slightly, looking down at Yoongi, whose expression is somewhat unreadable with his eyepatch. He appears to be smiling as they kiss, and the urge to cry increases. You remind yourself that the two of them share a past and that they deserve tender moments without your presence, despite how badly you wish to be included. 

"Everything alright?" Taehyung calls, and you sniffle, blinking away the tears that threaten to break. 

As you turn to face him, you take a deep, fortifying breath and nod, doing your best to smile. Your had been balling your fists inside the long sleeves of the pajama shirt, and you open and close them, wiggling your fingers as if attempting to release tension from your limbs. 

"I guess so," you admit, not fully willing to say yes or no.

"I imagine Namjoon is trying to convince Yoongi that he should go along," Taehyung says. "He always does."

"Ah," you respond; that does make sense.

"The two of them used to be inseparable and now Namjoon seems to get separation anxiety easily."

You begin to return to the couch, feeling somewhat lighter. Of course, Namjoon would want to join Yoongi on whatever this trip is; it sounds like it might be a big deal. "He should go."

Taehyung hums and regards you quietly, then pats the cushion where you had been previously sitting before he returns to watching the movie. With a little more pep in your step, you join him, plopping down on the couch as you sigh and swing your legs up to the left so you can lean your head against his shoulder. 

Although you watch the screen, nothing fully registers. Only Taehyung's warmth and gentle musk hit your senses and linger. Briefly, you even close your eyes. 

Outside, vehicle doors shut, and the metal gate scrapes open. Moments later, two heavy feet stomp up the stairs and into the bedroom. You keep your head on Taehyung's shoulder but open your eyes, watching a confrontation between the two lead characters on screen while Namjoon comes into view in your periphery. 

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, and you shrug, offering a brief smile while you say, "Sure."

Namjoon walks in front of the television, rounding the small wooden table in front of the sofa, then plops down at Taehyung's right. Although you keep your eyes ahead, gaze barely on the actual movie, you can see and feel Taehyung lifting his arm and shifting his legs to accommodate Namjoon curling up to his side. 

"How did I get stuck with the children?" he teases as his left arm gently wraps around your hip. 

You smile, unable to hold back a little chuckle. "Pure luck, obviously."

"What's the other child up to, today?" Namjoon asks. 

Taehyung asks, "Jeongguk?" and Namjoon hums. 

"He's become obsessed with working out again."

"He doesn't wanna join us?" Namjoon asks. 

Taehyung sighs. "He likely will eventually, but I think he's struggling to deal with everything that has happened. With Jimin in a coma and Paradise temporarily closed, he feels directionless. And, of course, he worries about Jimin." Taehyung squeezes your side as he adds, "He also feels guilty for taking his anger out on you that night."

Jeongguk undoubtedly did appear angry, but considering the circumstances, you can hardly say you blame him. You suppose you are willing to accept that Jeongguk may not be upset with you.

"I get it," you mutter, letting your gaze drop to the wall below the television. "I don't think any of us were in our right minds."

Seconds pass, then Taehyung quietly adds, "He will be very happy to know how you feel."

As the three of you sit and watch the film, your eyelids grow heavy, and it takes almost no time at all for you to fall back asleep.

The events of last night play in your mind once more, and as soon as the man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell, you flinch awake, gasping for air. As the room comes into focus, you realize you are lying on the large sofa with Namjoon, who is behind you with his head propped up onto his hand, watching television. You sigh into wakefulness, heavy-blinking and yawning, and Namjoon pauses whatever drama he has put on and gently wraps an arm over your hip. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he says just above your ear, and you groan as you stretch your legs out, then begin to wiggle around until you are facing him. 

Namjoon still wears the black tee, and you reach up and gently trace along the exposed skin of his bicep with your fingertips, playing with the hem of his sleeve. 

"What time is it?" you ask, staring up into Namjoon's warm, dark eyes. 

"Evening," he responds, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. "You knocked out."

"Did Taehyung go home?"

Namjoon nods, humming, "Mmhmm. Christopher wanted to meet with him, and check in on Jeongguk."

"Surprised I slept that long," you grumble, feeling another yawn work its way through your chest. "I keep dreaming about last night."

"Taehyung mentioned he would speak with Christopher about sleep aids. I am always happy to supply Xanax if needed."

Although you are unsure whether you want to create a dependence on Xanax to get you through the night, the prospect of getting restful, dreamless sleep is wonderful. 

"That would be nice," you say, burying your face against Namjoon's chest. 

You half expect Namjoon to continue watching his show, but silence hangs as he settles his head down onto a pillow and wraps both arms around you with the bottom one sliding under your neck. 

"Sorry if I seemed a little cold earlier," Namjoon finally says. "Letting Yoongi leave on his own when we are in the midst of a showdown between both families is just…a lot. I know he's a grown adult and can take care of himself, but I also hate not being able to be there."

Just as Taehyung had said.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Namjoon seems to hesitate and then says, “He asked me to stay with you.”

“Oh.”

“I don't mean to suggest that I don’t want to be here with you,” Namjoon adds quickly, and although you believe him, it is clear that he would rather be by Yoongi’s side. 

“I get it,” you say, feeling no need for Namjoon to explain himself. “But you could have gone with him,” you add, feeling Namjoon stiffen. 

The air feels tense and awkward, but you make no move to give either of you space. Even if Namjoon would rather be comforting Yoongi, you still crave his warmth. 

“I guess what I mean to say,” you continue, “is that I have the others here, too. Of course, nobody compares to you and Yoongi, but if you need to be by his side, I’m happy here with Taehyung and Jeongguk. Don’t feel obligated to babysit me.”

Namjoon scoots back, and you look up to find a somewhat angry, sad expression on his face. "Why would you say it like that?"

Without thinking, you roll your eyes, watching as his eyes go wider before you add, "You know what I meant."

"You think that the only reason I am here is because I feel the need to coddle you?"

Your patience is wearing thin, and despite finally getting a little sleep, you feel far too tired to be bickering with him over something like this. 

"Namjoon—"

"No, don't Namjoon me. I'm not your fucking babysitter, I'm your partner. I'm here with you because I enjoy being with you."

"You're here with me because Yoongi asked you to be," you clarify, speaking from his earlier words. "Which is fine, I don't mind that being the case. But if you're going to be miserable with worry, you may as well have joined him."

Namjoon sighs and begins to pull away entirely in an attempt to sit up. Feeling resolved, you slightly roll away, giving him space to do so. You are not, however, willing to let him walk away before you are done speaking your mind. 

"It's fine if you want to go with him, and I don't understand why you chose not to. You and Yoongi have a history, and I get that. Not everything you do will include me."

Namjoon sits sideways with his legs outstretched because you have not bothered to move in any way that will actually allow him to escape easily. You prop your head up on your hand with your elbow bent against the pillow and watch as Namjoon's expression oscillates from frustrated to contemplative. 

Finally, Namjoon speaks up, voice sounding small as he says, "If you don't want me around, just say so."

At this you huff, drop your hand and head to the pillow, and begin to roll away, letting your leg drape over the edge of the couch before you steady yourself enough to sit up. Namjoon has not moved, and you are in no mood to face him. It feels like anything you say will be bent to suit whatever this emotional streak of Namjoon's is, and you do not have the energy to play along. 

But then petulance rises, and you stare at the dark blue fabric of the sofa beneath you as you say, "I wanted you around last night. And Yoongi. But I was shut out, and now he's gone."

"Sweetheart—" Namjoon begins, and you shove what is left of the cream-colored blanket that covers your legs, eager to get it the fuck off you as you stand and disregard him.

"I don't want to talk anymore," you grumble as you make your way to the ensuite. 

You never bothered to wash your face or tend to your hair after last night, and you decide in this moment that you would like to shower. For all you know, the blood of some unknown dead man could be on you. 

To your surprise, Namjoon says nothing. You don't bother closing the door behind you as you begin to strip from your borrowed black pajamas and find a fluffy white towel which you hang on a hook beside the shower door. Not bothering to close this door either, you walk to the back wall of the shower and turn it on, feeling a cold blast of water that quickly turns scathing hot before you turn the nob and make it a more reasonable hot.

Although your movements are slow, you take care of your hair and wash your body, standing still periodically with your face tilted up to let the water rinse over you. You know that whatever this tiff you have with Namjoon is, you will need to talk about it at some point. You just wish that things could be calm and easy, in the meantime. After last night, you desperately need things to be calm and easy. 

Finally, when you are just about to shut the water off and get out, you hear a belt buckle hitting the tile floor, followed by a quieter sound of a soft garment being dropped alongside it. Your pulse quickens, but you do your best to seem unaffected by Namjoon's presence—at least until you are able to gauge what kind of a mood he is in. 

"Mind if I join you?" Namjoon asks, voice soft and calm—deep.

You turn just enough to find him standing in the doorway nude, and you rove your eyes down past his pecs and tummy—along the curves and scales of his dragon tattoo—to his glorious thighs and the thick cock that hangs heavy between them.

"Be my guest," you respond with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as you turn back to the stream of water.

Namjoon enters and begins to wash his hair. He uses the tangerine shampoo that reminds you of Yoongi, then he slathers a cloth with the same citrus floral soap that also reminds you of Yoongi. You have no reason to linger in the shower, but Namjoon is close, the steam filling the room leaves you a bit dizzy, and you are touch-starved. 

"Baby," you mutter, turning to lean your back against the cool tile wall and get out of the hot stream of water. 

Namjoon is washing his legs, bent in half, and he looks up with wide eyes. There are so many things you want to say and ask for and command, but all that falls from your lips is, "I miss you."

Namjoon cracks a smile, then he bends further to finish washing his ankles and one foot after the other. And then he straightens out, chucks the cloth to the side, and steps forward, into the stream of water, pausing a moment to rinse. 

"I miss you, too," he says with his eyes closed and face tilted up against the stream, rubbing his hands over his hair and causing a waterfall of suds to cascade over him. 

Feeling overcome with emotion and resolved to put whatever transpired earlier behind you, for the sake of your sanity if nothing more, you reach out toward Namjoon, who is close enough that you are able to graze your fingertips over his tummy. 

"Let's just…not argue, okay?" you practically plead. "We've both been through a lot. We need each other."

Namjoon continues to rinse off a moment longer, then he steps through the stream and looms over you, dripping wet with a blazing fire in his dark eyes. His voice is deep and insistent as he says, "You have me, sweetheart."

"Dizzy," you mutter, reaching to trace your fingertips listlessly over his skin. "Let's get out."

Namjoon nods and shuts the water off, then he leans in close and presses his body against yours, capturing your lips with his. When was the last time you and Namjoon kissed? It feels like a lifetime ago, despite it probably only being last night, and you sigh into the feeling, overcome with a surge of affection. 

His movements are languid and firm, pressing and claiming but in no hurry. You grab Namjoon's ribs with both palms and gently squeeze at his skin and muscle, rubbing slowly, allowing your eyes to flutter closed. 

As soon as all you see is darkness, the images return in quick, nauseating succession. A man's head explodes from Hoseok's shotgun shell and another from your bullets, turning into red and brown and greyish-pink mush against concrete. Blood seeps from between Yoongi's fingers, and you gasp, opening your eyes and mouth wide as your hands hover at Namjoon's sides. 

"Sweetheart—"

"I'm sorry," you sob, hot tears pouring from your eyes as the black and gold bathroom returns to view and Namjoon's dripping wet honey skin greets you. "I can't—every time I close my eyes, I see—I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Namjoon whispers, wrapping his arms around your head and shoulders and pulling you close, engulfing you in wet warmth. "It's okay, don't apologize."

"I feel like I'm going insane. I can't keep reliving this."

"Want me to call Christopher?"

You nod as you sob, holding Namjoon close and doing your best to keep your eyes open. 

"Let's get out of here and put some clean clothes on."

Namjoon's hands slowly caress over your back and shoulders, and you allow yourself to breathe into the feeling and relax. You have tensed up so much that your shoulders are raised high, and you inhale deeply, attempting to calm your nerves and work up the energy to leave the bathroom. 

"Okay," you finally breathe, sniffling and taking deep, slow breaths. "Yeah, let's go."

Slowly, steadily, you are able to leave the shower with one of Namjoon's arms holding firmly around your waist. He towels you off, kneeling on the rug and tile floor, making sure to get every last drop, and then he wraps his clean towel over your shoulders and uses yours to very quickly dry himself. 

His phone is sitting on the countertop beside the sink, and he picks it up, thumbs around for a moment, and then takes your hand to lead you out into the bedroom and into Yoongi's closet. By the time the two of you are dressed, the doorbell rings. 

"I'm going to go answer that," Namjoon says, turning his body fully toward you and taking your hands in his. His thumbs rub over your knuckles, and although you mostly feel emotionally drained, his touch is nice. "Do you want to meet on the couch in here, or the one downstairs?"

"In here," you respond automatically, disinterested in fussing with the stairs or sitting in the huge, empty main hall of Yoongi's home.

"Alright," Namjoon says. "Go have a seat and we'll be right back." 

The world tilts ever so slightly as you move from the closet to the couch. The cream-colored blanket hangs halfway to the floor, and you bend to lift it and drape it over your legs, holding it close to your chest once you sit. Perhaps this is an unprofessional way to meet with the family psychiatrist, but you care more about your comfort than his, if you are being honest. 

Moments later, a man dressed in family blacks enters the room with a bow, greeting you warmly. Although Namjoon enters with him, he leaves almost instantly, insisting that he will be right outside if anyone needs him. 

You feel nervous to talk to Christopher, but he has a kind smile and soft giggle, and he speaks with an accented lilt that reminds you of Felix, instantly easing you into conversation. And even though you are nervous about this process and what it may entail, you do your best, if only for the sake of getting some goddamn sleeping pills. 

Kitten: Landed in Hong Kong. How is my darling?

You: I miss you a lot. It feels like I hardly saw you before you left. 

Kitten: I know, and I'm sorry for that. But I will be home in a few days.

You: I look forward to it. I spoke to Christopher earlier and he recommended an antidepressant to help me sleep.

Kitten: Have you been having nightmares?

You: Yeah, he says it's PTSD. It's been really bad. Even when I close my eyes while fully awake, I see flashes of what happened. I just want to stop remembering. 

Kitten: I know what you mean. I'm glad you are taking healthier steps toward blocking those memories than I have, in the past. 

You: Yeah, well, I have Namjoon's Xanax supply on standby, just in case. 

Kitten: Good, good. Is Namjoon there? I want to give him a call. I would like to hear your voice, too.

You: He's here, watching over my shoulder like a needy little hawk. Please call before he drives me insane. 

Kitten: :] Will do, darling. Just give me a few minutes. 

You are in Seungri's penthouse once again, only as soon as you get into his bedroom with the glass of whiskey in hand, it is Yoongi who slaps you across the face and commands you to get undressed. 

Your empty hand twitches above your thigh, itching to grab for the switchblade, and Yoongi's hand lingers over your cheek, thumb pulling down on your lip. 

“Have I said something to anger you?” you ask, and Yoongi laughs as he drops his hand to his side. 

“You no longer fear me,” he drawls as he turns back to his drink and grabs onto the glass with his lithe, pretty fingers, repeating the words Seungri once said. “Used to be I could put a little scare into you, but now you stand your ground. I like that about you.”

Yoongi skips all the chit-chat that Seungri usually dives into and instead downs his drink and begins to undress. His scars shine brightly when hit by the golden light of the room—his bedroom—and you undress without removing the blade from your thigh or trying to conceal it at all. 

“What a pretty girl,” Yoongi mutters as he approaches.

You step aside and pat the bed—Yoongi's bed—with your hand, purring, “Hop up, sir.”

Yoongi is hard and leaking, cock pointing to the heavens as he settles against his black and gold comforter, and you get up onto the bed and seat yourself in one swift movement, pressing him so deep into you that a shiver works its way along your spine. 

Slowly, you rock your hips, reaching with both hands to drag your fingertips over the scars closest to his heart. "Pretty," you moan as your blunt fingernails turn sharp as talons and catch on the raised skin. 

Then, in a flash, you reach up and slash over Yoongi's eye, quick as a serpent and sharp as glass. Yoongi groans and writhes beneath you, and you—somehow holding your switchblade—continue to fuck him hard and fast while you press the tip of the blade deep into his skin and drag it down over his eyelid, to the apple of his pretty cheek. 

"Mine," you snarl like a beast, thumbing over the pooled blood and smearing it over his face, watching as it mats in his hair. "Forever mine."

You wake up gasping, covered in sweat and stuck in place under warm, heavy limbs. It is still dark outside, and as you pant and attempt to sit up, Namjoon groans and slowly twists away, removing the weight that holds you down. 

"Fuck," you mutter, frustrated. You had taken one of the pills Christopher prescribed and it made you somewhat loopy and very tired—a promising prospect, at the time. 

Namjoon lifts an arm and points to the bedside table to your left, grumbling something incomprehensible before his breathing returns to light snores, and you turn to find two boxes sitting next to a tall glass of water. First, you grab your box of medication and put it back. Then you grab the other, made out to Namjoon, and you pull out a packet and rip it open, freeing one large white pill and gulping it down with a mouthful of water. 

Rather than lying back down to sleep, you roll back toward Namjoon and begin to shimmy down into the sheet, yanking his legs to spread and crawling between them. You can still feel Yoongi inside you from the dream, and you want Namjoon in your mouth now, before you lose your mind. 

Namjoon hums and yawns as you paw at his semi-soft cock, and once he cracks an eye open and moans his consent, you yank his briefs away and swallow him down into your throat, eagerly sucking and stretching your lips, moaning and humming as he trembles and groans beneath you. 

With eager hands, Namjoon yanks at your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside before gripping at your shoulders and arms in what feels like an attempt to get you to stop sucking his cock.

"Fuck me," he begs, and you do as you are told, grinning with drool-slick lips as you crawl and crash into him, needing to be held up while you angle his tip just right and begin to fuck yourself on him. 

The stretch is so intense, you shiver and fall forward, palms sliding against his sweat-slicked chest and gripping onto the pillow beside his head. Namjoon takes your hips in both hands and begins to fuck upward, holding you in place to use as you bob and moan like a marionette built only for pleasure. 

Namjoon changes positions and holds you tight, fucking you from behind while you lie half on your back and half on your side. By the time you cum, you are dizzy and sinking deep into a drug-induced fog, lulled by the feeling of lips and warm breath against your neck. 

"Don't stop," you mutter as you slip from consciousness, just as eager for Namjoon to cum but unable to hold on and see to it that he does. Although you think his movements have halted and he has repositioned you to rest against his chest, you could also be imagining it as everything fades to black. 

"I wonder how Jeongguk is doing," you mutter, holding your steaming cup of tea to your lips and staring out the bedroom's back window. Namjoon has purchased two new chairs that match the couch because last night, you said you wanted to be able to look out at the gardens.

"Ask him," Namjoon responds somewhat flatly. 

When you look at Namjoon, his brow is knit, and he stares out the window as if he is looking at nothing. He spaces out like this from time to time, and although you are curious about what is on his mind, you feel a bit too disconnected to ask. The antidepressants work wonders for your anxiety and post-traumatic stress symptoms, but they are also anti many other things, including happiness and concern. Christopher insists you need a few weeks to a month to adjust. 

"Fine," you respond with a sigh, disinterested in talking to Namjoon if he is going to be so short with you. 

You pick up your phone, which you keep nearby at all times in case Yoongi reaches out, and you dial Jeongguk's number. The last time the two of you spoke was the night you sliced your boyfriend's pretty face open, and although you are somewhat nervous to hear his voice, you try not to overthink it. 

