#middle-ish i can't think of how else to say it

[kawaiichibiart]

Someone give me fem!Kasa but she keeps her hair as is, because there's nothing wrong with short hair and I think she looks cute with short hair

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst, light smut

word count: 11k~ish (NOW YOU SEE WHY IT TOOK ME SO LONG)

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply,

a/n: this is the final chapter, a doozy because i dragged my feet instead of completing it. but i wanted to finish this for the new years, and so, here we are, a belated merry christmas present from me to you, and hopefully i can write more in 2025 a/n 2: comments and reblogs are always much appreciated, and i'd like to know your thoughts about this story heheheh

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter 4

Its funny, how easy it is, to slip into habits. Old habits, ones that have seeped into your routine over time. I wake up, check my phone for emails. I make coffee, check my phone for emails. I get dressed for work, check my phone for emails. On weekends, I do chores leftover from the week, read books I have to write reviews of.

I would most certainly not be taking a nap in the middle of a Saturday with Lee Jihoon. I would not be lying down in my bed, lying next to, nay, cuddled up with, Lee Jihoon. If anyone had told me, even a few hours ago, that I would be snuggled up with Lee Jihoon, my best friend since university. Wait. Can we even call ourselves friends?

“Jihoon.” I whisper, elbowing him in the ribs. “Jihoon.”

“Mm, five more minutes,” he mutters, “I’ll get up then.”

“Hey, wasn’t your meeting with the producers this afternoon?” I ask, “you’ll be getting in a world of trouble because you didn’t show up.”

“I won’t be getting in any trouble.” Jihoon replies, voice thick with sleep, “I’m the terrible child of the company. They’ll keep me around as long as I make good songs for them, they’ll change meeting times when I ask them to. They’ll do anything as long as I’m happy.”

“You’re taking advantage of your position,” I smile, shifting closer to him, “anyone would think you have a horrible work ethic.”

“It’s all okay when it’s regarding my—wait, what are we?” Jihoon sits up in the bed, still half-dressed, “are we still friends?”

“Depends. Do you kiss your friends?” I sit up, facing him, “then we’re friends. Otherwise, we’re not.”

Jihoon pulls a face, “I just imagined kissing one of the boys. Ew, no, never.”

“Then I suppose we aren’t friends anymore.” I smile, leaning in, “we’re something else, then.”

“Can I call you my girlfriend yet, or no?”

I laugh. From this angle, his face is soft, so soft it feels as though he’ll evaporate if I try to touch him, “depends. Do you kiss your girlfriends?”

Jihoon grins, pressing his lips to mine, “all the time.”

“M-hmm,” I smile, touching his cheeks, soft and pliable underneath my fingers, “Woozi, aren’t you being a little presumptuous? All the time? What do you mean all the time?”

He pulls a face, “I swear to god, if you start some bullshit again, I’m going to break up with you.”

“And we’ve been together for what, three hours? That has got to be a new record, even for you, Jihoon.” I say, laughing as Jihoon tackles me to the pillows, “not to mention you’ve been pining over me for the past what—six, years, since you went for your military service. Imagine liking someone for that long, and not telling anyone about it.”

“At least I had the decency to keep it to myself like a normal adult,” Jihoon replies, “you on the other hand, you were a wreck after a week. Imagine being that down bad over a man. You should be repulsed by yourself. What would Andrea Dworkin say?”

“And that’s it, we’ve had a good run, bye,” I begin, trying to get out of bed, but Jihoon stops me, “let me go. You said yourself that I should be repulsed because I like you.”

“Three hours and five minutes,” Jihoon replies, “not bad at all, given that two of them were spent sleeping.”

“Really, who the fuck sleeps after getting together with someone? It’s like, violating the first ethics of relationships,” I grumble, “imagine kissing your best friend, who’s now your boyfriend, who then proceeds to take a nap in your bed? Who would do that?”

“Were you disappointed?” Jihoon asks, his expression changing to sly, “were you expecting something else?”

I roll my eyes, struggling to get out of his grip, but unfortunately, all the hours Jihoon has put in the gym has now created a reality where I can no longer get out of his grip, “no, I wasn’t, I was just expecting you to not snore on me after kissing me in my living room.”

His face falls, and he is about to say something, when my phone rings loudly, making me jump, “what the hell? Why is your ringtone so loud?”

“It’s not!” I reply, “I just forgot to switch it back to silent after coming back home today. I had it set on full volume last night. And give that to me.” I swipe to accept the call,  and soon enough, Jeonghan’s voice floats through the speakers.

“How are you two doing?” Jeonghan asks, and I stare at Jihoon, who seems to be equally confused as me.

“Jihoon said he was going to meet you, I figured that you two might have finally gotten your shits together,” he clarifies, “I’m not that old, nor do I have enough sense to stay out of your affairs.”

“Yes, yes, hyung, you’re the nosiest of us all,” Jihoon grumbles from next to me, “yes, we’re doing fine, thank you very much.”

“Great!” I can hear the barely-concealed glee in his voice, “Chan, tell the rest of the guys to pay up. I’m the only one who guessed correctly that they were going to get together by today.”

“Pay up—wait, hyung, you were betting on my love life?” Jihoon screeches, “why the hell would you do that?”

“I’ve seen and heard you pine over her for the past eight years, you nitwit, of course, I’m going to host a betting pool for when you finally get together. Not to mention, you’ve just made me an entirely obscene amount of money, which I’m going to spend happily.”

“Wait, if you knew Jihoon was going to come to see me, why did you take so long to call us?”

“I was being polite.”

“For what?”

“Well, if you two were having sex, I would not like to be calling in the middle of it now, would I?” he giggles even as Jihoon and I both let out twin gasps of surprise, “What? Did you not put years of sexual tension into use?”

“That’s inappropriate, hyung.”

“So, you haven’t.”

“Oppa!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Jeonghan lets out one final demonic cackle (still cannot believe I called him my angel once), “I’ll let you two lovebirds be together. Oh, and Soonyoung told me to tell you, Jihoon, that he’ll take care of the meeting today. You can take a day off once in a while.”

“Thanks, hyung, I’ll go back to sleeping,” Jihoon mutters, handing the phone over to me and immediately burrowing himself in the sheets to get some more sleep.

“I’ll make myself scarce then, shall I?”

“Wait, oppa,” I say, thinking very hard, “you did this on purpose didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I mean the whole situation. You were the one who kept telling me about how long Jihoon has liked me for, and you were the one who I called before Jihoon took the phone away from you and talked to me.” My voice takes on an accusatory note, “Yoon Jeonghan, did you manipulate me and Jihoon into confessing so that you could win a bet?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

“So, you did.” I stand up from the bed, ignoring Jihoon, who’s already snoring softly, “Yoon Jeonghan, you better give us a share of the pool.”

Jeonghan laughs on the other end of the phone, “fine, fine, I will. I’ll take you and Jihoon out for samgyeopsal this week. Cool?”

“Just so you know, while we both will be there, I still don’t appreciate this.”

“Come on, writer,” Jeonghan wheedles, “anyone could see that you were both circling each other for half a decade. It was exhausting to watch, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too!” he hangs up, and I go back to bed, sidling up to Jihoon, who hugs me in his sleep. Its nice, being this way. I can pretend that the world is just the two of us, in my bed, sleeping in the afternoon.

Jihoon doesn’t look lonely anymore. In fact, he looks happy, smiling even in his sleep. When was the last time I saw him like that? A memory floats up to my mind, of another afternoon, spent in Jihoon’s  flat, after we’d all finished giving the final exams. Jihoon had a job lined up with a production company, and I was about to start working with an online fashion magazine. Joshua was in graduate school, and everything was fine. We spent that one afternoon watching trashy soap operas on Netflix, drank too much booze and smoked too many cigarettes, and finally, just before we went to sleep, I could swear I saw a ghost of a smile on Jihoon’s face.

Until a week later, when his enlistment notice came, and I never saw that smile again. But now it is there, and I can reach out and touch him, and I can see his face relax even more under my touch, as if Jihoon had been craving it, even in his denial. I probably have, even after so long. Years of wondering ‘what if’ and now, finally, it’s here.

“Jihoon,” I whisper, “Jihoon.”

“What?” he burrows further into the blankets, “I’m cold now.”

“Jeonghan kind of manipulated us both into getting together.”

“He did?” Jihoon mumbles, “good for him, I now have a girlfriend.”

—

Jihoon wakes up in the middle of the evening, and shakes me awake too, because he’s hungry and I have to cook for him.

“I’m the one who told you about this apartment, so you kind of owe me,” he says, perched on a stool, “and no ramen, please. I’ve been living on that for so long I know all flavours that are there, and the convenience store guy looks at me strangely whenever I go inside.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I mutter, chopping up vegetables to put in a stew, “I don’t have anything in the house, so you’re going to have to be happy with a random stew of things I found lying in the fridge.”

“That’s fine.” He replies, “at least I don’t have to starve.”

“Yes, Mr Woozi, I appreciate the concern, now wash the rice.”

Lunch (dinner? Linner?) is kimchi stew, with old vegetables and things that were almost going bad, but he eats it like it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant meal. Jihoon is not really picky: I’ve seen him eat everything from day-old scraps to a croissant that was growing mould on it (the less said about that the better) but us eating in my kitchen, this feels strangely domestic to me, in a way that’s almost scary.

“Are you scared?” Jihoon asks, spooning up rice into his mouth, “don’t worry, I’m scared too.”

I stare at him, “have you become psychic, by any chance? Do you want to change your profession to shaman?”

“I’d be a shitty shaman either way,” he replies, “the only person I know how to read well is you. You have that look on your face, so I asked.”

“What look?”

“The look that you get when you’re terrified of something, but you also want to do it.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Jihoon stares at me, “You totally do, I know it; it’s the same look you got when you attempted to take that class on Psychoanalysis in second year.”

“I sucked at it.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, you were terrified, but you also wanted to do it, I know that look. You might think you’re fooling people, and you can, but the last person you can fool is me; Joshua, to an extent, but I doubt he’s made a hobby of reading your every expression over a period of eight years.”

I make a face. Jihoon notices, because of course he does, “that’s the face you make when you don’t like what the other person is saying, but you know that they’re right.”

“That’s unfair, Jihoon.”

“Is it? I’ve known you for so long, of course I should know about your expressions.” He smiles, before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek, “that’s the expression you make when your surprised.”

“Then don’t fucking surprise me!” I press a hand to my cheek, “what was the reason for that?”

“Nothing, just making sure I didn’t dream up the last few hours, and that I can really kiss you whenever I feel like it.”

“I have to want it too, you know. Also, when did you get so keen on physical affection? I’ve literally never seen you be this way with anyone before.’

He shrugs, “I wasn’t pining over those people for years, so that’s there, too.”

I don’t know what to say to this, so I just laugh at his words, “Jihoon, aren’t you being a bit hard on them?”

“On who?”

“The women you’ve dated. The people I’ve dated. Like it or not, they are a part of us. They’ve made us into the kind of people we are today.” I take a sip of the soup, “would you have asked me out if we were in university? Or after you came back from the military?”

He pauses to think about it, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of kimchi, “probably not.”

“And even if you did, we would have hated each other, and broken up in a week. So, let’s not talk about the people who have given a part of their lives to us.”

Jihoon nods, “understood. Does this mean you’re going to invite your exes to your wedding?”

I laugh, “not to that extent, no, but I will respect them for their time and affection that they gave to me because for better or for worse, they were a part of who I was, before I fell in love with you.”

“Fell in love?” Jihoon gasps, “are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“As if this was even part of the question. Of course I’m in love with you.” I take a deep breath, standing up to clear out the remnants of dinner, “I don’t know how to say this properly but, I’ve loved you all throughout the time I’ve known you. As a friend, as a lover, as my family here in Seoul. I’ve loved you all the time. At the risk of sounding cringe, there has not been a time when I haven’t been full of love for you. Even if it didn’t seem that way, I’ve loved you for years.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, instead wraps me into a hug, “have you been taking lessons on how to deliver a speech?”

“Why, yes, I have.”

He giggles, which is a rare sound coming from him, “I’ve always loved you too. Even if I didn’t show it, even if I didn’t express it well, I have loved you.”

I kiss him, “sorry for taking all this time to realise my feelings.”

He shakes his head, “no, don’t be sorry for that. The way you are, the way you will be, I’ll always love you.”

—

I text Eunseo in the evening, asking her to meet me for coffee. Joshua and Jihoon are both too busy for brunch, so I have some time to burn. Eunseo texts me back within minutes, eagerly agreeing to meet me. I text her the name of the same café the three of us go to for brunch.

“You look great,” Eunseo says as soon as I walk in, “did something great happen?”

I stare at her. She’s dressed to go out this morning, wearing a light green dress under a heavy brown coat. In comparison, I’m wearing my office pants and a white shirt. We’re dressed miles apart. Saying that I look good is almost an insult.

But Eunseo doesn’t insult anyone, even knowingly, so I take my seat and say, “you’re joking.”

“No, not at all,” she replies, “you’ve got this glow that I cannot really put my finger on. It seems as though something great happened in the past few days.”

“Well, I did begin seeing Jihoon, so,” I shrug, but Eunseo is already clapping her hands in joy, “what? What’s going on?”

“Wait, I have to tell Joshua to come meet us,” she chirps, “I’m not saying anything until he comes back, but I’m so happy for you, you have no idea.”

Joshua, who was looking at suits in the morning, comes to the café within minutes, by which we already have ordered a bunch of things. He comes in looking harried, and the first thing he says, “I thought this was an emergency! You texted me she was dying!”

Eunseo laughs, “that was the only way to get your attention, josh, I’m so sorry.” Her expression shows that she isn’t sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Joshua sits down on the chairs, “you’re not sorry at all, Eunseo.”

They share a sweet moment, and normally, I’d pull a face and call them cringe, but today, I just don’t feel like it. maybe it’s the hormones of being in a relationship, or maybe I’m finally growing soft around the edges, but I think, what would happen if I text Jihoon to come see us right now? He’d probably scowl and refuse, but I can’t help but imagine the two of us in place of Joshua and Eunseo, sharing a nice moment. This is it; I think to myself, this is the moment you realise you’ve gone entirely crazy because of a man.

“Anyway,” I say loudly, interrupting the two of them, “Eunseo called you here because I have an announcement.”

Joshua stares at the two of us, “is she dying?”

“No! What the fuck, Joshua, I’m not dying!” I say, irritated by this line of conversation, “as I was telling Eunseo, I’m not dying, I just began seeing Jihoon.”

“But you can see him all the time,” Joshua says, still clueless as ever.

“Romantically. Joshua, romantically. We’re dating.” I say, rolling my eyes.

Joshua stares at me, speechless for a whole ten seconds, before he starts laughing, “finally. Cannot believe I had to endure all those years of Jihoon pining over you and you dancing around him because you wanted to avoid your own feelings.” He turns to Eunseo, who looks equal parts disgusted and horrified, “they are probably two of the most obvious people in existence.”

I narrow my eyes, “you both knew about this? And no one told me?”

To her credit, Eunseo looks apologetic, “I just didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge that we all were aware of the dynamics between you and Jihoon; you seemed like you were still figuring it out, and Jihoon didn’t seem like he wanted anyone else to know. But he’s right, you know. You two were seriously the most obvious people in the world.”

I want the earth to split up and swallow me whole, right at this moment. What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world? “What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world?” I wasn’t even aware that Jihoon had feelings for me until a few months ago! “I wasn’t even aware of my own feelings until very recently.”

Before Eunseo can reply to my statement, her phone rings, and she makes a face before picking it up, saying, “it’s the realtor. He is supposed to meet us later in the week.”

Joshua pulls an identical face, and not for the first time since they started dating, I wonder why it is that all couples start to look alike after a few years of being together. However, for the first time, I also wonder how Jihoon and I would look like after a few years together. Would we be annoying, like Joshua and Eunseo? Or would we be one of those couples who always fought and broke up and patched up, all within the span of a week, like those people in university? But that would mean I’d have to spend enough time with Jihoon, becoming one of those couples.

“You’re putting on your thinking face,” Joshua says, bringing me out of my reverie, “it’s the expression you make whenever you’re imagining something.”

“I don’t do that,” I defend reflexively, but I know he’s true, simply because this is not the first time someone has told me about my ‘thinking face’. It is, however, the first time that someone has called me out when I was thinking about Jihoon. “What were you saying?”

“Eunseo just left to take the call from the realtor,” Joshua smiles, “I must say, I saw this coming from a mile away.”

I scowl, “what do you mean you saw this coming from a mile away? I’m not someone who’s that predictable, am I?”

“Well, it is true. You are kind of predictable,” Joshua shrugs, “you’ve been wearing the same clothes since university, you eat the same ten dishes all the time, and you even like the same kind of side dishes. You’re very predictable.”

I sigh, “yes, fine, I’m predictable. Still doesn’t mean you saw this coming from a mile away.”

“Have you seen the way you and Jihoon behave around each other? No matter how much you say that you can’t stand the sight of the other person, Jihoon cares about you the most. He drops everything at a moment’s notice to come to your aid. You do the same thing too, it’s just that you aren’t as forthcoming about it as him.”

“Was that why you were behaving weirdly on that night?”

“What night?” Joshua seems to have entirely forgotten that one Sunday, except it is ingrained into my mind like its just yesterday, “I don’t remember anything.”

“The night that you proposed to Eunseo,” I say, trying my best to not sound frustrated, “when Jihoon told you he was helping me hook up with people, you reacted really strangely.”

“Oh, yes, I did,” Joshua looks sheepish, “I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, but it was very confusing for me.”

“Confusing?”

“Imagine one of your closest friends, who has been pining over another one of your closest friends, telling you that he is helping the girl he has had a crush on for the past six years, in getting her a boyfriend. How would you feel about that?”

“Um, well,” I pause on it, “I’d think my friend was stupid.”

“That’s it!” Joshua yells, “see how it was confusing for me? all throughout university I thought Jihoon had a crush on you, but all of a sudden, after years as your friend,  he’s trying to set you up with other men? I thought he was being an idiot.”

“Well, I told him he shouldn’t be doing that,” I grumble, “he didn’t even listen to me and went and blabbed to you about how he was going to set me up with one of the boys.”

“You were the one who made that comment about Mingyu,” Joshua accuses, “I’d better not see you make any excuses for yourself. And what does ‘platonically motorboat’  even mean?”

“It means you would like to motorboat someone, but platonically, not romantically,” Eunseo says, walking into the café, “babe, the realtor wants to see us today, if we can.”

“Really? He wants to meet us today? After changing the date so many times?” Joshua groans, “never mind. We should be glad he’s meeting us poor people, who just want to buy a newlywed home.”

“You should be glad he’s meeting you at all,” I say, gesturing for the check, “if I ever saw a credit score as bad as yours’, I’d refuse to give you any credit, let alone show you houses.”

Both of them pull identical scowls, “yes, yes, showing off your excellent credit, go on,” Joshua says, “I just know you bragged all about it to Jihoon already.”

“You’re not wrong,” I reply, grinning, “but Jihoon said I should brag to others too, so I’m bragging to you.”

“Never mind her babe,” Eunseo puts her hands over Joshua’s ears, “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

The three of us walk out into the early winter morning, shivering in the cold. Joshua and Eunseo promptly set off in a taxi to go meet their realtor, while I make my way to my apartment, suppressing my urge to text Jihoon about his work. I’ve been endlessly curious about his process ever since university, but the only times he’s allowed me into the studio I’ve either fallen asleep within ten minutes of being there, or we had conversations about things that were not related to his music production. On the other hand, if I text him right now, badgering him about his work, I will seem like either a. an insane, clingy girlfriend, or b. a stupid, clingy girlfriend. In both cases, Jihoon is going to get sick of me so fast, he’s going to break a record with how fast he’s going to dump me.

