#not to mention how it's like... 'wait you're actually ordering at the counter? heres a kiosk.' or 'there's a self checkout open!'

[moopiter]

I personally really dislike online order, pickup in-store options and self checkouts. yes it's convenient, and great for people with anxiety, it has it's perks! I'm not saying i want it all gone, but the way we're shifting to be entirely antisocial and cutting out all interaction- especially with such integral aspects of life we depend on- cannot be good.

[yundeob]

dirty dancing | PSH

part 2 of the Night in Hollywood!series

☆ trope: enemies to lovers!au, 1960s!au

☆ pairing: dancer!seonghwa x reader

☆ warnings: probably some inaccurate sixties references oops, reader is v shy in the beginning, smut, marking, p in v intercourse, use of protection, dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!hwa, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), grinding, slight degradation kink and manhandling, slapping, mirror sex, size kink, sweet aftercare, the “L” word, smoking/tobacco use, drug use, seonghwa is able to lift reader when they dance, profanity, sloww burn, SA, groping, mentions of a*ortion (if you’ve seen the og movie then you’ll know about penny’s situation), accidental pregnancy (not reader) — NOTE: IF YOU AREN’T COMFORTABLE WITH THESE TAGS, DNI! Please read the actual film’s synopsis first if you’re you do not like the last few tags.

☆ synopsis: THAT WAS THE SUMMER you met resident heart-breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

☆ playlist: be my baby by the ronnettes, another saturday night by sam cooke, still feel like your man by john mayer, we belong together by ritchie valens, karma chameleon by culture club

☆ a/n: for everyone that’s been following along with the writing process, thank you so much for your patience and understanding. I really had to force myself a few times to just sit and get this done, but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out! Let me know what you think with your reblog and feedback! cheers to the long awaited second fic of this series🥂

☆ word count: 14.3k

THAT WAS THE SUMMER OF 1963. When everyone called you baby, and it didn’t seem to occur to you to mind. 

Summer was in full swing; families driving up to the vacation resort owned by your aunt in their shiny new corvettes, eagerly awaiting the nights of drinking, golfing, and mambo classes accompanied with luxury hospitality.

That’s a given when you're staying at a place like your aunt's vacation resort. 

Pool days followed by structured entertainment for these folks meant summer job opportunities for young college students like yourself, hoping to save up some money before the fall semester came. 

While other girls vacationing at the resort were spending their time fawning over The Beach Boys, sneaking out to the lakes to go skinny dipping, and enjoying the taste of freedom, you were taking orders and waiting tables at the bar across the golf course every night. Your hair smelled of fryer grease, your pockets filled with ketchup packets, and with every passing shift you worked, the burning desire to just quit and get away grew deeper in your heart.

But you really needed this money. There wasn’t any other reason that could replace why you were still here after closing hours, folding table napkins into the shape of swans.

“It’s for you, baby”

A voice brings you out of your thoughts, turning to see a long outstretched hand holding the receiver of a phone towards you.

Yunho sits slumped against the counter on top of a bar stool, his polo uniform shirt that you were wearing one identical to sticking to his chest with sweat. All the while he fanned himself from the sweltering July heat. 

He wipes a bead of sweat running off the side of his brow. 

“It’s a call for you,” he repeats again, shrugging the receiver to you expectedly. 

You quickly walk over, taking the phone with a quiet thanks before holding it close to your ear. 

Yunho watches the frail and timid little thing you were, barely holding the receiver close enough before a familiar voice cuts through. 

“I hope that those napkins are looking like swans and not chickens, baby”

Your aunt’s soft laughter fills your ear, breaking out into a silent state of panic as you eyed the pieces of cloth spread disappointingly across the table you were just standing at. 

You truly sucked ass at folding. 

“Just trying my best” you told her softly, voice unfamiliar as you just let out the first few words you’ve spoken all night. A sudden feeling washes over you that you’re being watched, and you’re proven right when you crane your neck to see Yunho looking at you out of the corner of your eyes. Warmth spreads throughout your face when you momentarily locked eyes. The tall blonde boy merely smiles, trying to be friendly before you shuffle awkwardly and turn away from his gaze.  

He wasn’t trying to be weird. In Yunho’s defense, it was just kinda interesting for him to see you share a casual conversation with your aunt, known as none other than his own employer and the literal owner of the resort he worked at. 

Plus, he never got to hear your voice. Like ever. 

Tangling the cord of the telephone wire in between your fingers, you questioned your aunt quietly. “Did you need help with something?” 

“I do, actually” she says, the background muffling her words with loud chatter as it seemed the lodge guests were still up and wide awake at this hour. 

“I need you to do me a favor. Grab those watermelons sitting in the fridge and bring them down to the kitchen in the main building for me. I forgot to get the staff here to pick it up, and it would just be so much faster if you brought it down for me, darling.”

You eyed the mentioned goods sitting perched in the back kitchen. 

“The ones on the counter?” You asked hesitantly. 

“I don’t recall leaving any other melons on top of one of my kitchens… so, yes” she remarks sarcastically. 

Hauling those massive things and walking back to the main building was going to be a hassle, especially with your location being all the way on the opposite side across the golf course. 

But what you were dreading even more was confirmed with what she said next. 

“You could just ask that boy Yunho to help you.” She states casually.

Your body tenses at her words, dreading the likely fact that you’ll have to speak more than five words to the golden retriever looking bartender in order to complete your aunt’s request.  

“I’m sure you two will be fine. I’ll be expecting to see you soon, baby”  

“Okay, goodbye” is all you say, hearing her thanks over the phone before you hang up. 

You hand the receiver back to Yunho, who had still been watching you with a small grin on his face. 

“Boss say anything important?” watching as your brows furrow in debated thought, wondering if you should just ask him for his help. 

Your hands get a little clammy, and you make an effort to smooth your khaki work pants, nervousness getting to you. For fucks sake, you were only asking him to help you hold a watermelon. The worst he could do was say no!

You looked up to the tall boy, already feeling a little stupid when you saw him look at you quizzically. 

“Actually, Yunho…” you began, swallowing in nervousness. “Could you help me bring those?” You muttered quietly, shoulders cowering as you pointed to the watermelons sitting on the kitchen counter. He looks back to see what you’re referring to. 

You immediately see his face change in surprise, having caught his attention by speaking more words just now, than you had the entirety of the few weeks you’d worked together. 

Then, the boy can’t help but break into a smile when he hears you clear your voice to speak up again.

“Please?”

“Do you believe watermelons are berries?” Yunho asks you, taking long strides in front of you across the damp grass of the golf course. 

The faint chirping of crickets and summer cicadas resonates across the amphitheater of an empty field, the only sources of light coming from the outdoor flood lights illuminating the path to the main building of the lodges. 

The nighttime air was humid, an unsatisfying breeze blowing past you two as you made your way together.

“Sorry?” You huff, trying to catch your breath. 

You’re staring at the way he’s been able to tuck the two large melons safely in his arms, having to stop in his tracks as you struggled to keep up with his speed while carrying just one.

“Technically, watermelons don’t have any internal divisions, but because they have seeds you could argue that they’re just massively large berries.” he points out, the idea seeming to spill from his mouth like he had been pondering the thought for very long.  

His brows are furrowed in thought when he looks over to you, awaiting your opinion.

“I-I guess so” you agreed meekly. How else were you to respond?

Your arms began to hurt from holding the heavy fruit for so long, and the both of you had only barely made it past the pond near the golf course, changing direction towards a trail with a cleared path. Yunho carries on with his fruit philosophy.

“If you put popular beliefs aside, pumpkins are considered berries too.“ He grins, chuckling to himself as he walks beside you. “Which means you and I are just holding three massive berries in total!”

“Right..” 

Before you could think to say anything else in response, a tall figure identical to the height of Yunho rushes up from behind and smacks the back of head. 

You’re seconds away from dropping the watermelon in your hand from shock, jaw hanging open as you clutched on the melon in surprise while Yunho stops in his tracks to curse out loud. 

“What the fuck-”

“Hey yuyu, finished your shift already?” A boy cheekily grins while wearing a blue, well-loved varsity jacket. His eyes turned into crescent moons while giggling with utter joy at the sight of his friend scowling in pain, dodging the kicks Yunho tries to get back at him while holding the two fruits. 

“Get off my back, Mingi” he spits, though he lets the boy hang near him. 

You do what you’ve grown accustomed to over the past month of working here, making yourself invisible amongst the two friends you slowly trailed behind. 

There’s a good reason you‘ve become this shy and hesitant to ask for help while working at the resort, and that was because no one here actually liked you. 

Being the niece of the lodge owner didn’t exactly have the perks you’d think would come with it. Rumor had already spread like wildfire on your first day of work amongst the young employees, gossiping all sorts of ridiculous stories as to why a girl like you needed to be spending her summers working at her rich Aunt's resort to make money. From rumours that you were cut off by your rich parents, to one being that you got knocked up and sent away here as punishment, the gossip from the part-timers was like a supply of fuel to be added to the fire. 