Jeongguk picks up on the second ring, and you can hear him panting as he says, "Doll. Hey."

"Hi," you respond, swallowing thickly. Suddenly, your mouth feels really dry. "Am I interrupting anything?"

There is a pause, and you hear the bubbling sound of him drinking from a water bottle, followed by a low Ahhh. "Nah, just working out. But I could take a break. Do you need something?"

"No," you clear your throat and sit up, repositioning your legs on the large blue chair. To your right, Namjoon sighs and gets up. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. We haven't spoken since the—"

"Right," Jeongguk interrupts, voice low and rough. "Listen, I'm sorry for—"

Disinterested in apologies, you mutter, "No, it's fine. I get it."

Silence hangs. You want to see Jeongguk again. You want to ask him to come over, maybe ask whether he would like to take a walk through the garden or drive into town for some ice cream. You miss his smell and the way his eyes brighten up like tiny galaxies when he smiles nice and big.

"Do you—" you begin just as Jeongguk says, "Hey, so, I was thinking—" and you both stop, chuckling and waiting for the other to speak. 

"Go ahead," you urge him. 

Jeongguk hesitates, then says, "I don't even know. If I finish that sentence, I will probably regret it the moment the words come out of my mouth."

You glance over your shoulder when you hear the sound of a belt being buckled and find Namjoon getting dressed in blue jeans and a tan sweatshirt near the closet. He keeps his eyes down as he shoves his hands into his pockets, and does not say a word as he turns and leaves the room. 

"Just tell me," you respond, eyes on Namjoon's retreating form. 

"I was going to say that I think we should spend some time apart," Jeongguk says, voice sounding somewhat sad.

Your chest clenches, and you feel the air sucked from your lungs, returning your gaze to the window. "Oh."

"But even as I say it, I don't believe it. I would sprint over and see you right now if you asked me to. I miss you all the time."

This makes you feel shy, and you nibble your lip. "It's only been a couple days."

"A couple of really shitty days," Jeongguk responds, to which you scoff. "This isn't a conversation to have over the phone, but, I don't know, I guess I just wanted to say what you did when Jimin was injured…it was pretty incredible. And mildly horrifying. And really fucking sexy. All accidents aside."

This makes you laugh, and you stare out the window, at the familiar statues, fountains, and trees. You think about how easy it would be for Jeongguk to come see you, and you almost beg him to. 

"I miss you too," you finally say, feeling a lightness in your chest that hasn't been there for days. "I wasn't planning on telling you that, because I didn't want to inflate your ego, but that is the reason I called."

"Come see me tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks, voice high and hopeful.

"What happened to spending time apart?" you tease.

Jeongguk chuckles. "I told you my conviction is shit. I fucking miss you, alright. Don't make me say it again."

You would love to see Jeongguk. "Alright. Any particular time?"

"Nah," he responds easily. "Whenever you feel like it."

"Okay."

The deep, sultry tone you know all too well returns when he says, "Wear something slutty," and your cheeks warm instantly. 

"Jeon Jeongguk!"

"Come on, doll. It's been almost a fucking week. I need that pussy."

How easily Jeongguk cycles through his moods gives you whiplash, and you shake your head, chuckling quietly. "Forget I said I miss you. I take it all back."

"Nah," he teases, "you miss me."

With a sigh and a smile, you mutter, "Thank you," feeling a fuzzy warmth in your chest. 

You think you hear Jeongguk scoff. "For what?"

Namjoon comes into view outside, walking along the rightmost garden path. His steps are slow and meandering, legs swinging and kicking at gravel, and his left hand is in his jeans pocket while he holds his phone to his ear with his right hand. 

"For making me smile," you respond, feeling a sadness that is hard to pinpoint as you watch Namjoon. "It hasn't been easy."

"Namjoon hyung not keeping you company?"

Namjoon turns to the left and crouches down in front of a rosebush, tilting his head and smiling as he speaks into the phone. It is a smile that reaches his eyes and, even from afar, the prettiest you have seen in days. 

"Nah," you sigh. "Namjoon's in his emo era. I think he regrets staying with me while Yoongi is away."

"Don't put it that way," Jeongguk interjects, and you are quick to say, "I get it. It's fine. I can't have the same history they do, especially not overnight. But it's hard, you know? We both have this gaping wound from missing the same person—worrying over the same person. And instead of turning to one another for peace, we're growing sick of each other."

"There is no way in hell the Kim Namjoon I know is sick of you; he loves the shit out of you. But the love he has for Yoongi is going to be a little different. I have definitely seen the way he shuts down when forced to worry from a distance."

You hum, watching as Namjoon glances up to the window. Although you have no idea whether he can see you, you stare back, hoping that he can. And then his eyes squeeze closed as he laughs and spins on his heels, making his way toward the hedge maze. 

"I miss him and I spend every day at his side."

Jeongguk hums. "I'm sure he misses you, too."

"I started medication, too," you continue, rambling somewhat because it is nice to have someone to talk to. "And it's been great to stop feeling so anxious all the time, but I also feel kind of numb."

"How's your sex drive?"

You scoff, shaking your head. "God, why is that your first concern?"

Jeongguk laughs. "Look, I've heard that it can be a side effect!"

"You're so fucking annoying."

"Well?"

"I don't know," you respond somewhat petulantly. "I guess I have an okay sex drive, but it's hard to gauge when the person I would be having sex with is being so distant."

"Fair. Well, we'll have to test it tomorrow if you're up for it."

Another scoff rocks through your chest, and you shake your head at his audacity. "Fine. If I'm up for it, we'll test it."

"Good."

With a sigh, you decide you have nothing more to talk about. You still don't really know Jeongguk very well in terms of his hobbies or interests, and you have no clue what else you could discuss casually as friends. "I'm going to let you go. Maybe I'll see what my emo Joon is doing in the garden."

"Sounds good," Jeongguk says. "Call me whenever you're up for it, and come by tomorrow if you want to."

"Okay," you smile, biting your lip. "I will."

You: I took a nap today and dreamt Namjoon became a forest sprite, and that he lived in a big, sturdy tree. These medications make my dreams super vivid and strange. 

Kitten: That sounds like our Namjoon! :] What about the nightmares? Are they helping with that?

You: For the most part. But sometimes one sneaks in.

Kitten:  Well, I'm glad you are finding at least a little relief, darling.

You: Talk soon? I miss your voice.

Kitten: I'll call tonight. 

Namjoon gives up trying to get you to do anything for the rest of the night, frustrated by how intent you are on keeping your phone clenched in your hand with the ringer turned high. You check the screen periodically to see what time it is, and eventually fall asleep on the couch, clutching your phone to your chest, waiting for Yoongi to call. 

When the morning comes, you wake up and check your phone, feeling an instant surge of sadness from the lack of notification. All you want is to hear his voice for five minutes, but you are afraid to initiate a call in case he is busy. You're afraid of getting in the way or being annoying. So you wait. 

You: You never called. :( I hope to hear from you today, if you have time.

"You should try to eat something."

Slowly, your eyes blink from your phone to the bowl of fruit in front of you, to Namjoon. He sits across from you on the bed cross-legged with a wooden tray of breakfast foods between you. You hardly remember him bringing it into the room or sitting in front of it, and you really have no appetite, but you lift a cube of watermelon to your mouth just to appease him. 

"Not hungry," you mutter as you wrap your lips around the fruit and bite. It is far too sweet, but it is also refreshing, so you chew and swallow, then reach for another. 

Namjoon sighs, making you feel inexplicably worse. "Is it the medication?"

With a shrug, you stare ahead at the various cubes of melon and the plain omelet that has undoubtedly gone cold. "I guess. It's everything."

"Yoongi?"

You hum. "And you. You're distant. It sucks."

"I know," Namjoon responds somberly. "But so are you."

"Yeah."

Slowly, you lift a piece of melon to your mouth, stopping as your phone dings.

Kitten: Sorry, darling. Been busy. Talk soon! 

With a frown, you pop the fruit into your mouth, slowly chewing as you type your response.

You:  Are you coming home soon?

Then you fall back onto the mattress with your legs bent and feet planted. You should probably let Jeongguk know that you aren't in the mood to hang out today. 

You: Namjoon says the meetings are going well and that the deal is looking good. I hope this means you'll be coming home soon. 

More than a few days pass in a fog. The medication has you feeling so disoriented some days, that all you do is sleep. And when you sleep you dream. 

Sometimes, you are in a library, but it bends and twists and becomes shaped like the many mansions you have spent time in over the years. Men who have used and harmed you in the past are there, always attempting to win you back and claim you for themselves, always chasing you through rows and rows of bookshelves, and you are always searching desperately for Yoongi. 

The worst dream that comes is one wherein Yoongi is dead. News breaks that his body has washed up in the Han, and before he can even be buried, Ryujin and Hyungseo are at the front door surrounded by men strapped with guns, pulling heavy suitcases behind them, moving their things into the master bedroom and throwing your belongings out the windows. 

But at least you no longer dream about the night Jimin was shot. You no longer watch Yoongi bleed. At least you can be thankful for a little reprieve. If only Yoongi would answer your messages, maybe you would stop worrying so fucking much about him. Maybe you would stop searching endlessly for him.

You barely register Namjoon's face buried between your thighs as you stare at the ceiling, feeling the Xanax sink in deep. Tonight, you want dreamless sleep for a change. You just want to forget about Yoongi, and about everything else. 

Namjoon's tongue is skilled and brilliant, but it does not make you cum. You warned him going into this that there was a chance it wouldn't happen, and he happily agreed to try, anyway. As you stare up at the dark ceiling, the vastness of the bedroom feels suffocating. It is too big for three people, much less two. It is especially far too big to be in when you are already feeling lonely. 

"Baby, I don't think I'm gonna cum," you groan, reaching for his head and gripping gently with your fingers. 

Namjoon's lips and tongue slow and then stop, sucking loudly at your clit and labia before letting you go with a wet smack. 

"It's alright," he insists. "Just wanted to try."

Without another word, Namjoon shuffles out from between your legs and lies beside you, turning to face away. You sigh, curve toward Namjoon's back, and grip your pillow tight beneath your head, eager for sleep. 

Sitting on the large blue chair by the window, you stare at your phone, trying to decide whether today is the day you finally see your friend. There is no reason to hesitate to call him, and yet, you do. 

"I should see what Jeongguk is up to," you mutter, mostly to yourself. 

Namjoon sighs and snaps the book in his hands shut, then he turns to you with a frown. "All you do is talk about him, so just go see him, already."

His candor surprises you, and you exhale deeply, feeling a heavy weight pressing on your shoulders. "Are you mad that I want to see him?"

"No. I'm just tired of hearing about it."

He definitely sounds mad. 

"Okay," you respond, disappointed. "I won't talk about it anymore."

As you get up from the chair and walk away from the large window and the sunshine it allows in, you have half a mind to go into your room and change into something pretty to go frolic in the gardens by yourself. It has been far too long since you have left the house. 

So you pad out into the mezzanine, doing your best to ignore how huge and quiet and empty the mansion feels, and you make your way to your bedroom. 

Although it is not your intention, you shove the door closed, slamming it rather loudly. Then you spin on the balls of your feet, walk over to the bed, and fling yourself down onto the yellow and white comforter, deciding a nap sounds good. 

You wake up to the sounds of car doors closing outside and the front door opening and shutting, muttering, "Yoongi!" to yourself. 

Unsure how or when you managed to get into bed in the master suite, you toss aside your concern and the black and gold comforter and roll out of bed, feet hitting the soft, light blue rug. Although you are in a regrettable state, unsure when you last showered because you can barely keep your days straight anymore, you are undeterred as you run through the master suite, out into the mezzanine, and down the stairs, bare feet slapping against cold marble. 

As you fling yourself around the banister and continue toward the main hall, all you see are Namjoon and Seokjin standing in the entrance, and you halt, body swaying forward before tensing. 

"Yoongi?" you ask, unable to form a single other coherent thought. 

Seokjin smiles sadly and approaches with his hands in his black slack pockets, and you feel nausea hit your guts like a brick. "Can we have a word?" he asks, holding his arm out, hand extended toward the back door. 

You glance over your shoulder, feeling uncertain; does he mean to go out by the pool?

"S-sure," you say, willing your feet to move but finding you are unable to as your gaze finds Namjoon, dressed once more in blue jeans and a soft sweater, typing into his phone with a frown. 

"Yoongi decided he needed to stay put a little while longer," Seokjin says lowly, still holding his hand out. "Mind if we step outside?"

"Outside," you mutter, nodding your head robotically as you turn and face the back doors. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

Seokjin takes the lead and approaches the sliding glass door, unlocking it and pulling it open. It is strange to enter the pool area with it empty of an employee, and you step out onto the rough gunite and pad over to the nearest pool beds. 

The sun is bright, the birds are chirping, and you feel extremely on edge, finding that every minuscule sight and sound has your shoulders lifting higher and higher toward your ears. So when Seokjin sits before you, pulls a flask from his breast pocket, and hands it over, you quickly take it, drinking from it without bothering to ask what is inside and wincing slightly as bitter, semi-sweet whiskey hits your tongue.

You sigh through the intense flavor as you hand the flask back, asking, "Why didn't he come home?"

Seokjin takes a slow swig and says, "That is a question I am not quite sure I have an answer to. I can only surmise the reason based on the behavior I witnessed him exhibiting during our stay."

"Which is…?" you attempt to lead Seokjin to tell you before you lose your cool. Seokjin is far too calm, sitting in his standard black uniform with his outgrown, dark hair pulled delicately off his forehead. 

"Which is that he began quite optimistic, daresay, happy at times, only to self-isolate and become very quiet. We were meant to leave days ago, but he kept stating he wanted to stay and 'figure it out,' whatever that meant. When I decided I could no longer stay, he wished me farewell and refused to explain what was on his mind."

"And the deal?" 

Seokjin stares for a moment, then leans forward, offering you the flask, which you take. "Has he told you anything about it?"

You shake your head, lifting the flask toward your lips, pausing to say, "He said he would tell me about it when he came back."

"Hmm, well, then I suppose I can tell you that the meeting went well."

The whiskey is not entirely unwelcoming, but the headiness is somewhat overwhelming. You hand the flask back to Seokjin, waiting for him to continue. He takes a swig and holds the flask in his grasp, resting his hands against his thigh. 

"Hyungseo has agreed to a truce, and her group will no longer be bothering any of us. Ryujin has also agreed to the truce, since it is still largely her family in charge, even if she has allowed Hyungseo to take over. As far as the details, well…I would rather let Yoongi explain."

Although this is good news, you feel strange about what Seokjin is telling you. Were Hyungseo and Ryujin in Hong Kong, as well? Could they still be there? When you blurt the questions out, Seokjin snickers and shakes his head. 

"The ladies were present for our discussion, but, as far as I know, they both returned home days ago."

You wonder if that could be the reason for Yoongi's sour mood. Perhaps seeing Ryujin still affects him. The prospect makes you feel sick. 

"I feel like there is a lot of context I am missing here," you grumble.

"There is," Seokjin responds simply. Then he sits forward, resting his wrists against his knees. "You know, the offer to work for them in Busan stands. In fact, you could be a huge asset for us, since we need someone there making sure they aren't conspiring in spite of our agreement."

"I…don't know," you say. 

"Well, give it some thought," Seokjin responds in a chipper tone, taking one more sip from his flask and holding it out for you. 

You shake your head and hold your hand up, muttering, "Thanks."

"Seems you could use a bit of a vacation, if I may be so bold as to say so. Six months on the coast might do you some good."

"Just getting accustomed to new medications," you grumble, unsure why you bother telling him any of this, in the first place. 

Seokjin hums. "Yes, that process can be a bit disorienting. Try to remember to drink water and eat, even if it suppresses your appetite. We don't need you withering away."

You nod listlessly, barely listening to Seokjin, asking, "Do you think he's coming home soon?" before you can stop yourself. 

"Likely," Seokjin responds with a sigh as he stands. "It's hard to say with Yoongi. Once he gets in his head, there is no telling when he will come out."

"And if he doesn't?"

The sun is bright behind Seokjin when you look up at him, and you lift your hand to block the rays from your eyes, squinting. 

"If he doesn't come home, then perhaps you and Namjoon will have to go and get him."

If there is anyone in this family willing to get onto a plane and head for Hong Kong at a moment's notice, you are sure it is Namjoon. "Okay," you mutter, dropping your hand and your gaze, feeling tired and a bit empty. 

"Take care little wolf cub," Seokjin says as he turns to return inside, and you nod listlessly as you shift around on the pool bed and curl in on yourself, chasing the urge to sleep.

Tonight, even the Xanax does nothing to keep your nightmares at bay, and when you wake up screaming from the sight of the man's head exploding, you find the bed empty, causing your pulse to spike. 

You glance around, find the room empty, and then reach for your phone. Your heart sinks when you see a notification from Namjoon and none from Yoongi, and you heavy-blink, thumbing over your bright screen to open and read the text.

Joonbug: Sorry if you wake up and I'm not there. I'm having a hard time sleeping and didn't want to keep you up, so I walked home. I'll be back in the morning. <3 Call me if you need anything.

Truthfully, you find it hard to blame Namjoon. Twice, you startled him with your screaming, and he has been complaining lately about struggling to fall asleep and stay asleep. Plus, he has been seeking a lot more alone time. 

You: Woke up screaming again, so you made the right call by leaving. 

You half expect Namjoon to already be asleep, noticing it is just before two in the morning. So when he begins to type, you are surprised. 

Joonbug: Shit, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Want me to come back?

On one hand, you think it would be nice to have someone around. But on the other hand, you are not sure it is Namjoon's attention that you crave. Although you love him dearly, the two of you seem to be on different planes of existence lately. Ships passing quietly in the night, both emotionally and physically. Spending too much time together right now might do more harm than good. 

First, you dial Yoongi. Hearing his voice would do wonders for your emotional state, and he is the first person you want to talk to about what has been on your mind. But the phone rings and rings, and eventually goes to voicemail. "This is Min," the somewhat robotic tone of your boyfriend's voice says—disconnected and not meant solely for you the way you need his voice to sound. "Leave a message."

You hang up and hover your thumbs over your screen, attempting to gather your thoughts. Yoongi is unreachable, and Namjoon is distant, but perhaps Jeongguk is free. 

Jeongguk answers on the third ring, "Hey, doll? Late night booty call?" 

You graze your teeth over your lip, laughing as you say, "Maybe. Would you be into that?"

A scoff followed by, "Fuck yes I would be!" makes you smile widely. Then he adds, "Lemme just run it by Tae, alright?"

"Of course," you respond, realizing you should probably also discuss it with Namjoon. "Otherwise, we could just…I don't know…get fucked up? Even Xanax isn't cutting these nightmares and I just wanna get out of my head for a while."

"I can definitely help you with that," Jeongguk responds happily. "Lemme text you in just a minute, okay? After I speak with Tae?"

"Sounds good."

Jeongguk hangs up, and you smile to yourself, opening your neglected conversation with Namjoon. 

You: Actually, I was thinking about finally hanging out with Jeongguk. Kinda just want to get drunk, maybe get a little high. I need to get out of my head. As long as you don't mind.

Joonbug: Understandable. I hope you don't think you have to ask me for permission. I definitely want you to feel free to go spend time with him and have some fun. 

You: If things get a little heated, though…are you okay with that?

Joonbug: If what you need right now is to fuck Jeongguk, I fully support that.

You: Thanks, Joonbug. <3 I love you!

Joonbug: I love you too, sweetheart.

Gguk: Tae is down with whatever we feel like doing. Come to mine? Do you remember how?

You: Joon gave me his blessing, too. :) I think I remember.