In university, I was part of the journalism club, and on the first group outing, one of the seniors, drunk off of one too many soju cocktails, had taken the first-years aside and talked about how one should behave when in a relationship. “Now listen,” she had said, “never, I repeat, never, let him know that you’re into him, especially in the first few months of dating. The less he knows about your real feelings, the better.”

“But sunbae,” one of my freshman year-mates had raised her hand, “what happens if your boyfriend gets to know how much you like him in the first few months of the relationship?”

The senior had sighed, before saying, “you’ve got to understand why men like women. They don’t like the person we actually are; they like the chase. They like the person we pretend to be when we start dating them for the first time. Therefore, unless you’re absolutely sure that this is a man you want to keep around for a long time, you must not let your real self show around him.”

We had all nodded, as if we understood what she was talking about, and I had spent the last few years   of my life earnestly following this rule. Never allowing my real self to be shown around the people I have dated. But now I’m dating Jihoon, who has been around for all of the embarrassing chapters of my life. How do I navigate this new change in dynamic?

My phone pings, and I look down, expecting a text from Joshua or Eunseo, talking about their wedding, but instead of the two of them, its Jihoon.

hoon: did you tell joshuji?

hoon: he just texted me btw

hoon: he also says that we have both been huge idiots

I pause in the middle of the road in my surprise, and narrowly miss hitting a pedestrian. I always knew Joshua was a snitch, but telling Jihoon not even ten minutes after I’ve left? That’s just low.

big dick (canon): cannot believe Joshua snitched

big dick (canon): actually no, I do believe it

big dick (canon): he and Eunseo ditched me after brunch so I’m now being forced to go back to my home

big dick (canon): my home that I love and adore

big dick (canon): but still, I don’t really want to hang out in my apartment all by myself

big dick (canon): it’s so boring

big dick (canon): I’m going to kms

hoon: you know, one of the many, many perks of having me as your boyfriend is

hoon: that you can come hang out in the studio with me all the time

hoon: and I won’t even get angry with you, unlike how I get with others

hoon: because I love you, and this is a perk I provide to my loved ones ONLY

big dick (canon): you have canonically told all twelve of your friends to fuck off from the studio, at least once in your lifetime

big dick (canon): and I’m not even including all the times you have told me no for an interview

big dick (canon): if I count all those times, its going to go to a hundred, EASILY

big dick (canon): and you’re telling me to come hang out with you

big dick (canon): this is HIGHLY sus

hoon: just come to the studio my god you’re so dramatic

hoon: don’t take this as a sign to stop being dramatic, I actually like it when you do that

hoon: if you tell this to anyone else, I’m going to deny it and kill you

big dick (canon): you won’t do that you like me too much

big dick (canon): anyway, should I bring something for you to eat

hoon: have I ever told you that I love u

big dick (canon): yes, u have

big dick (canon): multiple times, in fact

hoon: ugh so dramatic

big dick (canon): I won’t get you anything, then

hoon: get me some fried chicken

big dick (canon): I’m having it delivered to your studio. I’m coming in ten

By the time I enter Jihoon’s studio, the chicken has been delivered, and I open the door to see Jihoon munching on a drumstick. Unlike other days, the studio is messy, and he looks like he’s been through hell. Which, if you take Jihoon’s word for it, is not much, just three meetings.

“Shouldn’t you leave one drumstick for me?” I ask, shrugging my winter coat off, “fuck, its cold as hell outside.”

“Needed brain food,” Jihoon replies through a mouthful of chicken, “had a meeting in the morning, the sound engineers needed some changes to be done to Hoshi’s title track.”

“Sounds like shit,” I mutter, picking up a piece, “you’ve been working on that since the morning?”

“Not just that, but the girl group song too,” he replies, “they liked the first song so much that they want another song from me. I’ve been looking through the scratch files on my computer to find out what songs I can give to them that aren’t emo ballads I made after one too many drinks.”

“You know, some of us just vomit after getting wasted. Are you trying to brag to me that you become more creative when drunk?”

“I’m not bragging, some of these are actually atrocious,” he says, pointing to the icons on the screen, “this one is just called ‘I’m never going to be alive’. What does that mean? Why was I thinking about this at three in the morning?”

“Entertaining suicidal thoughts at three in the morning is something we’ve all done, actually.”

“This is just called ‘Love hurts’, and this one, I named it ‘Park PD is a bitch’.”

“I’ll go tell him you said that.” I laugh when Jihoon’s face darkens, “okay, okay, fine, I won’t, but why do you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him at all. he was probably getting on my nerves at that moment, and instead of talking it out like real adults, I chose to instead make a song draft calling him a bitch.”

I look closely at the computer screen, “Wait, Jihoon. All of these songs are love songs. To an extent. How many love songs have you written over the years?”

He takes a minute to answer that, “since university, I’ve either created existential songs or love songs, so, I’d say, about a hundred? Give or take, but I won’t put a number on it, since I’m not really sure.”

“You wrote about a hundred love songs?”

“Yes, I did, and they’re all in here,” Jihoon pats the external hard drive hooked up to the computer, “this holds pretty much all of my work.”

“Makes sense as to why you would guard it with your life.” I reply.

I go to sit back down, putting my feet up on the sofa, and Jihoon gives me a dirty look. I just smile in reply. He’s always a stickler for these kind of rules, but it’s funny to see him be so rattled. I’m not going to lie and say that seeing him be irritated is funny, because it is. An angry Jihoon is a cute Jihoon, I’ve learnt that back in university. Especially when he pouts like that.

“You still wear minion socks?” Jihoon says, stuffing his mouth with chicken, “I gave you that as a gag gift last year, you should have thrown them out as soon as you got them.”

“I like the socks. They’re comfortable.” I reply, shrugging, “who gave you the idea to give me socks as a gag gift?”

“Soonyoung. He thought it would be funny to give you cartoon socks.”

“Joke’s on him, I like having my feet warm.”

After Jihoon and I finish the chicken and clean up in record time, he goes back to his workstation, and I’m free to observe him as much as I want to. Seeing Jihoon in his element is always an experience. Even in university, I used to observe him when he worked. He has a singular focus on whatever he does, from eating to producing music. I’m also not going to lie to myself and say that he isn’t attractive when he works, because somehow his attractiveness gets turned up a hundred notches when he’s working. Or maybe, I like him too much and I find everything about him attractive. His eyes are laser-focused on his work, and the lines of his neck, disappearing into his shirt, is at odds with the Jihoon in my bed yesterday, peacefully sleeping as he held me for warmth. Before last night, I never knew that Lee Jihoon was someone who got cold even underneath a comforter, and liked holding someone else for warmth.

“You’re staring,” Jihoon says, breaking my line of thought, “I’ve been talking to you for the past ten seconds and you’ve been staring into space.”

“I was just looking at my handsome boyfriend as he works. Is that not allowed?”

“Stop saying that.” He mutters, going back to his work, but I can see him turning red. Jackpot.

“Jihoon.”

“Hm?”

“Are you blushing right now?”

He turns around to give me an impressive glare, “no, I’m not.”

“The back of your neck is red.” I grin, “were you getting shy?”

“No, I wasn’t.” he lies, his ears going red. At this rate, he might burst into fumes.

“Your ears say otherwise, Jihoon,” I stand up, walking over to his chair, “your ears and your neck is red. You’re getting shy, aren’t you?”

“What! No, I’m not—” he pauses for a moment, turning away from me, before grabbing me by the waist, “stop teasing.”

“I won’t,” I giggle, taking the opportunity to climb into his lap, “see! You’re going all red.”

His face is still turned away from me, but I can see the blush on his cheeks, “are you going to continue to lie to me, Jihoon?”

He pauses, before huffing, “you’re gonna regret teasing me, you know.”

“Pretty sure I won’t—aah!”

Unfortunately, my plan had but one singular flaw in it. I had underestimated how much he worked out on a weekly basis. Jihoon just glares at me, before picking me up and walks over to the sofa, my legs dangling around his waist. Seriously, how much does this guy work out?

“Really? I was working, and in the zone, and you had to tease me like that?” he grumbles, before unceremoniously dumping me on the sofa, “I shouldn’t have invited you over. Let me go back to work.”

“But you did,” I grin, my hands around his neck, “you invited me over. Lured me in, I’ should say. You lured me in, and now you should pay the price.”

Jihoon groans, before smiling, “is this how it’s going to be all the time?”

“Mm, I’m afraid so.”

Lying down on the sofa, I can see the lights on the ceiling, bright white, ones that Jihoon claimed helped him with his workflow. I hated them in the beginning, claimed that they hurt my eyes, but over time, I grew used to them, to the point where I can’t imagine there being anything else. Bright white lights. A comfortable sofa. Jihoon’s face obscuring my vision, so close that I can make out every individual eyelash. His mouth, full and open, insistent against mine. Jihoon kisses like he wants to do nothing else, I’ve realised. As though this was what he wanted to do all along. Anything is okay. I’m not afraid of falling, if it’s Jihoon. which is why  I find myself doing strange things. Like allowing him to touch me, even if it’s in the middle of day, in a room where anyone might come in; like allowing him to undress me, even if I’m underneath harsh white lights. Because its him, because its Jihoon. I can touch him in return, slip my hands underneath the shirt he’s wearing, because I can press my mouth just as insistently against him as him.

“So, this is how it’s going to be, is it?” he says, unbuttoning my shirt, “wait. You’re not wearing a bra?”

I roll my eyes. Of all the things he can talk about, this is what he chooses to focus on? “No, Jihoon, its winter. I’m wearing three layers over this. Of course I don’t want to wear a bra. It’s too much work.”

“I wish it was winter forever,” he replies, continuing to unbutton my shirt, “good god, if this is the outcome, I wish it was winter all throughout the year.”

“The economy is gonna hate you.” I mumble against his mouth, “imagine a whole year of winter. The economy is gonna go haywire. And all because you’re horny.”

“It’s a proof of how much I’m attracted to you, that I’m still working on  your shirt after you just started talking about the economy,” Jihoon finally manages to slip off the shirt I’m wearing, “total buzzkill.”

I scowl, yanking his shirt over his head in one go, “sorry I’m such a buzzkill, then.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jihoon kisses my cheek, “you’re so beautiful. Have I told you that?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Remind me to tell you this every day, then.” His hands are soft on my hair, stroking, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“Even compared to Jeonghan?”

“Even compared to Jeonghan.” He repeats, “why do you have to bring him up now?”

“Just like that.” I smile, kissing him softly, “so, you like this?’

“Is this how it’s going to be now? For the foreseeable future?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Thank god,” Jihoon murmurs, his hands on the button closure of my trousers, “I can’t wait for the future, then.”

—

Being in this industry means you have to meet with a lot of people. When I say a lot of people, I do mean a lot of people. I’ve managed to keep my connections alive, but it has not been easy getting to this place. Not the least for someone like me, who had no one in the industry to rely on. In the beginning, when I was working at the fashion magazine, everywhere I went I would be marked as an outsider, and it was surprising how easily doors could get closed. I’ve always been resentful of those times, but now, now it feels like a moment in time that never called its name out for me, and I cannot bring myself to care.

These are the thoughts that I usually have in the mornings. But now, things have changed.

For one, Jihoon is sleeping next to me, his hands holding me close. Its strange, looking at him like this, peaceful instead of a permanent frown etched into his brow, a small smile on his face instead of the scowl that seems to have carved out its own position on his face.

Nowadays, I wake up before Jihoon does, and on most days, I spend some time looking at his face. He was always beautiful, but now, now he looks ethereal. It takes all my self-control to not run from this, because how can someone like me be happy? What right do I have to happiness?

“You’re thinking too much again,” Jihoon says, shaking my train of thought loose, “I can practically hear your gears turning.”

“Morning,” I reply, hoping it sounds smooth and easy and not like I’ve been consumed with depressing thoughts.

Jihoon hums, pulling me in closer, “you always think too much. Its time you stopped thinking so fast.”

“Hm? Do you have a way of doing that?”

That gets his attention, and he opens his eyes. Still sleepy, but fully awake. “You want me to do something about your overthinking?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, I have a thought on how you can change that.”

“And what is that?”

He smiles, half-awake, and kisses me, and my mouth eagerly opens up to let his tongue swipe in, mapping the inside of my mouth with as much ease as he does when composing music. its almost embarrassing how eagerly my body responds to his touch, my hands finding their way inside Jihoon’s shirt without missing a beat, bringing him closer to me as if it’s a dance we have practiced over a long time. It’s a good thing that Jihoon is just as eager as me, pressing himself against me roughly, hard from the barest of touches. If he wasn’t wearing his sweatpants, he would realise just how wet I was from his touches alone, how he managed to reduce me to a wet, moaning mess with only a ghost of his touch and nothing more.

“Mm, just so you know, you’re kind of fulfilling a dream of mine.”

“Which is?”

“Having my way with you in the morning.” Jihoon grins, sitting up to pull his shirt off over his head, and my eyes widen as large purple blotches come into view. God, what did I do—those look like the work of a feral animal, not a mostly sane woman in her twenties. He, on the other hand, looks composed, dragging my shirt up and adding it to the pile on the floor. Almost immediately, his mouth is back on mine, his large hands manhandling my breasts. He’s just as affected as I am, moaning into my mouth as his fingers pinch and twist my nipples, the two of us barely managing to not devolve into a moaning, screaming, mess.

“Have I told you,” he yawns, coming up for breath, “your tits are incredible.”

I scoff, “yes, yes you have, Jihoon, multiple times. I get it, you like them.”

“Like them?” Jihoon grins, shoving two fingers into my mouth before putting his on  my nipple and sucking me hard enough to cry, “babe, I love them, they are perfect.”

Fuck. Jihoon’s obsession with my breasts means that he spent half an hour getting me off last night with his mouth and fingers alone, and I’m oversensitive to the point where his current ministrations are toeing the line between pain and pleasure. His fingers are in my mouth, long and deft, and I can remember where they had been the previous night.

“You gave me enough hickeys to last a lifetime, baby,” Jihoon mutters, still sucking roughly on my breasts, “it’s only fair I get to return the favour.”

Before I can even process what he means, he bites down on my nipple, hard enough that my back arches from the mix of pain and pleasure, and he can feel exactly how wet I already am. At this rate, he doesn’t even need to prepare me to fuck me, he can slide into me with ease, without even taking off his pants.

Jihoon is tired, sleepy, and so am I, the initial rush of waking up next to him fading away quickly as the early morning catches up to the both of us. There’s nothing rushed about the way he’s pushing in and out of me right now; it’s a slow embrace, something that I can hold on to for the rest of my day. Jihoon’s back is wide enough that I can’t really wrap my arms around him, and his mouth is slow against mine, insistent but not really pushing. It’s all Jihoon, and my brain is slowly going into overdrive because of how close he is.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Jihoon asks, after we’re both finished, lying in a haze of our own happiness, oblivious to the world around us, “if I haven’t, consider it an oversight I wish to rectify. As much time as it takes.”

“Are you—proposing to me right now?” I ask.

“Well, it’s not really a proposal yet, but I am going to. And it’s going to be with flowers and a grand gesture that you really can’t turn down.”

“Never took you for a romanticist, Lee Jihoon.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of dating me.”

—

Mr Hong is an impressive writer, which is perhaps why I have always been a little jealous of him and his work. It’s also not at all strange as to why he only agrees to interviews with me, given his prickly demeanour, which has not really improved in the years that I have managed to work with him.

But even with all my misgivings, work is work, and I make my way to the office to pick up my files for the interview, and Seungkwan offers me a warm latte, insisting that I should carry it into the interview. The drink is still warm in my hands, and I stare at him. he just shrugs, “what, you should take it to him, it’ll look nice if we bring him something to drink in an interview.”

“Seungkwan,” I say, trying my best not to laugh, “have you read all of Mr Hong’s interviews with me?”

“Yes, I have, why?”

“Then you should also know that he only drinks tea from a specific tea garden in India, right?”

Seungkwan stares back. “He’s that much of a tea snob?”

“He earns ten billion per year in book sales, he can afford to be a tea snob. He imports the tea himself. He doesn’t drink coffee, and he would also hate it if I offered him a drink. It makes him feel like he’s not being a good host to me.”

“She’s like a criminal profiler when it comes to him,” the Editor hands Seungkwan a file, “managed to get all this information from the one single television segment filmed at his house.”

“Kind of forced to, since there was no prior information on him,” I mutter, but Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and he grabs my hands, eyes shining, “what the hell are you doing? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“You’re so cool, sunbae,” Seungkwan says, almost giggling from his excitement, “can’t believe you exist.”

“Seems like her boyfriend cannot believe she exists either,” The Assistant Editor sets down a cup of coffee at my desk, “cute guy. Handed me the coffee and said I should give it to the Associate Editor.”

“Jihoon said that?” I ask, picking up the warm cup. It’s an iced café mocha, sugary enough for Seungkwan to cringe when he takes a taste of it. “Jihoon doesn’t really refer to me by my title.”

“He always does with us, though,” Seungkwan says, “in fact, he’s been quite besotted with you since your university days.”

“University? It took them that long?” Haewon tuts, “really, sunbae, you should have just gotten together by now.”

“He should be doing that more, if you ask me,” the Assistant Editor smiles, “how does it feel to be the author of one of the most popular columns in the newspaper? There are a couple thousand hits on it every day, and that’s me being conservative with the estimate.”

“They love that column,” the Editor pipes up, “we sure are a depressed country.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve just been giving a voice to the most depraved of our society,” I mutter, slinging my bag over my shoulder in what feels like a fourth time this morning, “Seungkwan, are you coming along?”

“Yes!”

Writer Hong’s house is in the same neighbourhood as Jeonghan’s, but he has been living in it since the 90’s and to my knowledge, there has not been a violent murder to reduce the price of the house. Not that he would complain about it, given his obsession with true crime and the lurid crime novels he had written in the 80’s under a pseudonym that I had dug out for him to agree for an interview; because while the television segment did help, it was nothing compared to the immovable force of Writer Hong’s refusal to be in the spotlight. Which is why I had to yell out one of the names of his books (written in the 80’s) before he could disconnect the call. It was the first month I had been working at the news desk, and I was different. Hungrier. For recognition, or for someone to tell me that leaving my comparatively cushy, but dead-end job at a fashion magazine to pursue a career in journalism (good journalism), but journalism that does not pay the bills, was a bad idea. It was my first scoop, and I still remember being congratulated around the office like I had conquered a country. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, something a young writer had accomplished against the better judgement of all the adults involved.

But then Writer Hong had gone and taken a shine to me. I like the way you conduct interviews, he had said, very short. Not like those other blithering idiots who only go on and on about how great my work is.

Which brings me and Seungkwan to this morning, standing outside his mansion—it’s a mansion, a house the two of us can only dream of buying one day��in the cold winter air, Seungkwan nervously clutching the file he’s kept holding on to ever since we left the office building.

I ring the doorbell, and Seungkwan whimpers. Whimpers. I give him a sharp look, and he manages to compose himself just in time for Writer Hong to open the door, grumpy and ruffled, but he opens the door and lets us in, and soon enough, we are sitting in the middle of a tastefully done room, waiting for him to serve us with expensive Darjeeling tea. Seungkwan’s foot vibrates at an almost supersonic speed.