You had been extremely lucky to get this job thanks to your Aunt. In order to keep your place here, you made up for it by working twice as hard as any other person. Picking up other people’s shifts while tolerating being ignored and trashed about was something you decided you’d stick it out for the whole summer. You desperately needed this money to afford finally moving out of your house back home. It was only after much hesitance that you resorted to reaching out to your distant Aunt on your mothers side you never actually talked to. You were willing to do any work she gave that would be enough to keep the bills paid. The only friend you seemed to somewhat make while working this summer was Yunho, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to care about all the nepo baby crap he heard everyone spew behind your back. 

“Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be giving tango lessons to the bungalow bunnies back at the gazebo?” Yunho teases to his friend, propping up the watermelons in his hands to make them appear like two large breasts. 

You looked away, blushing as Yunho juts his lips out to mimic the middle aged trophy wives his friend frequently gave dancing lessons to. Mingi must’ve been a part of the entertainment and dance staff, the one clique of part-timers in this place that no one else seemed to be able to go against. 

He teased in a high pitched southern accent, “Oh, Mingi, you really know how to put those hips to use!”

Yunho's laughter resonates throughout the empty field, becoming Mingi’s turn to pummel his ass from embarrassment, ears going red. 

“Shut up, man! Keep talking but at the end of the day, you could only dream what it’s like having those women all over ya!” He states proudly.

Yunho peers over to see you awkwardly trailing behind, shoving his friend’s shoulder and jerking his head to you, motioning to give you some help. Mingi leans down to grasp the sliding melon falling out of your hands, letting you catch up so you three could all walk together. 

You’re about to protest but Mingi is already smirking down at you. 

“So you’re the boss’s niece everyone’s been talking about, huh?” 

Knowing the rumours going around about you, you were mentally preparing for what else was to come out of Yunho’s friend. But the next words that he says surprises you instead. 

“I don’t care about that bullshit, y’know” 

He grins, standing tall with the watermelon easily tucked under one of his arms. 

“If I were you, I’d own it proudly.”

You hadn’t expected that answer to be honest. You glance over to Yunho who chuckles at his friend, gratitude and relief seeping into your heart when you realize Mingi seems to be a decent guy just like him. 

“First thing I’d do if my aunt owned this place would be to raid the liquor cellars under the guests lounge” he states, Yunho rolling his eyes while Mingi looks at you again. “I’d be trying to get away with all the shit I could do.”

The blonde scoffs, sneering at his friend's words. 

“Yeah, as if you can even handle your alcohol well.”

Mingi glares back.

“Kid passed out one time from a sip of beer” Yunho mutters to you, watching the corners of your mouth turn up. He definitely didn’t appear to be a lightweight in your thoughts.

“You don’t really speak much do you?” Mingi interrupts, coming closer as you walk side by side.

You shook your head.

“What did they call you again?” he pauses to think, racking his brain to find the nickname everyone made fun of you for. “Bonnie? Berry?…”

It's ridiculous how a childhood nickname your Aunt kept for you had now stuck with the entire staff at the summer lodge. So admittedly, you can’t help it if some of your frustration seems to slip out when you give him a sarcastic roll of your eyes 

“It's baby,” you answered with a huff. 

Mingi stares at you for a moment which makes you worry you’ve taken your attitude too far, before he’s already chuckling at your response. 

“Well baby’s got spunk, hasn’t she?” 

“Not everyone calls me that” you tried to convince him, frowning when Yunho chips in.

”Yeah right, everyone calls you baby here.” he grins, teasing you.

You looked away, awkwardly staring at some bushes nearby. He was right. 

Mingi already decides that he likes you, and seeing how Yunho likes you as well, the rumours he’s been hearing about you going around don’t matter to him anymore.

“Well then, baby” He beams, the lights near the main building's entrance glowing brighter as you get closer. “Wanna go to a real adult party?” 

You slowed down your steps, eyes widening at his words as Yunho shoved his clueless friend for his comment. 

“Don’t fucking say it like that, creep!”

Mingi realizes what his offer might’ve sounded like, assuring you that he was just inviting you and Yunho to the after party the entertainment staff were holding in the abandoned barn behind the west building. The west building located dorms where all the staff were able to live during the busiest time of vacation season. 

“A party?” You repeated, lips parting softly. 

Mingi nodded eagerly as he joked. 

“C’mon, you’re not gonna tell your aunt on us, are you?” 

The three of you stood near the back entrance of the main kitchen. Your last task of the night would be dropping off the watermelons before you’re free to walk away from the offer standing before you tonight. 

And perhaps it's because you're tired. Not necessarily tired from lack of sleep, but tired of the whole routine. Of the monogamous, soul-draining routine you’ve picked up ever since you got here, which was spending any second you weren’t working, sleeping, or eating, being cooped up in your twin-sized bed reading or laying awake at night to the sounds of cicadas. 

“I wouldn't tell her regardless, Mingi” you said truthfully, which makes the boy change his playful demeanor a bit. 

You thought for a long, hard moment. 

You’ve never had friends. Never broke the rules. Never once dared to sneak off the property to go somewhere, let alone a party with other people your age. And so with in mind the thrill of it all, with the absolute exhaustion of being alone all the damn time, you say yes. 

The two boys grin in excitement, and Mingi thrusts the watermelon in his arms to perch over his right shoulder.

“Great! Me and Yunho will pick you up at your dorm once we drop these off.” He says, the two boys walking off inside to drop off the delivery your aunt requested. It isn’t before Mingi turns to call out your name.

“Oh, and baby! Don’t be afraid to dress casual” he smiles, sending a nod of his head back to you. 

Inside, your stomach turns. 

You’re already started to regret this. 

You mumble quiet curses to yourself, awkwardly adjusting the cardigan and short skirt dress you managed to convince yourself was deemed appropriate for hanging out with other staff outside of work hours. 

You’re walking up those steep wooden steps of the hill leading up to the barn house, and with every thumping sound of the music getting louder, so does the beat of your heart inside your chest.

“Just be cool, baby” Yunho reassures you, having changed out of his uniform as well into a pair of shorts and a yellow Hawaiian button up shirt. 

“We’ll introduce you to more of our friends” Mingi assures, leading the way at the very front. 

You huff worriedly in response, knowing that the other college kids aren’t going to be very happy when they see the outcasted niece of the resort owner. But you still send them both a thankful smile, keeping it plastered on your face for not too long. 

“I just hope that son of bitch Wooyoung doesn’t eat all the pop tarts” Mingi mutters under his breath, shaking his head and clenching his fists inside his varsity jacket. 

“He knows I like strawberry…”

Once you reach the doors to the barn, Mingi and Yunho pause to look down at you before going in. “Ready?” the bartender asks, beaming down at you. You swallowed your nervousness, bundling up your nerves and hiding them away inside you. You give them both a small nod. 

Mingi immediately kicks the barn doors open, hollering to the large crowd of dancing college students. Half of which you know for a fact don’t work at the resort and have driven up from the city. 

And all at once, your breath is taken away. 

Bodies melted against one another in an obscene way you had never before seen back home. A few girls were wearing tight, form-fitting clothing that accentuated their hips and curves, while men sported the trending greaser look that had them thrusting their hips through tight fitting jeans or leather pants.  

You watched from a distance as couples grinded onto one another, dancing so passionately as though the music had overtaken their minds. The barn, though appearing to be rundown and shabby from the outside, was the definition of a banging, fucking party. 

“What are they doing?” You asked cluelessly to Yunho, unable to take your eyes off the sweaty bodies molding themselves together on the dance floor, rocking their hips and shaking their legs. 

This wasn’t even dancing. This was something else. 

He laughed loudly. “They’re just dancing!” looking down at you as he raises his voice over the loud music. “All the kids are doing it back home.” 

“You wanna try it?” He asks, teasing you. You reverently shake your head no and he can’t help but laugh at your continuation to stare in shock. He urges you forward instead. 

“Come on, baby”

You can tell how popular Mingi and Yunho must be, the way that every so often they bump into a friend of theirs and chat with them eagerly. A few of them give you some judging stares, but with the two giants by your side, it doesn’t bother you as much as it usually does. 

Beer, cigarettes, and slips of condom packages are exchanged on the dance floor, folks minding their business and having the time of their lives. 

“Can you imagine dancing like this on the main floor?” Yunho laughs, gesturing to the sea of sweat, lust and rhythm that could never in a million years find its way back to the ‘family friendly’ establishment you worked for. 

“Your aunt would close the place down first!” he chuckles, letting you grab onto his arm to navigate through the party. 

Yunho catches up to Mingi standing a few meters away, thinking you’d follow when you let go. Instead, a hand snakes its way around your waist near the dance floor, grasping you tightly and making you jump from surprise. A body begins to lewdly grind itself against you, worn out jeans coming into view as their legs trapped yours in between them. 

“You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you?” a voice whispers into your ear, the smell of booze reeking from the man’s hot breath. 

“Haven’t seen you around here” his accent slips through. 

Sweat begins to form on your forehead, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. You were highly uncomfortable right now. 

“Please let go,” you asked politely, struggling to pry the dirty hands off of your body. 