Gguk: On second thought, stay put, and I'll come get you. It's dark out. 

You: Sounds good. I'll put on something slutty in the meantime. 

Gguk: Oh, fuck yeah! Be there soon!

Thankful that you had the energy to shower before your several failed attempts at sleeping earlier, you jump out of bed and run to your bedroom. Hanging amongst the sundresses is a little black satin slip dress with spaghetti straps and lace along the edges, and you peel off Namjoon's oversized dark grey tee and toss it to the floor. 

The dress fits snugly, squeezing your breasts and waist, creating inviting curves and cleavage, and you opt not to wear any panties underneath as you marvel at the high slit up your right thigh. 

You apply a little eye makeup, both because it feels like it has been a lifetime since you have looked in the mirror and liked what you have seen, but also because you like the thought of it streaking down your face later, should Jeongguk find some delicious reason to make you cry.

Once you are satisfied, you begin to make your way out to the mezzanine, and you are surprised to find Jeongguk standing at the foot of the stairs; you didn't hear him come in. 

"Jeongguk," you mutter, feeling your heart pound as his lips pull into a hungry grin. He wears a white tee and black basketball shorts, and his short dark hair is unstyled and a little disheveled. You stare at him, unsure whether he is real. How long has it been since the two of you crossed paths? Far too long. 

"Dollface," Jeongguk groans, toying with his lip ring in his teeth. "God damn you look amazing."

As you reach for the railing and begin down the cold marble stairs, you feel a slight tremble in your limbs. Jeongguk watches you like a predator eyeing his prey, and you have forgotten what it feels like to be caught in a stare this hungry. 

"How do you feel about doing some molly?" he asks when you are halfway downstairs, and you hesitate, cocking your head to the side. 

"I don't know. What does it feel like?"

"Euphoric. Calming. Mixed with coke, it'll really wake you up and make you feel alive."

That does sound good, and you smile. "Alright. I'm down."

"I was thinking we could break into the pool bar and chase it down with some champagne, then walk over to my place?"

"Alright," you respond as you reach the last step, standing at eye level with him. 

Jeongguk reaches for your thighs, rubbing his hand up the sides, and you wiggle away in part because his gentle touch tickles, but also to keep him from discovering that you are not wearing any panties. If he finds out this early on, the two of you will never make it back to his place, and you are curious to see how he lives. 

As you side-step and scurry down to the landing, Jeongguk complains but obliges, turning on slippered feet and walking ahead to deal with the glass door. You are barefoot, and you tiptoe on the rough ground as Jeongguk makes his way to the bar and opens a mini fridge. 

"Bingo," he sing-songs, holding up two bottles of champagne with a wide grin, as if the task took any effort at all. Still, you clap excitedly for him as he rounds the bar with both bottles in hand. 

"I bet this dress would look great soaking wet," Jeongguk says, eyeing you once more like a ravenous beast while making his way to the nearest table. 

He plops down sideways on one of the pool beds and sets the bottles down, then pats his leg for you to join him. You make your way over and sit gingerly on his knee, keeping your legs closed and avoiding the urge to straddle him while he works one of the bottle corks open. 

"Let's keep the dress dry, for now," you bargain, reaching up to rub your fingertips along the undercut just above his ear.

Jeongguk bites his bottom lip while pulling out the cork, and when it comes loose with a loud pop, he opens his mouth wide, then grins. With one hand, he holds up the bottle and fishes into his pocket with the other. Then he pulls out a little clear baggie with six tiny capsules full of purple dust. 

"They're pretty small portions, so you can get a feel for it," he says as he hands the baggie to you and you begin to work its tiny plastic zipper open. "If it feels good and you want more, we can take more."

"Okay," you mutter somewhat nervously as you reach out and take a tiny capsule in your fingertips. 

"Ahhh," Jeongguk exclaims, and you look up to find his mouth open wide and tongue hanging open. 

Although you know he is asking for a pill, you lean in close and lick the length of his tongue nice and slow, marveling at the way his taste buds feel. Then you lift the pill and place it right in the center, watching as he seems to struggle to comprehend what just happened. 

With a giggle, you say, "Go on…swallow like a good boy," and Jeongguk takes a long swig from the champagne and then fixes you with a curious gaze. 

"Your turn, beautiful," Jeongguk says, making your cheeks blaze. "Be good for me and swallow. Or are you more of a spitter?"

Jeongguk's predictability is a perfect match for how corny he is, but although you roll your eyes, you lean close and ask, "Aren't you eager to find out?"

"Of course I am," he mutters, a hairswidth from your lips, and you turn your head just far enough to the side to pop one of the molly capsules onto your tongue. 

Jeongguk lifts the champagne and says, "Open for me, doll," and you tilt your head and part your lips, nervous but excited for him to pour champagne into your mouth. 

You expect him to make a mess, so when it spills over past your lips, you simply swallow what has been poured into your mouth and roll with it. Jeongguk licks from your chin to the crease of your lips, making an even wetter mess than the dribbled champagne, and you giggle as you attempt to stand from his lap, only to be held in place. 

"Not so fast," he says as he digs through his shorts pocket and holds up his little metal cocaine vial. "It'll take a little bit for the drugs to kick in and I want my senses heightened now."

"Oh?" you ask, cocking your head as you watch him scoop a considerable pile to snort into one nostril, followed by a second pile into the other. Jeongguk sighs and tips his head back, pressing the side of his knuckle against each nostril as he deeply sniffs inward once more, then he fixes you with a wide smile and offers you the cocaine. 

You trade him, handing off the little baggie of molly capsules, and in swift movements, you take the little metal vial with a spoon attached to its cap, and you snort a small pile into each nostril, then hand it back. As you press against the side of each nostril with your knuckle and inhale, Jeongguk watches you with eyes already somewhat glazed over, and you stand from his lap, smoothing out your tiny dress. 

"Eager to get away from here?" Jeongguk asks, gaze downturned slightly. 

With a shrug, you glance around and realize that yes, you really are eager to get away, at least for a little while. "I guess so. I've been cooped up."

"Alright," Jeongguk says, reaching for your hand. You take it, then grab the unopened bottle of champagne in the other. "Let's get out of here."

Jeongguk is careful and meticulous in the way he locks up the back door, then he takes your hand again to walk through the main hall, to the front door. He slides out of Yoongi's slippers and into some sandals, and you put on the pair of black ballet flats. 

Once outside, Jeongguk closes and checks the door, then he takes your hand once again and leads you around to the left, toward Seokjin's place. The night is so quiet you hear the sounds of crickets in the trees and the crunch of gravel underfoot. 

Jeongguk sighs and squeezes your hand, and you hum questionably, squeezing his back.

"Nothing," he says, turning to look at you. The path opens near Seokjin's home, and the two of you hang a left and continue along the side of the house to the back, where more trees separate each property. "I guess I'm just surprised sometimes."

"By what?" you ask, turning to look at Jeongguk, who turns to meet your gaze. The cocaine buzzes through your system while a nasty little drip can be tasted at the back of your throat.

"By you."

You scoff, feeling somewhat shy. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you did hate me when we first met," Jeongguk begins. 

"Because you were an asshole," you add. 

"And…I don't know. I was surprised when Yoongi and Namjoon were so open to the idea of us. Even tonight, I expected hyung to say no and keep you all to himself."

"Ah," you mutter, eyes on the ground. You begin to walk between more dark trees, enshrouded by their shadows, and you feel grateful that Jeongguk came to get you so that you wouldn't be walking this path alone. "Namjoon and I have been kind of distant, so I'm not surprised."

"Still?" Jeongguk asks.

"Yeah. Still."

"Damn. That sucks."

It does suck, but you feel awkward talking about it. "It's whatever," you lie. "He wants space and went to his house tonight, which is why I called you. Didn't really want to be alone."

"So I'm second place, wow," Jeongguk teases, squeezing your hand.

"Third when Yoongi is around," you tease back, turning to flash a playful grin. 

The rest of the walk is quiet, and when you reach Jeongguk's home, you are a bit surprised by the number of sports cars in his driveway—four, to be exact. His house is a carbon copy of the others, but there is practically no greenery in the yard, only metal workout equipment, including a pull-up bar and some other items that are tough to make out in the dark. 

Jeongguk lets go of your hand as you approach the front entrance, and he punches in a long passcode before opening the door wide and nodding for you to enter. The living room light is already on, and as you toe out of your shoes, you find a scarcely decorated room with a couch pushed far too close to a television, and a punching bag sitting in the center of the space. 

You fail to bite back laughter, and when Jeongguk takes your hand and leads you up the stairs, he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," you mutter, eyeing the empty walls that have never been painted from their original white. "Just didn't take you for such a bro."

"Shut up," Jeongguk gripes, yanking on your arm and making you laugh even harder. 

The upstairs hallway is just as plain, and as soon as he releases your hand and switches on the light, illuminating the bright white space, you squint and turn it off.

"I need fucking sunglasses if you're going to do that," you chide.

Jeongguk continues pulling you down to the room at the end of the hallway, making you wonder what might be in the other rooms. Does he have sex dungeons just like Taehyung? Perhaps a matching throne?

Rather than switching on the overhead light in his master suite, he thumbs around his phone and opens an app. "What color would her highness like the bedroom to be?" he asks with a grin, and you get onto your tiptoes to see the screen and then press where the color wheel is purple. 

Slowly, the lights come on in an inviting deep purple glow, and you nod approvingly, then enter the space. At least his bedroom is decorated with dark walls and bedding, and some photos hung here and there. 

The four-poster bed is straight ahead, and to the right are two large leather chairs. Along the far wall, beside a large window, is a big wooden x with leather restraints on each end—two for wrists and two for ankles, you surmise. 

As you step forward, your entire body feels a little off-kilter. It is slight but enough to make you dizzy, and you hold your arms out, clenching the bottle of champagne as you mutter, "Whoa."

"Starting to kick in?" Jeongguk asks as he walks past and sets his bottle on a bedside table. 

"Maybe," you respond, unsure what it feels like for the drug to kick in. 

Jeongguk approaches, takes the bottle from your hand, and you find yourself leaning and swaying slightly with each of his movements as if your body feels desperate for his warmth. 

"Will you kiss me?" you whine, watching as Jeongguk's mouth pulls into a dopey smile and then sharpens into something much cockier. 

He turns away to place the champagne bottle down, then returns in several large steps, taking you gently by the face with both hands and pressing his lips against yours. Jeongguk groans as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, making you gasp. You let your mouth fall open wide, feeling excitement and arousal simmer through you, and Jeongguk licks across your tongue hungrily, moaning and growling as he tastes and teases. 

"Fuck," he pants as he releases the kiss, pressing his forehead into yours. "You are amazing. And I'm definitely coming up."

You feel tingly and electric, filled to the brim with desire and love and the need to touch and taste and enjoy. Jeongguk is warm and floral but musky, and he tastes like sour cocaine and bittersweet champagne. 

"Thirsty," you mutter as your lips chase after his.

Jeongguk kisses you more but walks you backward, toward the champagne. Rather than reach your target destination, his ass bumps into the edge of his bed, and you giggle into one another's mouths before you peel yourself away and reach for the open bottle. 

Suddenly, you feel as if you have run a marathon, and you have to stop and catch your breath. "I feel kind of overwhelmed," you admit, to which Jeongguk hums and says, "That's normal."

With the champagne in hand, Jeongguk leads you over to the large window at the far end of the room and opens it, letting in a nice cool breeze. The view is a massive, empty expanse of land with the city in the distance, and you stare across the shadows of trees and hills. 

"I feel trapped in limbo," you mutter, unsure why you are saying it aloud. 

Jeongguk wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. When he asks, "Why is that?" his voice is soft and sweet. 

"I love Yoongi and Namjoon…and I care a lot about the rest of you," you turn your head, rubbing the tip of your nose against his, "especially you."

"But?"

With a sigh, you turn your gaze back to the dark outdoors. "But I don't feel safe, and I have to be heavily medicated just to sleep, now. I lost several days to the fog of starting a new medication, and both Yoongi and Namjoon are distant. I feel like everything is slipping through my fingers and it scares the shit out of me."

"Maybe you need to get away for a little while. Take a trip."

You hum and consider what he says, pushing out the thought of Seokjin's words from earlier, but then scoff, shaking your head. "Take a vacation just to return to a lifestyle of violence. I don't know, I mean, what's the point?"

"Seokjin hyung says they struck a deal with the girls in Busan. That will drastically cut back on the violence."

"But there are other families in Korea," you say without having too much evidence to back up your statement outside of comments here and there made by the men while in your presence over the many months you have been here. 

"Everyone else is neutral, and we do business with them from time to time. Our only adversaries are overseas, and it is not often that the yakuza comes to fuck with us."

A small comfort considering how quickly things could escalate, should they choose to hop on a ferry and start shit, but you accept it for now. This conversation feels too heavy, and you want to be light.

You do feel somewhat light, made of overcooked noodles, but also heavy and buoyant, and you sway your hips and close your eyes. "We need music."

"What kind of music?" Jeongguk asks, grabbing his phone and holding it out for you. 

"Anything," you mutter, "pick something."

After only a few seconds, soft R&B comes on, and the music surrounds you in a way that feels like speakers are placed along each inch of the room. You dip and sway a little deeper, following the music while dragging your ass over Jeongguk until he begins to hiss and grip at you. 

"Gonna make me hard dancing like this," he groans, nipping somewhat forcefully at your neck. 

"I think the pills have dulled my sex drive, just like you said," you complain as you lift the bottle of champagne and take a drink. The carbonation cloys your senses, but you are thirsty, and you continue drinking until you are forced to stop and take a deep breath. When you turn and hand off the bottle, Jeongguk's pupils are bloodshot, and he looks a bit sleepy. "I haven't been able to cum. It's making me lose my mind."

Jeongguk drops to his knees and sets down the bottle, and you lean back against the window, body angled with your pelvis outward, in his face. As he rubs his hands up your thighs, pushing your short black skirt higher, you watch as his eyes widen and mouth drops open. 

"No panties," Jeongguk muses, looking high as shit and happy as can be. When his gaze lifts and finds you, he shakes his head and heavy-blinks as he mutters, "You are fucking incredible."

Without another word, he sits high on his knees and licks over your cunt, sucking your clit between his lips before absolutely devouring you. The surge of pleasure that rocks through you causes you to tremble and jolt forward, and you splay your hands against the wall in an attempt to hold yourself steady. 

Jeongguk is sloppy yet practiced in the way he eats you, alternating wide, wet laps and quick little flicks of his tongue. He zeroes in on your clit, sending shockwave after shockwave through you, aided by the molly to feel better than anything has felt in days.

Although the pleasure is intense and enrapturing, your high builds and builds, only to plateau at a devastatingly high peak. You want to cum so badly, you begin grinding your pussy against Jeongguk's mouth and moaning loudly. Jeongguk grips onto your thighs and does his best to keep up with your movements, slurping and humming like a man enjoying his first meal after a long fast.

"Finger me, Jeongguk," you beg, desperate for release.

Jeongguk does as he is told, plunging his fingers hard and deep. He finds your sweet spot and fucks into it nice and fast, and that is all it takes to push you over the edge, spraying your release against his face and your thighs. Rather than slow or stop, he continues to finger fuck you while lapping at your clit, forcing you to cum once more, and you scream between deep gasps for air. 

Euphoria drowns you in its tidal wave, and you begin to spiral, suddenly needing to slow down and catch your breath. "Too much," you whimper as your knees buckle, and Jeongguk stops his movements and stands, caging you in against the window. 

"How do you feel?" he asks, pressing his lips against yours and filling your senses with your own tangy, heady taste and scent. 

"Great," you respond against him, then turn your head, still finding it hard to catch your breath. "But a little overwhelmed."

"You're probably still coming up, here," Jeongguk says, taking your hand and pulling you away from the wall while rubbing his mouth and chin clean with his forearm. It feels strange to walk, and you stumble a bit into him, leaning your weight against his chest. 

"Let's just slow dance a little," he suggests with a sweet smile, and you drape your arms around his shoulders, incapable of denying him anything. Jeongguk gently grabs your hips and begins to lead you right to left in a small circle. "How is this?"

"Nice," you sigh with a smile, resting your cheek against his chest. "Thank you."

You are unsure how long the two of you stay like this, but several songs cycle, and your high continues to build until it finally seems to even out. Although you feel less jittery and heavy-light, you still feel somewhat otherworldly, finding you have an overwhelming urge to divulge all your deepest secrets to him. Evidently, he feels the same.

"Do you think you could fall for someone like me?" Jeongguk asks, breaking a long silence and taking you by surprise. 

If you were sober, you would be absolutely panicking—possibly even running for the hills. But being this high, you simply shrug and say, "Of course, I could. Don't ask silly questions."

"Shit," he mutters, nuzzling his face against your neck as he chuckles, and you wonder if Jeon Jeongguk is actually shy? "That was too easy. And probably not something I should have asked."

You laugh as you hum and mutter, "Yeah, probably not. I don't think any good could come of us confessing those types of feelings to one another, all things considered."

"True," Jeongguk says, laughing as he stands straight and looks you in the eye. He is absolutely beaming as he says, "I'll just keep it to myself, then," and pretends to zip his lips shut.

The thought that Jeongguk could be confessing to something so large should horrify you, but all you can do is smile. You are too high and too happy to unpack anything of this magnitude right now. 

After another song, you feel the sudden, aching urge to tie Jeongguk to his bed and make him fall apart. And that is exactly what you ask him with your eyes wide and pleading. 

"Let me tie you to your bed and make you fall apart? Please?"

Jeongguk gasps and grins, nodding as he says, "There is nothing in this world I could want more."

You begin to paw at his shirt, lifting the bottom hem over his head and tossing it to the floor. Your eyes linger on the black shapes etched from his shoulder down to his fingers, then you continue the task at hand and reach for the waistline of his shorts. 

As the garment falls to the floor in a heavy thud, undoubtedly from his cell phone being in his pocket, Jeongguk steps backward, leaving it in a pile, and you realize he also wore nothing underneath his clothing. Jeongguk bends and fishes his coke vial out, then begins slowly backing between the large leather chairs toward his bed. 

"No panties," you tease, closing in on Jeongguk, who continues to walk backward toward his bed. You reach your fingertips out, dancing them over his inviting hip bones. "You are fucking incredible."

Jeongguk chuckles, fixing you with a shy smile that makes your heart melt. When the backs of his legs hit his bed, he lets out a little snort-laugh, and then he begins to unscrew his vial and sniff two piles of cocaine into each nostril. He hands the drugs to you, then he turns and begins to pull a strap out from under his mattress, which you are absolutely unsurprised to see. 

"There's one on each corner," he says, and you snort two little piles into each nostril, then close the vial tightly and toss it onto the comforter. You take the hint and round the end of the bed, fishing around for another strap, and when you find it, you pull it out, and set it on the corner of the mattress. 

As you move to the head of the bed and find the last strap, Jeongguk gets onto the mattress, on his hands and knees and crawls into the center. "Want me lying down or sitting up?" he asks, and you lick your lips before saying, "Lie down."

Jeongguk settles in the center and pulls his hands over his head, and you get onto the bed on your knees and begin to restrain him, starting with one wrist, and then leaning over him with your chest hanging in his face to restrain the other. 

To your surprise, the straps seem to be the perfect length to keep Jeongguk spread without there being much give. Once his ankles are in place, you crawl up to him and settle between his legs, bending close to breathe warmth against his hard, pretty cock. 

Jeongguk whimpers and writhes in his restraints, and you lean to the side, slowly dragging your lips over the soft, supple skin of his thigh. He smells musky and familiar in a way that clenches at your heart, and suddenly, the weight of his confession moments ago begins to sink and settle through you, digging its claws in deep. 