“So,” he says without much of a preamble, entering the room holding a teakwood tray, “I should call you Writer now, instead of Associate Editor.”

Its difficult to stop the blush that spreads across my cheeks, and even Seungkwan lightens up at that statement. Writer Hong had always been someone who valued propriety and how to address someone properly above all else, a relic of the old age, even if he had hated it in his youth.

“I’m still Associate Editor to you, sir,” I reply, holding the porcelain teacup carefully, “the writing is just a column.”

“And one of the better columns I’ve read in the last few years,” he grumbles, “my wife made me read it, you know. And I thought it was nice. Better than what that hack Kim Hong-Sik has been getting up to in these past few days.”

“Did not think a column on unachieved dreams would be exciting to you, sir,” I say, with a small smile, and he guffaws.

“You should start writing properly, then,” he says, “if you think your column is not deserving  of praise, going against the word of me, arguably the best writer Korea has seen in the past few decades.”

“That’s going a bit overboard, don’t you think, sir?” I say, and Seungkwan gasps, but Writer Hong just laughs ad laughs, “I mean, Han Kang exists.”

“Best Male author, then.”

The rest of the interview goes smoothly, and he even warms up to Seungkwan considerably, although he calls his way of peeling oranges ‘disgraceful to the flavour of an orange’. Its good, and it makes me feel accomplished, at noon, and before we leave, he even relents to take a picture with me, amidst his impressive collection of Korean art.  

“That went very well,” Seungkwan says, as we flag down a taxi, “didn’t know he could be like that. He’s usually so—reserved. And grumpy. In all the award shows.”

“He’s big on privacy, but fame really got to that.”

“Privacy?”

“There was once a story about his daughter, who passed away before she turned a year old. He and his wife hated that article so much he stopped giving interviews.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say, closing my eyes, and Seungkwan falls silent. He was probably too young to have read that article—hell, I was too young to have read that article, but its easy, to wield this destructive power if you have it, especially without any regard for how the other party might feel about it; most people in my line of work get drunk on it, ruining lives just for the sake of ruining them.

We pick up lunch at a corner store, and walk into the office building in silence. Seungkwan has been looking up old articles, and he’s upset, clearly, given how his mouth settles into a frown, one that doesn’t go away even after Haewon presents us with doughnuts from the cafeteria, a present, she says, from the Editor-in-Chief.

“They’re waiting for you in the Meeting room,” she tells me, and I frown, because why the hell would they be there?

“Ah, there’s the Associate Editor!” the Editor booms, his head poking out of the meeting room door, “come have a chat with us.”

Its normal, jovial even, but I approach the room cautiously, only to be greeted with wide smiles from the two men.

“There’s a book deal for you.” The Editor-in-Chief,  a man of blessedly few words, says, as soon as I enter, “they like the column, and they want to publish it.”

“Of course, the legal team is going to establish your fees and how much of it should be going to the company—” they drone on, but all the words and thoughts have flow out of my head because holy shit I have a book deal now. Writer Hong’s words from this morning come to mind, and I smile and nod through the entire meeting, assuring them that while the company’s lawyers are sufficient, I should like to talk to my own lawyers about this, and that everything is okay, I would really like to go over the terms and conditions of the contract before signing it, and yes, I was reviewing it positively. While they hate that a column is possibly going out of circulation, they can’t help but think about all the extra money this is going to be bringing in, the extra money and the popularity, being known as the company that fostered a young author’s work. It’s a win-win deal, one that I would be stupid to turn down.

I leave the meeting room and call Jihoon, my hands shaking, and he picks up within three rings, his voice soothing and calm like it always is, “hello?”

“I’m going to be a writer,” I say, no other explanation or long-winded preamble, and Jihoon understands, “can you come pick me up from work?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I stand up, straighten my pants, and leave the bathroom, marching straight up to the editor’s desk, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“The rest of the day?” he sputters, “wait, what about the interview?”

Seungkwan pops up his head, “I can write that. It’s just compiling all that was said.”

“I’ll check it, and Seungkwan needs to take point on a project,” I say, “besides, if you want me to focus on the column full-time, then someone needs to interview Writer Hong instead of me, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t be leaving in the middle of the day,” he protests weakly, and the Assistant Editor smacks him with a pamphlet, “what was that for?”

“Clearly, she has someone waiting to pick her up, you buffoon,” she groans, “when will you understand? Just because your love life is barren, doesn’t mean everyone else is the same as you.”

Seungkwan winces, “wait, are you going home with Jihoon-hyung right now?”

I roll my eyes, “would you prefer to have the sordid details?”

“No, thank you.”

A peal of laughter follows me as I walk out of the office, and then the elevator and then Jihoon is standing in the lobby, flushed and wonderful, his nose red in the snow and biting wind. Because I’m a sane woman who is not given to theatrics, I merely walk up to him and tuck my arm into his, moving past the sliding doors onto the street. He’s wearing slippers, I notice, he must have come here straight from the studio.

“Very different from the feral woman who attacked me last night, I see,” Jihoon murmurs, strapping me into the seat of his car and kissing me for a tad bit (okay, thirty seconds) longer than what can be termed as an appropriate hello kiss.

“I was not that feral.”

“I have to wear a turtleneck for a week!” he exclaims, pulling down his shirt to show the extent of the damage, and I look away, embarrassed, “no! you don’t get to look away from me!”

“I like you in turtlenecks.”

That pleases him, and he smiles , “then I’ll wear them throughout the year.”

“Jihoon, you’ll suffocate.”

“I’ll have you.” He grins, “so, celebration?”

“I want to laze away today. Take a nap. Order shitty food.”

“I’m assuming there’s coitus involved. And not to mention, you dragged me out of work today.”

I wrinkle my nose, “do not say that word ever again, or else I’m kicking you out of my bed. And besides, what’s the point in being a famous producer if they don’t let you get home to your fiancée now and then?”

“What, coitus?”

“You’re no longer allowed into my bed,” I mutter darkly, and he just laughs.

The apartment building is mostly quiet this time of the day, but we pass a fair few old people who give us strange looks for coming back so early from work. Given that there have been multiple witnesses to me coming back at one in the morning, tired from overtime, and Jihoon walking into the elevator when the old ladies have finished their morning stroll, dark shadows under his eyes so pronounced he had to sleep for a week to get rid of them.

Jihoon presses the code to his home, and the two of us walk into the hallway, closing the door behind us to avoid the cold draught from chilling us to the bone.

“What should we get/” Jihoon toes off his slippers, scrolling absent-minded through his phone, “there’s a shop that delivers samgyetang, and I thought we could get some delivered, since you’ve been coming down with that cold for the past few days.”

“I’d like that,” I shake off my own shoes, sensible boots compared to Jihoon’s slippers, and kiss him again, for no other reason that I can and I will. He smiles against my mouth, “order me a whole chicken, Jihoon-ssi.”

“Two whole chickens,” he amends, “we can have the soup throughout the week. Shower?”

It is an innocuous enough question, but the way Jihoon’s eyes flash makes something shift inside of me, and I find myself returning his little smirk, peeling off the heavy coat, “you know there’s a water shortage.”

“Hmm. Its very bad. We should be conserving all the water we can.”

Jihoon pulls me close to kiss me again, and I laugh, leading him towards the shower.

—

My hometown is a quiet town. Sleepy, with neighbours that know everything about everyone. I used to hate them when I was younger, hated the way they always compared me to my sister, told me I had to be better in order for me to meet my parents’ expectations, as if nothing I did was good enough when compared to her. Nowadays, it’s a welcome distraction; reminding me of the fact that nothing in my town really changes, or will ever change. Not for the better, nor for the worse.

“Oh, are you here for the wedding?” the old man at the fruit shop says, as Jihoon and I walk out of the car, Jihoon yawning behind a closed fist, having slept half the way while I drove, “wait, you’re Yong-Hwa’s sister-in-law!”

“Yes, we’re here for the wedding,” I reply, as Jihoon shakes the falling cherry blossoms out of his hair, “just wanted to pick some fruits to take back to the house.”

That get’s his attention, and he spends an entire half-hour detailing to us every fruit he had at the store, and how good they would taste in season. In the end, we buy a box of strawberries, ones that he assures me are going to ‘taste like heaven’, and Jihoon is taking the driver’s seat for once, and we are speeding towards the house where I have spent my childhood and adolescence.

“Hasn’t been that long since I visited this place.” Jihoon says, turning a corner so that my home is visible, “this feels different somehow.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t together when you visited my mom. And its only a reminder of how much she wants me to visit, and I keep avoiding her requests.”

“But you’re here for the wedding.” He says, and I turn to look at him. Jihoon looks resolute, his mouth set in a line I haven’t seen for a long time, the light casting deep shadows on his face. My eyes move to the smooth gold band on his ring finger, its identical twin gleaming on my hand. He’s nervous, navigating this journey from being my friend to being my intended, meeting the family all over again, essentially.

There are flowers all over the house, bursting into bloom for my sister’s wedding, and I think to myself, this is how it usually is, huh. It’s a surprise that the usual dread that settles into me at the thought of getting married has been replaced with a pleasant anticipation, looking forward to navigating a lifetime with Jihoon.

“You’re here!” my mother shouts as we get down from the car, “they’re here!” she yells to someone inside the house, and soon enough, my father ambles out, looking every bit the disgruntles, emotionless father I had grown up with, looking at his youngest daughter and her partner. My mother envelops me into a crushing hug, but its my father’s gaze that I cannot return, because to this day I cannot live up to the ideal that he had had constructed for me.

My mother doesn’t notice the rings on our fingers, or even if she does, she doesn’t say anything, and we just haul the suitcases up into the house, where Jihoon has the guest bedroom, and I have my old childhood one. Settled in, I leave Jihoon to his devices, answering calls from the company about the new album, and walk down to the kitchen to help my mother with dinner.

“Is everything all right with Jihoon?” she asks, cutting carrots into tiny little pieces, “are you two finally together?”

I say nothing, just pour myself a glass of tea, “didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Oh, the couple rings were too nice to not notice, actually,” she laughs, “its good. You two suit each other very much.”

“Now you’re saying that to take the piss,” I grumble, “you’ve never once approved of the people I’ve dated, whether I dated them or not.”

“That’s because you dated them to stop your mind from crashing and burning,” my mother says, gentle as ever, putting the ingredients for soup into a big pot, “you’ve always been headstrong that way.”

“As opposed to my sister?”

My mother sighs,  a sign of a battle she’s already lost against herself, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I wave my hand. It matters so much. “I was the problem child, I guess. Every family needs one.”

“You were not a problem child,” my mother says, “you were just out of our reach, at times. and when we finally thought we understood you, you ran away and concealed yourself from us.”

“That’s what I was taught.”

“And I should have taught you differently.”

“Never mind, mother,” I give her a quick smile, “you’ll be watching your daughter get married, and in a few years, you’ll be a grandmother, and that will give you enough happiness to tide you over for the next ten years.”

“I think about you too, you know.”

“Congratulations on that, mother.” I reply, walking out of the kitchen.

Jihoon is sitting on the bed when I open the door, hands clutched around a  cup, “I wish we hadn’t come back.”

He raises an eyebrow, “this is your home.”

“I know, its just—there’s no one here that knows me, and even if they do, its only by association, as the sister, and my parents are all on eggshells around me, because I blew up in their faces about my childhood, and how much I hated being here, and its never going to stop, is it, I’m going to be this way, this festering, annoying, difficult, person, and I’ll never really be normal ever again—”

Jihoon wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug that’s at once reassuring and scandalous, “you’ll be fine. Your family are, well, they’re sorry, and they’re on eggshells because they don’t know how to approach you anymore. It happens. You can leave to Seoul and have your career, but they’re going to stay on in this town, and be reminded of the fact that maybe they didn’t do enough. Let them hover. It’ll put them at ease.”

“Fine.” I grumble, “I just came back because I love my sister. And Yong-Hwa. He needs to have a chance to run away before he hitches himself to her.”

Jihoon laughs, “would you say the same thing for me?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

He unwraps his arms from around me, fishing in his pocket, “wait, I forgot the ring at home.”

I gape, “you were going to propose to me?”

“Yes, but now that I forgot the ring, there’s going to be no proposal.” Jihoon grumbles, “stupid.”

“That’s fine, it would have been inappropriate for us to take away my sister’s spotlight,” I grin, pulling him back into a hug, “I accept, nonetheless.”

“Really?”

“I do expect a proper proposal back  in Seoul.”

“As you wish, always.”

—

Jihoon proposes with a car full of balloons, and he enlists the help of the other guys to make the proposal truly memorable, a phrase that I’m rapidly beginning to attribute to him. its gorgeous, and everything I had never imagined when it came to a proposal. The wedding, however, is much my style, the two of us traipsing down to the courthouse to submit a form and being declared married by the clerk, who tells us darkly that there’s a divorce counter just in the next room. Jihoon laughs, and I laugh, before walking out of the courthouse to meet our friends (and family) for dinner.

It’s a new life.

—

To LJH,

For being my friend.

[lowkeyrobin]

hiii! hope you’re having a good day/night/whatever :D i was wondering if you could do something where the reader was fives (almost ?) s/o and then after learning about him and lila theyre upset. and then reader and diego sort of bond over the feeling and find solace in their friendship with each other. i mean this in like a thing for diego sort of way, the five thing is just a backstory. sorry if this is hard to understand english is hard

oooo okay this is cool!! ; and don't worry it's not hard to understand at all! your English is very good 🫶 ; but we are gonna pretend five wasn't trapped in his teenage body for all the time reader would've known him or wtv 💀 cause the physical and mental gap between diego and five is diabolical and idk how else to make it not weird. I usually say and enforce that I won't recognize the five/lila thing as canon but this is relevant to the story and I need diego requests lol. ; but uh yeah!! thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy!! ; also the ending part lowkey sucks I'm sorry

DIEGO HARGREEVES ; it's called moving on

summary ; after Five and Lila get trapped in the subway, they have a double affair on you and Diego. after saving the world, you both bond over it and move on (to each other)

warnings ; language, cheating, arguing / physical fighting, knives, alcohol

disclaimers ; five is in the physical body of a 30-ish year old to make this not creepy as hell on any parts. I have a distinct hatred for whatever tf happened w Lila and Five so don't expect to see anything nice about them... ; also reader is a sparrow, didn't wanna get incest-y in here...

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

Klaus, Allison, and Luther sit on the couch, watching over the kids while you and Diego rush to the door. Five and Lila had been MIA for hours now, you were both growing worried. Luckily, it was them standing at the doorstep.

"Where've you been?" Diego asks, slightly worried. "It's been hours"

"Seven, at that" you raise an eyebrow at Five. "You've never just gone MIA for that long. Did you find anything out on how to stop all this shit? Cause we did"

Five is unable to look you in the eye. "Uh, not really. What'd you learn?"

"Well, for one, Dad's alive, so is our mother... I think?" you begin, pulling him inside. "She's not really our mom, but she's Dad's wife, or whatever. Our actual birth mother's are alive in this timeline. And your Ben died because your Reginald shot him in the head! We think fate is coming together cause my Ben and Jennifer are together and we have to stop them-"

Diego and Lila step in behind you, joining you all in the living room. Lila's family stand in the kitchen, coming together to make some Christmas dinner food for the upcoming days. You can't help but notice both Five and Lila can't look you in the eye, how they look tired and haven't spoken damn near a word.

You four stand in the middle of the living room, shoes off to Lila's family's rules, your socks digging into the carpet. Allison, Luther, and Klaus part their attention between the kids and you four.

Diego looks down at Lila's wrist, seeing a glare from the sunlight outside on something she was wearing. He quickly grabs her wrist, confused of what she could've been wearing, as she didn't like bracelets, at least not store bought ones. She wouldn't have gone on a run to get herself a bracelet, right? I mean, what?

Diego furrows his brows at her while you press a chaste kiss to Five's forehead.

"I thought you hated bracelets?" Diego mutters, grabbing the attention of the siblings who sit on the couch.

Lila looks at him with fake confusion, trying to brush it off. "No, I don't"

"Yeah, you do" Diego nods. "I got you one for Valentine's Day and you traded it in for a Dyson vacuum."

You and Five look to Diego and Lila, listening in.

Lila is silent. "I don't like store bought ones. I kept the bracelet you made for me in that mental institution"

She had him on that one.

"Who made it, then?" Diego asks firmly.

She's silent. Five looks away from Diego.

Diego looks to him, then back at Lila. He frees Lila's wrist from his grasp, staring Five down. You look between him, Diego, and Lila, connecting the dots.

"Five?" You question, eyebrows furrowed, your voice unsure.

Diego reaches for his back pocket.

Five stuffs his hands in his pockets, head held low.

"Is there something going on between you two?" Diego asks nervously, looking between Five and Lila.

"Diego-" Lila speaks

"Holy shit, wow" Diego scoffs, looking down at her.

Klaus' jaw drops, Luther and Allison beside him share shocked expressions. You look back at the three, unable to react as you're caught frozen in the moment.

"Woah"

"Holy shit"

"I didn't see that one coming"

"Holy shit, I was right" Diego looks between the two, "I knew you were cheating on me!"

You shove Five into the wall, far enough away from the TV and the kids to not effect them physically. Diego hurls a knife at him, just missing his skull by a few centimeters, a purposeful act. He merely did it to scare Five. The knife creates a hole in the wall and a loud thudding noise that catches the family's attention.

Diego turns his attention back to Lila, you looking over your shoulder to listen. "I knew you were cheating on me at that book club"

Lila sighs. "I wasn't cheating on you... not when you thought I was"

You turn back to Five, lips slightly parted, your expression soft yet heavy. He isn't able to speak a word to you. He steps away from the stabbed wall, walking toward you. He reaches for you and you push him away.

"Y/n-"

"No!" you shudder, then speak firmly. "Get away." you back away toward Diego, unable to look at him.

"Maybe we should go-" Luther speaks, seeing how the three were witnessing an awful thing right now.

"No, we're not going anywhere" Allison replies, an arm over him to prevent him from going anywhere.

Diego steps forward, looking at Five in the eye. "Five, did you s-k-r-e-w my wife?" he spells out 'screw' since a bunch of kids under thirteen sit no more than six feet away.

"Screw is spelled s-c-r-e-w" Grace chimes in with a smile, unaware of the situation because of her small little mind.

Klaus snorts, failing at holding back laughter. Allison bites her tongue while Luther deeply sighs, keeping his laughter at bay.

Five bites his lip before slowly nodding.

"What the fuck?!" you exclaim, slinging a quick punch to his face, causing his nose to bleed.

He groans, holding a hand to his nose. He doesn't rebute, knowing he deserved that and much more.

"Are you kidding me?" you question, looking between Five and Lila. "What the actual shit is wrong with you two?!"

Lila's family peers through the kitchen door, halfway understanding what you all were saying as they weren't perfectly fluent with English. You wished you could speak Punjabi to tell them how their daughter cheated and how your boyfriend was a fucking homewrecker.

"Y/n, please," Lila speaks, trying to calm you, holding a hand out to you.

You slap her hand away, and back up toward the siblings on the couch. Klaus holds a hand over his mouth, Luther watches in silence, Allison bites her tongue.

"You're fucking unbelievable."

You cut contact with Five, Diego cut most contact with Lila and kept the kids 70% of the time. Lila paid child support, the extent of their conversations other than the kids.

It'd been a few years since your brother had to be killed. You'd been struggling a lot. In between Ben's death and the whole Five and Lila thing, you weren't okay, you didn't think you ever would be.