“C’mon,” he protests, pulling you closer. “Just one dance, OW-”

A heeled shoe comes to stomp on the man's big toe, a manicured hand swatting the grip on your hips away, making him yelp in pain and shove you away. You stumble a bit, whipping your head around to see the ugly looking bastard. A woman stands in front of you protectively between him, hands on the hips of her dress.

“You fucking sleaze!” You hear from in front of you.

“Fuck was that for, Minny?” he lashes out, his voice rising in tone over the loud music. A few couples stop to stare at his outburst momentarily, though they quickly go back to dancing, moving around the comotion. 

“The next time I see your nasty hands touching another poor girl's ass, Bobby, and I'm telling Seonghwa and the rest of the dance crew.” the girl snaps, dangly earrings rushing back and forth above her perfect exposed collar bones while she points an accusatory finger in the direction of the pervert. Her chest moves with every fuming breath she takes. 

Bobby, who had just been trying to cop a feel at you, scoffs, staring her down and intimidating you in the process. 

“You ain’t gonna do shit, Minny.” He spits to the floor, making you take one more step behind the girl. 

“I might not do shit. But you sure as hell know Seonghwa isn’t gonna leave you alone.”

“Just like last time” She threatens, watching as his eyes look away pathetically in fear, knowing specifically what she was referring to. 

“You’re fucking disgusting. Get the fuck out of my sight” she brushes him off, watching how he glares at her for a moment before reluctantly sliding to another side of the dance floor. 

The situation de-escalates as quickly as it first began. 

Your heart continues to pound against your chest, a wave of relief washing over yourself when he leaves. Your hero, standing tall in front of you in pretty tango heels and a pink chiffon dress, lays a hand on your shoulder. 

“You alright, hun? Don’t mind that creep, he’s lower than piss on the floor” she states, the lights flashing over her toned, dancer body. She shakes her head in frustration. “These sort of morons are always lurking on the dance floor so you gotta be careful sometimes”

You’re starstruck, words unable to fall out of your mouth as you thank her. 

“Thank you for that” you find the courage to say. She smiles, sending you a small wink.

“Don’t mention it. Girls gotta stick together” she grins. 

Just as she’s about to leave, Yunho rushes over to you, messy blonde strands sweeping over his frantic eyes. 

“I was looking for you, where the hell did you go?” Yunho towers over you, in the process also making eye contact with the girl. 

“Don’t go losing your girl now, Yun” she teases, arms crossing over her chest. 

Yunho immediately recognizes the face and smiles. His ears begin to match the red party cup he was holding in his left hand.

“Minny!” he grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy as usual,” she shrugs. “Booked under mambo classes, kids tango, main floor ballroom, you know how it is.” she sighs. “You?”

“Night and day shifts all fucking mixed together” he replies. 

The two become lost in each other's eyes, clearing your voice as you speak over the loud music. 

“I’m not his girl, by the way”

She looks back at you, shooting a smirk at Yunho who laughs out loud, introducing you to her.

“This is baby, we work the night shifts at the bar down by the golf course together” he explains. 

He sends a smile to the girl in front of him who you can already tell he’s head over heels for. 

“This is Minny, works with Mingi and the rest of entertainment if you didn’t already notice.” 

“B-A-B-Y, baby?” She asks, eyes going wide as a sweet grin settles on her lips.

“That’s your name?”

You nod slowly, face feeling warm. 

“Just a nickname we all call her” Yunho chuckles, looking down at you as he explained. “But she sure does look all clueless like a baby, doesn’t she?” 

Minny nods, smiling at you as the song changes to something fast paced that makes people cheer and holler over their cigarettes and drinks. 

“Let’s go dance then, baby” she smirked, intertwining your hand with hers as she flashes a look towards Yunho.

“Bye, Yunho!” She winks back. 

You’re unable to say anything more as Minny guides you to the dance floor, your feet resisting her pull as you frantically shout over the music. 

“But I can’t dance!” 

She waves you off like it’s no big deal. “It’s okay if you don’t know! I’ll teach you!” She encourages, her body swaying so naturally in a way that makes you envy her. 

“Just feel the music, baby” she tells you. “Forget about everything else.”

You follow her words, a small smile making its way to your face as you become excited with every passing beat of the music. You’re not as good as her, but it’s a start to you coming out of the protective little box you’ve been in for too long. 

Minny’s eyes close as she looks up to the ceiling, shutting her eyes and desperately trying to let the music consume her. 

“Sometimes you just gotta dance ‘til your feet hurt more than what's in your heart”

From afar, a figure leaning against the wall follows your every move, watching you unknowingly throw your head back and giggle with every move you attempt to follow. 

“Someone must’ve had a fun time last night”

Your aunt continues diligently writing away in her cheque book, accounting for the weekly sales and profits behind the counter of the front desk of the resort. With every check mark, she goes back to the large calculator beside her, punching in numbers under her steel rimmed glasses, a few curses of frustration slipping out when the machine doesn’t work. 

“I’m surprised you’re not awake like you usually are, baby” she points out, watching as your slumped back immediately turns straight and you sit up tall in your seat, blinking your tired eyes. 

You should be properly manning the front desk you’re sitting at right now, but with all the guests gone to do the lodge offered activities like canoeing or water polo, the main desk is left empty except for the two of you sitting in your seats. 

“Have you been staying up late?” She asks with sharp curiosity. 

You shook your head, stifling a yawn. “I think I just slept in a weird position. Haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”

The truth of the matter was, you’ve been sneaking out for the last few nights, having the most exhilarating experiences dancing and hanging out with Minny and the rest of the party staff in the abandoned barn.

Although your dancing wasn’t as good as Minny’s, no one seemed to care that you were there with them. For all the kids that did seem to talk shit in front of you for joining them, Minny would stick her fist up their asses just to defend you, and you had grown to love her already.

At your carefully picked response she nods, going back to her checkbook for a moment before she asks you carefully. 

“And are the part-timers treating you well? Teaching you the ropes behind everything here?”

You could never bring yourself to explain to your aunt that you were usually a complete and utter outcast amongst the lodge staff. You’d rather keep these details to yourself than to cause more unnecessary trouble to the woman who got you the job in the first place, so you opt for the same reassuring sentence you’ve been telling her since the first day. 

“Yes, they’re good to me.” You lie. 

She nods with a satisfied sigh, closing her checkbook and adjusting her glasses. 

“Just don’t get too close with the entertainment staff” your aunt warns you. 

You turn your head to look at her properly this time. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Some of those dancers are looking for trouble, and I mean especially the boys” she tsks, disapprovingly shaking her head. 

“God knows what I’ve had to do to get them to stop causing trouble and keep them in line for the guests. Those kids can dance, but lord can they be a pain to deal with”

Your quiet stare at her causes your aunt to shake her head, her wrinkles deepening as she waves it off to you. 

“Though that’s nothing you need to know. Just be mindful of who you’re with and why you’re here” she reminds you, firm and strict. 

You nod, thinking to yourself as her words circled your mind. 

Later, when your shift ends that night, you follow the trail of pebbled tracks back to your dorm, the sun already set as the outdoor flood lights turn on. 

The summer breeze blew through your hair as you made your way outside the main building. Just as you’re about to walk away, a hand grabs your arm, yanking you to the bushes nearby making you scream.

You’re met face to face with a frantic looking girl, her close proximity and frazzled looking appearance throwing you off guard as mascara stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes stared back at you.

“Minny?”

“Baby, I need you to help me” she pleads softly, choking up on her sobs as her body shakes violently. She was a complete opposite to the sweet, carefree looking girl you met a few nights ago. 

You immediately place a hand around her arm, trying to calm her down. 

“W-What’s wrong? Is everything alright? Are you-”

She mutters something incoherent to herself, shaking her head as she raises her face to look at you. 

“I need you to find Yunho for me. Now!” she cried, clutching onto your arms in desperation. “Just please find him for me” she whimpers, snapping you from your thoughts.

You knew that if you didn’t help her right now something very bad would happen. 

“O-Okay I’ll find him” you told her reassuringly. 

You left to run through the vast green fields of the resort, knowing that whatever Minny needed to talk to Yunho about, it must’ve been urgent. 

The west building where all the summer part-timers lodged, came into view. You picked up your pace, quickly passing each and every numbered door until you stopped in front of Yunho’s and knocked frantically on the wood while trying to catch your breath.

You gasp for air, hearing approaching steps as the door swings open and you're face to face with a man you’ve never seen before.

“Yunho!” You cry out first thing, though his name dies in your throat as your eyes catch up to your voice and you stare at someone else. 

Standing in front of you is a dark haired man. Tall, lean, but with a body displaying strength. You glanced up at his face. At his sharp nose, perfect lips, and deep piercing eyes that followed you with every heavy breath you took. 

“Can I help you?” He asks intensely, looming over you. You try to rack through your thoughts to make sure you don’t forget what you’re standing here for.

Just behind him do you see Yunho sitting on a worn out leather couch in his tiny room, laughing with a few other guys about something while a cigarette was propped behind his ear, the strong smell of drugs and burnt tobacco wafting in the air.

You forgot about the figure staring down at you, intimidated by his stance but looking  past it. 