Do you think you could fall for someone like me? Asked so simply and casually, as if one asks about the weather. 

Perhaps it is the combination of substances working their way through your system, but you begin to feel claustrophobic and nauseous, and you squeeze your eyes closed. Something simmers and sticks in the back of your throat, and all you can do is gasp for air. 

"Doll?" Jeongguk asks, voice lilted with worry, and you swallow the lump and plaster on a smile, determined to make him feel just as good as he made you feel. You must do it; you need to.

"Just a little overwhelmed," you mutter, dragging your lips and teeth over the meat of his thigh, toward the musky shaved pubes at the base of his very inviting cock. 

You wet your lips and drag them up and down his shaft, flicking your tongue out to coat it in as much saliva as you can muster, but your mouth is fucking dry from the drugs, and it stresses you out. 

"Need the champagne," you whine as you sit up quickly and turn to hop-slide off the bed. 

But you may as well be landing on the moon as you teeter and sway and stumble. You hold your arms out somewhat for balance and struggle to remember just how gravity works as you get your footing and rush over to the neglected champagne bottle by the window. 

All the while, you attempt to pep talk yourself, chugging the tepid bittersweet liquid that is so heavily carbonated it fills your mouth like a gas, until you have no choice but to burp. And then you return to the bed, repeating in your head that this is something you want to do more than anything, and that it should be okay for you to love Jeongguk, if only for tonight. 

Tomorrow you can unpack it and spiral accordingly, but tonight, you need to just enjoy the ride. You want to enjoy the ride. 

Either Jeongguk can sense that something is off, or it is written clearly on your face, because his brows are knit, and his head is tilted upward as far as it can be with the restraints holding his arms splayed up and out. 

"You're so handsome," you slur as you approach the bed, and set the bottle down on the small table, then you grip onto the comforter with both fists and hoist yourself back up onto the mattress. You mean it when you ask, "How did I get this lucky?"

You straddle Jeongguk's chest and lean forward, giving him an eyeful of a glistening wet pussy that he can't reach with his hands or lips while you lean forward and swallow his cock whole. Your mouth is still a little too dry, so you press him in nice and deep, forcing yourself to slowly gag from lack of oxygen while saliva pools and pools under your tongue. 

"Fuck, holy shit, doll," Jeongguk whimpers from behind you, urging you on further. You suck his cock forcefully, desperate to milk him, and listen to him sob. Jeongguk is vocal, moaning and bleating and begging while he writhes in his restraints, hips bucking and trembling beneath you. 

You stick a finger into your mouth to wet it, then reach under Jeongguk's balls to rub little circles against his rim, and he loses it—yanking on the restraints while singing long, pretty notes of pleasure. 

Without warning, he cums in your mouth, and you gag, letting some of it hit your soft palate before dripping past your lips. But you swallow the rest, sucking on his tip and moaning while he shoots rope after rope onto the back of your tongue. 

"Holy fuck," Jeongguk sobs. "Oh my fucking god!" 

You feel elated and higher than before, humming and pleased with yourself for making him cum in what has felt like mere minutes. 

"Please let me taste you, noona," he begs, and you sit up slightly and back into his face, shoving your pussy and ass against his mouth and only giving him enough room to lick and suck desperately, but not enough room to breathe. 

When you move away, he whimpers, and you decide that you want to be even more high than you already are. The goal was to get fucked up and out of your head, and here you are, lodged so deep in your swirling thoughts that you fear you might just go mad. 

"Mind if I do more coke?" you ask as you crawl forward past Jeongguk's torso and settle haphazardly between his legs. The vial is right where you left it, and you reach for it before he can respond. 

You snort two little piles into each nostril—four total—and then screw the lid back on before tossing it aside and turning to face your prize. Jeongguk is covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes blown wide as the heavens, and you reach for his half-hard cock and begin stroking it back to life. 

"Damn, it takes you no time at all to get hard again," you mutter with a smirk, falling slightly forward as you attempt to straddle and crawl up him. 

Jeongguk's expression is a mix of desire and concern, and when you finally have your hands planted on both sides of his head, you lean low and close, breasts spilling from your dress, as you take his bottom lip between his teeth and suck hard enough to make him shout.

"You really fucked me up with what you said," you chuckle against his lips, feeling your heart squeeze in your chest. The overwhelm has returned, and you press your forehead against his, fighting for air. "Why did you—" you croak, suddenly overcome with the urge to sob. 

You do not want to fall for Jeongguk. You cannot do something so foolish.

Jeongguk struggles in his restraints, yanking his hands downward and attempting to sit up, but rather than help him, all you can do is lean into him and cry. Everything is so fucking messed up, and you need it to go back to normal. You cannot possibly stay with this family if things do not go back to some semblance of normal; being here and feeling so much worry and heartache is eating you alive. 

"Noona, undo my restraints," Jeongguk urges, yanking his wrists uselessly downward. They are only cloth straps held together by velcro, but the angle and distance of them make it hard for him to reach one hand with the other. 

Jeongguk struggles, and all you can do is sink further, burying your face into his neck while a never-ending stream of sadness pours from you. It feels strange to be this devastated because you also feel an outpouring of love and affection—happiness that is so strong and present, it fucking terrifies you. 

"I can't—" you sob, unsure what you are referring to, just certain that everything is too much and all of it needs to stop. 

"Dollface, hey," Jeongguk pleads before saying your first name, "please let me out of the restraints."

"Jeongguk," you whine, tears and snot coating your face, which smear onto his neck. "I can't do this anymore. I can't stand it."

Jeongguk groans and strains hard as he reaches to undo his wrists, and you cling to him as all the emotion drains from your face with loud heaving breaths and deep, rattling sobs. You hear the tearing of velcro, one after the other, and then Jeongguk wraps his arms tightly around you while sitting the two of you up, cradling you in between his thighs. 

"Oh, baby," he mutters lowly against your temple, hands and arms doing their best to comfort you while he gently rocks back and forth. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea the drugs would make you feel this way."

"I'm sorry," you whine, drawing out each syllable, feeling utterly ashamed and embarrassed. The sweat on your skin has turned cold, and you shiver in his arms. "I feel really, really fucking happy too, but it just…I'm so scared, Jeongguk. I'm so fucking scared."

 “It’s okay to be scared. I’m here for you,” Jeongguk says your name, placing a firm, slow kiss against your temple, making you shudder out a sob. “I’ll hold you until you feel better.”

You know that he is here for you—that he would hold you through absolutely anything. And that just adds to the ineffable pile of terrifying possibilities. 

“I’m too high to sleep,” you whimper, sniffling pathetically as your exhale shakes through your mouth. 

“Me too, baby, don’t worry,” Jeongguk chuckles, squeezing you tightly in his embrace. “I got you, don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

True to his word, Jeongguk does hold you until you feel better. For hours, you sit on his bed, muttering through half-truths about your fears and your loves, your hopes and your dreams. When you shower off the cold sweat, you lean into his chest, and when he dresses you in a sweatshirt and joggers that swallow you whole, he keeps at least one arm around you at all times.

As the sun rises high, you finally stop shivering from the comedown, Jeongguk carries you home on his back, and you smile as the sunlight warms your cheeks. The only time Jeongguk lets go of you is when you find Namjoon standing out by the front door, smoking a joint. 

Namjoon’s smile shines as bright as the early afternoon sun, and as you slide down Jeongguk’s back, setting your feet onto the ground, you run into Namjoon’s arms, throwing yourself into him, catching a whiff of welcoming musk and the skunky stench of weed. 

“Sweetheart, did the two of you have fun?”

You smile brightly and only half-lie when you say yes because, despite all the tears, your heart feels so full. 

“Thanks, Jeongguk,” you say as you release Namjoon and turn around. 

Jeongguk stares at the ground for a beat, then he looks up and smiles. There is an unmistakable sadness in his eyes, and you fight the urge to run back to him. 

“Thanks for the late night booty call, dollface,” he says with a wink, clearly doing his best to cover whatever else is going on in his mind. 

You watch as Jeongguk waves and spins on his heels, walking back to the gravel path. 

“You two are so cute,” Namjoon says sweetly as he engulfs you in a warm, familiar hug. 

"Is that so?" you ask as you spin in Namjoon’s hold and wrap your arms around his middle. 

He seems to have lightened up, and he hums in agreement, making you smile. You feel eager to enjoy your day with him. You have cried rivers in the past several days, and all you want is to breathe easily and feel happy. Even if someone important is missing. 

“I spoke to Yoongi,” Namjoon says, making you gasp and take a step back. His smile is soft and inviting, dimples creasing his cheeks with bloodshot eyes, and you stare expectedly. “What do you say we fly to Hong Kong tomorrow and bring him home?”

Frantically, you nod, feeling your heart boom in your chest. Namjoon takes one more drag of his withering joint and flicks it out into the driveway.

“He regrets creating distance and he wants to talk about it in person,” Namjoon says, eyes trailing left to right as if reading your face. “Rest assured that we have done nothing to push him away.”

You wish you could believe him, but there is physical proof of something you have done to potentially make Yoongi want distance. But you smile and accept this explanation, for now. 

“Are you hungry?” Namjoon asks, releasing his hug, leaving just an arm around your waist. 

“Starving!” you exaggerate, feeling an empty pit grumbling where your stomach should be. 

The front door is propped open, and Namjoon kicks out of his slippers while you leave behind your ballet flats, then he leads you into the kitchen. 

“I’ve been craving eggs benedict, so i had the chef whip up some hollandaise sauce. Does that sound good to you?”

You glance up with a grin and say, “Awe, I was hoping you might burn the mansion down making me an omelet.”

Namjoon digs his fingers into your ribs, making you double over and squeal, grumbling about how he is not that bad of a cook. 

With your hands held high, you shout, “I submit! You’re an amazing cook!” while tears pool in your tired eyes. 

Namjoon halts his attack on your sides and ushers you along on wobbly legs to the kitchen. 

"Are these Gguk's clothes?" he asks brightly, tugging at the oversized hoodie near your ribs. 

You nod and look up at his bright, smiling face, basking in this moment of happiness. You tell yourself that, above all, you desperately need everything to work out and be okay, if only so that you can continue to have moments like these with the people you love. 

No matter what, things need to be okay. 

It's about time we get it straight Gimme a minute if it ain't too late It sounds about right, this can't be forced, babe 대충 무리였나봐, babe It shouldn't feel like this 애먼 기분만 해친 채 Hurts too much already 버티기가 이만큼 힘든데 Stay with me 'til the end of the day

Maybe we Could be Slow dancing Until the morning We could be romancing The night away

🎵 visit the playlist

a few little side notes: i didn't want to name what drug mc is taking because she's not having the best time, so i didn't want to stigmatize medication that anyone takes irl. like...we all know Xanax is used in wack/recreational ways, so that one feels ok to say by name, i guess?

anyway...the experiences mc has while on a cocktail of medications/drugs may not look the same as how your body may react to these, and that is okay. please do not bother me about how your experiences may differ with xanax and other medications, or molly and medications. (but for the sake of argument, i will say that sometimes when you do antidepressants and molly, the serotonin high hits too hard and fast and it can cause a very fast physical and emotional crash, which is why mc does not experience the pure euphoria that you might come to know and love from that drug.) it feels so weird to me when people hit me up to argue about this kind of stuff because everyone's bodies and brains are different, so please don't. this is a work of fiction above all else.

all that being said, i know i have said it before, but i will keep saying it: this story is sad, sad, sad from here on out. the overall end goal is something happy, but it won't feel that way for a while.

reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this site, but likes are also super appreciated!!! thank you for reading, i love you!!!

a namjoon pov scene takes place between this chapter and the next one, where he devises a plan to get Yoongi back and has a heart-to-heart with mc. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)

tag lists will be on separate reblogs! they’ve gotten too big to contain as one!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[steddiemicrofic]

Steddie Microfic April 1st-7th Masterlist

Repeat by @oh-stars | Rated M | no cw

All Alone by @thisapplepielife | Rated T | cw: fear of mortality, prior parental loss, prior unnamed health problem, anxiety | tags: eddie pov, established relationship, long-term relationship, steve harrington and his high eq, beloved wayne munson, everybody lives, happy ending

fooling ourselves by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated T | no cw | tags: mutual pining, idiots to lovers, first kiss

Stunned by @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe | Rated M | no cw

Boop by @rindecisions | Rated G | no cw | tags: royalty au, prince steve, jester eddie, first meeting, meet cute, boop

i'm shaking so much, really yearning (why don't you show up & make it alright?) by @doublecherrypiediscosuperfly | Rated T | cw: language | tags: pre-steddie, pre-vecna

never gonna give you up by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated E | no cw | tags: modern au, flirting, bisexual steve harrington, handjobs, some platonic stobin

SHAME ON ME by @wormdebut | Rated M | cw: angst from all sides | tags: happy ending

Go ahead and cry, little boy by @sadghostbitch | Rated T | no cw | tags: swearing, pre-steddie, no upside down AU, mentions of children abandonment, recreational drug use, hurt/comfort

Duty, Betrayed by @aidaronan | Rated E | no cw | tags: jester eddie, king steve but literally

Sleepwalkin' by @steddieonbigboy | Rated T | cw: implied sexual content

let us be brave by @loveinhawkins | Rated T | cw: injury | tags: season 4, missing scene, before the battle

caged bird (love-trap) by @hawkinsbnbg | Rated M | cw: mildly dub-con on the pregnancy part | tags: omegaverse, possessive behavior, mating bite

Air Pressure by @stevesjockstrap | Rated T | no cw | tags: established relationship, mechanic!steve, pranks

told you so by @runninriot | Rated T | no cw

untitled by @stevesbipanic | Rated G | no cw

Tonight, Tonight by @marvel-ous-m | Rated T | no cw | tags: breaking up, intelligence-related insults, drinking, hopeful-ish ending

it was a start by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated T | cw: mention of drug and alcohol use, break-up, implied sexual content | tags: rockstar eddie, teacher steve, angst with a hopeful ending

Fool by @izzy2210 | Rated T | cw: alcohol use, bad friends

[osunism]

Crystalline

Eyes meet, you know where this goes Her keys in, they take off their clothes They're soaking, caught in a dream Her skin shines, like crystalline —The Midnight, "Crystalline"

🪧 Summary: On the night Yuji Itadori consumes Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru finds a familiar face at the epicenter of a shocking discovery. Takes place three months after If. 🔞 Rating: Explicit ⚠️ Be Advised: Explicit sexual situations, recreational drug use, descriptions of violence, blood mention. ❤️‍🔥 Pairing: Satoru x Sundari [🧿👹]

🔏 This is a commissioned fic by the lovely @septembersums. With her permission, I finally get to post this fic so folks can understand how Satoru and his goddess met. September was kind enough to see my vision and bring it to life in her gorgeous writing style as part of my growing Parallax 'verse. She's an absolute joy to work with and talk to and I highly recommend commissioning a fic writer to bring your vision to life! September's AO3 <- Support her work too!

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Fic Masterlist 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 HCs & Meta ⛩️

       Satoru is getting bored. 

         As much as he loves shopping, and he does love shopping, even Satoru has a limit when it comes to how long he can wander between food stalls browsing the options. Although boredom might not be the best word for it. Restlessness, maybe. 

         He’s been idling away the hours while he waits for Megumi to call with news that he’s secured another of Sukuna’s fingers. It’s a difficult job for a first year, considering how cursed spirits tend to flock to the cursed fingers, but Satoru is fairly confident Megumi can handle it.

         If not, Satoru will just teleport there as soon as he senses danger. Simple, easy. In theory, it shouldn’t go wrong. That idea does little to quieten down the sense of unease settling into Satoru. There’s something in the air tonight, something that tastes like intuition, something that feels off.

         Satoru attempts to shake the unnatural anxiety by purchasing some more kikufuku. Sweets usually help when he gets a bad feeling like this, which is a decidedly rare occurrence. Even with his impulsive spending, the feeling persists, and it gets stronger. He considers teleporting himself straight to Sendai to see what’s causing it but ultimately decides against it. He’ll know if something happens. 

         A shiver runs down his spine while he’s standing in front of a food truck that sells crepes, and he knows that his intuition was right. In an instant, he’s standing at the peak of a skyscraper, looking over the city. The wind whips at his loose-fitting clothes and his hair, as he pulls his blindfold down to get a good look at the situation at hand. 

         What he sees makes no sense whatsoever. It raises the fine hair at the back of his neck, makes the skin of his arms prickle with goosebumps. 

         Gaze cast towards Sendai, he sees something there— a ripple of cursed energy that looks like Sukuna, but much smaller and less destructive than one would expect of a freshly incarnated Sukuna. It’s a threat, whatever it is, and there’s no question about that, but it’s nothing compared to the other surge of cursed energy in the distance. 

Sendai is a blip on his radar in comparison to the potential nuclear explosion of cursed energy he sees building in Tokyo.

         A massive, ever-swelling fog of cursed energy covers an entire block, settling over the street like a storm cloud. The longer he looks at it, the bigger it grows. 

         It makes little sense, considering that he knows something significant just happened to one of the cursed fingers in Sendai, but it looks like Sukuna himself just appeared in Tokyo. A fully formed Sukuna with all of his power, decidedly unlike the tiny hints of it he catches when he’s near the fingers. 

         This is the real fucking thing— full-fledged, entirely unregulated, a ticking time bomb of a person who will detonate and kill hundreds of people if they aren’t contained and controlled quickly. 

         “How the fuck is Sukuna in two places at once?” Satoru hisses to himself. Not even Satoru could manage something like that. 

         Two threats, two people that he needs to keep away from the higher-ups and whoever else might be looking for an incarnated Sukuna. One, however, is a much bigger problem than the other. 

         A hypnotic bassline thrums in Sundari's ears, a familiar feeling that she normally loves. Right now, though, it’s too much. Something within her is changing, shifting, pulsating— growing. It feels like she’ll be torn apart by the surge of strength within herself, as she stumbles away from the dancefloor filled with gyrating bodies and into the bathroom. 

         Her breaths are labored, pulse racing, as she nearly doubles over against the wall. She’s drunk, sure, and she’s taken a few party drugs just to keep the night going, but she doesn’t feel right. Something’s fucking wrong, but she doesn’t feel bad. No, she feels good. She feels strong, a lot more so than usual. 

         The bathroom is empty right now, which is a shocker at a rave like this, but she’s thankful for it. Nobody needs to see her like this— panting, as the power within her claws and grips at her insides. It just grows, and grows, and grows. With a rough rasp, she stumbles over to the sink to look at herself in the mirror. 

         It might be the drugs talking, but something about her face doesn’t look right. She blinks a few times at the shifting, moving image reflected back at her.

         The scars underneath her eyes aren’t scars anymore. They’re eyeballs. Four of them. She squints at herself, leaning closer to get a better look.

         She should not have four fucking eyes right now. 

         Sundari has tried a lot of shit, but nothing that’s ever warped her perception like this. The extra eyes blink in tandem with her own, and she can somehow see through them. It’s disorienting, the shift in perspective, but her vision is only getting better as she acclimates to it. 

         “The fuck?” She mumbles, gripping onto the sink for balance.

         The porcelain shatters under her grip, and water floods into the bathroom. She’s always been strong— a good fighter, a damn good fighter. She even makes money off of it on the side, but she shouldn’t be that strong. She needs to get the hell out of here before she breaks something else, or worse. She can’t imagine what would happen if she bumped into someone right now with her newfound superhuman strength.