Most the family didn't talk to either one after the whole incident. They'd luckily sided with you and Diego. Allison still talked to Lila, but she'd created herself a whole new life, so the two didn't talk that much.

Life moves on, shit happens.

You lived near Diego, the two of you often going out with the kids to still create some sort of happy family dynamic for them. From lunch to movies, to road trips and rollercoasters, you'd do anything for those kids. You felt so bad knowing there was no way to repair Diego and Lila's relationship, wishing the kids got to have more time as a proper family.

Diego sat with you on the couch, no kids in trail this time. They were with Lila this weekend. Fruity concoctions rest in your hands, the television in front of you playing some dumbass action movie.

"People clearly don't like three children on the man they're going on a date with," Diego chuckles. "My kids come first, sorry."

You smile. "At least you're humbled and know what you're living for, what's important."

He raises an eyebrow, confused about what you're implying.

You see that look and clarify. "I dunno what I'm living for anymore. My brother's dead. My ex cheated on me and all I feel is fucking angry day in and day out. I don't know anymore"

Diego's face grows soft. "Moving on isn't easy."

You nod. "It's harder to do it alone"

He's silent for a moment before speaking up. "Maybe we don't have to do it alone?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What're you implying, Di?"

He shrugs, looking into your eyes. "Whatever you want to think I'm implying"

"...but the kids, that's gonna be so confusing-"

"You love the kids. I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been on all these adventures with us, you wouldn't have asked me yourself to make plans and come over. I know you feel the way I do."

You're both quiet, thinking over your own and the other's words.

"Maybe" you shrug.

"Maybe? I'm allowed to get my hopes up?"

"Calm down, pal" you chuckle. "Not so soon, let's like... ask the kids. I'd feel bad not asking how they felt. They're my priority, they come before us"

Diego nods. "Glad you feel that way. We should get married ASAP." he chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder.

You smile, taking a sip of your beverage. "Feels wrong to even think about this, y'know?"

"It's called moving on. It's normal, I promise"

[peggyao3]

Pt. 29 - Branding

A/N: Don't know why, but writing this one felt like pulling teeth 😭 Hope it came out okie nonetheless.

TAGS: she/her AFAB FMC, FMC described as soft/squishy, dubious relationship status, dark-ish, pain kink

WORD COUNT: 430

Even if they aren't married.

Even if they never will be.

The mark she bears leaves no doubt that all she will ever be is his.

She won't be able to spread her legs for any other man without flaunting the Harkonnen sigil that has been burned into the soft, vulnerable meat of her inner thigh.

The nobleman from Caladan hadn't really meant to poach her away from the Harkonnen court! It was banter, nothing more, nothing less. Although the idea of breathing crisp coastal air and falling asleep to rustling pines was a beguiling one.

The silly daydream had slipped indefinitely out of reach when the branding iron kissed her flesh, leaving her panting, heaving and sobbing in pain.

Feyd-Rautha is a horribly, horribly jealous man. He won't even share the brief, fond twinkle of a daydream in her eyes with another man.

For days she has been bedbound, unable to walk with the meat of her thighs rubbing together with each step.

"Still sulking with me, sweetling?" Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen prowls around her bed like a cat around a bowl of milk.

"Perhaps I wouldn't be, if you hadn't denied me the healing salve."

"But how else will it scar prettily, hm? Let me see."

"Come closer and I'll kick you in the face."

That has his chest swelling with a purr and she knows she should have known better than to provoke him while she can't even close her thighs.

"Leave me alone. You don't own me."

"Yes, I do."

"You've treated me like cattle. I will never forgive you for this," she spits and pulls the duvet tight around her body.

"Oh, but you will," Feyd-Rautha drawls, calloused tips of his fingers sliding under her cover, finding her ankle and calf. "You'll be touching the sweet, little mark I gave you and be grateful for it. You'll touch it and then sink your little fingers in your cunt and think of me.

"Why would I ever do tha-at?" She yelps when Feyd's hand cups the soft meat of her thigh, thumb brushing against the slender spike at the bottom of the scarring Harkonnen crest.

"Because you've been waiting for my ring, sweetling." He laughs at her perplexed expression and traces the rounded middle part of the throbbing mark with featherlight touch. "You want my token of ownership and I gave it to you." Softly, his fingers trail up to the very apex of her thighs where her flesh is flooded with soft, slick heat from just a minute of demeaning caress. "And now," Feyd Rautha purrs. "You will say thank you."

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst

[the-faceless-bride]

🌲Welcome to Forks 🍃

Tags: @art3mas @the-atlantic-french-fry @mzcrazy2 @sadbitchfangirl @sinofwriting @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Characters: [name] Swan, Bella Swan, Charlie Swan, Jacob Black, and The Cullen family

Plot summary: Renae had enough of your attitude, she decided it was best for you to stay with your sister and Father in Forks. Paying to fly you out to forks, To Charlie's Delit and Bella's chagrin. However, seeing how Bella has been acting you watch closely as to what she does. And seeing how she treats Dad and an old friend Jacob, you feel it best to call her out. Because that's what big sisters do.

Warning: swearing, yelling, Bella being a hypocrite and not like other girls, crying, arguments, slapping, Edward being a creep.

A/n: Fuck Edward. And not in a good way. In a grossed out over his bs way.

Chapter one: welcome Home.

Chapter summary: finally, after so long of arguing, craving to get out of the heat, wanting to be with your dad and go home. Your mother finally agreed. You were on your way back to forks.

This chapter will contain? Bella is stand-off-ish (what else is new), Charlie is the best dad he could be, fluff, and readers' first day in forks.

You ran to your Dad; he had been waiting for you leaning against his car a smile on his face, happy both his litter girls were home. His arms were wide open for you, "Dad!" you screeched as you let your body crash into him, you missed your dad. You hated being away from him, and while Bella took to your mother, you were and always will be a daddy's girl.

Charlie looked at you, pulling away his hands resting on your shoulders. "wow. Look at you!" you smiled as you brushed soft curls from your face, "My little girl, grown up!.. Well. Not grown up too much. You're still my baby girl you hear me?" you laughed as you nodded your head. "well. What do you say we go home, sweetpea?"

The drive back wasn't painfully long, time seemed to fly catching up with your favorite parent. You told him about how you found a love for fashion, how you missed forks, how good it was to not be in constant heat.

Pulling to the house you could barely remember still felt good and nostalgic, "who's truck?" you asked confused. Maybe Dad got a new car? "oh, yeah that's Bella's got her it as a welcome home gift." he paused then looked down then to you, "Well...now I feel bad I didn't think to get you something." you smiled at up at your dad, you loved Charlie. "it's ok dad, im just happy to be home."

He smiled at the use of the word home, giving a cheery "let's go!" you practically bounced to the front door. Ready to get in the house and race up to your old room wanting to see what had been made of it.

As soon as Charlie opened the door you rushed up the stairs, Charlie letting out a chuckle locking the door behind him before following after you, "Slow down! I'm getting old I can't chase after you like I used to!" he huffled with a smile.

Your room was untouched. Just as it always has been. Twin bed, white ruffled bed frame, light dusted pink walls, soft carpet, chipped white painted bedside table and dresser, the vanity in the middle of the wall near the window. It was perfect. Just as it always has been.

But then it hit you, "Wait. Where's Bella?" you turned to a slightly out-of-breath Charlie, "Oh, well. She's got this new... Boy. Friend. A friend she's been hanging out with recently." he mumbled unsettled by the topic, Bella... Your sister. Your awkward, no-fun, book-loving, blend-in-with-the-crowd sister Bella. Was out late... With a guy?

Maybe this whole moving to forks thing was a really good thing for her.

"oh! Before we do anything else someone wants to see you!" you focus your attention back on your dad and not on your thoughts as you tilt your head, you just got here who would want to see you already? Charlie was now the one rushing down the steps to open the door, you laughing and closing on his heel.

"[Name!]"

"Billy!"

" Hey [name]"

"JACOB!"

You hugged Billy, before pulling Jacob down to your height and messing with his hair, he laughed and 'struggled' in your grip. You always loved Jacob, he always followed you around when you were younger. You were a year older than him and Bella, they always wanted to hang out with you, no matter where you went Jake and Bells were close behind you.

"im happy to see you [name], im glad to have my two best friends back." you really hugged Jacob this time. No longer the little boy you had to protect from the other older kids like Paul.

Feels so long ago.

Just then a car pulled up to the house, an expensive car at that.

Out came Bella still in her loose hoodie, layered shirts, unbrushed hair pulled back with a plain headband, baggy jeans, and a brown book bag. Yup. Same old Bells. But then came out a boy. Pale as could be with fluffed-up hair, nothing noticeable with what he was wearing, he looked like 'random guy in a crowd #4' the one thing that stood out was his eyes. Pricing gold eyes.

He stared at you, an odd expression on his face. His Face contorted like he was in pain. Looking you up and down.

From your softly curled hair, light eye make-up blushed cheeks, and plump lips, the loose complementary scarf that clung loosely around your shoulders, your tight top, fuzzy sweater, skirt, leggings, and fluffy leg warmers, what was this guy staring at?

His eyes shifted to Billy and Jacob and he made a face, one that shifted from pain. To disgust. You narrowed your eyes, just what in the hell was this guy's problem?!

Then what made you realize you had work to do, and a serious chat to have.

When your Dad smiled at your sister slightly opening his arms and giving a "Hey sweetie Bells!" she made and face heading in side with a mumbled "hi Charlie."

... Oh fuck no.

[northlt03]

I am a sucker for sibling Angst, man

Sirius who stayed in an abusive house just to keep an eye on his younger brother, just to make sure Regulus was always safe. He would rather his parents focus all their negative attention on him, if it meant Regulus looked tame in comparison. So that's what he did. He grows his hair long, endures the curses and when it gets too much, when he sees no other answer but to run away, Regulus doesn't come with him.

Sirius who watched his brother grow more and more distant each year until one morning, it was the middle of the war, there were deaths left and right. People Sirius had seen and talked to, people who became corrupted husks of their former selves with no backbones.

Sirius who was rude and blunt, hating Death Eaters with a burning passion, but when it's his brother's name in the paper, he breaks down. Looking after Regulus was his job. He can't help but think he should have done better. No one else could ever hope to understand and there's nothing to be done.

Nico di Angelo who's only constant for ten years had been his older sister. She was there when their mother died, she was there when a weird lawyer took them to a casino, she was there at the weird boarding school.

And then suddenly she was pulling away and Nico was only ten with no clue what to do. Bianca wouldn't listen to him, she discarded him at the first opportunity. And still he couldn't hate her.

They were siblings, cut from the same cloth, with the same blood running through their veins. How could he ever hate her for wanting to live her life?

Nico di Angelo who's sister probably sat with him and let him explain mythomagic to her. They would play for hours, Bianca wouldn't understand half of it, but that was okay, Nico just liked her presence. It wasn't as though she didn't pay him any attention. She followed the game, the cards and the statues, asking him questions and talking about it to cheer him up.

Nico di Angelo who ran up to the first demigod he had ever seen in action, where's my sister?

Thalia Grace who was only seven when her baby brother was born. She would laugh and play with him, because their mother certainly didn't care. She was there when Jason got the scar on his lip, when Jason rolled over, when Jason started to crawl, when Jason learned how to walk, when Jason's first word was "Tha- Tha". It was a while before he could say her name, and even longer until he could say "mom".

Thalia Grace who stayed for her brother and left only for a moment. That one moment. When she lost her brother. And when Jason was gone, there was no more need for her to stay anymore. She was afraid, afraid for what their mother might have done. What if she had too much to drink and in her drunken state did something horrible to her brother. Her brother. Jason had always been hers more than he was their mother's.

Thalia Grace who's last thought before being turned into a tree was probably that she might get to see Jason again (Halcyon Green had basically told her that). And when she wakes up, all she can see is green-ish blue eyes and blond hair and her first thought is Jason but it's some new demigod, a son of Poseidon.

Thalia Grace who found her brother over a decade after first losing him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close and telling him about a mother he didn't remember. Good she thinks. Beryl Grace was not a mother he should remember.

Thalia Grace who's baby brother is fifteen when she meets him and she looks almost sixteen, no one could be able to tell they had a seven year age difference between them.

Thalia Grace who's brother died at age sixteen. Older than she was biologically. Her baby brother.

Gone. Again.

[the-little-ewok]

The Little Spoon

Poe Dameron x G/N Reader

Rating: M

Wordcount : 1600 (ish)

Warnings : Fluff, mentions of getting caught during sex/heavy petting, rife with teasing innuendos, soft softness, spooning, brief mentions of food, Poe being an adorable menace.

Prompt / Summary : Burying your face in their neck, listening to their heartbeat, spooning at night. / After a difficult day you and Poe try something new in the bedroom.

A/N : Anon who sent me the prompts - i dont know if fluffy was what you really wanted but… i kinda went pretty fluffy cute with this. If you were hoping more for a NSFW request please send me an ask and i’ll do an alt fic for you :)

If you enjoy this fic please don't just hit the like button. Hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Support your content creators with reblogs!

-------

"Stop!" You half whine, half laugh, burying your face in Poe's neck.

"I don't know if he'll ever be able to talk to you again without blushing!" Poe laughs, clearly finding the fact his newest squad member walking in on you both in a, well, compromising, position, hilariously funny, and your embarrassment even funnier.

Since then poor Leru had been unable to look at you without his cheeks lighting up red, and losing all ability to speak.

"Take it as a compliment it affected him so much," Poe shrugs, taking the whole situation in his stride, as usual. "You can't change what happened, and besides you can't hide out here forever."

'Here' was the grassy bank outside the, what now seemed all too small, base entrance. You had escaped out into the humid night air as soon as your shift was over, convinced everyone you encountered knew the story and was staring at you.

Of course, they already knew that you and Poe were close, but perhaps not quite how close. There had never really been time, during the middle of a war, to consider what you were. And now you were together, both of you wanted to enjoy it without too much fuss. At least while you settled into a new routine, and Poe to his new role as General. So really, getting carried away in what should have stayed an empty office, after Poe had returned from a long mission, was not the best of plans.

But oh, he had been so distractingly hot. The way he'd smiled, his eyes flickering up and down your body, the way he'd pulled you tight against his chest, the way his lips had brushed against your skin.

It was hard to regret what happened. But you did regret getting caught.

"I can stay here as long as I like," you challenge his statement, folding your arms.

"I could just order you back inside," he shrugs with a sigh, making out it would be a huge inconvenience for him to do that.

"You wouldn't dare!" You twist to glare at him in challenge, as Poe leans back to look at you, a serious expression creasing his brow. He slowly raises one eyebrow, before he finally gives in, bursting into laughter.

"No, you're right. I like continuing to live without a vibroblade in my chest, so I guess orders are off the table!" He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tight against him.

"How about I very politely request you come back inside? We can grab some food and get an early night?"

"I don't want to go to the canteen,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread on your trousers, unable to remove the idea that everyone would be judging you.

"You know, I don't think anyone else knows? And even if they did, firstly, it's not like they saw anything personally, just second hand, and secondly, if anyone says a damn word I'll have their ass hauled in front of me faster than they can blink!" Poe states passionately.

"That's sweet. But we agreed on no special treatment."

"Not special. I'd do that for anyone talking inappropriately about anyone. You get absolutely no special treatment. I've never given you any special treatment." Taking your chin he tilts your face towards him before he places a soft kiss against your lips.

"Hmm, so you offer that to everyone, do you?"

"Well, everyone is a little broad. More like a select group. You, Finn, Rey, Snap, BB, that really cute medic we met in Yavin," he shrugs with a teasing smile as you roll your eyes. “Now stop overthinking.”

Poe was right, you were over thinking, and as annoying as his teasing could be, you know it comes from a good place in his heart. He simply wants you to see that it's not all bad. Nothing you could do now would change anything that already happened. All you could do was, as Poe does, make the best of the situation.

Still, the embarrassment gnaws a little at your thoughts, though quieter, still there for now.

"Can we eat in your room?"

"Only if we are naked," Poe grins, making you dissolve into laughter.

"Stop that, right now!" You warn through giggles.

"I've been away for almost a month! I've been storing it all up. You are in for a lonnnnnng night, baby," he winks, and for a moment, you`re laughing so hard you forget anything had gone wrong at all today.

~

"I'm sorry," Poe offers later that night, his fingers trailing up and down your back as you lay in his bed, curled up against his side, his heartbeat drumming in your ear as you lean your head on his chest, half asleep.

You hum in question, wondering what he's talking about.

"Earlier. It was my fault we got caught like that. I should have waited. I was just excited to see you and being impulsive. I’ll try and keep my hands to myself for a little longer next time.”

You lean up on your elbow to look at him, frowning in confusion and feeling the tendrils of guilt in your own belly that he feels he's somehow to blame. The last thing you wanted was for Poe to feel he couldn't be his usual, affectionate self.

"There's nothing you need to apologise for. We were both willing participants. I was excited to see you too. You’ve no idea how much I missed you."

Poe's hand slides around the back of your neck, pulling you down to him as he mumbles, "I missed you too, baby," against your mouth before he kisses you.

When he finally lets you go, you have to take a moment, feeling a little giddy, whether with love or lack of oxygen, you aren't sure.

"Anyway, I like you being impulsive," you assure him with a soft smile.

"Then I rescind my apology," Poe chuckles as you snuggle back down against his side, trying to get comfy again.

Except now you have a problem. No matter where you place yourself, you can't quite get comfy enough to fall asleep. Something just feels wrong.

You let out a noise of annoyance, sitting up.

"Turn over," you instruct, laughing as Poe raises a questioning eyebrow, his lips upturning in a familiar grin.

"Is this going a sex thing? Because you know I can stay awake a little longer. I'm sure I can help tire you o-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," You laugh, cutting him off and pressing your hands against his arm, trying to manually roll him over, onto his side.

"So it's not a sex thing? I'm disappointed," Poe sighs over dramatically, ignoring your pathetic attempts to move him.

"I want to cuddle you!" You explain with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, that's what we are calling it these days? Okay, well, we can 'cuddle' as much as you like," he grins, eyes crinkling with amusement as he makes air quotes at you. You make a show of dramatically rolling your eyes in response.

"No, Poe! I mean I want to hold you!"

"Hold which bit?" He wiggles his eyebrows as you try and bite back your laughter. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, telling yourself you are grateful he's home and he just needs to get this out of his system.

When you open them again you fix him with a stern look.

"Alright, alright!" Poe holds his hands up in surrender, clearly deciding he might be pushing too far now. "You want me to be the little spoon?" He asks, obviously having known exactly what you wanted from the first time you asked.

"I want you to be the little spoon." You nod in confirmation. Poe's expression softens from teasing into something that makes your chest ache with love. It's as though the seriousness of the last few years of war drop away, and the boy Poe used to be, stares at you with hopeless adoration.

"I like that idea better," he says simply, before he rolls over with his back to face you. "But I'm still open to the sex thing." He adds, making you snort as you try to contain your laughter, knowing it will only encourage him.

Once Poe is settled, you curl up behind him, wrapping an arm over his chest, tucking your legs in behind his, cuddling up close to him as you press your face between his shoulder blades.

"Don't think I've ever been the little spoon before. I like it," Poe sighs contentedly, his hands resting over yours wrapped around his chest, holding you in place.

You smile and press a soft kiss to his back, "I like it too."

A near silence settles over you both, the only sound in the room your steady breathing as you hold each other. You can feel your eyes finally starting to drift shut, but you also know Poe is not asleep yet, as his fingers continue to gently caress your arm, almost distractedly.