“Yunho!” you called out, the worry and urgency prominent in your voice.

The blonde looks over to you, his smile faltering in confusion at your sudden presence, before he notices the fear in your eyes and sits up straight.

“It’s Minny” is all you have to say before he’s grabbing his leather jacket and walking out the door. An arm stops to grab onto him.

“What about Minny?” The man who answered the door asks in concern, his expression turning into one of protectiveness. You saw his grip tightening around Yunho's arm, to which the boy shoved off roughly.

“That’s what I’m going to find out” he grits, turning to face you now with his brows furrowed and an expression laced with worry. 

“Where is she? I’m coming with you.” He states firmly.

You have no time for this, so you leave the tension radiating off the two at the front door, motioning Yunho to follow you as you lead him back to Minny. When you see the figure from the doorway catch up alongside you, you look to Yunho for at least some sort of explanation. 

“This is Seonghwa.” he sighs, his long strides speeding up in a hurry. 

“He’s Minny’s dance partner. We can trust him, " he says, his lips forming a tight line.

You look at Seonghwa, watching as the boy dressed in all black turns his gaze to look back at you, an unreadable expression on his face before you look back to the trail.

You hear him mutter under his breath in concern. 

“Jesus christ, Minny, what did you do now?” 

It's not long before the three of you are approaching the bushes of the main building. Seonghwa dashes in front of all of you at the first sight he gets of Minny crouched in a fetal position, sobs still wracking through her body. Yunho follows suit, rubbing a hand through his tousled hair when he sees her. “Minny, what happened?” he breathes out.

The dancer looks up, tears clouding her vision when a soft sob leaves her throat.

“Yunho-” she begins to say after hearing his voice, then clutching the skirt of her dress when she sees who followed nearby.

“Seonghwa?” 

You didn’t know what to tell her, standing awkwardly off to the side before a beat of silence follows when Seonghwa takes ahold of the girl's hand, holding it gently.

“That’s alright honey, I got you. Seonghwa’s here” he assures her, embracing her in a comforting hug as he pats the back of her hair, letting her tears fall onto his suit.

Minny accepts the embrace, finally letting the words spill. 

“Seonghwa, it’s bad. It’s bad this time” she wailed, mascara staining her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath with every sob that racked her body.

Yunho approaches the girl, crouching down so he could look at her properly, feeling as though the worry and suspense would consume him. “What is Minny? Tell us!” 

The girl holds her body closer to her small frame, letting another tear fall before she looks up at you all. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“So what’s he going to do about it?”

Seonghwa turns his head to glare at Hongjoong who had directed the obvious question to him.

The four of you had relocated to the empty barn house sitting in the forest behind the resort, the once lively and upbeat place replaced with a solemn mood that unveiled a frightening situation. 

Only you, Seonghwa and Yunho first knew about Minny, though that was shortly changed when the rest of the entertainment crew living at the barn found out as well when they saw you arrive with the sobbing girl. 

You out of all people had somehow been roped into it all, watching as the dancers huddled near the poor girl on their worn down couch supported with slates of wood, a cloth blanket covering her shivering shoulders. 

“It’s not Seonghwa,” Minny states clearly, scrunching her face at the assumption. She hangs her head, feeling nauseous from the anxiety. 

“But I thought-”

“Well you thought wrong” Seonghwa spits back, turning away from his friend when he realized he wasn’t helping.

Hongjoong was the leader of the crew. Followed by Seonghwa, Mingi, and another boy named Wooyoung who you had just met tonight for the first time. Yunho appeared close with them, watching as they discussed the seriousness of the situation. 

Minny groans when Mingi asks for the truth. 

“Then who the fuck did this to you? I swear I’m gonna kill that fucking bastard” he threatens, nostrils flaring as he over protectively tells his friend.

Minny tells him dejectedly. “He wants nothing to do with me or it. Didn’t even believe me when I told him…” 

Yunho turns his head, staring at her as he gently asks. 

“Tell us who it is, Minny”

She’s silent before she lets it out.

“It’s Bobby.”

You stared in horror, realizing the pervert who felt you up at the party a few nights ago was the father. You felt like throwing up and shooting him at the same time.

Wooyoung's eyes widened, his fist covering his wide open mouth as he exclaims. 

“Bobby “The Sleaze” Gilmer?”

Seonghwa looks at the girl he would call his own sister in disbelief. 

“That fucking lobby boy who works on the main floor did this to you?!”

She sighs, looking just as disgusted by hearing his name.

“If I could go back and close my fucking legs, believe me, I would!” She retorts back, huffing as her voice raises in frustration. 

“I didn’t mean to get with the guy! It just happened a few weeks ago and I didn’t think much of it until I was feeling nauseous yesterday afternoon during rehearsals.”

She leans back, knowing she’s made up her mind. 

“I’m not keeping it, I-I can’t. I have to get rid of it, but I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do when Seonghwa and I have upcoming performances at other hotels” Minny realizes with small sniffles, the scary reality crashing down on her again in this situation. 

“I-I mean I can get the girls to fill in for my classes here, but what the fuck am I supposed to do outside of this?” she says, a tear flowing down her cheek. “How are we going to tell them we can’t perform?” She admits defeatedly, thanking Mingi when he hands her a tissue box. 

“We’re gonna get you a doctor first, Minny” Yunho promises, watching as Wooyoung nods in agreement before he points out another problem. 

“Yeah, but where are we even gonna get the money for a doctor Yunho? And if word gets out with the other staff, we’re all fucking screwed.” 

Mingi shoves him in the rib cage for saying that, everyone sitting in a discouraging silence.

Hongjoong briefly glances over to you, rolling his eyes in cynicism.

“Great, and now that baby over here knows, she’s gonna run off to her playpen and tell her Aunt everything!”

You haven’t hated that nickname any more than you did right now.

Before Minny goes to your defense, you stick up for yourself first.

“I would never do that.” You state seriously, looking him in the eyes. Hongjoong still crosses his arms skeptically. “I’m not turning my back against you guys. I’m on your side, and I’m going to do whatever it is I can to help you Minny” you promised her wholeheartedly. 

Yunho, who was grasping onto Minny's hand, gives her a reassuring squeeze while sending you a small thankful smile.

“Don’t blame yourself too much Minny. This could’ve happened to anyone and it just so happened to be you. But now you know we’re all here for you, every last one of us.”

The blonde and the brunette lock eyes for a split second. 

Mingi mutters sarcastically under his breath to what his friend says. “Yeah, can’t say if I know anyone who’d sleep with Bobby Gilmer” 

Minny ignores him, shaking her head as she still needs to face reality. 

“Then who’s gonna dance with him then?” she nodded in the direction of her partner. 

Seonghwa looked overwhelmed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

You spoke up. “Couldn’t someone else fill in? There’s other girls who do nightly entertainment that must be free. There can be a way for us to come up with the money and if someone-”

Seonghwa glances over, his reply sharp as he cuts you off. “No, Ms. Fix it, nobody else can fill in. Maria has to work all day, she can’t learn the routines, and Rosie’s gonna have to fill in for Minny’s other classes. All of us could try and pick up a few jobs to pay for the fees but that money isn’t going to be enough! Nothing else is gonna cut it unless we do those performances.”

The man clenches and unclenches his jaw, taking a deep breath to control his frustrations. 

“We all work,” he says, making each word a defined statement.

You stand back in the corner where you belonged, Seonghwas gaze and rude attitude making you clench your fists in anger. 

“Hey, all she’s trying to do is help!” Yunho defends you, brows furrowing as he stares the black haired boy down. Tension arises once again between the two.

“And maybe Hongjoong is right,” Seonghwa spits, taking another jab at you. “Maybe the kid here is gonna jeopardize this whole fucking situation and get us all fired!”

Minny cuts him off on his last word, pointing an accusatory finger as she looks at him with disappointment.

“Stop that Seonghwa. Both of you calm down the fuck down and-”

Just as Seonghwa is about to retort back to Yunho, a question directed towards you leaves everyone to stop arguing for a moment.

“Do you dance, baby?”

Your eyes lock on Wooyoung who stands there with a cigarette lodged in between his lips, playing with the straps of his suspenders as he looks at you with an unreadable expression. 

“For fucks sake, Wooyoung” Seonghwa mutters under his breath loudly, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“What? I can’t ask the chick if she dances?” He retorts back defensively. 

“I- No I don’t.“ you reply, taken aback.

Mingi looks at you carefully, his eyes gazing up and down your body, able to imagine you as a dancer partner as he catches on to what his friend was suggesting.

“No, he might be onto something…”

Minny lifts her eyes from the wet tissues, pupils dilating as she looks at you too. 

“Baby,” she gasps, sitting straight as the blanket around her shoulders falls. 

“You could fill in!”

“what?!”

“yes!”

“Are you all out of your fucking minds?!” Seonghwa shouts, hands resting on his hips because now the impossible idea Wooyoung shared has now made him furious.

Minny snaps at her childhood best friend, clutching the skirt of her dress as she stands up to face him straight on. 

“You’re the best dancer out of all of us Seonghwa, you could lead any partner!”