         She leaves the bathroom in a rush, stumbling at first as she ascends the dark stairwell that leads out of the underground rave and back into the streets of Tokyo. With every step, she miraculously seems to be sobering up. The metal door leading outside warps when she shoves it open. Fuck.

The cool night air feels better than it did inside. She inhales deeply, sighing audibly as she leans against the brick wall behind her.

         “Huh. You’re not Sukuna,” a familiar voice drawls from her left.

         She whips her head around to see who’s talking to her when she’s having the worst trip of her life, only to see a face she knows all too well. The wickedly pretty boy she hunted in the club a few months ago, not someone she expected to see tonight. He’s leaning against the wall next to her with his arms crossed, eyeing her warily. 

         “Nah— Sundari, but I thought you knew that,” she snaps back, a little annoyed to see him again right now of all times. “What are you doing here?” 

         “I do know that, but I didn’t expect to see you here either,” he argues, arms still crossed. “I should’ve known those seals on your back were for something big, but I didn’t think it was this big. Sukuna’s daughter, huh?”

         “The fuck are you talking about?” She asks, temper flaring.

         Maybe it’s the newfound strength she’s gaining, but this cryptic, confusing conversation is wearing on at her nerves. Something fucking big is happening to her— the last thing she needs right now is a weird conversation with a guy she fucked a few months ago. 

         “Come with me to my place, and I’ll explain it all,” he offers casually. “It’s a lot safer there than it is here for you. Lots of people are going to want to get their hands on you with all the power you’re gaining right now, and I promise you— I’m the one you want to end up with.”

         “You don’t know anything about me. Why would I go anywhere with you?” She snaps, pushing off of the wall with a little too much strength behind it. 

         The brick crumbles, leaving a sizable crater.

         Satoru looks between the crater and her eyes, as if that proves his point. 

         “You really want to deal with this without any information about what’s happening? What happens when you shove past a stranger on the street and break half of their bones? Or use your technique by accident and kill off a whole city block?”

         She hisses out a couple curses, weighing her options. Her decision is only really made when a fractal of a memory slams into her subconscious, and she relives it like a dream she’s forgotten. 

         The Godslayer, they called her. A monstrosity falling apart underneath her four hands, as she rips it to shreds. Worship, and her mother’s avoidance. 

         “Fuck,” she hisses. What the fuck was that?

         As far as options go, it’s looking slim right now. She could either trust this guy, or she could do exactly what he said when this keeps happening, and she can’t control her own strength. She doesn’t want to hurt people— not innocent people— not if she can help it.

         “What’s it gonna be, Sundari?” He pressures her.

         “Fine, fuck, let’s go,” she says. 

         He reaches out a hand to her, and she takes it begrudgingly. 

         Missing pieces of Sundari’s life start to come together within the next few days. Satoru explains some things to her, like Sukuna, and how she must be his daughter or something similar to have inherited this power from him. Nadja always kept her father a secret from her, a piece of the past that she never wanted to unearth.

         The memories come back in waves, usually when she sleeps. Little bits and pieces that don’t make sense when separated but start to form a clearer picture when she puts them together. She’s a lot older than she thought she was, given that she was worshiped at some point a very, very long time ago. For a number of years that she can’t begin to quantify, Sundari’s power has been sealed away, locked inside of her and restricted, as she’d lived her life like a normal person.

         Satoru explains that Sukuna was recently incarnated somewhere else, and the seal was broken, which explains why she was suddenly able to break sinks, walls, and doors with her bare hands. The four eyes are hard to get used to, but at least the extra arms haven’t shown up yet.

         Now, she’s here in Satoru’s house, being fiercely guarded day and night like some sort of prisoner. Apparently, she’s in grave danger right now, as if shit wasn’t weird enough without that added layer of stress. Satoru’s the strongest sorcerer, which he told her very arrogantly, and his entire job is killing curses like her father, and possibly like her.

         It’s been tense. Sundari isn’t naive enough to think that she’s entirely safe with Satoru, seeing as he wants to kill her dad because he’s too powerful. Where does that leave Sundari at the end of this? She hates being guarded and coddled like a child, like she’s something that needs to be contained and controlled, rather than a person.

         She’s fucking stressed, and she can’t sleep without these dreams of her long-forgotten past haunting her. She doesn’t necessarily blame Satoru for needing to kill Sukuna— he’s chaos incarnate, he’ll kill thousands of people if he isn’t stopped.

         Somewhere deep inside of herself, Sundari is afraid. She’s afraid that Sukuna’s innate violence is lurking beneath her skin, waiting to come out when she doesn’t expect it. Afraid that if she’s left to her own devices, if she gets angry or upset, she’ll become like him. Her memories and Satoru’s stories do enough to remind her of what her father has done, of what she’s capable of if she doesn’t control herself.

         But she can control herself. She’s not a loose cannon waiting to be muzzled. Satoru might not see it yet, but she can.

         She doesn’t dare mention her feelings to Satoru. Not yet at least. He’s been nice to her while she’s staying here, he didn’t even make a fuss about it when she accidentally broke a door of its hinges trying to open it, but how much can she trust him? Not enough to reveal her deepest, darkest fears, that’s for fucking sure. 

         It takes Sundari a week to gain full control of her own strength. Like an astronaut that’s just come back from Mars, it takes her a while to settle into herself and feel comfortable with her own body’s limitations again. She knows not to push too hard on doors or rip the handles off of the sink.

         Muscle memory from the distant past is kicking in to help her contain her technique. At first, her cursed energy was a serious problem that was only contained by the seals Satoru has around his house. Now, she’s maintaining it herself so well that even Satoru was shocked to see it.

         The issue now is the weird tension between the two of them. Satoru’s helpful, but she can see the hunger in his eyes when he takes off the blindfold. She feels it within herself, too, now that she can focus on it without worrying so much about her own strength. Something unfinished and unspoken, leftover from the last time they were together. It was a good night, he was a good fuck, and that was supposed to be the end of it.

         Now, they’re living together, and despite the domesticity of that, she still can’t trust him. So, like any reasonable person, she comes up with an idea of how their get over the uncanny tension, or at least make it bearable.

         “Do you have any weed around here?” She asks, as they’re sitting on the couch together, silently watching some movie she’s not paying attention to.

         Satoru turns his head slowly to look at her, intrigue written on his features. God, he’s pretty. A little too fucking pretty— it makes sense that he’s as powerful as her, given that he looks like that.

“I could get some,” he answers nonchalantly.

         Sundari smiles, and maybe they’ll work out their differences after all. Even now, she struggles to be wary of him, he’s so smooth with his words. He matches her wit with ease and returns it just the same. They’re too similar— a little arrogant, both of them, but she doesn’t see it as a bad thing. She sees it as a challenge.

         Satoru does come back with some weed a few minutes later, and she struggles to watch him roll a joint— he’s good at everything, apparently, but not that.

         “God, you’re bad at that. Let me do it,” she says, frowning as she takes the half-rolled, uneven thing out of his hands.

         “I was getting there,” he pouts, rolling his eyes.

         “You really weren’t,” she teases, which draws a smirk out of him. He likes it when she talks back, she’s realized.

         Satoru watches with a catlike grin, as she fixes it for him. Her eyes lock with his as she runs her tongue over the smooth paper, before flattening it down to make a perfectly cylindrical joint. His eyes flicker between her lips and her own when she presses it between her lips and leans toward him, waiting for a light.

         He lights it, and she feels a thousand times better as soon as she inhales. Something to calm the nerves a little bit, it helps a lot, and he has money and connections enough to get some good shit.

         Maybe it’s a little too good, actually. They’re both on the moon talking about nothing, passing it between each other and laughing at each other’s jokes. He’s funny, she thinks, as she’s looking at him. The nerve of him to be hot and funny. He’s trying to explain his technique to her, but she’s lost before he gets half of it out.

         “Bet I could take you,” she says, relaxing with her head in her palm, as she sits a little closer to him than she realizes.

         “In a fight?” He asks, teasing and a little flirtatious.

         She grins. “Yeah, in a fight.”

         “Bet you couldn’t,” he argues.

         She’s not one to lose fights, and she tells him about it. The Yakuza pays her good money to fight in underground rings, and they wouldn’t hedge their bets on her if she lost. Satoru counters it by telling her that he’s never lost a fight— maybe for a second or two, but he always comes out on top.

         “Really? Last time I saw you, you didn’t end up on top at all,” she teases him, remembering the way she made him beg to fuck her.

         “That was an ambush,” he says. “You just caught me off guard. Won’t happen again, trust me.”

         “Yeah? We’ll see about that, Satoru. I’m disappointed you didn’t actually knock my IUD loose if you’re that strong.”

         “We can always try again.” 

         Satoru is a fucking flirt, a huge one, and she’s starting to like it. Maybe it’s a little Stockholm Syndrome, because they’ve been living together for weeks now, but she’s starting to actually like him. Before, they could’ve fucked again and went their separate ways, and that would be all there is to it.

         But now…

         Now, she doesn’t know. It’s just so easy to fall into a routine with him, to forget the situation and enjoy hanging out with him, despite the looming threat that he might try to kill her someday if she ever loses control.

        There’s chemistry between the two of them, chemistry that’s growing and changing with every day that they spend together. She’s never been one to fall in love or get attached for long, always too ready to move onto the next thing to get caught up in feelings.

         But all of these little moments between them during their time together are adding up, piling on top of each other, until whatever it is between them feels like more. His hand on the small of her back when he passes by her, a gentle touch here and there when she starts to spiral, even a hug one time.

         He says “Morning, beautiful” when she’s just rolled out of bed, curls sticking up in every direction and a sour look on her face. Always with a sarcastic drawl and a shit-eating grin on his face.

         She usually just rolls her eyes about it, but maybe she likes it a little. And he’s funny— the fucking nerve of him to look like that and be funny. She’s never met a man that can make her laugh like he does.

         The way he looks at her now— it’s more than fleeting affection. His gaze is lovestruck. She never thought the icy blue color of his eyes could look so warm. She misses him when he’s gone, and he always gives her the biggest grin when he comes back. Mutual attraction has blossomed and thickened. It’s been weeks of this now, and they’re unlikely friends. 

         They give each other shit when neither of them can seem to say something nice, but when she looks at him, her insides feel tight, like she can’t breathe. She can tell he feels it, too, by the way that he always wants to be close to her. He’ll make any excuse to sit next to her, to put his arm around the back of the couch when they’re smoking together, which has become a little bit of a ritual now. It makes it easier to forget their circumstances and just talk, which they somehow end up doing for hours.

         He always says how much he likes her curls, how much he likes the look on her face when she gets a wicked idea, her smart mouth and her attitude. He likes the way she dances, likes the way her body moves when she’s drunk, and the music is loud.

         She sees the way he looks at her, sees the way he takes care of her when she’s struggling with the memories that won’t leave her alone. They’re coming back thicker now, heavier than they were before. She feels haunted by it all, haunted by the life that she’s lived in complete ignorance to what she really is.

         More than anything, she’s haunted by her father. Sukuna, the worst human-turned-curse that has ever existed, at least in Japan. Why did her mother fall for him? For a fucking monster? And where does that leave Sundari?

         She knows herself; she knows that she can be destructive, she can be cruel. There’s an ache inside of her that longs for violence, an itch that she used to scratch with cage-fights and beating the living fuck out of men who abused sex workers, in her past life. She knows now that even if her causes were righteous and good, she enjoyed it.

         The blood, the violence, the chance to unleash the demon within herself that she knows is there. It’s just beneath her skin.

         In a moment of self-collapse, she tells Satoru the truth.

         “I never wanted to be his daughter,” she says, curled in on herself in her vulnerability, knees pressed to her chest. “I do my fucking best to not be destructive like he is, but everyone— your higher-ups, whoever the fuck else, they’ll only ever see me for these.”

         She gestures to the thick bands of black ink around her wrists.

         “I’ll never be free from people who want to control me for it. I can’t even fucking hide them like he can,” she mutters, frustrated and angry. “And even if I like you, I can’t stay here forever, so what do we do when this is over?”

         “You could work with me,” Satoru offers quietly from where he sits beside her.

         He doesn’t invade her space; he knows that she wouldn’t want him to right now. Instead, he sits with her, and he listens. Patiently, quietly— he doesn’t talk over her, he doesn’t give her solutions unless she asks for them. He’s kind to her, gentle with her when he can tell that she needs it.

         She has no fucking clue what to do with that.

         “And everyone we work with will only ever see me as a monster,” she answers, shaking her head.

         “Maybe, but you don’t have to prove them right,” he says. “You’re nothing like him, Sundari. I’ve talked to him, I’ve seen him. You’re less destructive than you think you are, and you make an effort to be good, to do the right thing. That’s what matters, that’s what makes the two of you so different. He wants violence, you want to control yourself and do the right thing.”

         “Does it matter? Will anyone other than you ever believe me?”

         She looks at the tattoos and despises them, wishes she could scrub them from her skin. This isn’t what she’s ever wanted to be. It wasn’t ever her choice, but the world will treat her like it was.

         “They will if you prove them wrong,” he says.

         A moment of silence lapses between the two of them, as they sit together in the living room, quiet and ruminating. Sundari’s frustration feels like fire in her veins. Even now, she’s struggling to contain everything within her. Her body isn’t big enough to fit all of this power inside it without an outlet.

         “What if we tested it out?” She asks, looking up at him, an idea on the tip of her tongue. “Just a little fight between the two of us— let me see if I can control it without breaking everything and losing control.”

         Satoru’s lips curve up into a hint of a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that.”

         She realizes that she’s falling for him in that moment, that all of this forced cohabitation has become something more to her, something that tastes like love on her tongue, even when she can’t bring herself to say it.

         Instead, she says, “Okay. Just don’t cry about it too much when I win.”

         “Ha, I could say the same to you,” he answers, and she knows his words taste like love, too. 

         It’s a friendly fight, Satoru reminds himself, as Sundari lunges for him again. She’s fast— faster than he imagined she would be, and she’s good. Resilient, too. She doesn’t wear down easily— her cursed energy is still thrumming through the air after half an hour of hand-to-hand combat.

         Her fighting style is unique, foreign to Satoru. She wasn’t trained in Japan, that much is clear, based on the way that she moves. The hand signs that she uses when she activates her technique against his are ones he’s never seen before.

         It wears him down to keep up with her unfamiliar movements. If he were anyone else, he’d have lost this fight half an hour ago due to the way she continues to periodically drain his cursed energy.

         But Satoru isn’t just anybody. His reserves are infinite, and he can tell that she’s realizing that, based on the scowl she’s sporting.

         “C’mon, Sundari— stop holding back,” he taunts her, after barely dodging one of her well-timed punches. She’s strong.

And she looks fucking good with a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, whipping around to dodge when he teleports behind her and aims a blow to the middle of her back. She almost blocks it, but he’s quicker than even her eyes can track. It lands, a punch straight to the chest, which sends her flying backwards into a tree.

         That should be the end of it, he thinks, when she gets back up with a wild, feral smile on her face. A little bit of blood trickles down from her lip, and for some god-forsaken reason, his pants feel a little tighter. She lunges for him again, and again. It’s a miss, but she manages to put him on the defensive again. He lifts up into the air to avoid a kick, and she drags him back down, which he counters with an elbow.

         “Stop fucking running if you think I’m holding back,” she taunts him in turn, before he sends her flying off out of view for a split second.

         He thinks that surely another hit like that will make her surrender. God, they’ve been at it all morning. His pulse is racing— he’s never fought anyone as strong as she is. It’s a fucking rush. The blood in his body doesn’t know if it should focus on his brain or his dick. Sundari fights like a warrior, like a goddess.

         She emerges from the tree line with two extra arms extending from her shoulder blades. She rolls them out, unphased at the changes to her body. There’s an extra mouth on her exposed stomach with sharp teeth, grinning at him with the same expression as the one on her face.

         His blood is definitely headed to his dick. That is a goddess. A vengeful, wild goddess. Her curls have come undone, fanning out around her beautifully, while she practically glows with cursed energy. Satoru has wanted her for weeks now, he’s wanted her since he first saw her again, but right now? Satoru needs her.

         He needs to see his goddess sprawled out beneath him, hot and sweaty and snapping at him with her sharp teeth, crying out for more as he fucks her. He wants to feel all four of her arms on him, pulling him in closer, he wants the extra mouth to lick him while his tongue is down her throat.

         She’s on him before he can blink, and this time— he doesn’t hold back.

         The blows shared between them are so rapid, neither has time to think. The sounds of skin meeting skin with dull thuds and their heavy, panting breaths are the only noises to be heard. He can barely regenerate his cursed energy at the same speed that she withers it away, and he realizes distantly that he might have never felt as alive before.

         One failed movement, and he’s on top of her. His own goddess is hissing out curses underneath him, struggling against his strength as he pins her down to the dewy, wet grass beneath them.

         “Yield,” he demands, voice low and breathless.

         “Fuck you,” she spits back, locking her legs around his waist to try and flip him. He doesn’t budge, not this time. There’s only one thing on his mind.

         “Yield, Sundari,” he says again, this time with a coaxing warmth.

         All four of her eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the point that her garnet eyes look black. She still struggles against him, but she’s slowing down, realizing how close they are. Very close, at that. Satoru’s on top of her with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pressed against her at every intimate junction with his fingers fastened around two of her wrists.

         Her other arms have receded back into her, given the position they’re in and the shift of the mood.

         “I said fuck you,” she repeats herself, quieter this time, as her eyes flit between his own and his lips. “I’m not yielding.”

         “You sure?” He murmurs, as his nose brushes hers. “You look like it. You look like you want to.”

That reignites some of her flame, but she pours it into a different approach this time. Always one to move first, she leans up to crash her lips into his. Satoru returns it with even more ferocity, tongue sweeping between her teeth as he presses her down into the grass, groaning against her lips.

         It’s frantic, feverish, the way that she’s tugging at his clothes, and he’s tugging at hers. His cock throbs against the confines of his briefs, as he’s yanking her athletic shorts down her legs and moving his attention to her neck. She nearly growls when he sinks his teeth into her skin, sucking a bruise into the side of her neck.

         She meant it when she said she wasn’t submitting to him, he realizes, as she flips them over with the practiced ease of a fighter, situating herself on top of him. Her hand slips underneath his shirt, desperate for touch and seeking more, more, more of it.

         “Ready to start begging again, Satoru? You did it so well last time,” She purrs, grinning wickedly, as she scrapes her teeth against his collarbone, eager to slip lower.

         “Ha, in your fucking dreams,” he says, before slamming her onto her back.

         She gasps, but he knows she can take it. He’s been fighting with her for an hour and tossed her into more than a few tree trunks, she can handle it. If the wide-eyed look on her face is any indication, she likes it. One hand around her throat, he slips the other down her body and between her thighs to feel her wetness. And god, she’s soaking.

         Circling her clit with his fingertips, he smiles down at her and knows that he looks just as feral as she does. She writhes underneath him, back arching.

         “You got me once, baby. I’ll give you that,” he admits breathlessly, slipping two fingers inside to draw out a strangled moan. “But this time, you’re gonna fucking beg for it. You’re going to tell me how bad you want me to fuck you, and I’ll think about it if you ask nice enough.”

         “You—You’re a fucking dick,” she says, but it’s hard to talk when she’s moaning. “Not begging, not doing it.”

         “Yeah?”

         He knows how she likes it; he remembers her body well. Her pussy sucks in his fingers greedily, as he wraps a hand around her throat and squeezes.

         “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs reverently, honestly. “You’re such a brat too, but you’re gonna take it so good for me, aren’t you? Telling me what a fucking dick I am, while you’re this wet for me?”

         “Fuck you,” she says, but it’s a whine more than anything.