“What are you thinking, Flyboy?” You mumble sleepily against his skin, not wanting to fall asleep if he has something on his mind.

"I was just wondering," he mumbles quietly, “if you think Leru is thinking about us right now?"

"Go to sleep!" You sigh against his back, feeling him shake with barely contained laughter.

"I definitely think he enjoyed it a little bit."

"Sleep!" You hiss, refusing to play into his teasing again.

There's a moment of silence, one in which you think that he's given up with the teasing and finally decided to get some rest. That is until -

"Do you think he wants to join us sometime?"

"POE!"

You can't help but smile as his laughter fills the room. Insufferable, infuriating, pain in the ass. You had missed him, so very much.

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

Please support this by reblogging if you enjoyed it! I live for comments on your thoughts and remember the only way to keep writers writing, is to reblog their work and tell them what you think of it!

[withjaejae]

Hell-ish | JHS

With nothing to do and a sudden urge to summon the devil, you find yourself unlocking your inevitable fate.

Parings: Devil!Hoseok x Unhinged!Reader

Warnings: Demon summoning, swear words, Stripping, reader is borderline psycho-ish, choking, teasing (?), eventual smut but not today, minors dni

A/N: Hello! I had a brain fart an decided to write it out. It'll probably have 3 chapters. Hope you like this one. Inspired by a meme

ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ

"You can't be serious?" You friend's voice rings through your earpods as you set up the floor.

"What's the worst that could happen?" You finish lining the floor with salt. "Wouldn't it be cool if I summoned an actual demon? Heard they look hot."

"YN, you need Jesus. You can't just summon a demon because you're bored." You snort. "Whatever. If you're not going to listen to me then just hang up or—" You end the call.

You stand up to study your set up.

Candles, check.

Salt circle, check.

Demonic book, check.

Cameras, check.

Lucifer's star, check.

You seemed to be all set. The cameras are for evidence just in case someone tries to mess with you.

You nod and took a deep breath. You step into the salt circle and immediately felt different.

You read the incantations off the book.

The fact that your grandmother left you her boat house in the middle of nowhere and your broke ass self could not find anywhere else to live sort of gave you the idea of finding a demon. After reading too much books about them being hot sorta messed with your head. But you've already been borderline psychotic according to your friends.

"I summon thee —!" You look up and strong wind burst through the front door. You were sure you locked that.

All the candles die with the blow, you sat on the floor staring at the open door. Waiting for someone or something to crawl through but its been a minute and still, nothing.

You groan and stand up to close the door.

As soon as you turn around, there was. Shadowy figure standing in the middle of your salt circle. Emerging from it was a man.

Not just any man, but the prettiest, sexiest, hottest man you've ever laid eyes on. His eyes, crimson.

"Who dares summon the prince of hell?" He growls. Not leaving the salt circle.

You immediately bow as a sign of respect. He raises an eyebrow. You rush to take out your earpods and toss it across the room.

"Do you have any idea how cursed you have become?" You shake your head. "You are a fool."

"Yes, I am. But I have summoned you in hopes that you grant me a wish." You finally speak.

The prince of hell suddenly laughs. "Do you think I'm fucking genie?" A pair of expensive looking shoes come into view from your position. "Get up." He commands and you immediately stand. "Oh." His eyes stare directly into yours. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

You startle as he plops himself on your couch. Man spreading. Even you are shocked at his behavior.

"Well, I don't know who or what you are but I gotta thank you for pulling me out of that hell hole." He meant that in every way. He stretches his body, he's lean and wearing what looks like a custom made suit.

"You look... Human." You say from your position, standing before him.

"Would you rather see my original form?" His skin starts turning red but it immediately recedes as you shake your head. "Come sit." He pats on his lap.

You're not sure but you certainly did not hesitate to straddle his lap. You felt like you were in a trance.

"What's your name?" The tip of his nose trailing your jaw line.

"YN." He hums, you crane your neck to give him more access. "You must be Lucifer."

He chuckles. "We go by many names, but I am merely one of the princes of hell. You may call me Hoseok." Your hands rest on his chest.

"Hoseok." You try to be bold by slipping your hand beneath his suit jacket. "So... I don't get a wish?"

"No. But you do get a curse." He states it so casually, you're not even worried. "You smell so good."

"A curse? What's my curse?" He wasn't sure if he was imagining the sparkle in your eye as you spoke of the curse.

"Hmm... You must give me your first born child." His eyes turn completely black as he said it. You shiver.

"Okay." Your reply made his eyes go back fo being crimson. "When do we start?"

"The fuck do you mean?" He frowns. A human confusing him is rare.

"Oh. I'm sorry, your highness." You scramble off him and start undressing, he wasn't complaining but he's absolutely confused.

"Wait. What the fuck?" He can't help but get hard at the view of your naked body. Its been eons since he last fucked a human.

"You said you wanted my first born, so..." You gesture your hands offering your body. "I shall give it to you."

He finally understands and he cackles. "You're definitely not an ordinary human." He gets up. "But that's not what I meant."

You're very comforable in your own skin, you've been to nude beaches, even tried to be in a porno once but it wasn't your thing. Too much moaning.

"Well, how else would I make a first born?" You chuckle and take a seat on the couch across him. "If you choose to wait then I'm okay."

"Wait for your husband?" He's lost.

You snort and start laughing. "I don't even have a boyfriend. That was kinda the whole point I summoned the devil."

"You summoned me, a prince of hell, to ask for a boyfriend? That's all? Not even riches or a better house?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, this my home. My grandma gave it to me." You cross your legs, you're both ignoring the fact that you are fully naked in front of a really handsome man. "But hey, if you want my first born from another man, I may meet you in hell first before that even happens because human men are shit." You laugh in between your words.

Okay, something is not screwed on right in your brain, Hoseok can assume this because of how your personality switches.

"That's kinda sad." Hoseok leans back on the couch again.

He studies you... You're HOT. Tattoos on your shoulder and your entire thigh, he wasn't expecting all these artworks beneath the turtle neck and pants you were sporting earlier.

"Well, if we're done talking and you don't wanna fuck then you can go back to your hell hole." You stand up and walk away, he's baffled.

You blinked and he was standing in front of you. A hand to your throat, pushing you down on the couch.

"You do not leave until you are dismissed." His eyes pitch black again, you've pissed him off. But instead of being scared you fucking smiled.

And its freaking HIM out.

He looks into your eyes and sees what you're thinking. It makes him release you, the smile on your face vanishing as he does so.

"What kind of demon are you?" He frowns.

The amount of nasty things he saw in that second he looked into your soul, there was no other explanation for it. Other than you being a succubus. That's not right, he's a prince of hell, he should know a succubus from their mere aura but you, a human with the soul of a fucking succubus?

"Did you see it? My soul?" You sit up for him again. "I always knew I was different. I mean, two of my exes ended up in the hospital after having sex with me. They got really sick with no explanation. Its not STDs either." Hoseok paces around the room.

This has to be a test.

"Did Namjoon send you?" He stops in his tracks.

"Who?" You sit cross legged again, a confident aura spreading through the room.

You don't know Namjoon but he could also wipe out memories. But you have memories, your grandma and such. Could it be Yoongi that sent you? He could fabricate lies and make you believe they were true.

No, why would his brothers play with his feelings? Wait, feelings? No. The pang in his chest is merely confusion. Lust, yes. Its probably lust. His dick can tell.

So... Was he summoned to fuck you? How can a woman like you summon a high ranking devil like him?

He turns to the book that was on the floor on the portal he came out of. An old book, hand written.

"Where did you get this?" He asks, he turns to see you getting dressed and he raises an eyebrow again.

"What? Its getting cold. I found that in one of the shelves while I was cleaning. My grandma was acused of being a witch." You shrug. "So I thought I was one. Tried it out and boom, here you are."

"Boom, here I am?" He runs a hand though his hair. "How old are you?"

"27, full grown adult if that's what you're worried about." Its not.

"How long have you been 27?" He asks again making you laugh.

"This is the skin of a killer, Bella." You say in a low voice. Were you mocking him? "What? Haven't watched Twilight? That movie belongs in hell."

"I would never admit this but I am so fucking confused right now. I need to go." He stands in the middle of the salt circle. "I'm taking this." He raises the book.

"Cool. You got yourself a souvenir from me. Don't forget me, m'kay?" You give him a really warm smile and the pang to his chest came back. Why wasn't he confident on leaving?

The shadows started to envelope him and he was gone.

"Damn. I didn't confirm if I was still cursed." You mutter before cleaning up the mess you made.

You check the cameras and sure enough you looked dumb, he wasn't caught on camera like you suspected.

Meanwhile, in hell.

The doors slam loudly, all six on the grand table for dinner.

"Where did you go?" Namjoon frowns since his brother disappeared in the middle of their monthly meeting, of all days.

"I was summoned." Hoseok was frowning too, the events of the past hour was very confusing.

"Summoned?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

A loud thud startled the rest as he throws the old book on the table.

"A woman, very very interesting one, summoned me. Asking for a wish." He groans and rubs his face.

The younger ones chuckle. "What was the wish?" Jungkook ask, his golden eyes sparkling. He's been with humans too but he was disguised.

"A fucking boyfriend." Hoseok takes his seat next to Namjoon. The rest laugh but Hoseok wasn't.

"Wait. A mere woman was able to summon you, and all she asked for was a boyfriend?" Taehyung recaps and Hoseok nods. "She must be insane."

"But that's the thing. I thought she was but when I entered her mind, she wasn't. She was bored and just tried it out." He huffs. "Anyways, I'll study her after the meeting." He sighs.

"Show us what she looks like." Seokjin hands him his crystal ball.

It took Hoseok a second to decide if he should show them knowing that one or two would pay you a visit if he did.

"I will but you swear not to touch her." His eyes flicker to Jungkook and Jimin.

"Damn. Why would you do that?" Jimin groans. "She must be hot."

"We can only back off if you've cursed her." Jungkook shrugs.

"I did. Thats what got me, I said that she needs to give me her first born and the woman fucking stripped and asked when do we start." A beat of silence before they all exploded in laughter. Even Namjoon thought it was funny.

They stopped laughing when the crystal ball shines and Hoseok's memories play in the middle of the table. Your face made them shift in their seat.

Just before you started stripping Hoseok stops projecting his thoughts earning a groan from the two at the end of the table.

"She looks, interesting." Seokjin takes back the ball and puts it in his pocket.

"She is, whatever. On to the meeting. I'll just—" Just then Hoseok is back in your house. "What the?"

"Oh, you're... Back?" You come out of the hall way.

Hoseok turns around, no salt circle, no candles, no nothing. Just you and the house.

"Did you forget something?" You were holding a bottle of wine, his eyes flicker from it to your face. "What? Talking to you got me in a drinking mood."

"What did you do?" He stomps towards you but you remain unfazed.

"I didn't do anything. I cleaned up and thought of you so I grabbed my wine..." You didn't finish what you were planning to do.

"You thought of... Me? And I appeared?" Hoseok was entirely confused.

"Yup." You popped the P.

"Do you have any idea what you're interrupting?" The monthly meeting was very important, but it was very boring. Namjoon would be pissed though.

"No?" You looked confused. Hoseok held your wrist and was about to tell you off when a shadow envelopes the two of you and he's back in the room with his brothers.

With you.

Your eyes wide but somehow you were calm.

"Oh shit." Jimin says, he was the one who could summon anyone and anything.

"Jimin, take us back." Hoseok growls and he snaps his fingers again.

You're back in your living room. You're taking deep breaths, your knees give in. Crossing worlds drained you.

"What the fuck was that?" You asked as you clutched your chest, breathing hard as if you had just ran a matathon.

You pop open the bottle of wine and chug it.

"If you wanted to go, then go. Fuck." You stand up on shaky knees, Hoseok was about to reach to help you but stops himself.

Why was your weary state making him worry? Shouldn't he be... Not worried?

Since when did he worry? Worry was not even in his vocabulary, he was a happy-go-lucky devil.

He steps back and once again, transports himself back in the meeting room where his brothers were discussing things.

They stopped as soon as he takes his seat, he was spacing out. The image of you being weak and walking away was stuck in his brain.

"Hoseok." Namjoon calls and he snaps out of it. "We think she's..."

"No." Hoseok sits up and adjusts his coat. "Let's not talk about her. She's cursed and she knows it. Moving on." Hoseok clears his throat.

Namjoon nods and proceeds with the meeting.

Their meetings last for an entire day. But in a place where there is no time to constrict them, they have no idea how long it takes. They simply have to go through mundane meetings, to make sure that hell runs smoothly, they may be the devil but running an entire world is exhausting, even for them.

Hell was not what it seems like, its a city. Like all other places, sure there were castles and such but the place looks more like Croatia. Except the sea was made of damned souls only a few are given a chance to become demons.

For eons, the seven of them managed to run it smoothly. They had no king nor queen but they have sexual partners, some demons, others prefer humans. But Hoseok, he hasn't taken a partner in a long time.

The last time he had a human was, too long to remember. She was a good soul, she loved Hoseok but he couldn't admit that to himself, so when she found out that he was otherworldly and that her soul was tainted, she got angry and took her own life. Hoseok has seen her in hell, but she refused to acknowledge the prince, he has not heard from her in over 500 years.

"Hoseok." Seokjin approaches his brother who was staring out into the city. "You know how one of us is destined to become King?"

"The divine shall choose a king through a queen? That's a dumb prophecy." Hoseok takes a sip of his scotch.

"Well, in the short time you were away, we thought that maybe she is what the divine meant." Seokjin pours himself a glass of scotch. "Did you not notice how Namjoon stopped talking when you asked? Its as if a crown has been placed on your head."

Hoseok scoffs. "If anyone should become King, its Namjoon."

"He is a leader, yes, but he is not chosen." Seokjin pushes.

Hoseok sighs and thinks of his brothers.

Seokjin can see into the future. But not of his brothers, he can see how humans will die or what affect will any decision make. He is the butterfly in 'Butterfly effect'.

Namjoon had the power to command, he could make anyone follow him. The entire city could bow to him and nobody would question it. He could wipe out memories and make you a mindless minion.

Yoongi, can make others see what he wants them to see. He twists realities causing humans to become delirious.

Jimin, other than teleporting things and people, he can be invisible, he often walks among humans but if anyone with a soul touches him its instant death.

Taehyung, he lures those who belong in hell with music, he's the hunter for escaped souls. He and Jungkook are given the freedom to come and go from hell as they please.

Jungkook, that rabbit, is in charge of repopulating demons. But, he creates them through various ways, he can give life to whatever, be it statues or dolls. He takes a soul and puts them to work.

"Hoseok." Jimin interrupts the two men in their silent bonding. They turn to face him and he looked like he had a nightmare.

"What's wrong?" Hoseok urges the men to sit.

"I know you said you didn't want to talk about her, and you know listening to commands is never my strongest feat but I went to see her." Hoseok immediately felt rage but Jimin stops him. "She saw me, when she wasn't supposed to. She came out of the house and approached, asked if I needed anything."

"And?" Hoseok could only imagine what had happened, a touch of Jimin. No...

"Well, I said no. And I was just lost, I wanted go see if she is what the divine sent so when she offered to shake my hand..." Hoseok stood up and Jimin flinched. "She didn't die."

"What?" Seokjin and Hoseok were shocked.

"She shook my hand and she didn't die. She showed me the way back to the main road and I left." Jimin shakes Hoseok's shoulder. "She is the prophecy."

"And she has chosen, Hoseok." Seokjin immediately gets down on one knee. "Our King."

"No, get up." Hoseok tugs on his brother's arm and Jimin follows. "Stop it, both of you."

Yoongi strides in to see what has happened.

"Get up. Until she has been crowned Queen, Hoseok is not King... Yet." The two men get up and hug Hoseok.

"Congratulations! You have a wife!" Jimin was back to his old self. "Oh to have a wife to constantly wait for you at home."

"Jimin, you have six wives." Yoongi comments.

"Yes but they're getting boring. I might take on a seventh, who knows." Jimin shrugs and poofs away before Seokjin could smack him.

"So... Are you going to see her?" Seokjin asks and Hoseok refills his glass.

You're feeling tired, and weak, ever since you summoned Hoseok last week and since you had a glance of hell. You didn't see much but you remember there were six others watching you.

You tread slowly from your bed to your bathroom, you run yourself a warm bath. As soon as the tub was full enough you strip and get in.

You wonder what Hoseok is doing. You avoided thinking so deeply about him so you won't accidentally summon him again.

But just like that, he appears in your bathroom. He was holding a book and he seemed to be dressed in nothing but Pajama pants.

"Fuck. I knew this would happen eventually." Hoseok groans and sets the book down. "You should stop thinking about me if you want to live."

You simply hum, he takes in your appearance. You've become pale, your eyes were dull, a different woman from when you had first met.

Hoseok was reading up on the Prophecy from the book that he had taken from you as you summoned him again. It was said that once the Queen had been identified, the chosen must take her home to take her place.

But he had not done that, he takes the book and skips a few paragraphs to find what he was looking for.

"In the event that the chosen refuses, the queen will lose her purpose and hell will cease to exist." He murmurs, you on the other hand had submerged your entire body in the water. Too weak to struggle.

Hoseok panics and drops the book pulling you out, making you cough. Just then Jimin appears again.

"Somethings happening." Hoseok curses under his breath at Jimin's words.

Hoseok lifted you out of the water and nods at Jimin. He takes you all back to hell.

When Jimin left the sky had turned grey and the land was shaking but as soon as they got back, its as if nothing happened.

Hoseok walks down the hall with you, naked in his arms, as he takes each step he notices that your skin was getting more color, your lips now red, your hair was glowing.

The Divine really has made you for hell.

What a cruel fate.

---

Ch. 2

[t0ta11y-n0t-cup1d]

!!!!! hi !!! :) can u maybe write rise leo & donnie hcs (separate pls) with a reader who's super affectionate and just loves tf out of them.!!! like!!! reader is head over heels!!!

also i hate that u were self conscious while writing totally platonic ;( it was so great, i rly like the way u wrote it!!!🥹 made me feel all warm n' fuzzy n' shit

Touchy-Feely

꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡ (seperate) don + leo hcs w a supez affectionate reader!!! (physical touch, gift-giving, words of affirmation)

req ;; yes/no

g/n reader!! they/them prns

warnings ;; swearing, kinda ooc??

leo ;;

- so leo is naturally ALL over people he loves (think climbing all over raph, draping himself over mikey + donnie, etc)

- it'd be really accurate to say he's the same way with you!

- whenever you're in the lair, or just around the turtles/leo, you are going to be snatched up and there is nothing you can do about it!

- standing up? okay, leo's just gonna wrap his arms round your waist and lean his head on your shoulder.

- sitting down? either you're sitting in his lap or he's sitting in yours— or, he sits on the floor beside you so that he can lean his head on your thighs (i love doing that)

- laying in bed? CUDDLE TIME!

- that's all just to say that leo himself is very physically affectionate ;; if he got the chance he'd hold onto you and never let go

- with leo's self-esteem problems, i think it really helps to have a partner who's super affectionate!

- leo's the kinda guy to have doubts/ be like 'why are you even with me? i'm so lame and my brothers/literally anyone is so much better than me'

- so to have someone who time and time again shows how much they love him and proves that they only have eyes for him?

- it actually really helps! of course, those thoughts do come back sometimes, but it's nothing that a few kisses and a cuddle session can't fix!