“I can’t even do a full dance routine, let alone the Mambo!” You exclaim, cheeks getting hot. 

Seonghwa looks at your expression and decides to speak on your behalf as well. 

“The kid says she can’t even do the Mambo! She cannot dance, she’s got no talent, nothing!”

Jeez, when he says it, it just twists the knife a little deeper in the wound. 

You watch Seonghwa carefully, a glare in your eyes as you stare him down.

The group goes back to defeat as you stood there silently, hearing them discuss other possibilities as to what they could do to make up for the money.

“I could try to pick up weekend shifts at Kellerman’s right across the town” Wooyoung offers, sending a smile of hope to Minny who looks over in gratitude. “We could put that money to use.” 

“I already got another part time job at the gas station a few miles from here,” Mingi smiles, his usual boyish attitude replaced with sincerity. “I can pitch in.”

Yunho reassures the girl sitting beside him on the couch, facing the fearful situation with an optimistic outlook.

“Whatever you need Minny, we’re here for you. We’ll get that money, just leave it to us and—”

“I’ll do it.” 

Heads turn at the sound of your confident voice, your gaze unwavering as you send a promise to Minny as well. 

“What do you mean you’ll do it?” Yunho asks incredulously, not believing his ears. 

Wooyoung silently smiles at your decision, a grin forming on his face. Beside you, you can feel Seonghwa stare you down, closing your eyes as you let out a deep breath. 

“I‘ll fill in as Seonghwa’s dance partner. I’ll do whatever it takes, however many rehearsals or lessons he’s willing to teach me, but one thing is for sure Minny, I’m not leaving you on your own either” you tell her, thinking back to how the girl has stood by you in the short amount of time you’ve gotten to know her. 

Minny stands up abruptly, rushing over to you and knocking your breath out by giving you a tight hug. 

“Thank you” her voice cracks, knowing how much this meant to you while feeling sorry at the same time. “Thank you so much”

You hug her back gently, letting your hands pat her back in response. 

“No more than a few shows.” Seonghwa mutters while crossing his arms, causing you to pull back.

“Three shows and that’s it” he states, not believing what he’s gotten himself into.

He walks off, slamming the barn door closed. Hongjoong sighed, muttering a word of ‘good luck’ to you. 

“This is gonna be very interesting” Mingi whispers to Yunho who looks at you with slight worry. 

“He‘ll teach you everything you need to know, baby” Minny reassures you as she wipes her own tears away. She sniffles, turning your chest so you could face her properly.

“I know you can do this”

Holy fuck you couldn’t do this.

What on earth did these dancers wear? Was everything always this suffocating and tight?

“Come on out” Seonghwa impatiently states for the second time, tapping his foot against the polished wooden floors of the dance studio, arms crossed against the black tank top he wore for today's first practice. 

You felt the tight material of the dance leotard hug your body in places you didn’t know you could even show off, and you felt every fiber of your being regret the decision you made to say yes. 

Awkwardly, you step out from behind the folding screen, clutching your arms self-consciously around your body as the tight outfit felt foreign and made you feel exposed. 

Seonghwa narrows his eyes as he suddenly comes forward to rest his hands on your hips, shifting them forward and making you cry out in surprise. 

“What-” 

“Turn around for me” he states without wasting time, watching as you reluctantly turn slowly. It allows him to get a view of the back, but it certainly doesn’t go unnoticed when his large palms keep their place on your body as you move beneath.

“It’ll do” he decides, leaving you standing timidly when he goes to place the stylus on the Solomon Burke record. The music rings throughout the empty studio offered for private lessons.  

“Follow my steps” he orders, swiftly moving to the front of the room and facing the mirrors. 

The loud music makes you overwhelmed, unsure how to even begin copying the first step when Seonghwa takes swift, graceful shuffles, displaying how to move to the beat. 

“I want your form always straight. That means chin up, shoulders back”

You look back in confusion, your steps hesitant as you copied him. 

“Try and keep up, baby” he huffs, watching you dance like a baby deer learning to walk.

You bite your lip, repeating the moves Seonghwa had just shown you in complete focus, unaware when his presence comes closer and you suddenly feel his breath hit your neck. You lightly gasp when strong arms support your own, his hips moving against yours. 

“Sometimes the steps aren’t enough,” he urges, his deep voice entering your ear. 

“Feel the music” 

You glance up into the full length dance mirror, following the way he was skillfully molding your body to move to his own wishes. Your heart continued to beat against your chest, throwing you off with the rhythm of the vinyl that was currently playing out loud.

When he sees you distracted, Seonghwa bites his lips, grips your hips and spins you around, making you grasp onto his biceps as your ankles stumble in the dance heels you weren’t accustomed to. 

“I want you staring at your own body when you dance and look into the mirror” He warns you, firmly holding you in his grasp. 

“Not on me, baby” 

A moment of silence passed as you looked up at him stunned. 

“Nod if you understand” 

You swallow. Following his orders. 

With one last smirk, he spins you back around and lets go before now going in front to put you in another starting position. 

“Eyes on my feet now, honey”

The next few weeks have you going through pairs of shoes faster than the number of cigarettes you saw Seonghwa burning at every dance practice. You found yourself waltzing through hotdog orders, practicing steps and dance moves Seonghwa practiced with you while filling up pints of beer and serving tables. 

You really wanted to do a good job and you would do whatever it takes in order to prove that to Seonghwa and Minny. 

When you passed by other staff, you could hear the hushed whispers going around.

Why was she hanging with him? What was she doing in that studio?

Thankfully, no one dared to challenge you once they confirmed who you were spending all your late night evenings and early weekends with. It came across as though you and Seonghwa were secretly dating, when in fact, Seonghwa was meticulously putting you through hell every time he saw you. He had to teach you to keep up with the strict choreography he adjusted for you when you came to fill Minny’s shoes. 

But he was growing all the more frustrated with you at every practice, and you were well aware of it. 

“Hold on the fifth count I said, goddamn it baby are you deaf?” 

Seonghwa yells at you from across the sweltering hot studio one rainy afternoon. It was only two days before your first performance. 

With two days left on the clock, the pressure was getting to the experienced dancer, knowing he had to make sure you did flop on your ass the minute you went on that stage. 

But that was unfair to assume you weren’t struggling with your own share of concerns, putting your mind and body through hell just to try and keep up. 

“And what's up with your turns today? You gotta concentrate! Is this your idea of fun?”

He takes the cigarette hanging in his mouth and flings it out the open window, the pouring rain thundering above the barn as you glared at him, teeth gritting with anger. 

You were exhausted. Every muscle in your body ached with soreness as sweat trickled down your forehead and covered your eyesight. Your feet ached, your back felt like shit, and your patience with Seonghwa and his excruciatingly annoying nagging was wearing thin. 

Placing your hands on your hips, you turn to face the man in front of you properly, feeling like you’ve had just enough of his bullshit. 

“Oh yes, as a matter of fact this is my idea of fun” you sarcastically barked back, stepping forward to him in your dancing heels that tapped against the shiny, shellac floorboards below you. 

“We’ve got the show coming up in two fucking days, you wont show me lifts, I’m not even sure on how to properly do turns, and yet I’m doing all this just to help that poor girls future, even if you’re being a fucking asshole and all I want to do is drop you”

Seonghwa ticks his jaw, sweat forming above his brow as he looks down at you.

The rain continues to pour, sloshing down the trees and seeping into small puddles over the open window ledge. 

He pushes off the full length dance mirrors, the sounds of rain growing louder outside. Shuffling back as he approached, you still kept your gaze locked on his own. 

You hated that even when you were pissed at him, he still looked that good. 

“What?” You bit back at Seonghwa who peered down at you.

“Do you have a raincoat?”

You look at him in confusion. “No, why?”

He turns to the couch nearby, grabbing his leather jacket and flinging it over to you, seeing you barely catch it in surprise. He doesn’t turn to look at you, simply walking near the window to inspect the rain before he calls back. 

“Cover yourself with that and follow me” 

You trudged through the wet rain, droplets hitting your legs as Seonghwa’s leather jacket protected you from getting wet on your head. He had decided to face the rain head on, quite literally, choosing to get wet while leading you down the hill to a different part of the forest nearby the resort. 

“Where are you taking me, Seonghwa?” You called out, eyes squinting just to see him through the pouring droplets.

He said nothing, giving you no clue as to where you were going before eventually stopping under a grand oak tree that had to have been at least a few hundred years old. Its bark and long strong branches were a testament to time. 

It was only then had the rain decided to stop, the clouds clearing bit by bit as the sun shined through the cracks of leaves. 

Seonghwa’s jacket sat slumped over your shoulders, watching as he brushed his damp locks out of his face and turned so his back was no longer facing you. 

“When you dance, baby, what do you feel?” He blurts out, looking at you as he tries to read your expressions. 

You sighed, lips parting to say something before they closed shut.

“Like I don’t have the slightest clue as to what I’m doing” You confessed, looking towards the boy holding a soft look in his eyes. 

“Dancing is not just about how your body moves, baby. When you dance, your body is the vessel, but your soul is the driver.” Seonghwa described, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders to reveal your white tank top underneath. 