         She’s getting close, he can tell. The adrenaline still pumping through her veins makes it easier to get close without him having to work for it. He’ll edge her time and time again until she’s a mess, slick and wet and crying for him. He traces the tattoos along her chest with his fingertips when he finally releases her throat, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. Her walls constrict around his fingers, but he retreats before she can cum.

         One, two, three times. He brings her to the edge until she’s all but snapping at him, hissing out curses and whines.

         “Say please, Sundari,” he murmurs, low and taunting. “Say please, and I’ll make you cum. I’ll make you cum so hard— I know you want it, you’re so wet for me.”

         “Fuck— Fuck,” she mewls, rocking her hips against his fingers, as if he’ll let her cum. “Please— Please? Please, Satoru,” she finally relents.

         “Good fucking girl,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her, as he finally lets her stumble over the edge. “So fucking good for me,” he coos against her lips, as she spasms beneath him, whining and humping his fingers through her orgasm.

         The shockwaves of it barely have time to end before he’s slipping his cock into her warmth, hissing out a breath at the way she sucks him in. So wet, and so tight. He can’t help himself, can’t wait a second for her to adjust to his length, he sets a brutal pace in fucking her.

         “So fucking good,” he growls against her lips, biting her lower one until he can taste her blood. “That’s it— fucking take it, take all of it.”

         He maneuvers her over onto all fours, pressing a hand down to the apex of her spine to force her into a severe arch, as she moans incoherently beneath him. The sound of his hips flush against her ass makes him bite his lip, muscles tensing and flexing involuntarily as he tries to hold back from finishing inside her. She’s about to cum, he can tell, but not without permission.

         “Beg for it, tell me how much you fucking want it,” he demands, moving to cover her body with his own, murmuring in her ear. “Know you want it; know you want me to fill up your pussy— don’t you?”

         “Yes— yes— please,” she whines, and Satoru’s ego swells to new heights upon seeing this goddess falling apart underneath him.

         “That’s it, just like that— don’t stop— tell me how much you fucking need it,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

         And she does— she begs beautifully, knees buckling as she trembles through another orgasm. Satoru chases her down to the ground, slamming himself into her over and over again until his entire body seizes up with pleasure. He bites down hard on her shoulder when he comes, filling her up with every drop of his cum.

         The two of them stay like that for a while to catch their breath, still half-clothed and panting against each other in the crater they just fucked into the earth.

         “Still a dick,” she reminds him, which draws a chuckle out of him.

         “You yielded, didn’t you?” He says arrogantly, kissing the nape of her neck as he pulls off of her.

         “You’re hearing things,” she says, sitting up to readjust her top. “I never surrendered to you, and I never will. At least, not in a fight.” She winks at him, and he smiles back at her.

         Fuck, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with her.

         Later that night after a shower and some food, Sundari sleeps in Satoru’s bed for the first time. It feels natural, after all they’ve done. They fucked again after that— inside, this time, rather than outside in the wet grass. Neither of them broached the topic of feelings, but they both know it’s there. Something intangible but real settling between the two of them.

         After such a long day, she falls asleep almost immediately, only to be plagued by dreams again.

         This one, however, is different from the rest.

         She’s standing in her hometown, far from Japan and Satoru and everything else. Back in her old life, where she was The Godslayer, dressed in the trappings of a demigoddess worshiped by her people. This isn’t uncommon in her dreams, but she has an unexpected visitor in this one.

         A monk, it seems. His hair is black and long, silky as he moves toward her with a deceptively serene smile on his face. Stitches sit on his forehead, which draws her attention and makes her wary.

         “Sundari,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you. Gojo Satoru has made it exceedingly difficult to reach you in the past few months.”

         Immediately, she’s suspicious. Whoever this monk is, she doesn’t like the energy he emanates. She doesn’t like the look on his face— so calm, so unbothered, he must be hiding something.

         “And what do you want?” She asks, straight to the point.

         He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want something from her. Satoru warned her that the higher-ups of the jujutsu society might not be the only people that are looking for her. This monk strikes familiarity somewhere within her, as if she’s seen him before but can’t remember it for some reason.

         “Still as blunt as ever, I see,” he says, sitting next to her. “I have a proposition for you.”

         “Of course you do.”

         “Sukuna has returned, as has your power,” he says. “Do you know why you were sealed?”

         She grits her teeth, unwilling to answer. He knows something that she doesn’t, but she’s not naive enough to be tempted by whatever he’s offering until she knows what he wants in exchange for it.

         “I’ll take that as a no,” he says in her silence. “There are so many mysteries surrounding you, most of which are unknown even to you. Your father, who he is and how you came to be. The seals on your back, an entire life lived that you can only remember bits and pieces of.”

         She thinks of her mother in that moment. Nadja would know, she’s certain. The monk has piqued her curiosity— of course she wants to know who she was before her memories disappeared, and of course she wants to know about her father, even if she’d never admit it aloud.

         If she had to ask anyone, it would be her mom.

         Seemingly reading her mind, the monk laughs. “Nadja thinks of you as a child, even after all these years. She’d never tell you anything.”

         “And I’m guessing you can,” she says, annoyed at this long-winded speech.

         “Correct,” he agrees. “I can reveal it all to you, shed light on every shadow in your life. I’ve watched you closely since you were born, Sundari. I even helped to put those seals on your back after you slaughtered that town.”

         Sundari’s eyes grow wide, horrified at the implication.

         “What do you want?” She demands again.

         “I want your cooperation in the coming days,” he offers nonchalantly. “Sukuna will regain his full power sooner rather than later, and he’ll fight alongside me in an… event that I’m planning. You could meet him for yourself, let him tell you about his relationship with Nadja, and I could fill in all of those blank spots that you can’t stop obsessing over.” 

         “So, you want to have control over me when you do something big and fucked up in the future,” she says with an eyeroll. “Got it.”

         She seemingly cannot stop running into people that want to control her or collar her. Even Satoru isn’t immune to that. As much as she likes to live in the fantasy of their relationship, she knows that his goal at the end of this is to contain her. In that way, he’s not so different to the monk.

         “I want to work with you,” he corrects her. “In exchange, you’ll know everything, including your father. I know you’re not interested now, you think you have other options, so I’ll give you time. When you realize that I’m the only source for uncovering the mysteries your mother keeps from you, I’ll find you. Until then, Sundari.”

         He presses a hand to her shoulder, a way of saying goodbye, and she wakes with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in the bed.

         Satoru is awake in an instant, eyeing her warily in the darkness. 

         “Nightmare?” He asks groggily. 

         For a moment, she considers keeping it to herself, just in case. Deep inside, she knows that even if Satoru likes her— even if he loves her— his ultimate goal is not so different to the monk. He wants to control her; he wants her freedom. She’s given it to him by agreeing to stay here willingly for so long, why should she offer up more of herself to someone who will use her like a pawn? 

         They all do. That’s all she is to them. Whether it’s the monk, or Satoru, or the higher-ups, or her mother— they want to own her, to contain her. They want her collared and docile, so that she doesn’t self-destruct and take the world down with her, like Sukuna. 

         “What do you want out of this?” She asks, defensive and guarded. 

         Satoru sits up, shaking his head at her. “What do you mean?” 

         “What do you want from this? From me? What’s your goal?” 

         “To protect you,” he says. “I’ve told you that from the beginning—” 

         “No— you know I don’t need protecting. What is it? Is it just control?” 

         No one has ever protected Sundari, nor have they ever needed to. She’s been on her own, and she’s been fine that way. If anything, she’s always been the protector, the savior, the one who helps when things go to shit, and someone needs muscle to deal with it. 

         “Control?” He asks, huffing out a laugh. “Is that what you think this is?” 

         “What should I think? Why else would you keep me here?” 

         He scoffs. “I don’t know what you saw in that dream, but the past month you’ve been here, the only thing I’ve done is protect you. The higher-ups want you dead, god knows who else wants you dead— I keep them away from you,” he says, unwavering. “I just want to keep you safe, to make sure that no one wants to use you for their own gain.” 

         “So that you can use me instead, right? At the end of this? I’m powerful, so you need to contain me, collar me, make sure I don’t fuck you over—” 

         “Sundari,” he says sharply, cutting her off. “Do you think I could control you, even if I wanted to? If you wanted to leave here right now and go be a force of fucking nature, do you think I could stop you?” 

         She stares at him, unsure of her answer. Could he? 

         “You’re not a pawn to me, you are not something I need to keep under my thumb,” he continues. “You’re an equal to me,” he admits softly. “In every way, I see you as an equal, and the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to keep you away from people who won’t see you that way.” 

         “Why?” She murmurs, uncharacteristically soft and fragile. 

         “I love you,” he says. “I— I don’t know if it’s too soon, or— fuck, I don’t know, but I do. I love you, love the way you laugh, love your bad attitude, love the way you fuss and fight with me. I want to be with you— I don’t want to take your freedom, I want to work alongside you, just– I want to be near you,” he murmurs. 

         “You love me?” She mumbles, leaning closer. 

         “I love you,” he repeats, placing a hand on her cheek. His eyes scan along her face for any reaction. “That’s all there is. I don’t care what you are, or what other people think you are, I just want to keep you safe.” 

         Maybe she can believe him, if only for right now. The monk’s offer is still on the table, still a temptation that she’ll have to grapple with, but this is real. She’s never been looked after before like this, she’s never had anyone feel the need to protect her, to keep her safe. She’s always been strong— when has there ever been the need for it?

         But Satoru is strong, too, and she understands the way he feels. She wants to protect him, too, whatever the cost may be. If anything happened to him, she’d lose her fucking mind, she’d destroy everything in her path. 

         “Okay— Okay. I’ll work with you,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead to his. A little grin creeps up on her face. “Under the condition that I want strong opponents— I want to fight people that are worth it.” 

         “Done,” he says, smiling back at her. “Are you okay?” 

         “Yeah,” she breathes. “I— I love you. It might be too soon, but–” 

         He kisses her before she can say another word, and for the time-being, they’re happy. 

Writing © 2024 @septembersums and posted with permission. Sundari Hikmat © 2024 @osunism. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging original posts is okay]. This includes my masterlist and fic format as well as feeding my writing to an AI garbage machine. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

[soobuneary]

Love You Still - Choi Soobin x Reader

Warning: Recreational Drug Use, please be responsible!

Just a soft, chill evening with your boyfriend Soobin.

Word Count: 2,060

“Do you trust me?”

It seemed maybe a little manipulative, but you had to admit it. “Yes.”

Soobin smiled brightly, and he looked just like a rabbit. You could see his metaphorical ears stick up at your agreement. “Good, ‘cause this was your idea.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Still, I don’t know. What if I have a bad time?”

“I’ll be right here, and I’m experienced enough to help even under the influence.” He placed one hand on your knee. “Besides, edibles are much nicer, in my opinion.” The devil on your right shoulder said everything was fine as long as Soobin was here, but the angel on your left held a lot of fear and guilt. What if you get paranoid? What if you get sick? What if-

“Y/N? I can see your mind running laps. You don’t have to, there’s no pressure.”

You took a deep breath and awkwardly exhaled. “I want to! You enjoy this, so I want to try it too!”

He laughed at how worked up you appeared to be. You had only been dating for four months, and you had never seen Soobin high. The idea of how different he might be sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Finally, he opened the pack of gummies and placed them gingerly on the living room table. He patted the cushion next to him, beckoning you to sit on the floor with him. You obliged and began to gather your courage.

“These are only 25mg a gummy, but I suggest starting with just one. It’ll take about 30 minutes to kick in, and then you can decide if you want another one.”

“How many are you taking?”

“Probably three, but I have a much higher tolerance. This is your first time, so it’s best to start small.” He handed you a gummy, and your insides felt like jelly. Soobin could sense your anxiety and reminded you, “There’s absolutely no pressure, Y/N. We can do something else.”

You put the gummy in your mouth and began to chew. It tasted like strawberry at first, but then it took on a weird and unpleasant taste. It must have shown on your face because he giggled at you. You watched him take three, just as he had said. “What now?”

“We can do whatever you want,” he said. “Watch a movie, play video games, or just talk.”

“We can talk.”

He connected his phone to his speaker on the table and then stood. Yoko Ono by Mob Rich began to play softly. Was this a cheeky attempt at setting the mood? You didn’t care, if anything, it just made him seem more endearing. He offered his hand. You took it, and he led you to the couch.

And that’s where the two of you laid in silence for a while, just listening to music. Your head was on his chest, and his arms wrapped around you tightly. Soobin’s heartbeat seemed dangerously slow, but you figured if you mentioned it, he would laugh at you. Not maliciously, of course. You had to admit that he was the nicest guy you had ever dated. At first, the lure of a bad boy who frequents parties and smokes was incredibly hot. After getting to know him, you realized he was quite the opposite. Soobin was a perfect gentleman who was soft-spoken and gentle. He fed stray cats and helped old ladies carry their groceries. He wore sweaters and his heart on his sleeve. His dimples popped out whenever he laughed, which was often. He had the most gentle laugh and warm heart.

You were falling for him fast.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who wanted to talk.”

It was your turn to laugh at him. “You can also start a conversation.”

“Are you feeling okay? It’s been around 30 minutes.”

“Yeah, I don’t feel any different. Should I take another one?”

He shook his head. “Give it a little bit more time.”

You had said you felt fine, but just then, you felt a weird tingling in your mouth. The tingle seemed to travel all around your face and eventually slowly trickled down your body. Your whole body felt like it had fallen asleep, but it wasn’t a normal, painful numb. It felt as if your bones were melting and your skin was vibrating. “My body is weird.”

“It’s weird?”

“It feels weird.”

You looked up at him. His eyes were slightly squinted, and his lazy smile made him look so relaxed. Was his body also feeling like yours? His lips parted, and you wondered if you’d ever seen something so pretty. “It’s okay, that’s normal, Y/N.”

“It doesn’t feel normal. It feels weird.”

Suddenly his face seemed serious; he was unable to hide his concern. “Do you feel okay?”

You felt a smile stretch on your face, but it felt like your mouth did it on its own. The loss of control wasn’t unwelcome. You weren’t sure if you’d ever felt more relaxed. “Better than okay, I think.”

A song you knew and loved came on, so you put your head back on his chest and simply hummed along. The lack of conversation wasn’t awkward. Your bodies seemed to mesh together, and you didn’t know where yours ended and his began. It was like sinking into water but floating at the same time. The hum of your lips tickled. Actually, all of your body felt as if invisible fingers were tickling you. Soft giggles escaped your lips.

“What’s funny, love?”

You gasped and pulled your upper body away from him. You rested your weight on your palms, but you were wobbly. “Love? Did you say love?”

It was faint, but you could see it. He blushed. “It’s-”

“It’s okay. I’m teasing you. I love you, Soobin.”

He placed his large palms on your cheeks. His lips pursed, and you assumed it was for a kiss. You closed your eyes and leaned in, but instead, one long finger met your mouth. “You’re high, Y/N.”

You huffed and tried to stand up, but his hands caught your elbows. “I still mean it.”

He smirked, “Then tell me again tomorrow when you’re sober.”

“I am sober!” Your cry came out awkwardly as your tongue suddenly felt too big for your mouth. And dry. So fucking dry, ugh-

Soobin seemed to read your mind. He slid out from under you and helped you get back on the couch. “I’ll get us some water.”

He left you on the couch to get two water bottles. The cushion underneath you seemed to move up toward you, and it tickled so much. You couldn’t stop the laughter spilling out of your mouth. It was honestly a little painful. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Soobin!”

“What is it?” He placed the water on the table and bent down in front of the couch. “Are you still feeling okay?”

“Am I gonna die?”

He let out a small huff of a laugh before he could stop himself. “No, Y/N, you’re not going to die.”

“It feels so good it hurts. It feels like the couch is tickling me.”

“The couch is tickling you? Should I have a word with the couch?”

That made you laugh even more. Talking to a couch? Who did he think he was fooling, couches can’t talk! But apparently, they can tickle. “I think the couch feels too much. I’m gonna sit on the floor.”

You did just as you said, and he sat on the floor next to you. “Y/N, do you want to watch TV? Sometimes when I feel too much, videos take my mind off of it.”

That sounded nice because your body felt as if it were blending in with the floor. Every molecule of your skin was vibrating with an uncomfortable intensity. It didn’t tickle anymore, but it was too much. You nodded, “Yeah, let's watch something.” He reached across the coffee table for the remote, his arm reaching across your body in the process. You could feel the individual heat waves radiating from his hoodie sleeve. He seemed to move in slow motion. Actually, everything was. What time was it? You looked at your phone where it sat on the table in front of you, 10:53. Wasn’t it 10, like, three hours ago? It was frustrating you even more. Why was time moving so slowly? Was everything okay?

Soobin, too busy scrolling through different apps on the smart TV, didn’t notice your inner panic. Instead, he settled on YouTube and said, “Music videos can be fun. Especially with the lights off, it makes you feel like you’re in it.” He finally looked over at you because of your lack of response. Confusion painted your face, so he wrapped an arm around you. “Y/N, are you feeling alright?”

You took a sip of water, and nodded again. “I think so. I’m just feeling irritated.”

“Irritated?”

“There’s a lot going on I just don’t understand. At first, it was nice, but now I’m just overwhelmed I think.”

He used his other arm to hug you completely. “Do you want to go to sleep? It’ll wear off by the time you wake up, and I bet you’ll sleep really good.”

“No, I want to keep hanging out. I think I’ll feel better if I focus on something.” Why did you suddenly start feeling better? It probably had to do with your focus on his long arms wrapped around you so securely. You felt safe in his embrace, and you didn’t want him to let go.

So when he did to grab the remote again you groaned. He laughed, “I’ll hug you again, honey. Just let me put something on.”

Your blush felt much hotter than it ever had before, but you didn’t mind it. You decided you liked that nickname, “Honey.”

“Yes, honey, because you’re so sweet.”

You giggled for what was probably the hundredth time that night, the gummies were working overtime. Soobin had put on a music video for a song you didn’t know, but the colors were bright and the music itself was… what was it? “Vibe-y?”

He put the remote down and looked at you, “What’s vibe-y? The song?”

“Yeah, it’s chill.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you once again. “I’m glad, it’ll help mellow you out.”

The warmth from his hold made you feel beyond safe. You could feel yourself sinking into deep relaxation. “I think I know something that’ll mellow me out more.”

“And what’s that?”

You held out one finger. “Just one.”

“Just one what?”

“Kiss me.”

He smiled, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m more than sure.”

His lips parted and his face slowly crept toward yours. His pretty eyelashes seemed to flutter as he shut his eyes, and if you hadn’t wanted him so badly you wouldn’t have kissed him. You would’ve just kept gazing upon who must’ve been the most attractive person you’d ever seen.

But you did want him, and you knew that this kiss was going to be beyond anything you’d ever felt before. So you met his lips with your own, and it wasn’t your first kiss, but it felt brand new. What did it feel like? Pillows, clouds, anything soft. He used the softest force, like the force a butterfly uses to flap its delicate wings. It tickled, but not a tickle that causes laughter. A tickle that made your joints feel like jelly. His hands left your sides to tangle his fingers in your hair. You deepened the kiss with your tongue, and he groaned lightly. You kissed him as if you’d never kiss him again.

And when you both needed to breathe you slowly pulled apart. “That was…”

He laughed his pretty laugh. “Was what?”

“I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

He kissed you again, this time just a chaste kiss before he stood. He pulled you onto the couch with him, and after a few more kisses, the two of you drifted to sleep. And he was right, it was the best sleep you ever had.

When you woke up the next morning Soobin was already awake. He looked down at where your head rested on his chest. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“I’m sober now.”