- not to mention how you're always, always willing to tell him own much you love him!! because you do, you love him very much and will do anything to get those bad thoughts out of his head

- if he ever feels bad about himself or something he did, he always comes to you to get some comfort bc you comfort him in the best way

- like i wrote in Totally Platonic, leo's prone to subconsciously wagging his tail, making chittering/churring sounds at you, even fluttering his fingers around your cheeks bc red-eared slider DNA go brrr

- something that i think leo would be self-conscious of is money and ish, bc its not like he can really get much?? with the whole turtle situation

- but you, of course, being the angel you are, constantly reassures him that you don't need materialistic things for him to prove his love! you just want him, not anything else

- he sobs on the spot

- leo's the type of guy to fall HARD, so to know you're the same way? to know that you're as crazy about him as he is about you?

- he swoons, and wonders what he might've done to deserve such a wonderful partner.

- (literally save the world twice but who's counting?)

donnie ;;

- everybody, EVERYBODY KNOWS that donnie ain't a very touch-oriented guy, so at the start of the relationship, he'd deffo be overwhelmed by all the love and might ask you to tone it down (not in a mean way)

- once he gets comfortable tho he's all up for affection and cuddles :))

- you do ruin his bad-boy image tho. how is this man supposed to be dark and mysterious when your sweet self is out here making him absolutely melt???

- donnie typically shows his love through gifts and words!!!

- alike leo, he could spend HOURS singing your praise and just saying everything he loves about you (he's actually made a list organized by his most favourite qualities alphabetically.)

- i personally think that for donnie, being a middle child, he didn't get too much attention and we know for a FACT that he yearns for praise and love

- so you KNOW he's going feral if you so much as say 'wow, that's cool!' to one of his inventions

- donnie, while a little overwhelmed by all the love you show him, is really happy to have it

- don can get really stressed when doing his experiments/making his inventions, so it helps to have you around!!

- comes to you for cuddles and to rant when stuff doesn't go his way or an experiment fails

- DEFFO appreciates how affectionate and lovey-dovey you are.

- (also like leo) he can get down in the dumps and insecure bc he believes that his tech is the only 'useful' thing about himself

- so to hear you constantly being like "ahhh my bf!!! my wonderful talented smart funny bf!!!! my love my light of my life!!! i love you i love you i love you :DD" to him really brought up his spirits

- how could they not?? you're just too cute and so sweet!!

- it also helps if he feels kinda insecure in public!! people trying to flirt w you? you don't even notice because you're too busy looking at donnie.

- donnie totes makes you gifts and stuff (little robot to help you out w chores, maybe one to remind you every day how much he loves you :])

- unlike leonardo however, don prefers to keep pda to a minimum;; he likes having certain things to himself and in private

- that doesn't mean that he don't love it tho!!! he just prefers that some stuff stays behind walls

A/N ;; SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! but thank you so much for the request :DD im so eepy jssbbfjs,,,, anyway MEOWSSSS can't wait to work on more fics :]] they might come (even) slower tho bc im starting classes again (AGHHHHHHH)

LUV FROM ;; CUPEZ

[yoke9494]

Why not me? (Draken)

Wattpad Request (AU-ish)

*Smut

Read pt.2 here.

*Hurt no comfort.(Don't have much experience with it. Sorry if it's bad.)

*We love Emma around here! But not in this one..

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

"Are you sure? I mean-- don't think I'm like that but I can always ask someone else? One of the girls?.. You're just someone I trust y'know..."

You shook your head. "No it's okay. I-- I think it'll be better with a girl your age? Besides, I trust you too so.."

Those deep dark eyes stared into yours. Draken was so handsome. Did he find you pretty? Beautiful? You'd never know..

Those words only came out when he talked about someone else. Emma..

Emma. Emma. Emma.

That was the only female he ever talked about. A soft blush would spread on his cheeks, he'd smile from ear to ear.. The way his eyes lit up, small hearts replacing his pupils.. His eyes never did that around you.. He never blushed when your name was brought up.

Why not you? You've known Draken since, well forever. You both had this bond.

You see, both your mother's abandoned you- You both grew up together and took care of one another. The brothel was your home-- You were his "family" but he was your everything..

You were inseparable! Hip attached to hip. Peas in a snuggly little pod.

It felt as if a relationship slowly began to grow. Sleepovers in the same bed, you'd wake up to Draken holding you.. When you both went out in public he'd hold your hand to keep you close. That was a thing you did in a relationship right?! Maybe next week you'd find an excuse to kiss his cheek.

Maybe you'd find the courage to tell him how you really felt?

But that kiss never came.. That confession stayed with you.

Why? You may ask..

Well, Emma came into the picture... And your Draken was gone. He wasn't yours anymore..

The excuses to no longer be around you began to pour in..

"Oh, sorry Y/n. Emma invited me to see that movie already."

"Sorry can't make it. Emma wants me to go shopping with her."

"See ya. I'm going to Mikey's to see him and hopefully Emma."

"You like my shirt? I know it's not my usual color, but Emma got it for me. I hate my other clothes now." (*You helped him pick most of them out..*)

"Emma wants me to stay away from junk food. Have fun at the new restaurant though!"

"... You can't go with me. Emma thinks its weird we hang out so much. I can't ruin my chance with her.. You understand right?"

"I think we should stop being friends.. The only woman I should be focused on is Emma.."

After that it seemed like he was avoiding you every chance he could. Even going as far as moving into another room far away from yours.

Which is why you were surprised when Draken showed up at your door in the middle of the night. It's been months since you've talked to him. Not even a small "hi" here and there when you passed one another in the brothels halls.

You usually just got a cold stare over his shoulder..

But Draken looked different.. Sad? He stood there for a good while just staring at you.

"I need your help."

This is where you turn him away. Treat him the way he's been twords you. Tell him you only help out friends who wouldn't abandon you over another female!

But Of course.. The sad excuse you had for a heart didn't let you.

Anything for him. He looked so lost? Scared? You didn't hesitate to let him into your room. You missed him so much..

But the words that left his mouth. Those words felt like a million needles to your heart.

"I kissed Emma today. She didn't say I was a bad kisser... But the look on her face-- She looked disappointed-"

He rambled on..

But you couldn't help but think-- Even if he was a bad kisser you'd never tell him about it. You'd enjoy anything he'd want to do with you. You'd teach him, he'd teach you.. you'd learn together.

Your ears were beginning to ring. You nearly told him to get out.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Did he realize he was just happily ripping out your heart? Oh these next words stung like a million pieces of glass cutting into your chest.

"She wants to take it further. She wants to-- Y'know... Have sex?.. I'm scared."

Oh you knew. And you were going to be sick! You could understand the nerves, but you couldn't understand the fear? You weren't supposed to be scared of sex when you were with someone you supposedly loved.. Why couldn't he see that?

Draken continued. "What if I'm not good at it? She might not want to be my girlfriend if I'm not good at it. I need help, that's why I'm here. I don't want to be a lonely loser all my life--"

Again! What about you?! You were right here in front of him! Even if he was bad at it, you'd still enjoy it because it was him! You love him. You'd learn together... It's not like you were an expert but practice makes perfect right?

You'd cherish it...

"Can I practice with you? I know it's probably gross of me to ask cause you're-- you?  But you're the only girl I trust.-- besides Emma."

+++++++++++

You should have said no.. But that heart shaped lense over your eyes fogged your brain. You wanted him to be your first, you wanted him to take your everything..

For a second you really felt like he wanted to be here with you. That he wanted the same..

His hands were gentle against your skin. His lips soft against yours.. He groaned into your mouth while he laid between your legs and rutted his hard length into your cunt.

He was rubbing against your clit, making your poor underwear a wet sticky mess. He was sloppy with no rhythm but because it was Draken. You almost came either way..

But he seemed to have gotten bored.

It only took a second as he finally yanked your panties off. You swore you heard a choked moan get caught in his throat when he used his thumbs to spread you open.

You were getting a little flustered at his staring.. What was he thinking?

-- the sight was beautiful to him...

Even though it was dark in your room. The only light coming from a small fish tank you had in the corner. He could see how wet you were, already dripping down to your bed sheets.

Was it all for him? Because of him?

He knew you were untouched, always saying you were waiting for someone special... But Emma was already experienced. She didn't need all the so called prep right?

So neither did you..

You really wished you would have known that he wasn't seeing YOU right now. Maybe if you got it into his head that you weren't Emma, it would be different? He'd be gentle?

But it was too late..

Before you knew it your legs were thrown over his shoulder and he was lining himself up to your entrance.

"Draken--"

It hurt. But you couldn't help but force yourself to think that it was okay... You should have spoken up if it wasn't. You're safe, he wouldn't hurt you on purpose..

You almost felt relieved when he leaned down to kiss you. To distract you from the pain as he bullied the rest of himself into you.

You felt his thumbs wiped away your tears before his lips left yours to kiss them away.

You felt the heat pool in the pit of your stomach as Draken groaned from your tightness.

"You feel so good Emma.."

But that wasn't your name, you weren't Emma.

But that didn't matter. It was for him..

Draken began to move when you let out a choked whine. He mistook the sound of hurt feelings for a sound of eagerness, of want..

His cock slowly dragged in and out of your entrance. Almost fully unsheathed before he shoved himself all the way back in. His thighs met your ass with a sticky *plop* over and over again.

At first he had no rhythm once again but quickly started getting the hang of it.

You moaned his name though you felt nothing. You wanted to feel him the way he felt you. But you just couldn't-- doesn't it start feeling good after a while?

His moans were low and deep. They almost tricked you into thinking you were his, that he wanted you.

If he was seeing you, you had no doubt that his sounds alone would send you over the edge.

"I love you Emma."

You weren't Emma! But you still sucked in a breath. "I love you too.."

He began to speed up and you forced your face into the pillows. Praying that he was too lost in his pleasure to see you cry.

"Fuck Emma."

His thumb found your sticky clit. You felt a small sense of pleasure as he made lazy circles around your nub. He was dragging out your pleasure for you..

This wasn't right.

Your back arched and it caused his hips to shift. Your eyes rolled when his cock hit that sensitive spot deep inside you.

See, you were learning together.

"You like that Emma? Your griping me so tight now."

Gods you wished he would shut up already. Did she like hearing her name this much?! Was she that conceded? Or was he just obsessed?

He was yours first.. it should be your name he repeats like a prayer.. It should be your name that gets stuck in his head like a favorite song..

Draken was stunned when he felt your soft hands harshly push against his chest. He was shoved out of you and his oncoming high was ruined..

Did he hurt you?-- for a second he actually saw you.. Did he hurt his friend--

He made a small noise when he was thrown on his back. Biting his lower lip when you slowly crawled on top of him.

But the heart shaped lenses that covered his own eyes changed what was in front of him. Your hair turned into a beautiful blonde, your eyes turned into the same yellow doe ones that made him weak.. Your face changed into the one he was doing all this for.

He pushed the feeling of this being all wrong into the pit of his stomach as you slowly slid down on his dick.

The room was filled with the sticky *splat* of your pleasure that slicked up his length and abdomen.

Your mouth slack as you threw your head back and used him for your own enjoyment.

' Emma you look so beautiful like this.. '

He didn't voice his words this time. Something told him it was wrong to do so.

"Oh fuck."

His words were low and husky as his fingernails dug into the soft flesh of your thighs. He wasn't sure what you had done just now but the way you bounced and scooted on his cock made his toes curled and a shock of pleasure raced up his spine.

He swore the sounds you were making were going to be the end of him. He could feel himself getting hotter the louder you got.

You were going too fast now. He wanted to watch you use him forever. His high hit him so fast that he had his heels digging into the mattress, teeth bared, and eyes going white.

Your name almost came out of his mouth. The first syllable! But he quickly caught himself-- "Emma.."

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

What was there to say? How do you look at one another now.

It was a mistake.

You hid your face as he changed into his clothes. You choked down the tears--

You were going to tell him. You needed to tell him that you loved him with your entire being. That if he'd just give your relationship a chance you'd move mountains for him.

Draken turned to you with regret in his eyes. His mouth opened and closed due to his phone ringing..

You could already tell who it was. The light in his eyes reappeared and he smiled for the first time since coming here.

"It's Emma!-- I gotta go."

He turned with blushed cheeks. (That blush wasn't for you.,) "Thanks-- I mean, you're really a great friend. But that's all you are, this isn't going to make it weird right?"

You heart was completely gone-- Too much hurt that it felt like you flat lined.. That it had dried to dust and blew away..

All you could do was nod as he left out the door..

Your room was so cold now. Even the tears in your eyes felt like ice racing down your cheeks. Your body felt dirty as you sat in the middle of your bed-- the blankets you were wrapped up in needed to be burned!

Why was it so easy for him to hurt you! He didn't love you! Stop loving him!

Please stop loving him....

You let out a muffled scream into your pillow. Wishing you could just drown in your tears that soaked the cotton.

........................

[goldenpinof]

lmao now someone at tm has said the vip is cancelled which is clearly some poor customer service person who’s uninformed. this whole thing is a fucking disaster like could not be worse i fear. the venue said ticketmaster will give refunds for a portion of the ticket to get it back down to ga pricing and will communicate that soon. seems reliable but who knows. my hope is that at the least, everyone in this position is given silver vip perks for free so they at least get to interact with dnp and get the merch. it’ll never be a perfect solution bc dnp can only meet so many people but it’s the LEAST they can do even if it wasnt their fault tm fucked up so so badly

i have so many things to say about it but i'll try not to. Seattle, y'all.

i've seen two emails from the Ticketmaster manager and the venue's manager that say, "the VIP portion of the event has been cancelled" and "the VIP package portion of these orders will be cancelled". and the 1st one is probably just bad wording. which is confusing, but it's great that we have the 2nd email. there's also information about Silver VIPs having the same problem. which just says that Gold VIPs aren't gonna be downgraded to Silver. although, i don't see why.

because realistically, Ticketmaster can talk to dnp (not even to the venue, UTA or AEG, or their managers, dnp directly. if these 3 organizations + dnp IT managers can't come to a conclusion that every party is gonna be okay with) and try to solve this problem with them. Ticketmaster can't give us what we want themselves, but dnp surely can. and that is - at least Silver VIPs with preshow and VIP merch bundles. like, they are physically able to do this. it doesn't matter if there are 100 people at the preshow or 150 (edit: it would likely be 350 instead of 100. everything else still stands. making extra 300 VIP merch bundles is possible). they are all gonna be sitting there listening to dnp yap for 30-ish mins anyway. i understand why dnp can't make a pool of Gold VIPs bigger only because Ticketmaster fucked up. meeting people in person takes time and energy, even if in theory that could be done (a 2-hour meet and greet lmao), it would be harder for everyone involved. but Silver VIPs don't require anything extra from dnp or the venue. they are gonna be on stage anyway, so who the fuck cares if it's a little bit more people than they planned. these 2 added USA shows weren't planned either, and now they are making extra VIP bundles for them. so even that is not a problem. and before someone says, "safety issues and security", hire more people for 3 hours.

you know where i'm getting? it's a solvable problem, but only dnp can put pressure on the companies involved to solve it. if they only cared. because of course, AEG and the venue are gonna tell Ticketmaster to just quietly solve it themselves the way they can. but the thing is, they can't do it without upsetting dozens of people who were told they would meet dnp, get to the preshow, and have VIP merch. and now they don't get any of it at all. you see how fucked up the communication is and how easily Ticketmaster, dnp and us could meet in the middle with Silver VIPs? not even for free. "my hope is that at the least, everyone in this position is given silver vip perks for free so they at least get to interact with dnp and get the merch" i get why that would be very cool, but i don't think making it free has to be an option. downgrading Gold VIPs to Silver VIPs, and refunding only the m&g part would be more than enough. but they are not gonna fucking do it!!!! because communication is so freaking hard for companies and some people, that they rather die than propose a compromise and meet in the middle to solve a huge problem, if you ask me.

i'm not angry at dnp, btw. it should be Ticketmaster screaming, crying, throwing up trying to contact anyone they can to reach dnp, and solve this problem. oh, and there are commissions and shit, so Ticketmaster should be fined for this (and i fucking hope they are).

@danielhowell @amazingphil twitter is tagging you like crazy. i guess it's not enough.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 4002

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

10. Acquired Taste

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Bucky:

Bucky typically has two avenues, when it comes to acquiring new product.

1) Conduct recon, establish a relationship with her/him (though usually her), lure to a secluded location, incapacitate (usually via roofies)

2) Conduct recon, stab & grab on site (needle, not knife—jesus he’s not a monster)

Each avenue presents its own advantages and risks. Relationships and dates take more time and work, they don’t guarantee he’ll get the access he needs, and he runs the risk of someone else in the victim’s life learning about him before they’re disappeared. Stab & grab is by far his preferred method, but he has to be extremely mindful of security footage. Everything’s recorded these days, and in a city like New York, people live in each other’s pockets. Which method Bucky chooses usually comes down to how isolated the candidate’s life is. Carlo made his pick for who Bucky’s got to pay him with, so Bucky drives into the city early Monday to begin his reconnaissance process on Erica Buccanetti. He spends that Monday through Wednesday 7am-10pm, learning all about her.

Erica is twenty-nine. She’s a short, white, “curvy” woman of middling education who works at the DMV. Her job alone makes her deserving of what she’s going to get, Bucky thinks. Erica works Monday through Friday, gets in at 8:55, eats lunch at her desk, and clocks out no later than 4:50 every day. Erica goes to a gym after work and runs on the treadmill until she looks miserable and exhausted. Erica takes the train home to her duplex in Alphabet City, where she has a cat and drinks wine and…

Bucky tosses his binoculars aside, exasperated. “Dammit.”

Erica has three housemates. Fuck.

He can’t do a stab & grab when there are roommates, certainly not three. It’s too risky. Now he’ll have to put in the extra effort to try and run into her somehow, strike up a conversation, get a date or three.

He puts the car in gear and speeds down the block, eager to get on the highway and get home to Steve. He tunes the radio to an 80’s station he likes and taps out the beat as he navigates traffic.

This is the last time, he swears to himself, the absolute last time he lets a client pick their target. It’s too much pressure on Bucky, having to succeed with that one specific girl. Better to have a handful of potentials going, scoop up the one who makes herself the easiest victim. It’s not like most of them don’t do a bang up job of it.

Twenty-some years of “stranger danger” and true crime shows are usually enough to cement the “it won’t happen to me” mindset. Sometimes they’ll even find the right moment to throw out a lame, faux-suspicious “You’re not a serial killer, right?—haha just kidding!”

Bucky thinks it’s a hoot. Obviously these bitches don’t follow the eastern principle of karma.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights, he gets in very late, after midnight. But he still pops down to check on Steve. He brings them both a drink, hands Steve his, then slides down the far wall to sit. “Ugh.”

“How was your day, honey?” Steve asks. Sarcastically, but at least he’s making jokes.

“Long,” Bucky says, tipping back his old fashioned. They both like them. Maybe it’s become one of their things. “So for this payment, I let Carlo pick his girl,” he says, letting his eyes slip closed as he rolls out the tight muscles in his neck. “Stupid.” Steve is quiet for a long time, and Bucky suspects he’s staring at him. He doesn’t open his eyes to find out. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says. “Just … wondering about the logistics of it, I guess.” He’s quiet for another long moment, the ice clinking in his glass telling Bucky when he takes another sip, and then another. “So … are you bi?”

Bucky opens his eyes. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “You date them to get to them. Does that mean you’re into women?”