He throws the leather to hang over on a branch nearby, before beginning to unbuckle his pants and catch you off guard. 

“What the hell are you doing, Seonghwa?!” You shrieked, trying to look away as you couldn’t believe the man in front of you was stripping. “Put your clothes back on, Jesus Christ” you exclaimed, trying to tear your eyes away from the strong, tanned thighs that slipped from the hem of his pants. 

Seonghwa stands in front of you in his boxers and black tank top, watching your expression. 

“When you dance with someone, you get a feeling of the pulse in your heart as it lets every note guide your next movement. It's about the connection” he says as he lifts the corners of his top over his head, exposing his chest and sculpted upper body.

You stood there, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. 

“We can connect just fine with our clothes on, don’t you think?” You retorted back nervously. 

Seonghwa ignores your comment, shifting closer to you and grasping your hand in his own to set your palm against the flesh of his right chest, his heartbeat resonating against your fingertips.

You still your movements as you feel the intimacy of it all, hearing what he has to say. 

“It’s a game of give and take, of trust and tension. Every beat I share with you when I dance is a promise. Every spin is a challenge. There’s no holding back, no second-guessing. It’s raw, it’s intimate and it lets two bodies speak the language of the music they’re dancing to.” He tells you passionately. You stand there with just Seonghwa, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. 

“I’m trusting you, baby” He utters softly, gazing at you. “So I need you to trust me too”

He looks down at your body, his gaze following your fingers absentmindedly playing with your dance skirt. You look back up at Seonghwa, tracing the faint wrinkles near his eyes, the curve of his jaw, and the structure of his overall face. If trust was what he was talking about, then trust he would get. 

You shrug your tank top off, exposing the white lacy bra you had on underneath. Thank god you wore something nice today. Seonghwa lets his hand find their usual place around your hips, letting you shrug out of the oversized rain boots you borrowed from before, padding your bare feet over the damp, freshly rained grass. 

The moment is quiet, personal. You’ve never done anything like this with Seonghwa before, or with any other person for that matter.

“You’re real pretty when you listen well” You hear from above you, cheeks flaring up and mouth becoming dry as you shoot a look at Seonghwa focused on your eyes.

“I’m joking,” he smiles. “You’re always pretty”

Was Park Seonghwa flirting with you right now? The guy you swore had it out for you every time you crushed his toe with your heel? You can't even believe the fact that you two were standing here in this vast luscious meadow, half naked under an oak tree and sharing this intimate moment together. 

He lets go of your touch, running a few steps back as he readies himself to lift you. With a clap of his hand, he leans a little forward so the silver chain around his neck hangs back and forth. 

“C’mon baby, I know you’ve got it” he grins.

Here it was. The big lift. The one move you had been dreading during the whole entirety of rehearsing. Every single time you even tried listening to Seonghwa explain it to you made your palms sweaty, the image of you falling to the ground and breaking your skull imprinting your mind.

The grassy ground feels foreign beneath your feet, but you can see why Seonghwa chose to bring you here in this vast meadow to practice lifts. It was far better being cooped up inside a studio. This was away from the resort. Away from people. Just the two of you. 

You see him urge you to run. He’s watching you carefully, ready to support you. And so with his trust, you're sprinting forward, sharing a loud scream as Seonghwa hoists you up into the air. It was just enough so that your upper body lifted up magically, seeing a new level of your natural environment. Your toes are off the ground for a few moments before you're brought back down. 

You’re so close to him that your breath becomes shared, noses on the verge of hitting each other as you glance at his lips for a split second. You’re hyper aware of how he feels right now, his hands on your body keeping you safe and god dammit you realize you kinda do like it. You like Seonghwa, and he looks as though he might like you back.

He clears his throat, finally pulling away. 

“Good, that’s it, I want you to do the exact same thing but hold your core longer this time” He tells you, cautiously taking a few more steps back on the soft, plush grass. “I’m gonna raise you up a bit higher”

You let out a deep breath, shaking your nerves though you confessed to Seonghwa the fear that had been circling your thoughts. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” 

He chuckles but then softly assures you, his heart clenching. 

“You won’t hurt me baby. Now again! Jump!”

Finally the night of the performance comes. You’ve practiced your steps, you’ve tailored your dress, you’ve noted to keep your shoulders up like the hundreds of times Seonghwa told you so, and you’ve prayed even more times for the lift to turn out well. But the pre-performance jitters are still really getting to you.

Peeking out from behind the backstage curtain of the hotel you and Seonghwa were performing for, your eyes look over the crowd of folks present tonight to see you dance. 

God, you felt as though your stomach was going to fall out of your ass. You feel nauseous, looking around to see if there was a mop bucket or something for you to puke your guts in when a warm hand comes to rest on your waist, turning you around so your back hits the stage wall. 

Suddenly you realize you’re trapped underneath Seonghwa’s hold.

“Hey, look at me baby” Seonghwa tells you, voice firm but softening a bit when your nervous eyes reach up to his. He looks dashing in his sleek suit slash tuxedo, his hair gelled back and different from the soft curls that would hand over his forehead when you two practiced. You watch as he begins to assure you. 

“Just like we practiced.” He brushes a loose curl from your hair, the action making butterflies explode in your already nervous stomach. You bite your rouge coloured lips, the sparkly dress and heavy makeup Minny did for you making you feel out of place. You're scared of messing this up.

“Follow my lead and you’ll do great.” 

Seonghwa seems nervous but there wasn’t a possibility it could be as much as you were. Your lips part softly when he touches your arm to remind you one last time. 

“And sweetheart, don’t forget to have fun” he grins. You nodded back, your thoughts clearing a bit thanks to his comfort. 

And now, the Sheldrake Hotel presents Park Seonghwa and partner in Mambo Magic! 

The voice through the microphone pulls you from the wall. Carefully, Seonghwa takes your hand in his own, straightening his posture and flashing you one last look before you take to the stage, the blinding show lights coming into view as the audience claps enthusiastically. The stage looks bigger than it did off stage, your mouth feeling like there were cotton balls shoved inside it. He takes his position behind you, hand on your hip like you’ve practiced a million times when the music finally begins. 

It’s funny how the body acts on its own. One second you're completely still and the next you're following Seonghwa to the rhythm of the music, your steps fast, precise. 

Before you knew, your body already knew. 

He spins you around, grasping your hand as the skirt of your red dress flowed gracefully, hearing the sounds of the impressed audience watching below.

Every move you made fell in line with what you had learned, a reassuring comfort to have Seonghwa’s hands on your body almost the whole time as you let him serenade both you and the audience. 

“Doing so well” He muttered under his breath, his expression never changing as you successfully executed your cross body lead. A little bit of pride grows in his heart. Seonghwa does incredibly like he always did, watching how his expressions changed to correspond with the music, his dancing following with the changes in tempo. Park Seonghwa was born to perform.

Finally it comes time for the grand finale. The lift. Seonghwa steps back, giving you the space you needed before he ushers you into your cue. You don’t know what happens to you after doing well so far, but you stop right at the end of your tracks, come face to face with a bewildered looking Seonghwa who watches you attempt a random dance move to keep the music going. 

God, no!

His arms find his way around you, leading you into his steps expertly before soon the song ends and you're both posing with baited breath, face to face with the final spotlight shining down. 

The audience erupts into applause, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you. You did it, and it was over, but you still had to swallow the disappointing truth. 

You didn’t make the lift.

Seonghwa takes your hand in his own, both of you taking a deep bow before striding off stage. Only when you're out of the stage lights do you burst in apology, catching your breath from dancing. 

“I’m so sorry, Seonghwa.” shaking your head as you already expected the criticisms to follow. “I chickened out at the last minute and I couldn’t do the lift. I-I thought I could, but then I saw you and I didn’t want to risk it, and I’m pretty sure I was late on that last step and I’m really sorry for stepping on your toe-”

His hands engulf your body into his own. Inhaling his strong cologne and the musky smell of cedar and cigarettes, Seonghwa has his arms wrapped around your body in sheer proudness, patting your hair and whispering softly into your ear. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you, you hear me?” He says, cutting you off. You didn’t know what to say, your body tensing under his sudden actions. 

“I don’t care about the lift, baby. We can work on that later” he comforts you. He pulls back, watching your stunned face. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but he stops to collect his words.

“You were incredible… you did so well.” The compliments circle towards your beating heart, making your worries disappear with what he says next.

“Minny would be proud of you” he smiles, the corners of his mouth turned upwards. 

You grinned back, tears forming in your eyes with huge relief. You hug him back wholeheartedly this time, the other performers watching you two backstage. 

You shared the embrace for a while longer than before. This time, not as dance partners but perhaps something a little more.  

After the first performance, you continued practicing with each other. You both learned to adjust to each other's dancing, and the lifts and spins eventually came like second nature to you. Soon, sweltering July heat faded into soft August showers. A close partnership blossomed between you and Seonghwa, finding each other's rhythm every time you snuck from the west building to practice in the abandoned barn house, even when the dance studio was closed. You found yourself running off to dance with the boy, even when your performances were over. You already raised enough money by booking shows at every hotel, inn and resort nearby, and you were more than relieved to have found a doctor in town, willing to help Minny.