“Yeah?”

“And I love you still.”

[silbeni]

Dante Aguilar 🧬 🧠 🌀

(Namesake: Dante Alighieri)

Stand: GHOST TRAIN

Pronouns: He/xe/they

Labels: Xenogender transmasc panromantic asexual!

Uses Masculine/neutral gendered words.

Age: 24 (Stone ocean)

Height: 4'11"

Nationality: Puerto rican 🇵🇷

Notable characteristics: Glossy black eyes, spike piercings, black lipstick, sharp metal teeth, small, upturned button nose, ear gauges.

Build: Short with a twiggy frame. Xe has top surgery scars.

Pairings: Electricplankton (Dante/F.F.)

Voiceclaim: 🎙️Alcryst FE!!

PERSONALITY

Dante’s biggest flaw is their cowardice, and the most prominent aspect of their personality. Simply put, he is the wettest beast - xir confidence has the constitution of wet 1-ply toilet paper. However, they will do anything if it means helping someone they love. Xe deeply values the few connections xe's got, so he is incredibly loyal. He loves fully and attaches easily.

Besides lacking bravery, they are also sensitive. They feel emotions with the wholeness of their being. When they are happy, anyone can tell. When they are sad, everyone will hear them bawling in the next room over.

On the flipside, it wouldn't seem so, but Dante is actually very competent. When xe needs to, he can be quite formidable. He may not be strong, or brave, but he proves to be a valuable asset where intellect and strategy is involved. Xe's a clever one under all of the anxiety.

Likes: Videogames, energy drinks, manga/comics, sour candy, junk food, cryptids, internet forums.

Representative animal: White-tailed deer.

MISC

Motifs: Intersecting lines like DNA strands, metal spikes, balaclava masks, spirals (brain symbology)

Particularities: Strongly believes in superstitions of bad luck. Likes horror media despite being easily scared. He struggles with spelling.

Skills: Computer/tech skills. Black hat hacking. Puzzle solving. Incredible Tetris and Minesweeper skills. Can name the list of 151 Pokemon. An absolute fiend for cyphers.

Education: Full highschool education. A tattoo artist apprenticeship that was never followed up on.

OCCUPATION

Was previously a pizza delivery person prior to conviction. Held several low paying jobs before that.

CANON CHARACTER RELATIONSHIPS

F.F. Quick friends who then became lovers. They are so sappy and corny that they make Jolyne and Ermes gag. Truly the silliest couple ever.

Ermes/Jolyne. They couldn't tolerate him at first, but they eventually developed a strong friendship through the events of Stone Ocean.

Emporio. They have a really sweet relationship. Dante is like an older brother to him.

Weather Report. Consider each other good friends. Weather cools Dante’s anxiety with his chill disposition.

Anasui. They don't get along. He is very rude to xem and xe is too afraid to stand up for xemself.

Jotaro. They don't really know him, but they admire his strength.

ORIGINAL CHARACTER RELATIONSHIPS

(Alt!DIU) Romeh. Xe thinks he is so cool and intimidating. Romeh feels responsible for looking after xem, which is sometimes exasperating - but he does it anyway. It's pretty clear to see he cares about the little guy.

(DIU) Ryoma. Friends with sibling energy! They are very sweet together. Despite Ryoma being younger, they are like an older sibling to them.

(Jojolion) Kyouka. They exploit Dante’s gullible nature for amusement. They keep convincing him of silly things to scare him. Dante is wary of them, but he can't help but believe everything they say when they say it with such confidence.

(Battle Tendency) Nocera. She coddles him because she thinks of him as a baby. He generally doesn't mind this, but it gets a little tired sometimes.

BACKGROUND

-Brief mention of recreational drugs-

Dante’s life before moving out of their homeland was pretty uneventful. They didn't have a good relationship with their parents, their sense of self and choices were incredibly limited, but they stuck though it all until adulthood. He was sent off to the US to study dentistry, to which he attended for about a month before dropping out, unbeknownst to their parents. He began living wrecklessly. Couch surfing and chasing highs. Xe found friendship with a couple of black hat hackers, who taught xem their skills. He began breaching government databases, doing nothing with the information - he just wanted to see if he could do it. It was exhilarating, and the most fun they had ever had. They had hardships still, but this was one of the happiest times in their life.

Then, one night, they place they were staying at was seized by the cops. All their electronics were taken. As it turns out, one of their casual friends, who they trusted too much, had outed them to the police. Dante was been smart and no tangible evidence was found, but they had been sloppy otherwise. Since they were unable to be charged for cybercrimes, they were imprisoned for possession of weed with a sentence of 5 years.

Their hacker friends that were also snitched on, blamed them for everything. Especially since Dante received a much lighter sentence. They carried a lot of guilt because of that. His parents were notified of his imprisonment and he would be completely shut out of their family. The rest of their friends on the outside cut communication, either scared of being persecuted by the law, mutual friends wanting nothing to do with them, or simply not wanting to continue the friendship due to the circumstances. Xe made the news, and civilians rallied in favor of a heavier sentence for xem. Their peak was followed by what felt like an age of darkness. They were so alone.

Inside the prison, things were worse. They were routinely pushed around and taken advantage of. The absolute bottom of the food chain. They, again, were out of control of their life, powerless. That was until he acquired his stand. Ghost Train would retroactively help them navigate their day to day. Soon, a rumour would spread - that Dante was under the protection of a real life ghost, and the harassment would dwindle. The arrival of their stand would turn things around for them. Xe was still sad and lonely, but after that, xe had a much easier time behind bars. The string of fate that draws stand users together would eventually cause Dante’s and Jolyne’s paths to cross and thus their involvement with the plot begins.

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place. 

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked. 

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me. 

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

[disabled-sysboxes]

WELCOME TO DISABLED SYS BOXES!

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We are Danse Macabre, a polyfrag DID system that is physically disabled and neurodivergent. We use he / hir / ask pronouns collectively and currently ID as a gay, intersex interfluid tfemmasc guy!

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[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hii! i'm looking for friends to lovers wangxian fics with a lot of angst and only top!lwj, please! thank you 🙏🏽💖

Stumbling Into You by Magnolia822 (E, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Practice Kissing, Bisexuality, Coming Out, New York City, Denial of Feelings, Mutual Pining, Hand Jobs,Jealousy, Light Angst, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Past XianMian, Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Family Dynamics, Falling In Love, Found Family, Unsafe Sex, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning)

And I’ll Press You to the Pages of My Heart | 心動的痕跡 by soundlessspills (E, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Identity Reveal, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Skips, Grief/Mourning, yunmeng sibs, First Time, Light Bondage, Mirror Sex, brief mention of body image issues, gege kink)

spoke like we meant it by BlackWiresOnHerHead (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, 5+1, Fluff, oh my god they were roommates, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Pining, Cuddling, Accidental Confession, Humor, Abandonment Issues, Light Angst)

down by the water by astrolesbian (E, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Surfer LWJ, Surfer WWX, loneliness, complicated family relationships, mention of drowning, but no actual drowning is described, fluff and smut and angst, Reconciliation)

like a saturated sunrise by moonsteps (T, 26k, WangXian, College/University, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, References to anxiety, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers, Roommates)

Common love isn't for us by feyburner (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Making Out, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Common love isn't for us [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

So I love you because I know no other way than this by Trueredhearts (E, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, CSSR and WCZ Live, College/University, Tattoos, Nipple Piercings, Genital Piercing, Law Student!LWJ, Engineering Student!WWX, Childhood Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, Graduate School)

hold up a mirror by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 36k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Self-Discovery, Insecurity, Dancing, Knitting, Idiots in Love, Loneliness, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of WWX/Others)

A storm without a warning by Spodumene (E, 22k, WangXian, WangYu, Modern AU, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Masturbation, Eventual Smut, Pining, Denial, Drunkenness, Jealousy, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Fully Completely by brooklinegirl (E, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Practice Kissing, Pining while fucking, WWX's incredible lack of impulse control, LWJ (technically) fucks)

all that and more by Euphorion (E, 20k, WangXian, XuanLiMian, QingMian, Modern AU, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Truth or Dare, Sexting, Nudes, First Time Blow Jobs, "Straight" WWX, "Cis" WWX, Genderfluid WWX, Trans Male Character, trans WN, Intercrural Sex, Phone Sex, Rimming, Anal Play, Friends With Benefits, Mutual Pining, Weddings, Minor XianYu, Facials)

something so flawed and free by verseau (E, 59k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Graduate School, Dom/sub, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Sexual Submission, Kink Negotiation, Biting, Overstimulation, Cock Warming, Consensual Non-Consent, Spanking)

felt this way by crowing (E, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Friends With Benefits, Praise Kink, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Best Friends)

Love Don't Belong To Me by airinshaw (E, 28k, WangXian, Getting Together, Kissing, Intercrural Sex, Light Angst, Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attack, WWX's canonical self-esteem issues, Canonical Child Abuse, not as dark as the tags imply, Past Relationships mention)

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, wangxian, modern w magic, college/university au, fake/pretend relationship, single parent WWX, homophobia, light angst w/ happy ending, idiots to lovers, fluff)

~*~

2. Hello!!!!! This is my first time submitting an ask so I really hope I'm doing this right??? (I've been looking meticulously for specific fics that I like when I stumbled upon this blog!) Okay soーI'd really like to find fics of lwj kind of treating wy harshly or hurting wy's feelings on response towards wy just being friendly; then lwj has come to regret his action and tries to make amends through his lwj unique ways or something. Thank you very much!!!! 💙💙💙 @tinafaye

and here comes the summertime by ribena (M, 72k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Academia, this is set in America, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, Humor, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Found Family)

Of Bunnies and Sleeves and All Happy Things by moonwaif (G, 3k, WangXian,two dorks, failed attempts at flirting, LWJ is jealous, but he doesn't know it, unresolved romantic and sexual tension, Mutual Pining) there are no amends made lol but it is your specific scenario of Wei ying being friendly

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, College/University) this one is not the scenario of Lan zhan being mean for Wei ying being friendly per se, he's just a jerk due to being emotionally repressed haha, but he does go through growth and then makes postive changes towards wei ying

Where You Fell by Sweet_William (E, 303k, WangXian, WangXian,3Zun, ChengSang, Modern AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Homeless, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, accidental sugar daddy lwj, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Esteem Issues, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Autistic Character, WWX Has ADHD, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex Work, Implied/Referenced Substance Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending)

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

3. I’m in the mood for captured WWX. Don’t care who does it or when or if it’s cannon verse. Love them all. What are everyone’s favorites? @anxiousdemonspirit

a thousand hills, no birds in flight | 千山鳥飛絕 by defractum (nyargles) (E, 26k, WangXian, Mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon adjacent setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

Brotherhood by LtLJ (G, 10k, JC & WWX, canon divergence, JC & WWX reconciliation, angst w happy ending, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, YLLZ WWX)

debt of a knife by  iliacquer  (E, 13k, wangxian, fantasy au, warlord LWJ, forced marriage, faked dubcon, exhibitionism, voyerism, consensual non-con)

i’ll take a secondhand monster by Stratisphyre (T, 24k, MXY & WWX, MXY & JGY, LSZ & LWJ, wangxian, canon divergence, child abuse, bullying, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, kidfic, minor canonical character death, injured WWX, earn your happy ending) (though the second is more mxy centric)

~*~

4. Hello! For the next itmf could we get some drunk lwj shenanigans?

i know who i want to take me home by ScarlettStorm (E, 16k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, bartender wwx, Drunk LWJ, Caretaking, Meet-Cute, late-night diner food, Fluff, Comedy, Smut, Minor Angst, major shenanigans)

indecent exposure by sarahyyy (M, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, Drunk LWJ)

Night at the Guanyin Temple by pupeez4eva (Not Rated, 2k, WangXian, Humor, Crack, Canon Divergence, Love Confessions, drunk!LWJ)

Playing Nice by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mildly Dubious Consent, Drunk LWJ, Phoenix Mountain, The wens are fine, Public Display of Affection, Soft WangXian, Fluff and Crack, POV Alternating, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours)

are you my wisdom tooth? because i'd like to take you out by yellowcarnations (G, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor)

My Zhiji's On Broadway by ScarlettStorm (E, 15k, WangXian, Modern AU, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunk LWJ, seattle jokes, Getting Together, First Time, white girl wasted LWJ, responsible wwx, Minor Angst, major comedy, still cultivators, Vague Worldbuilding, Biting, Hand Jobs, weirdly sexual cheeseburgers, not in that order)

this could be the start (of something new) by varnes (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, drunk LWJ)

A-Zhan is Three by westiec (T, 1k, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Post-Canon, Drunk LWJ, LXC in Seclusion, soft, Sleepy Cuddles, Hair Braiding)

don't let him know! by prettyweiying (T, 2k, WangXian, Drunk LWJ, Fluff, Domestic Fluff)

a pear blossom bathed in springtime rain by RoseThorne (E, 1k, wangxian, accidental drunkenness, sensuality, porn with feelings, drunk sex, confessional sex, gentle sex, multiple orgasms, coitus interruptus, unconsciousness, light bondage)

~*~

5. Hello hello! I’m in the mood for some kind of futureswap smut, preferably with post-canon WWX and Cloud Recesses era LWJ, but I’ll take any version of “one half of Wangxian is from/has knowledge of the future, the other is/does not, they get nasty.” Dynamics don’t really matter to me.

a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 80k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parallel Universes, Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions, {Podfic} a tide in two seas by littleglasselephants) this is modern wangxian meeting canon wangxian in a post canon setting

~*~

6. For the next ITMF post, looking for fics where people figure out wwx is unappreciated or abused in the Jiang sect and get him out. Can be canonverse or AU, i just want people seeing that wwx deserves better and giving it to him. (Bonus points for it being the Lans with Good Uncle LQR, though not required. Still wangxian as the main ship, please.) @bookkbaby

Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

Calling out for justice by marhikit (Not Rated, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Family Friendly, canon jc characteristic)

golden chrysanthemum. by cop_ulate (G, 6k, WIP, WangXian, Good Uncle LQR, Good Sibling LXC, Child WWX, Child LWJ, Child LXC, Canon Divergence, Characters Belong to a Different Clan | Sect Swap, WWX is a Lán, JFM and YZY Bashing)

~*~

7. I'm sorry if this ask might be uncomfortable, but if you don't mind.

For the next "in the mood for a fic" can you recommend some fic that focuses on child abuse on WY or that toxic Jiang Family dynamic, can be modern or canon.

Thank you very much.

I think there is a jiang clan critical compilation? (We do have a Jiang Cheng bashing comp, if that's what you were thinking of ^^ - Mod C)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX)

~*~

8. Hi mods, I hope you are having a great day. I have some free time right now and was wondering if there is any list of palace intrigue storylines in the MDZS fandom to binge read. Or if you could recommend some good politics heavy reads. I'm fine with a/b/o dynamic, canon or ancient china, magic- no magic, supernatural and mythical creatures, etc. Just some wangxian stories with political elements. I hope this is not too much work. It's fine if you can't find any. Anyways I appreciate the work you do as I have found quite a few good reads from the other itmf.

true gold fears no fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 64k, WangXian, Royalty, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings)

Wilful Blindness ≠ Ignorance by Cy_an_Blue (E, 56k, WIP, WangXian, LSZ is a Wèi, WWX is LSZ's Parent, Child LSZ, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Prince LWJ, Concubine WWX, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Original Character Death(s), Implied/Referenced Child Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied Mpreg, Past Mpreg, Post-War, Prisoner of War, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, One-Sided Attraction, but not really, Falling In Love, Angst and Tragedy???, Period-Typical Sexism, Period Typical Attitudes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Requited Love, Getting Together)

Lost in Diplomacy by Subtleladybird (M, 90k, WangXian, Historical, Royalty, Imperial Pair, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Harem, Politics, Angst, Mpreg, Miscommunication, Brotherly Love, Not really a harem, more like one spoiled non-rival, Time Skips, Pregnancy, Violence, Childbirth, Miscarriage, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Married Couple)

a harmony between qin and se by Alaceron (E, 53k, WIP, WangXian, Gender Changes, Historical, Female WWX) if OP doesn't mind Ancient Chinese Familial Politics, harmony between qin and se by Alaceron is very good!

~*~

9. Any recs for fics focusing on LQR?

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

An old kettle, a tiny teacup, and a new pot. by mondengel (G, 2k, LWJ & LQR)

for LQR-focus fics, @robininthelabyrinth (tumblr - but nirejseki on AO3) is a great choice for this with a wide variety of fic.

Back to roots by ilip13 (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, (Newly) Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Family Feels, POV Multiple) this fic has a LQR pov section that is really awesome

Deeper Seasons by piecrust (G, 8k, WangXian, LQR & WWX)

Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear (G, 21k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, no one dies, Lqr finds out about wwx's core, Fluff, WWX goes to Gusu, little bit of, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal)

a convergence of lightning by Stratisphyre (T, 33k, CSSR/LQR/WCZ, Modern with Magic, Grief/Mourning, loss of a parent, Falling In Love, Polyamory, Parenthood, Kid Fic, Qingheng-jun’s A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, the Non-Existent Lan Alcohol Tolerance, Love Confessions, Canon-Typical Violence)

When we were small by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, implied WangXian, Modern AU, Kid Fic, Good Uncle LQR, Neurodivergent LWJ, Baby LWJ, Baby WWX, Parenthood, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

No Strings Attached by stiltonbasket (G, 3k, wangxian, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LXC/NMJ, fix-it, good uncle LQR, politics, genius WWX, smitten LWJ, golden core reveal)

No Paths Are Bound by stiltonbasket (G, 3k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, LQR is a good uncle, Background Relationships, Introspection, Happy Ending, mild warning for implied nc re: madam lan)

The Untamed: For the Love of Two Boys by YenGirl (Not Rated, 181k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, 3Zun, LQR/SiSi, Yin Metal poisoning, wangxian wedding, 3Zun wedding, Single minded LZ, Caring WY, Supportive lxc, Supportive LQR, Prickly JC, Sweet JYL, Good JZX (Peacock), Badass WQ, Cinnamon roll WN, adorable a-yuan, Supportive NMJ, Redeemed JGY, Evil JGS, Supportive Madam Jin, Rescued SS, Useless Sect Leader Yao, Supportive Lan Healer OC, Golden Core Reveal, Yunmeng sibs reconciliation, Implied mpreg jokes)

~*~

10. Hi!! I'm in the mood for a fic where WWX finds out about LWJ's feelings for him in an indirect way. Something similar to Dei_Starr (DeiStarr)'s The Secret Life of Lan Wangji, where WWX had no idea the LWJ felt anything for him until he read about it in LWJ's journal.

Could be that he reads something that he was never meant to see, or overhears something he was never meant to hear; as long as it's about WWX being totally oblivious to how much LWJ feels for him, until he finds out by accident. Especially better if LWJ isn't immediately aware that he's been found out.

Canon universe is preferred, explicit would be a plus (we all know that LWJ is horny for WWX 24/7!)

Thank you so much!

Forget Me Not by Vamillepudding (T, 10k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, romantic comedy, misunderstandings, protectie JC, light angst)

~*~

11. hello!! for the next itmf can u recommend some fics:

A) wwx died when he was in the burial mounds or before/during sunshot + some revenge scene from lwx when he learned that wwx died.

B) no yl!wwx or something like sunshot without yiling patriarch

thankyouuuuuuuu 💗

11A)

Achievement Unlocked 🔓 by UseMyMuse (E, 54k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Transmigration, Crack, Sassy System, Canonical Character Death, Reincarnation/Transmigration, Bamf wwx, mild to major violence briefly mentioned, Mild/brief mentions of torture, Kidnapping, Accidental Child Acquisition) For the first half of 11A and kiiinda B, could count?