“Well …” Bucky is, but … “I prefer men,” he says. “By far. But the clients want women, so that’s what I supply. It’s pretend, Steve.”

“Mm.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, sensing Steve’s judgment and not liking it. “I pretend to date them. Briefly. If I have to.”

Steve shrugs and looks away dismissively. “Seems kind of mean, to me.”

“It’s not!” Bucky scowls, straightening up from where he’s been sitting slumped against the wall. “I’m totally nice to them!”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, until you start harvesting their parts for food.”

Bucky glares at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Yeah maybe we shouldn’t.” Steve sniffs and looks away. “Not exactly great to hear all about how my boyfriend’s a serial killer.”

Bucky brightens up some at the word ‘boyfriend’. “I’m not, you know. A serial killer.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise sky high. “Oh really? So what would you call it when you kill people, ya know, serially?”

“I don’t get a thrill out of murdering them,” Bucky insists. “I keep them alive as long as I can.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that so much.”

“I keep them comfortable!” Bucky defends. “This is a nice place! I give them gourmet food, they’re on tons of pain meds. They don’t feel a thing.” Steve isn’t even looking at him now, and Bucky’s mood sinks. “... They’re not nice people, Steve,” he says darkly. "They deserve a hell of a lot less than what I afford them.” He watches Steve for a reaction, but doesn’t get one.

Steve just tosses back the end of his drink and fishes out the cherry. He pulls it off the stem with his teeth, chewing it while staring Bucky down. “Done,” he says, pushing the glass in Bucky’s direction.

It’s like he’s saying the conversation’s done too. Bucky sighs and shoves up to standing. He goes over and picks the glass up and gives Steve a long, rueful look. “Eileen,” he eventually says.

“What?”

“The woman in the other room." He nods out towards the hallway. “The one you saw. Her name was Eileen. And that’s whose kidney I had for dinner the other night.” Steve’s eyes widen a little, and Bucky smiles placidly. “Yeah. Good old Eileen. She was thirty two you know. Divorced but seeing someone new. She had a daughter. Cute kid: Tracy. She’s like, seven, eight? Has freckles and pigtails, likes Pokémon.” Bucky shrugs, then lets the mild expression slide right off his face. “Eileen was letting the new boyfriend rape her.” He gets satisfaction from the way that Steve’s eyes widen further and his lips part without a comeback. “Hm, yeah.” Bucky throws back the end of his drink and crunches down on the pieces of ice that float into his mouth. “So, Steve, when I tell you that you really shouldn’t feel bad for these people? You really shouldn’t.”

He turns and leaves before Steve can think of any other arguments. It’s good, Bucky thinks. It’ll give him time to think. Bucky didn’t come to grips with all of this overnight, after all. He can’t expect Steve to, either.

Steve:

In the basement, Steve has lots of time to think. In fact that’s all he does other than sleep. He thinks about the chances of anybody ever finding him here, figures they’re probably low. Bucky’s done this before, maybe dozens of times. He knows how to get away with it. Steve thinks a lot about that, about how there are a bunch of rich as fuck cannibals out in the world, just existing and merrily eating people. How Bucky eats people and thinks that it’s totally fine. How he likes the taste of eating people. It’s nuts.

Steve does wonder, sometimes. What’s it taste like? He feels halfway sick with himself when the thought occurs, but it does occur. It must taste good, he thinks, to warrant such effort and risk. It must taste really damned good. At least to Bucky and his rich friends it does. Steve is sure he’ll never find out for himself. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it.

He thinks about the women who came before him, about how they must’ve felt, trapped down here while Bucky slowly sold off their meat. How many have there been? Steve wonders. And what were their crimes that got them sentenced to this? How did Bucky know they were bad? Steve can’t figure it out, but he also can’t forget what Bucky told him so seriously about Eileen the other night. It sits in his mind, coloring his memory differently. Now when he thinks of Eileen lying on the floor of her cell, begging him for help, he doesn’t feel as much pity for her as he used to. He doesn’t feel as much horror when he remembers her limbless torso wriggling pathetically under the sheet.

Bucky could be lying of course, just making it up so that Steve will accept him more readily. But somehow Steve doesn’t think so. Bucky’d had this look in his eyes when he said it. He’d looked vindictive, and vindicated. Steve shivers as he remembers it. Bucky truly does not have any compunctions about what he does, and he expects Steve to come around to it. Steve doesn’t think he can do that. He’s just hoping against hope that he can pretend long enough to convince Bucky. Long enough until he can get his chance for escape and take it.

He thinks about Carlo, working on the cell down the hallway. Steve doesn’t see him much at all, just hears the sounds of his tools whirring, the smell of fresh wood being sawed, concrete being poured, him taking a piss in one of the other cells' toilets every few hours.

At first Steve does wonder what he might be able to say to try and entice the man to help him escape. But he settles on a big fat nothing. There’s nothing Steve could offer him to get him to take that risk, no way. And it’d be too big a gamble to try anyways. He doesn’t want Carlo to alert Bucky to his attempts at scheming, which Bucky warned Carlo would do if Steve acted up. So Steve keeps his mouth shut when the man arrives and departs each day.

Carlo doesn’t say anything to him. He probably figures that Steve’s dead meat anyway.

Steve considers that maybe he is, and Bucky’s just lying to him to keep him calm. Maybe Bucky tells all the women that they have a chance for survival, if only they’re good and don’t act up.

It’s fucked, but Steve imagines Bucky doing it—taking little pieces from him until there’s nothing left to do but put an end to him. He imagines Bucky kissing him lovingly, then injecting something into his veins and harvesting his internal organs. He imagines Bucky working in the attractive kitchen upstairs; humming a tune, cutting Steve up, pan searing his kidneys and eating them with a Beaujolais.

Steve wonders if he’d taste any different than everyone else Bucky’s ever eaten. Probably not.

Stringy, he thinks, looking down and assessing his arms and legs and torso with a novel sort of appreciation. Steve’s so thin and so tough, he’d probably make a horrible meal.

Bucky:

He plans it out meticulously, just like he always does. But even after all these years (fifteen, to be exact) he still gets that nervous feeling every time he makes his move. Stab & grabs don’t get to him nearly as much. Those are easy, impersonal. It’s the women he has to introduce himself to and flirt with and feign interest in and good intentions for that cause the nerves. He’d call them butterflies, but that seems cruel to compare his meet/capture/kill nerves to first date nerves. When he met Steve, it was a whole other feeling. What he’s about to do now isn’t the same, it’s not innocent like that, and he doesn’t need to pretend that it is.

Bucky knows he’s actually like, the perfect guy for this. He’s good looking and a natural flirt, excellent at making conversation and getting people to like him and to want to open up to him. Women tend to feel instinctively safe around him, so normally he’s guaranteed success in the “meet cute” department. It’s just that ... well …

He’s getting on in age these days, alright? He’s a—very damn handsome—37 years old now, and unfortunately for him, his clients’ tastes tend to stay the same, meaning the pervy old leches keep wanting their women rare at 20-ish. Bucky still has a very high success rate, but there’ve been a few college-aged girls who he approached wrong and they turned their noses up at him.

But he dyes his greys now, okay? He does the whole skincare regime, does Botox (conservatively—he’s got taste). And he’s learned to dumb himself down a bit when he’s going after the younger ones; talk a little smoother, a little less cultured, dress more age-appropriate. Turtlenecks apparently send off the wrong vibe. Unless the girl is into the whole Daddy thing, then it works in his favor.

Anyway, it’s not that big of an issue. All he has to do is flash his car or casually wear a Rolex on a date and even the most dimwitted or discerning potentials fall all over him. Bucky could give straight guys lessons, he swears.

He drives into the city wearing joggers and sneakers and a too-tight tee shirt, hair artfully tousled and earbuds draped around his neck in show. He goes into the gym, into the locker room, spritzes water around his hairline and the neck of his tee shirt, then bumps into her outside—when she’s on her way in, not out. No woman feels sexy after a workout (at least not the kind Erica is torturing herself with)—and exclaims in concern when she stumbles. Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! He grabs her forearm and lets the other hand brush over her waist as he “makes sure she doesn’t fall”. Are you okay?

Her eyes catch on his smile and his biceps right away, so Bucky's confidence is bolstered. He spends the next twelve minutes flirting with her, telling her his name (James), and how glad he is that he at least bumped into the prettiest girl at the gym (not true). Her eyes light up when he mentions that he’s a doctor, and shortly after that he’s typing his burner cell number into her phone. I put myself down as ‘handsome stranger whom you’re definitely gonna call’.

She titters at his joke and smiles, obviously tickled pink as they’re saying goodbye. “Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll call you. Maybe we could meet up for drinks or something?”

“Great!” Bucky shoots her a wink to seal the deal and jogs off down the block. He stops once he’s around the corner and starts walking at a normal pace back to his car. He hums a tune to himself, pleased at how easy that’d been. Now he can get home and probably not have to go out again until Saturday. If Erica’s as easy as he thinks she is, he shouldn’t have to go on many, if any, other dates.

Steve:

“Hey.” Bucky knocks on the doorframe as he slides it open. He steps in, head tilted, cautious smile playing at his lips.

Unfairly handsome, Steve thinks. Those women don’t stand a chance. “Hey.”

“I was hoping you’d still be awake. Wanted to say goodnight.”

“You get her number?” Steve asks. Because he knows that’s what today was—bump into Erica day.

Bucky seems wary, but he comes in and engages anyway. Steve almost feels bad for him. “Yeah,” Bucky says, toeing at the carpet. “Taking her out on Saturday.”

Steve rolls his eyes, scoffing. “‘Taking her out’, yeah.” He sees the hurt flash across Bucky’s face though, and feels bad about it. Ridiculous, but he still feels bad. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking away. What else is he supposed to say? I understand? He can’t say that when Bucky’s holding him prisoner in his basement. Steve’s literally chained to the floor right now.

He sighs again, disappointed. He’s never been so disappointed in anything in his life. He fucking aches with it. Enough to cry, sometimes, if he thinks enough about Bucky’s smile over a martini glass, his bad dance moves in Steve’s apartment, his body in Steve’s bed. What they'd had together, how it'd felt like they were building something, something to look forward to. Steve bites his tongue so he doesn’t start tearing up when Bucky’s standing there. He doesn’t want to look like another weak victim, even though he knows he is. “You seemed like such a nice guy,” he murmurs, not looking at him.

Bucky comes over and kneels down in front of him. He looks so sad. “Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to palm the side of Steve’s face. He hums when Steve lets his eyes slip closed and leans into it.

Crazy, what a little bit of isolation will make you feel, Steve thinks.

“I miss you, Steve. I promise you this isn’t going to last forever.” When Steve just breathes silently, Bucky strokes his thumb over his cheek. Steve shivers. “Hey, would you want to go on a date with me?”

Steve’s eyes open. “What?”

Bucky smiles softly. “A date. You’ve been so good this whole time, and I miss you.” He leans forward and pecks a kiss to his lips. It’s brief, but it still makes Steve’s lips tingle. “I miss spending time with you.” Bucky’s eyes flick over his face. “So how about it, huh? You want to come up and just hang out one night? I can make us something. We’ll have drinks, maybe watch a movie?”

Steve blinks, feeling so odd at being asked a question like that. One of the things he thinks about to pass the time is what he and Bucky might be doing right now, in their new relationship, if Steve hadn’t opened the basement door. “A movie?” he repeats softly. The idea of getting to leave this boring room for anything is tempting. Steve wants to escape of course, but even if he knew he couldn’t, he still thinks it’d be nice to get to do something. Even if it’s with Bucky. “Yeah,” he breathes, hopeful. He hasn’t been allowed upstairs in days, not since he took a shower. “M-maybe I could …” he cuts himself off, remembering how Bucky had taken advantage of the last time, how he’d touched him. And Steve was weak. He’d let him do it.

“Maybe what?” Bucky asks, looking so kind. He always does, like he’s just a kind, caring guy who also happens to keep Steve chained in his basement. “Steve? What were you going to say?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Mm, nevermind.” He doesn’t need a shower. “Nothing.”

Bucky seems unhappy about whatever Steve’s not saying, but he doesn’t press him any further. He takes a deep breath and stands back up. “I won’t be out so late anymore,” he tells him. “Just a trip or two more to the city. You can have your real meals back again, no more of this junk food.”

Steve nods. Bucky’s left him with plenty of snacks these past few days, but Steve has missed the hot meals. He’s missed seeing Bucky three times a day, even missed the attention Bucky gives him when he’s eating. “Okay,” he says.

Bucky stands there for a long minute, staring at him. Steve keeps his eyes on the carpet but he can feel the weight of Bucky’s gaze. Eventually he hears Bucky sigh, then leave through the door. Steve looks up to try and catch sight of him on the way out, but he’s already moved on down the hall.

That night Steve falls asleep thinking about what it’ll be like, once there’s another person in the basement with him.

Bucky:

Bucky meets her for the aforementioned drinks. He’s dressed nicely, in a black button down and slacks and nice shoes. He wears the Rolex, because Erica’s got three housemates so flashing his wealth at her can’t hurt. He greets her with a smile and a hug at the bar, and they both settle in and order their drinks. Bucky asks her about her life, quickly figures out that she’s body conscious and makes sneaky little comments about how he likes a woman that doesn’t slip right through his fingers. She eats that shit up, and before Bucky knows it, she’s excusing herself for the bathroom and leaving her third cocktail behind.

Too fucking easy.

Bucky picks up both their drinks and informs the bartender that they’ll be moving over to that table in the dark corner over there. The bartender gives him a nod, and Bucky nods back. He can’t have the guy seeing it, when he slips the roofie in her drink.

He’s learned to crush them up into a Splenda packet. It masks the bitterness and then if he does get caught, it just looks like he’s sweetening the drink. Erica returns from the restroom and he flags her down to their new spot. “More privacy,” he purrs at her, and she giggles and sits down next to him.

They continue to flirt and talk about pithy little topics until he can tell that she’s starting to feel the effects. “Hey,” he says, not wanting her to be stumbling before they leave the bar. “I know this is fast but… I dunno, I just really like you.” He says it all bashful, like he’s embarrassed of himself, and she eats that up, too. “Would you maybe wanna go back to my place? We could have another drink, talk and listen to some music, or…”

He trails off, and she gives him an enthusiastic, “Sure, okay!” sloppy at the edges from how the drugs are creeping into her system now. She hasn’t realized it yet. Bucky has to get her out of this public place before she does.

“Great,” he says, smiling. He offers her his arm like a gentleman (and to make sure she’s steady enough on her feet to not draw attention), and she simpers and holds onto him and they head out. Bucky sees her recognizing the type of car that he drives as he opens the door for her and she gets in. She tucks her lips in like she’s trying to keep herself from outright grinning, which makes Bucky chuckle as he slides into the driver’s side and shuts his door. “Buckle up,” he tells her sweetly. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

She giggles and obeys, and Bucky thinks about how she’ll probably be so easy, in the basement. Girls like her just want to be loved and approved of so badly. She’ll probably go from the Depression stage to Acceptance so fast, it’ll make his head spin. He’s glad. It’s always easiest for those girls. They suffer the least. And despite the fact that Bucky knows about Erica and her little brother who died under “suspicious circumstances” in 2009, he still doesn’t want to torture her. He’s not a sadist.

He’s karma.

She’s still conscious when they get on the highway, enough to look out the window and make a cute little confused noise. “Mm. You said your place’sin Tr’becca?” she slurs.

Bucky smiles and pats her hand. “Yeah. But I’m taking you somewhere else.”

It’s cute, how she pouts and tries to protest that. Bucky’s almost tempted to say something right then and there. But he doesn’t. He always likes to save the Big Reveal for when they’re settled in their rooms and fully sober. He likes to have a drink in hand, be relaxed in something comfortable. Really settle in for the show.

“Just close your eyes,” he soothes her, watching her fade out. “We’ll be there soon.” She passes out and Bucky smirks, thinking about how she’s about to get hers.

Because Karma’s not a bitch.

It’s a plastic surgeon who likes to cook.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

💖To be added to any of my tag lists, please use This form (it's easy!)

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

@scottishrosefury

@not-that-syndrigast

@lolitsbuckybarnes

@kathy-2005

@stuckysgal

@thenewmissescullen

@sapphirebarnes

@Yoruse

@autumnrose40

@alexakeyloveloki

@gretasimp

@kandismom

@ivoryangel1290

@mrs-rogers-barnes1

@iloveshawnieboi

@m0k0k0

@sousydive

@sapphirebarnes

@kandis-mom

@juicyfruit-22

@bloodrosefuryao3

@laylamikaelsonbarnes

@leighta

@drfellow

@era

@smlmsworld

@mrsstuckyboo

[definitelynotshouting]

context: ik most of my asks are pretty disorganized, stream of consciousness type of thing but GEEZ this got out of hand. you know that thing cats do when they bring you a dead mouse and *they're* super proud of it and you're just like dude.. why /lh

i usually put whatever my immediate thoughts are after reading the chapter and this time i thought it might be fun to write it out before. can you tell im running on five hours of sleep?? lmk if this made any coherent sense because even i dont understand it!!

so last chapter ripped my heartt out and stomped on it. i am LIVING for the way this whole thing was written, gorgeous prose as always <3. i was very curious as to wether Mumbo would question Grian but i think him NOT doing that was SO in character, and i adore it. I feel like w/ some fics (my own writing included) Scar is the ONLY one Grian relies on for support (in ANY area), and whenever Mumbo is even in the picture, he's just kinda "there", he doesn't check up on Grian or broach the topic of whatever is currently plaguing our little bird guy (basically, he's not involved in Grian's life despite being "his best friend"). And the way you characterized him was just So Real?? I would wager a guess (correct me if im wrong ofc) that part of it is that he just DOESNT know, (because Grian is oh so good at telling half truths and privately justifying his self sabotage) but a part of it is also him being lowkey willfully ignorant. he doesnt WANT Grian to be sick (mentally or otherwise) but definetly knows that SOMETHING is up. he really WANTS to help fix whatever is going on (evident by the gold farm) but he doesnt know what Grian needs or how to help him.

i have been OBSESSING over how Grian saying goodnight to Mumbo was ACTUALLY his goodbye to him but Mumbo DOESNT KNOW AND ITS EATING ME ALIVE. (also thought it was super interesting how Grian sort of took Mumbo leaving to sleep as "permission" to do the deed)

side ish note: how tf does Grian even plan to do that?? ik he's got the spider eyes and i *think* he's planning to turn the healing potions into weakness potions but like?? how is he going to do that??? i would assume that the gang would be watching the potions AS they were brewing, and even if they weren't, healing potions and weakness potions are.... vastly different colors. (unless im mixing them up with something else). also aren't they going to walk in on him prepping or already being in the middle of it and just save him like last time? the team as a whole has done a pretty good job on keeping an eye on Grian (from just a "this person can't walk" standpoint) so far. is he waiting for a chance when everyone is busy or does he plan to use MORE weakness potions to make it stronger or quicker?? im interested to see if he's even going to follow The Plan, because up until this point he's been pretty careful with trying to make plans and sneak around EXCEPT for the spider eyes basement adventure, which makes me wonder is he'll get more frantic/desperate as the appointed time draws closer.