And what do you know, you and Seonghwa turned out to be too good of a dancing couple to not do a few more extra shows with. Dancing turned into a real, second job for you now, and that meant the chemistry between you two changed. 

“Promise me you’ll take care of him” Minny asks you the night before she’s headed into town. You know she means Seonghwa. Her manicured nails grasped your hands and held them close. She would be gone for a few days for the procedure, but she knew she had to still say her thanks to you before she left. 

Minny stands in front of you looking like a girl scared shitless for her life. You knew how strong she was for going through all this, and you only prayed for her to receive the best outcome that reflects her choice. Not the outcome any other fucking person wanted in order to criticize her for her mistakes. 

Your eyes soften when she mentions Seonghwa. 

“I’ve danced with him since we were kids, baby.” she confesses. “I know what he looks like when he’s out there performing, that, that look he has that makes him feel like he’s got everything he needs in the world.” 

“He looks like that with you. I know he wants you just as much as you do”

You blush, shaking your head in denial before she catches you into a gentle hug. 

“I could never thank you enough, baby” she whispers, making your heart go warm. “You’ve done a favour for me that no other being but a real friend could do”

For the first time since coming here, you felt as though you could confidently say you had found happiness in something, and that was from finding both a passion and a friend. 

“C’mon Minny” Yunho softly calls for her from behind, leaning against his car with the door open. He’s gonna drive her into town and take care of her just like he said he would. 

He looks back at you with a smile, and you reciprocate it back to the blonde boy.

“Drive safe” you told them, watching Minny wave you goodbye. 

You were undeniably scared for Minny. 

But seeing her walk back to intertwine her fingers with Yunho who stands by her side by the door of the car, looking as though he was ready to fight the entire world for her, you knew that she would be okay. 

“C’mon doll, I didn’t teach you to dance with form like that” Seonghwa teases you one afternoon a few days later, the barn house empty as you two fooled around with a new set of LP’s Hongjoong bought. 

He slides his strong arms down your thighs, adjusting the casual position you were dancing in, though the gesture is in fact far from innocent. And it still makes a smile curl onto your face. 

You shake from his hold with a gasp, feigning fake innocence and batting your lashes to a cocky looking Seonghwa who stares down at you with pulsating desire.

“Now don’t go correcting me about form when I can see your hands just can’t keep to themselves” you teased, your hands ghosting over his exposed skin under his shirt, pushing away his grabby arms as you suddenly switched roles. You were becoming the teacher and him, the student. 

Seonghwa groans at your cruel teasing, watching your legs shuffle themselves to the music, your hips brushing against each other every so often that it drives Seonghwa mad to have to keep his composure like this for another second longer. 

“Look at you move, Jesus Christ” he mutters.

“Uh uh, you keep your eyes on the mirror, Hwa” You commented, using his own words he once used against him. “Not on me, baby” you smiled.

Seonghwa doesn’t think he can take it anymore and swipes a hand to hover near your ass, gripping the flesh hungrily so your back was pressed to his chest and he could feel you dance against his body. Nothing would be able to pass in between you. 

You bit your tongue to prevent letting out a moan. Did he always have to pull the rug right under your feet like that? Just when you were finally starting to get the upper hand in the moment, he leaves you feeling like you had no absolute control from the beginning.

“Keep it up and let’s see what happens” he hums into your ear, the movement of your bodies having reached a new level of comfort and compatibility. 

You just fit so well together now. 

He continued to rock you back against his thigh, matching the slow tempo of the music. Even while you couldn’t see him due to your eyes being closed in pure bliss, you could feel his stare on your face. The expression you put on while grinding against his body, his intent stare reflecting through the mirror. 

All that sexual tension that had been manifesting between you two these past weeks was reaching its limit. The time was now, and Seonghwa was afraid it would all end with him doing whatever it was that he wanted to do to your sweet body. 

The last song on the record ends as the vinyl comes to a stop. You opened your eyes to see Seonghwa gazing down at you. 

“Keep moving,” he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. He wanted you to move not because the music was telling you, but because your heart was telling you. 

There's that thumping feeling of your heart that makes your ribs rattle against your chest, pressing on the tips of your toes to look him properly in the eyes. 

“If you want me to move, you’re gonna ask me nicely, Seonghwa” who marvels at the sight of how far you’ve grown out of your shy timid shell.

“Look at my baby making demands” he says in astonishment, a giggle escaping out from you. Then the dancer stoops his neck down, leaning close to fulfill your request.

“Please, baby” he moans, watching as your hands creeped up his chest. He looks at you with an intense gaze, sucking you into a need that’s bordering obsession. 

“Be my good little girl”

Your lips crash into his, your actions becoming the fuel to set ablaze a burning fire of lust that leaves Seonghwa hoisting you up into his arms, hands supporting your thighs as he pushes you against the full length mirror. 

“Fucking finally” he mumbled as front teeth clashed, fighting for dominance with you as you made out passionately. His hands caged you against the wall while your thighs straddled his hips and your legs linked from behind his ass. You could feel Seonghwa’s hard member pressing against you up from through his slacks, letting out beautiful whines and deep gasps as your pussy craved for pleasure.

“Please, Hwa” it turned into now your turn to beg. You allowed access for his lips to trail down your open jaw onto the skin of your neck, his breath tickling you.

He coos at your pathetic state, deciding to sit himself down onto a nearby couch in front of the mirror, bringing your thighs to cradle him on each side, knowing that this position would give him the perfect view of your back. 

He moans, feeling your lips press hickies against his neck, his eyes following the curve of your ass in your jeans. 

“Let me see you move, baby”

Those words mean something different now. They can’t mean what they did before in rehearsals. Not when you’re laying on top of Seonghwa right now, stripping your clothes off, so that his cock finally brushes against your sopping wet folds. 

Seonghwa is big. Even with just his pants on, his belt unbuckled and his leaking tip poking through, you can tell he’s hiding a little more length underneath. He doesn’t dare take his lips off of you, moaning as he hurriedly shuffled through the pockets of his leather jacket hanging nearby, taking out a condom as a few others fell to the floor. Why even bother to pick them up when he knew it would be easy access for him when he fucks you against the floor later. 

“Seonghwa, quickly” you begged softly, watching him slide the latex over his cock. It had been so long since you felt anyone inside you. Your first time had felt so underwhelming and disappointing you thought you’d never want to have sex again. 

But fuck that because Seonghwa here has you begging like a bitch in heat.

He stops his movements to look at you properly, holding your soft cheek in his right palm as he brings you back from a hazy trance.

“Hey, listen to me” he mutters, looking almost like he was in pain to fight back the urge to not just take you right there.

“I want you so bad, baby, I really do” he mumbles, his raven coloured hair falling from its secured style to frame his face. He catches his breath for a moment to look in your desperate eyes. 

“But I also want to make sure I hear it from you” 

You’re about to give him what he wants, but the words get choked up when Seonghwa accidentally shifts his hips in a way that causes him to slip in his seat, rutting his hips up and feeling his bulbous tip slap your awaiting entrance. 

You mewl, clawing at the sofa material. 

“Shit, fuck, I-I need to hear you say it baby. Tell me you need me” he sighs, watching you cry out loud and fall to his chest, his arms cradling you while your bare tits brushed against him. “Can you tell me you need me?” he whispers.

“Seonghwa, I need you right fucking now” you reply instantly, not believing how long its taking for him to make love to you on his lap.

“I need you” you repeat a dozen times, yelping when the anticipating stretch you were dreaming of finally came. 

Seonghwa allows his strong arms to wrap around you and support you, pressing kisses on the side of your forehead. “That’s my good girl” 

“Oh fuck” 

“Doing so good. Look at your form through that mirror” he observed, watching your back arch from behind you, staring as his cock disappeared when you sank down again and again. 

You gripped his shoulder, unsure of his deal with watching him fuck you, but you let him do so, the pleasure consuming you. A sound was building inside of you as your hips snapped to the rhythm that Seonghwa made for you, watching you ride him. He was leading you, just as he always did on the dance floor, 

That sound struggled to be let out. A cry, a sob. . . you weren’t certain what would follow next, just knowing that Seonghwa’s cock felt so good. Too good. 

His hands grip the mounds of your behind, his breath turning uneven with every passing second.

“Look at my little baby, too fucked and drunk on my cock to even speak properly” he smiles, throwing his head back when he feels your walls clench harder. His hands roam your beautifully strong thighs.

The lewd squelching is embarrassing to hear resonate throughout the empty bar house, mumbling incoherent words when all of sudden, Seonghwa slaps one of your ass cheeks, causing a burst of fire to spread through your legs, your already weak knees breaking their position as your breath hitched into a surprised yelp.

“Fuck, Seonghwa!” You moaned loudly, the sounds echoing off the walls.

“You like that baby, don’t you?” He teases. Your knees begin to give out, turning your face away from the mirror so you wouldn’t have to watch as Seonghwa used you mercilessly. His pupils were dilated, a slight obsession forming while watching you.