11B)

If Wei Wuxian Did Not Exist by Anonymous (Not Rated, 190k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, what if, Character Death, KARMA and Retribution, Time Travel, Or actually Time Rewind?, Not for jc stans) Chapter 16-24 deal with the sunshot campaign

💖 Xiao-Ying of the Third Refugee Village by abCEE (T, 31k, wangxian, WWX banished from Jiang sect, not Jiang friendly, found family, mpreg, fluff, flirting) Xiao-Ying and the Third Refugee Village has WWX noping out of the cultivation world pretty much right before the war

Magical Marriage Ribbons Series by starandrea (Varies, 1m, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Accidental Marriage, Fluff, Happy Ending, Telepathic bond, Kink Negotiation, Family Drama, Magical Pregnancy, Dual Cultivation, Shapeshifters, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Yilling Wei Sect) It's been a hot minute since I read the earlier parts, but for 11B I thiiink the Magical Marriage Ribbons series has Wei Ying not being YLLZ?

💙 Away from Trouble by Ilona22 (M, 15k, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, LWJ/WWX Get a Happy Ending) After the Core-Transfer WWX is not captured and thrown into the Burial Mounds

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) (link in #6) also fits here as WWX participates in the Sunshot Campaign as a normal cultivator

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12. ITMF mengyao and wwx as brothers (adopted or friends or same group or any)

This Time Around by KouriArashi (T, 83k, JGY & NHS, NHS & WWX, JGY & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Class Issues, Past Child Abuse, Moral Ambiguity, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 46k, wangxian, meng yao & wei wuxian) is a lovely read

Burn It All Down by nekojita (M, 94k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, CSSR Lives, BAMF CSSR, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Rogue Cultivator WWX)

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k,  WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots  of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending,  Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters.)

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13. Please recommend some good mer!wangxian :)

Bottom of the Deep Blue by mondengel (T, 20k, WangXian, Mermaid AU)

Under every sky, in every way by naqaashi (M, 15k, WangXian, Curses, Curse Breaking, Soft WangXian, Love Confessions, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings Realization, Idiots in Love, Getting to Know Each Other, Oblivious WWX, Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, mermaid!lwj, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fairy Tale Elements, Public Display of Affection, Shameless WangXian, Married WangXian, Good Sibling LXC, Accidental Voyeurism, Fix-It, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mutual Pining)

mermaid mouths are made for murder by HeavenlySkyfarer (E, 10k, WangXian, Merpeople, Biting, Facials, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Possessive Behavior, Angst, The Lan Sect's A+ Parenting, Dark LWJ, WWX's Canonical Masochism, Creature Inheritance, Xenophobia, Souls, Blanket Permission)

The Fisherman's Pearl | 鲛人泣珠 by guangdian (E, 14k, WangXian, Merpeople, Merperson LWJ, Drunk LWJ, Crying LWJ, brief degradation kink, mentions of mpreg, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, implied vers wangxian)

Phrases and Themes form a Song by mondengel (T, 2k, WangXian, Mermaid AU, Mermaids)

impossible to stay away, impossible to stay by dragongirlG, Sixlayerhouse (sixlayerhouse) (E, 34k, WangXian, Inspired by The Shape of Water (2017), Modern China, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Fairy Tale Elements, Jiaoren LWJ, Mercreature LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Captivity, LWJ Whump, Chronic Pain, Blood and Injury, Classism, Ableism, Depression, Interspecies Relationship(s), Good Sibling JC, Angst with a Happy Ending, Embedded Images, Footnotes)

#16 of this post

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14. hello, for the next itmf i really wanna read a fic where both lan zhan and lan huan are young and lz rlly admires his gege, always follows him, can’t bear to be away from him, etc. just some cute babyji. it can be part of a bigger fic or just a one-shot, doesnt matter. TYYYYY 😄

babyji🥺 I only have read babyji with wangxian not with lan Huan but just in case requestor wants to see these

If You are with Me by Starkalways1 (G, 4k, WangXian)

Baby Pictures by DizziDreams (G, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff)

A new found family by MusicMe_tc (G, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Teenage Wangxian, Cursed LWJ, Soft LQR, Supportive LXC, Fluff, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Happy Ending)

A Baby Dragon’s Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 87k, wangxian, fantasy au, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, younger LWJ, older WWX, fluff, humor, happy ending, WIP) this fic has some babyji x lan huan cute moments. The next two are not per your request but they have cute babyji moments

i carry your heart with me by lulu_kitty (G, 12k, wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, de-aging, fluff & angst) (Lz gets turned to a kid)

Over the Mountain and Through the Woods by mondengel (G, 1k, QHJ & LWJ, fluff, angst) (babyji & qhj)

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15. Hi! I wonder if you have any fics that has themes of WWX being related to the main Wen family (a.k.a. WRH, WX and unfortunately WC) or was adopted into the Wen sect by any means? Thank you!

Crimson Promise by IceQueen95 (T, 148k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, wen WWX, fem WWX, angst w/ happy ending, sunshot campaign, canonical character death) If you don't mind reading fem!wwx

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 64k, WIP, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con)

A Songbird at Dawn by mondengel (T, 4k, WIP, WRH & WWX)

The Marriage Proposal by Weiyingbestboy (G, 2k, WangXian, WRH & WWX, Crack, Humor, CSSR is WRH's daughter, WWX is a Wēn)

Communal Child-Rearing and Other Diplomatic Necessities by Elpie (Horribibble) (T, 4k, WangXian, LQR/WRH, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Fluff and Humor, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

You're My Dad (Boogie Woogie Woogie) by Eternal_writes (T, 6k, WWX & WRH, Canon Divergence, Good Person WRH, Sort Of, WRH POV WRH gets a Redemption Arc, again sort of, he sees wwx and decides that maybe world domination is a no, Qíshān Wēn Sect are Good People, Good Parent WRH, No war AU, OOC WRH, OOC WX, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously)

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16. All mighty mods! I am in the mood for modern AU fics where wangxian first meet after one of them has had a bad breakup with someone who clearly didn't deserve them. I'd be happy with either wwx or lwj being the one with a bad relationship in the past. So we can enjoy how much better lwj and wwx are for each other! thank you!! @i-ship-therefore-i-am

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

try a little tenderness by ilip13 (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, BDSM, Dom/sub, Aftercare, Subdrop, Reference to bad BDSM etiquette in wwx's past, Reference to wwx's self-worth issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Little bit of miscommunication in the beginning but they get better at it, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Reference to BDSM scenes, this contains very little actual explicit content)

On The Way Home by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 59k, wangxian, modern, mpreg, unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, friends w benefits, getting together, pining while fucking)

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17. Hello!! Thanks for your work! I don’t really know how to ask but I think it’s for iitm for fics where LWJ leaves Gusu after wwx’s death. Thanks!!!

there's the LWJ Leaves the Lan Sect comp, which likely has a few

Faithless by RohanBerry (M, 11k, WIP, WangXian, HuaLian, God LWJ, Ghost WWX, Dark LWJ, Protective LWJ, Soft WangXian, Friendship, Mutual Pining, Established HuaLian, Angst with a Happy Ending) And if Accending to Godhood counts as leaving his sect

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[corrodedcoffinfest]

Week Four: Masterlist

Week Four is over! We're almost finished now. I appreciate your participation so much! This week, we covered 7 prompts and there were 60 total entries: 56 Fics Written, 2 Pieces of Art & 2 Other Works submitted.

Don't forget there is also an AO3 Collection if you'd like to use it!

Color-Coded Ratings Key: General, Teen, Mature, Explicit.

Day Twenty-One: Hate This Town

Fic Submissions:

JULY 21: hate this town by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: M | WC: 982 | CW: Angst, situationship between Eddie and unnamed fem!character, Gareth’s attempt at dad jokes | Tags: Eddie, Jeff, and Gareth

stuck for a while by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 521 | CW: angst with an ambiguous ending | Tags: band breakup, good uncle wayne munson, eddie pov

It Was His Year by @thisapplepielife | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: Slightly Graphic Imagery, Blood, Injuries | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Steddie (If You Squint) | Tags: Missing Scene S4 Finale, Evacuation, Canon Divergence, Eddie Munson Lives

Back home by @medusapelagia | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: f word, homophobia | Pairing: Eddie & Gareth, Eddie & Wayne, mention of Steve/Eddie

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 21 - Hate This Town by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 999 | CW: Angst, Friendship, Homesickness, Reconciliation, Open-Ended | Tags: The one where Corroded Coffin learns that life sucks no matter where you live

Day 21: Hate This Town by @munson-blurbs | Rating: G | WC: 638 | CW: allusion to poverty, school anxiety, 10-year-old Eddie Munson (Bug's writing about Eddie and Wayne? Shocking) | Tags: Eddie Munson, Wayne Munson, music, guitar

We're Stuck Here by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 998 | CW: Language, allusions to death | Pairing: Allusions to previous Eddie x *surprise character*

Town Called Malice by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | WC: 999 | CW: hospitals, mention of injuries | POV: Gareth | Pairing: None | Tags: angst, good uncle Wayne Munson, friendship

Day Twenty-Two: AU Fic Submissions

pop goes metal by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 964 | CW: language | Tags: famous corroded coffin, pop star steve harrington, flirting, getting together

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 22 - Alternate Universe by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 993 | CW: DnD References, DnD AU, Fantasy/Adventure AU, Origin Story | Tags: It's a dark and stormy night, and a certain musician is looking to get out of the rain.

Rough and Rowdy Ways by @thisapplepielife | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Van Tour, Known Destroyers of Hotels, Motel Desk Clerk Steve Harrington, Meet Cute

We're a Metal Band by @rip-quizilla | Rating: T | WC: 996 | Tags: Bartender!Eddie Munson, Dustin, Will, Lucas and Mike are all in a band together, Eddie has a soft spot for these kids in every AU

JULY 22: alternate universe by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Strong language, snarky Dustin Henderson, but what else is new | Tags: Bartender!Eddie Munson, Dustin, Will, Lucas and Mike are all in a band together, Eddie has a soft spot for these kids in every AU

Computer Love by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | WC: 995 | CW: None | POV: Steve | Pairing: pre-Steddie| Tags: IT Crowd AU, banter, my attempt at humour

Day 22: Alternate Universe by @munson-blurbs | Rating: M | WC: 754| CW: Misery AU, stalker!Reader, mention of S4 events, allusion to violence | Tags: Eddie Munson, stalker!Reader, Misery

Settle For This by @thisapplepielife | Rating: E | WC: 1000 | CW: Sex Acts, One F-Slur, Abuse of Power (Eddie's Not Mad At It), Brief Reference to Recreational Drug Use (Weed) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie x Gator, Minor Steddie Mention | Tags: Modern AU, Fuck The Police, Literally, Blowjob, Semi-Public Sex, But No Speeding Tickets Here

Munson Magic by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 998 | CW: None | Pairing: Eddie x Nancy, mention of Nancy x Billy | Tags: Harry Potter AU

Day Twenty-Three: Up and Coming Fic Submissions

like i'm fuckin' in an elevator by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: E | WC: 993 | CW: public sex | Tags: established steddie, dirty talk, blowjob, gareth is sick of their shit

Room 1011 - Eddie by @thisapplepielife | Rating: E | WC: 1000 | CW: Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Touring, Winding Down After The Gig, Long-Term Relationship, Road Manager Steve Harrington

Room 1013 - Goodie by @thisapplepielife | Rating: E | WC: 1000 | CW: Sex, Under-Negotiated Kink (Including Unexpectedly Being Called Daddy), Mentions of Weight (Not Derogatory, Just Not Ignored) | POV: Goodie | Pairing: Goodie/OC (Female) | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Winding Down After The Gig, One Night Stand, Mr. Goodie's Wild Ride

Room 1015 - Gareth by @thisapplepielife | Rating: E | WC: 1000 | CW: Sex | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC) | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Touring, Winding Down After The Gig, New and Exciting Love

Room 1017 - Jeff by @thisapplepielife | Rating: E | WC: 1000 | CW: Sex | POV: Jeff | Pairing: Jeff/Unnamed OFC | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Touring, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Winding Down After The Gig, One Night Stand

Herding Cats by @thisapplepielife | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: Talk of Previous Sex, Brief Teasing about Daddy Kink, Minor Appearance by Billy | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie, Platonic Stobin, Minor Others | Tags: Road Manager Steve Harrington, Having to Herd These Assholes, Like Cats, Famous Corroded Coffin, The Morning After a Show

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 23 - Up and Coming by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 752 | CW: Angst? But then happiness? Eddie Munson sad-sackery turned into perseverance and joy | Tags: Eddie wasn't used to success.

Day 23: Up and Coming by @munson-blurbs | Rating: E | WC: 472 | Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader | CW: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m! receiving), praise, semi-public sexual activities, sorry I was feral | Tags: Eddie Munson, reader-insert, smut, rockstar

Make Some Noise by @corroded-hellfire | Rating: M | WC: 999 | CW: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, f receiving | Pairing: Eddie x Reader

Mine is Yours by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Fluff, good Uncle Wayne, good nephew Eddie, the Munsons

JULY 23: up and coming by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: M | WC: 997 | CW: Suggestive content, especially near the end | Tags: Corroded Coffin, Eddie x Fem!Reader

Day Twenty-Four: Behind the Scenes Fic Submissions

just make the tik tok by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 880 | CW: none | Tags: famous corroded coffin, modern au, frankie is anti-tik tok

JULY 24: behind the scenes by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: E | WC: 999 | CW: Explicit sexual content, p in v sex, dirty talk | Tags: Gareth x afab!reader

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 24 - Behind the Scenes by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 983 | CW: Older!Corroded Coffin, Set sometime in the 2000s, 1st Person POV, News Article, Reference to Day 23 Up and Coming, friendship

If It Makes You Happy by @thisapplepielife | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | POV: Goodie (Freak) | Pairing: Goodie/OFCs, Minor Steddie | Tags: 1990s, Touring Corroded Coffin, Superstitions, Goodie Just Wants To Go To This By Himself, But No, Fucking Road Manager Steve Harrington

fun to be famous by @runninriot | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | cw: language | tags: famous Corroded Coffin, musicians Jeff, Gareth and Frank, frontman Eddie Munson, model Steve Harrington, the 'struggles' and perks of being famous

Day 24: Behind the Scenes by @munson-blurbs | Rating: T | WC: 701 | Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader | CW: Eddie's got a crush, theatre girl!Reader, reader wears a dress, one dirty joke thanks to Gareth | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, theatre girl!Reader, Principal Higgins

Exposure by @dreamwatch | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: scars, ableism, facial differences seen negatively by others (a photographer) | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, photoshoots

Corroded Chaos @corroded-hellfire | Rating: G | WC: 997 | CW: None | Pairing: None (this is pre-Reader x Eddie)

Day Twenty-Five: Gareth Fic Submissions

a lot alike by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 997 | CW: mention of shitty parenting | Tags: side steddie, gareth and eddie are best friends, post vecna

JULY 25: gareth by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: M | WC: 769 | CW: Dirty, slightly pervy!Gareth, or maybe just super-forward!Gareth, the consequence of being Rockstar!Gareth? Anyway. He fantasizes things. Nothing too explicit, though. Mentions of alcohol and sports (I can’t help it) | Tags: Gareth x Mom!Reader (heh)

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 25 - Gareth by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 996 | CW: Origins, Teen angst, Growing Up, FOI references (Ronnie) but also some non-compliance to FOI (just...gonna skip the painful bits)

Oh My, Good Lord by @thisapplepielife | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC), Background Steddie | Tags: Future Fic, Retired Corroded Coffin, TikTok Trends, Who Can You Traumatize If Not Your Friends?

Day 25: Gareth by @munson-blurbs | Rating: T | WC: 496 | Pairing: none | CW: parental conflict, anxiety, mention of financial troubles, mention of drinking | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, friendship

Twisted Sister @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 995 | CW: None | Pairing: Slight Gareth x OC

Art Submissions

Kiss Post-Concert by @alicetallula | GreatWise - Kiss Post-Concert

Day 25: “Gareth” by @luciferssworld | Day 25: “Gareth”

Other Submissions:

Gareth Emerson: Fluff Alphabet @hawkinsmafia | Other Type: Character Alphabet | Rating: G | CW: mention of Gareth and reader having sex (not described), allusion to Gareth giving oral (not described), brief mention of the existence of violent homophobia (not described) | Pairing: Gareth Emerson x reader (no assumed gender)

Day Twenty-Six: Tour Date Fic Submissions

wrong date by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: T | WC: 890 | CW: mild language | Tags: famous corroded coffin, jeff's dad finally accepts he has a rockstar son

JULY 26: tour date by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: E | WC: 1000 | CW: Sexual content - briefly mentioned oral (m receiving) and sexual intercourse, vomit, pre-show anxiety, Gareth Emerson's temper | Tags: Corroded Coffin and two gn!groupies

Corroded Coffin: Choose Your Own Adventure by @thisapplepielife | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie (If You Choose Certain Routes) | Tags: Choose Your Own Adventure, Interactive Fiction, Help Eddie Make Decisions on How to End His Night After a Gig

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 26 - Tour Date by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 998 | CW: Silliness and Shenanigans, Boys Will Be Boys Nonsense

Day 26: Tour Date by @munson-blurbs | Rating: T | WC: 724 | Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie x Mom!Reader | CW: angst, hurt/no comfort, Eddie and Reader are married with a daughter, he ran away this time | Tags: Eddie Munson, Mom!Reader, Disney World, angst, hurt/no comfort

Let The Bodies Hit The Floor by @dreamwatch | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: racism, violence, use of the C word| POV: Gareth | Pairing: None | Tags: mosh pits, rough gigs, fighting, band vs the world, run on sentences

Nothin' But a Good Time @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 998 | CW: None | Pairing: Eddie x Reader

Other Submissions:

Funko Corroded Coffin by @thisapplepielife | A diorama of a tour date for the Funko Pop versions of Corroded Coffin.

Day Twenty-Seven: You'll Be in My Heart Fic Submissions

you'll be in my heart always by @steddieas-shegoes | Rating: G | WC: 777 | CW: none | Tags: modern au, famous corroded coffin, married steddie, steddie dads

JULY 27: you'll be in my heart by @the-unforgivenn | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: Loss of a pet, grief, strong language | Tags: Corroded Coffin

You Love Me, Now Act Like It by @thisapplepielife | Rating: M | WC: 1000 | CW: Language, Mention of Weed | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie, Gareth/Di (OC), Previous Steve/Di (OC) | Tags: Bickering, Fools Being Fools, Love Quadrangle, Not Really, But Gareth Sure Wants to Whine About the Past a Lot

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 27 - You'll Be in My Heart by @jo-harrington | Rating: T | WC: 964 | Pairing: Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader | CW: Friendship, fluff, allusion to sex, discussion of marriage

Day 27: You'll Be in My Heart by @munson-blurbs | Rating: M | WC: 729 | Pairing: None | CW: canon-compliant, Eddie's funeral, dead dove!!! | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, Jeff's POV, Metallica, Corroded Coffin, funeral, death

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying (Eddie Cries While Watching Tarzan) by @rip-quizilla | Rating: T | WC: 653 | Tags: College!Corroded Coffin, crying, Eddie thinking about motherhood and the role it's played in his life, surprise at the end. It's an AU... but not the way you might think.

Until Next Time @corroded-hellfire | Rating: T | WC: 1000 | CW: None | Pairing: Eddie x Reader | Tags: Time is running out to tell Eddie how you feel.