Real talk though, Mumbo (and everyone else) is going to be beating himself up over not noticing when stuff goes down (which i would assume would be next chapter, but idk). Also, the fact that Grian asked him to stay means A LOT. To me (and idk if this is what you meant to convey) that signals that a part of him WANTS to stay. theres a part of him that wants to continue to experience the comfort and joy he gets from his friends, but he feels like he's only going to continue to hurt them, so to him this is the ONLY option to keep them safe. also the majority of his existence is just misery and pain so thats probably not helping. (PLUS the whole slew of mental health issues, this is not purely self sacrificial).

anyway, i LOVED this chapter as always, it was like chicken noodle soup for my overworked little soul and i savored every bit of it!! (also, no need to apologize for not having enough spoons!! i dont have any chronic illnesses but i know that shit sucks. this is a particularly long ask for me so dont feel compelled to answer everything in it, or answer right away. hope ur doing well <3)

-🐛

BUG ANONNNN THIS COMMENT IS SO SWEET AND I LOVED READING IT OMGGGG

you hit the nail exactly on the head for where im going with mumbo's characterization-- there is 100% a level of willful ignorance there. Ive always felt like mumbo is the kind of guy who has a thing about avoidance-- he feels very much like a character who will absolutely do his best to ignore things that hes decided arent his business (right up until he stops LMFAO) and part of that in hunger au is him being so anxious for grian to get better that he stops looking at the red flags grian is aggressively waving around. It'll work out!! He's sure of it!! Grian even directly said he's trying to get better!! And i think if he looked at that for longer than it takes for him to flinch away from the entire subject, he would see how much of a bald lie that is.

But he doesnt, because thats a LOT to deal with, and hes never really??? Seen this side of Grian before??? Not the way Pearl and Scar have. Theres a lot of intricacy there that i feel im skimming over but like Mumbo is very much keeping his own sanity in mind here too and thats another painful factor to the whole situation. Idk i have lots of thoughts about it and about the choice here to depict Mumbo giving in to that willful ignorance, and how its going to affect his and Grian's relationship in the future of the fic

(Quick tw for frank discussions of suicide below)

You've also completely nailed the subtext i was getting at with Grian asking Mumbo to stay-- smth ive always felt is a bit underrepresented in narratives like these are how at its most base core, suicide and suicidal ideation are often about needing something to fundamentally change in your life. It takes a LOT of both hopelessness and sheer willpower to actively try and overcome your body's instinctive will to survive. That instinct is baked into our very cells; when someone commits, it means their hopelessness for meaningful change to happen in their lives was so strong it overpowered everything else. And that is something deeply, deeply tragic, and also something i really wanted to respectfully highlight in this portrayal-- how bad things are when you spiral that far. Grian is starving to death. He wasnt lying about maybe having a week to live-- the intermittent feeding has kept him alive longer than anticipated, but its like trying to wall off an avalanche; theres only so much you can do in the face of all that :( and that hopelessness, in combination with how guilty he feels for what he did to his friends, has manifested in him feeling like his only recourse is to kill himself... but at the same time, that instinct to survive and KEEP SURVIVING is still blaring in his veins, and that manifests as him asking Mumbo to stay. Its a bit paradoxical, but its meant to really show how bad his mental state is, that he is willfully ignoring all the frantic signals his body is screaming at him to try and stay alive rn 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Also, with the potions-- without revealing too much about how this is going to happen, Grian is planning on making fermented spider eyes and using them to turn the healing potions into harming potions, which he'll then drink in the in-between to make sure he dies immediately. Now.. i know how this is gonna go, and i know the exact mechanics around how this is gonna shake out, but smth to keep in mind is hes not thinking logically anymore, he has FULLY capitulated to his own storm of emotional wreckage. So yes there are DEFINITELY some questions to be asked about how hes gonna try and get this done, but in all honesty they mostly boil down to "sheer opportunity" which you'll see a bit more of in the next chapter >:] but yeah its meant to be a bit illogical skdbwkdjskd since he just isnt thinking coherently anymore at this point :(

Bug anon thank u for my entire life this comment was so sweet and so wonderful to receive, i really love it when my writing is analyzed like this and seen and understood!!! Its amazing its such a wonderful feeling to have your work be seen like this and its something i very much do not take for granted :]]]❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ tysm for the ask i am seriously treasuring it SO MUCH rn (and also thank you for the well-wishes!! Im doing my best to stay silly out here HEHE)❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[quinloki]

Not me coming up with a whole AU brain rot over this song

BUT

I did.

I’m thinking high profile ceo/rich Marco who regularly gets voted most eligible bachelor who just hasn’t found someone to connect with being so busy

And maybe you’re the daughter of someone a bit high profile, business type. A couple high profile failed relationships. You get introduced to him at an event and while you both think the other is attractive, nothing happens.

But then stumbling into him in a bookshop, literally. He helps you pick up your books, and yall talk and he asks you out.

Maybe he had glanced at the back of one of the books that was spicy and was interested based off that or something >.>

And of course after seeing eachother for awhile and it going great, getting invited as his date to a company function where all the peeps are trying to shoot their shot and getting dirty looks bc how did YOU land the most eligible bachelor???

And you know some petty drama here and there but marco is a solid guy and takes care of it

Ahhhhhhhggh

Imma think about this more later I just need to get it off my brain rn bc I have things to do 🫠🫠

Oooooh I love this! I love this a lot.

There's just a few things I'd probably change, personally, but the vibes are the same. Man, I love the whole Both in the High Life vibe (usually someone is and someone isn't, y'know? Or they're both just kind of middle/middle high class, and - anyway.)

I love the idea of this, but they meet at the bookstore first.

Both dressed casual, both just there to get away for a bit. Maybe both in the same section (shared interest in romance books, or mysteries, or whatever). Maybe you're muttering about how there's nothing new that is grabbing you attention.

"Read, read, read... this one?" pulling out the book you look at the back. "Ah, now I remember."

"Oh? Pardon me, I was thinking about reading that one." The voice is relaxed and even and you look up, and up, to see a tall man with blonde hair and hooded eyes giving you an easy smile.

His height would be intimidating alone, but he looks and sounds so genuinely interested in the book.

Looking back at the book you straighten up, giving the back a closer read to jog your memory. If you're going to give a recommendation, you want it to be accurate, even for a stranger.

"It was good. I'm a big fan of the genre, but not this author." You admit, handing it over. "I don't think it's a waste of time, but depending on what you enjoy, there might be a better pick in here."

And so he tells you what he likes in a book, and you offer up a couple suggestions, hitting on a few books he's already read. In the end he buys one or two, and offers to either get you a coffee or buy a book for you as thanks.

It's not until later that you're lamenting not asking him for his name at least.

And maybe that lament follows you to the charity event a couple days later, sighing into the city high-rise air, cooling off on a wide balcony to get away from the stuffy people inside.

"I almost didn't recognize you," says the smooth voice that's been flitting at the edges of your mind. Turning around you see the #1 most eligible bachelor in the city - how you didn't make the connection in the book store was almost laughable seeing him now.

And yeah, you might be an heiress, maybe even fully capable of taking over your family's business. But you're like fortune 500 and he's like fortune 10. So there's still this perceived disparity within the rich bitch community that doesn't understand how YOU got HIS attention, of all people.

XD Maybe the reader is closer to fortune 100 or something, maybe they are on the same-ish level, but reader has a reputation as the Shrew - like from Taming of the Shrew.

"There's the pretty bird." He says softly. You snort softly.

"Don't you mean the Shrew?"

"Both are better untamed, don't you think?"

idk that's off the top of my head. My brain is screaming "I'd let him tame me" and I can't think of anything else rn XD

[j-nope-not-today]

Ok, so I've got quite the doozy for you! how would each of the turtle brothers try and help their bro if one of them was getting married and they're trying to put together a wedding ceremony?

TMNT helping with their brothers wedding

A/n: thanks so much for requesting! I hope I got what you were imagining and sorry it took so long!

Raphael

Alright so for starters..he's gonna tease the all living hell out of his brother... doesn't matter who it is.

Their getting teased.

Then he's gonna throw in the sincere congratulations, but it's only gonna be him and said brother.

Raph isn't getting sentimental with anyone else around. No way

He isn't the best planner

Let's be so for real he'll probably need help from everyone else to plan any sort of wedding ceremony

The only thing you can guarantee he'll have done is his speech

Ohh..he's gonna have a bomb ass speech and he's definitely gonna have someone shedding tears

But despite his planning fallbacks he is really happy for his brother and I can definitely see him secretly crying at the wedding and defending himself with

"what? Did someone cut an onion?"

He's a softie..we all know it..but he's gonna act all tough.

Leonardo

Surprisingly I think Leo would be the life of the party..which hear me out

Yes he's all serious and leader-ish

But when it comes to his brothers wedding he lets loose

He plans the fuck out of the wedding

He goes all out with everything

It's definitely gonna fancy

One word..well two: chocolate fountain

Yeah.. that's right he's got one for the buffet table.

He'll invite everyone he absolutely can

It's gonna be a blast for everyone present

He's gonna freeze up on his speech though but float past it because he planned a great ceremony

And when the night winds down before his brother takes off with his new partner..

Leo is going to be shedding a tear and squeezing his bro in a death grip hug with the words

"I'm so proud of you.."

Donatello

Let's start off by saying he is very happy for his brother

But he isn't gonna be the best at showing it

Donnie can't really express his joy completely..he's weird like that

But he does put in a lot of effort to help plan the ceremony

He'll help with the banquet and who will sit where..

Donnie will take on the unfun planning stuff and plan it so his bro can be stress free

That's donnie's way of showing his happiness for his brother

He isn't gonna give a speech unless he's thrown into it

Then it's gonna be a stuttered mess of a speech but at least he's doing it

And he's probably gonna pull his brother to the side where no one can hear to tell him

"sorry if I'm being weird..it's just hard, because I'll see you less..and I don't know what to do without you around.."

It is then and only then that he'll crack a smile and hold his brother tight

Michelangelo

Mikey is HYPED

All caps because he is just so beyond happy for his brother

Though the planning of the ceremony is going to be absolutely hectic

He is chaos

So someone is going to have to keep him on track

Otherwise Mikey is honestly pretty good at planning

Though don't ask him why the buffet has like five different types of pizza

Because he doesn't know how that happened?

His speech is all over the place and he's crying in the middle of it

Full on crocodile tears

"I'm so happy for you..I can't wait to see you have little babies bro and i-"

He could go on and on all night

But he's truly super happy!

[keen-li]

CLAWED | JJK | CH 02

Synopsis: "do you honestly think I want your help? I'm desperate " you can still see the hatred he has for you in his eyes, but you can also see the desperation.

Genre: e2l, angst, fluff, smut-ish. Convict jk x police officer reader

Fem reader x jk

Warnings: cussing.

______________________

Last night you let jungkook, you even hate saying his name, into your house. You despised him but you weren't that soulless.

"How long are you staying here for?" you ask avoiding the eyes of the man walking around in your robe after you let him shower in your bathroom.

"4 days maybe" maybe?? He says prancing around your house and going through your fridge like a raccoon. He's definitely gotten comfortable very quickly.

"Damn, you don't have food in your fridge" he rummages through your cupboards now.

"I didn't think you'd take my 'stop eating' jokes serious"

Jokes, you chuckle not amused by that.

"Please stop going through my house" you say sternly.

He rejoices when he finds the packet of ramen you you didn't even know existed. You hope it's expired as you see him start to prepare them. You hate how he always tries to make things about him or how he feels entitled to everything, it doesn't surprise you though it's always been this way. Hes always been like this, towards you atleast.

When you were in the Police Academy together and you'd get praised he'd always find a way to make you feel invalid. He'd always hide behind saying it's a joke but you definitely knew that those weren't jokes.

"What happened to you" you say pointing at his bruises and cuts. Your tone is more of a I don't care but I just wanna know type.

"Bar fight" he says too quickly to be the truth, you try to analyze his face. You're not sure if he's being honest but his coming here seems a bit off to you but don't want to question him just yet.

"But what are you doing here, haven't seen you in a while you just appear at my door in the middle of the night while it's raining." You decide to finally ask after a while.

"So you missed me?" He smirks and you roll your eyes at him. Where in your sentence did he get that from. The thought of missing him disgusts you.

"I never said that, you're changing the topic" you cross your arms over your chest trying not to feel intimidated by his god-like build.

"I can't tell you why I'm here but just know I'll be out in 4 days"

______________________________

"We haven't seen you in a while so we came to visit you" your friend Soni says after you ask what she and jinsyu, your other friend, are doing here. You didn't expect them to come over but it makes sense since you told them you had a free day today. But you still wish they had called. So you could hide jungkook.

"We were worried about you" jinsyu says as they walk into your home behind you.

It's their first time being in your house, so they look around in amusement. "oooh this is a really cute place" jinsyu says touching everything she sees.

You're place is nothing fancy, in your opinion it's kinda dull and boring cause of its multiple use of whites, nudes and greys. But you kinda liked it like this, simple and modern.

"Can we go upstairs" Soni says already rushing upstairs and jinsyu following behind her. You didn't even have a chance to give them permission, you didn't mind though. You follow behind them to keep them in check. It's almost like you're the mother of these two.

You don't know where jungkook is and the last thing you want is for your friends to see him. You know that if they see him they'll never let you hear the end of it. They would start calling him your lil'boyfriend when the last thing you want is jungkook as your boyfriend.

Your friends didn't know jungkook, cause you met him whilst training. Soni is a creative director at some fashion store while jinsyu is a training Doctor.

You follow behind them and watch them as they look around your bedroom. You lose focus on jinsyu and she sneaks into your bathroom. You're focused on something else when you hear jinsyu.

"What are these" you hear her exclaim. So you and Soni follow where she is. Immediately you catch sight of what jinsyu is exclaiming about.

And laying there on top of your laundry basket is a pair of grey boxers with Calvin klein on the band, jungkook's boxers.

You immediately rush over to flip the lid of the basket and drop them inside without touching them. You can feel Jinsyu and Soni's eyes on you . And their cheeky and mocking grins too.

"It's not what yo-" you begin when you're interrupted by your friend's squeals.

"Y/n, why didn't you tell us you're seeing someone." soni says smiling from ear to ear.

"That's cause I'm not" you defend yourself.

"Lies" jinsyu follows up.

Your friends barely see you with guys, so they get really excited by the mere thought of you being in a relationship or even talking to a guy.

"I think we should go downstairs now" you say dragging them out of the bathroom ignoring all their little comments and nags.

This makes everything more stressful for you because you don't know where jungkook is. You really don't want your friends to see. You hope he's fallen into a ditch or something wherever he is.

You walk downstairs not noticing the shirtless man in black shorts in the kitchen making himself a sandwich.

"Oh" you hear your friends say and pull your eyes to what's got there attention.

"Is that him" soni says grining widely at jungkook, his muscles contract and relax as he chops up the cucumber. He seems so focused on such a simple job. You're friends watch intensely almost drooling at the mouth.

"Where the heck were you?" You ask hushed approaching jungkook.

Jungkook ignores you and looks over at your friends who walk into the kitchen behind you watching you two interact.

" you should have told me your friends were coming over I would have put on a shirt" he says jokingly but not really talking to you. You know that even if he knew he'd still not wear a shirt.

"That's not-that's not a problem" Soni says and jinsyu bumps her with her elbow.

"you have a boyfriend" jinsyu whispers to Soni and she shrugs her away.

"not one built like that."

"So you're the one keeping y/n from us?" Jinsyu says while soni still drools over jungkook. Her tone is very playful.

"You two are like dating?" Soni says finally out of her trance.

"NO" You and jungkook say like it's the worst thing that could happen in the world.

"He'll no, but she wishes that though." He turns to are you mocking you with an eyebrow raise as he finishes making his sandwich.

"Fuck off, i'd rather die" your eyes are still locked into each other as you say this, he smirks at you probably mockingly. Definitely mocking you.

"I'll leave you ladies alone now" he picks up his plate and eyeing you one more time leaves. Your friends eye him as he leaves to go back outside.

You hated when he stared at you like that it always made you feel small and tiny.

_______________________________

For the past 3 days jungkook has been sleeping on your couch. Your house did have a spare bedroom but it wasn't furnished because you never expected to have visitors, you moved in recently.

"I'd appreciate it if you got off my bed" jungkook says to you who's seated on the couch watching your show.

"I wanna sleep" he adds as he throws the pillow and blanket you gave to him on the couch.

"In my house?" You state reminding him who the house belongs to.

He stands there just watching you as you ignore him for your show.

"Why didn't you run to your own house" you mumble with no care in the world as you rest your head against your palm.

"Last time I remember you had a house when you worked at the station." You continue to spit out like the words are fire on your tongue.

Your comment causes jungkook's jaw to clench and smile to drop. You don't notice but his body and muscles tense up thinking about what you just said.

You slowly turn your head to look at a tensed up and uneasy looking jungkook. It was a blow to the gut you suppose, and that causes you to smile at him happy you could cause him such discomfort.

The jungkook you know would have spit out a comeback seconds after your comment. You begin to feel a little bad due to the way he seems to linger on your comment and the silence that consumes you.

You want to speak but he speaks before you "I lost the house"

You don't know how he lost it so you don't conclude on how to feel but that doesn't stop you from feeling kinda bad. When did this happen? For how long?.

For a moment you forget the jungkook that used to always have something to say about you as his character falters.

Your thoughts are brought to a halt as you hear a knock at your door. You get up quickly to answer the door and to avoid the tension in the room.

Jungkook doesn't bother going to the door, it's your house isn't it. But you notice the worried look on his face when he hears the knock on the door he almost looks like a deer caught in headlights.

When you open the door you see the familiar face of your neighbor, yoongi, his long dark hair up in a man bun. He wore his hair like this often when he got back from work or when he's chilling at home.

You hate to say it but you're noticed this when he takes out his trash and you see him through your window, like a creep. It honestly became a habit to wait for him to take out his trash and watch his shiny black hair bounce in its bun and the loose strands brush against the back of his neck.

One day as you were carrying out your usual, he turns to face your window and it felt like you made eye contact. But you doubt that he saw you. Maybe he saw your curtain move. If he did see you he sure thinks you're a creep but by the way he greets you sometimes you doubt he saw you, or maybe he doesn't mind that you're watching him. Maybe it flatters him.

"Oh hi yoongi. What are you doing here?" You ask fiddling with the zipper of your jersey as you look at yoongi, he's in his usual 'I'm at home look'. A black T-shirt and navy blue shorts which off his smooth and pale legs.

He stands with the box of brownies in his hands.

He reciprocates the greeting and adjusts the box in his hands.

"I brought you this box of brownies I made" he stretches the box and you gladly take it analyzing the box cautiously and happily.

"I've been trying to bake a needed a woman's opinion"

He's confident and clear as he says this not faltering one bit, yoongi's aura always makes you feel somewhat vulnerable and relaxed like you could just let go and be yourself. He still had you on your toes though.

You've only had two serious interactions with yoongi and the rest were just hellos. But from those interactions you've come to the conclusion of how yoongi would be as a boyfriend.

You hum "I'll definitely try them and let-"

The sound of a plate falling gets you and yoongi's attention and shortly afterwards a small 'sorry' follows.

Even if it's small and soft yoongi can definitely notice that it's a man's voice. You slap yourself mentally as yoongi turns to look at you.

"Didn't know you had someone over" he chuckles not intimidated one bit and not trying to interrogate or make you feel bad about it.

"it's just a friend" you release a nervous laugh and yoongi simply notes not pressing it any longer.

"Anyways thanks for bringing these over I'll let you know what I think of them after I've had them."

"Alright I'll be waiting" yoongi says still wondering about the man in your house.

You share your goodbyes and you stand there watching yoongi walk away. You try and collect your thoughts before you go in there and cuss jungkook out.

__________________________

Prev | next