“Pretty things have to be watched properly, don’t they?” he tuts, pulling your hair  to the side and letting your head turn on his chest so you were now forced to get a glimpse of both your expressions in the mirror reflecting you. He already feels that you’re both close. 

“S-shut the h-ah- hell up” you had the audacity to mumble, tears forming near your eyes that make him laugh sadistically. He wasn’t even gonna spank you for that tone, he‘ll just fuck you harder.

“But you’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” He goes back to his soft voice, palming your ass as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. 

“You’re still gonna take all of my fucking cock, right baby?” 

You nodded compliantly, the last few whines leaving your swollen lips from biting them too much, as it suddenly feels all too much.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take it!” 

Your shuddering as your orgasm takes over you and you let out a weak noise, feeling Seonghwa fuck you till he came as well. 

“T-Take me” you mumbled under your breath, giving into the submission. “Make yourself feel good too” you sighed, knowing that he would treat you the same, if not better. 

And at that, his cock twitches, letting out a groan as he finds his release too. Your warm walls clenching and unclenching periodically. 

Heavy breathing resonates throughout the room. The smell of sweat and sex undeniable, falling on top of Seonghwa as he cherished you for a few minutes more, praising you all the while.

”So good to me baby” he pants, holding you as he switches positions to place your back against the couch now. 

“So fucking good to me” he sighs, letting you catch your breath 

You feel his hands coming to either side of your head as he pulls out his cock, whimpering at the empty feeling as you looked down to see the shiny condom filled with his seed reflecting the light. You close your eyes, letting a hand travel down to gently tug on the pulsating tip of his cock that rests on your lower stomach. Seonghwa groans, silently thinking he has to tell you or else he’ll regret it.

Your legs spread a little bit further, feeling his slick coat your stomach. Perhaps he would let you suck —

“I love you”

You opened your eyes to see Seonghwa is looking down at you like he’s never done before, sweat glistening on his skin as his chest heaved out every last breath from him.

You both lay there in silence, feeling stunned as you watched him lean down and press a kiss to your frozen lips.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you baby” 

You blink away small tears, feeling embarrassed that the post-sex endorphins were doing this to you but Seonghwa paid no attention. He was the same.

“I really love you” he says again, almost as if he was saying out loud to realize it again. It makes you wrap your arms around him and pull him in close. You finally whispered back.

“I love you too, Seonghwa”

It feels right. To be here with him and to feel this way. To feel good. 

For so long, a part of you felt as though you could never fully enjoy anything you did. This summer job you took up had you looking at life with a one track mind, thinking everyone here was temporary. Though in that moment as you pulled Seonghwa in closer, you knew he wouldn’t be temporary. 

This boy would be forever. 

“Baby?” Seonghwa calls to you after a moment passes, just as you’re bathing in the sweet feeling of gentle aftercare and calmness. 

You hum, the head resting against your chest moves as he adjusts himself to be face to face, with you looking up at him. He caresses your hair in his hands. 

“Tell me your real name.”

It takes you a second before the name spills from your lips.

Seonghwa smiles, pulling you in closer and tucking his chin in the valley of your neck.

“It’s beautiful. And it suits you. Suits you just fine”

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:

Seonghwa pats your back softly, calling you by your real name which he silently wishes you told him earlier, just so he could've called you by it more. 

You shake your head insistently, words coming out muffled as you hold him in your arms, desperately trying to remember this feeling for a moment more. 

“Five more minutes” you quickly stated, making Seonghwa break into a soft grin. 

“I gotta go, love”

You didn’t take that for an answer, fighting back the tears and frustrations as you looked up.

“You don’t have to leave” you cried, lashes fluttering as the teardrops fell from your eyes. Seonghwa looks down at you, calmly wiping them away. Yunho was right. Sometimes you really were a baby.

“You could stay. don’t go” you begged naively. 

It was only so long before your Aunt found out about you sneaking around with Seonghwa, and it didn’t take the boy a split second before he knew he wasn’t gonna let you lose the job. So he took the full blame.

His car is packed, his small box of belongings that he came here with sitting in his backseat as the clouds drifting in the blue summer sky above, cast a shadow down over you two. 

This summer will never be forgotten. What you had learned, what you experienced, what you had felt. It would stick with you wherever you’d go. In that sense, Seonghwa would then still be with you forever. Maybe just not side by side with you.  

He looks down at you and asks you softly. 

“Are you gonna keep dancing even when I’m gone?” His thumb places itself underneath your chin, making you look up at him. 

You nod. There was no denying it. 

“Then that’s all I need” 

Seonghwa smashes his lips against yours for one last time, making you stifle your cries as your lips move in sync, savouring each others taste. 

He’s first to let you go, brushing the tears away with his thumb and grabbing his leather jacket that he left perched on the hood of his car. 

Without any more words, Seonghwa gets inside the driver seat and starts the engine, a roar coming to life as he slowly drives off into the distance, leaving you standing alone with a hand over your heart. 

You were right. He would always be your forever. 

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

[ijustwannabecool]

Come Home With Me

Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader

Summary... After a chaotic race weekend, Lewis skips the afterparty for something better: a quiet café, a shared vegan wrap, and your thighs brushing under the table. You’re just trying to be normal for one night—but nothing about being with Lewis Hamilton is ever really normal. And maybe that’s the best part.

trigger warnings: fluff, swearing, brief fan interaction, stress mentions, post-race tiredness, domesticity, casual fame realism, pure husband energy.

--

The hoodie he gave you this morning is way too big, and that’s exactly why you love it. It still smells like champagne and his cologne, even after a full day in it.

“Come on, babe,” Lewis grumbles, tugging your hand as you pass a narrow stone street near the marina. “Let’s duck in here. M’starving.”

He’s right. He is starving. And not in the dramatic, I-forgot-to-eat-my-snack-bar way. He’s just raced for two hours in 90-degree heat and skipped the afterparty entirely.

So now it’s just you and him, tucked into a corner booth at a sleepy café that smells like garlic and fresh bread.

His curls are tucked under a cap, hoodie zipped halfway, fingers intertwined with yours under the table like he has no plans of letting go—even to eat.

“Falafel wrap, sweet potato fries, ginger ale,” he says confidently when the waiter comes by. “Extra tahini.”

You blink. “You knew my order?”

He smirks, nudging your foot under the table. “I know everything about you. Try me.”

You shoot him a playful look. “Okay. What was the name of the cat I had in uni?”

“Mochi,” he answers without hesitation, popping a fry into your mouth. “Used to sit in the window waiting for you, even when you were out all night studying. You cried for three days when she passed.”

You melt. In the booth. Fully liquify.

But just as you're about to tease him back, you spot a girl in the next booth. She's trying not to stare. There's a phone in her lap, barely tilted your way.

Lewis squeezes your hand tighter and leans in close, whispering, “Just me and you tonight. Eyes on me, baby.”

--

POV – Sofia (18), café worker in Monaco I almost died when he walked in. Like actually had to go into the back for a second to collect myself. Lewis Hamilton. In our café. With his girl. Sharing fries.

But what got me was how normal they were. Laughing. Teasing. She fed him a bite of her wrap and he literally kissed her palm after.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t post anything.

Not every moment is for the world. Some are just for them.

--

You barely make it back to the hotel before he’s all over you.

The second the door clicks, Lewis’s hands are on your waist, mouth at your neck.

“I didn’t say it earlier,” he murmurs, pulling the hoodie over your head, “but you looked so good today. Could barely focus on the damn race.”

You giggle, but it turns breathy when he lifts you onto the bathroom counter, his hips slotting between your thighs.

“You’re gonna let me thank you properly, yeah?” he whispers, voice rough with want.

The shower is running by the time he gets you both undressed. Your back hits the cool tile while his mouth is hot on your skin.

“You take such good care of me,” he mutters as he sinks to his knees. “Let me take care of you.”

He’s curled around you afterward, both of you in robes, tangled on the couch with a half-eaten bag of kettle chips between you.

His eyes are half-lidded. Tired. Soft. At peace.

“You know,” you murmur, “someone in that café definitely clocked us.”

Lewis hums. “Let ‘em talk. You’re mine. Always have been.”

And when the news alerts start to roll in—grainy photos, blurry sightings—he just laughs.

“They didn’t even get my good side.”

--

🌤️ The Next Morning

The sun slips through the sheer hotel curtains, casting golden stripes across the bed.

You're still half asleep when Lewis props himself up on one elbow, kisses your cheek, and murmurs, “You awake?”

“No,” you mumble, shifting closer.

He chuckles. “Wanna come with me to the paddock today? Just for a bit. Say hi to the engineers. Wear your hoodie.”

You yawn into his chest. “Only if you promise to feed me waffles first.”

“Done.”

You open one eye. “And kiss me like you did in the shower.”

His grin is lazy and smug. “Oh, that’s definitely done.”

[artbyblastweave]

At a high level, Dead Money feels like it's in some kind of conversation with player expectations surrounding RPG companion mechanics, both in the base game of New Vegas specifically and in RPGs more broadly. But special mention goes to Dean Domino, whose entire character is a one-two punch in service of this point.

The first punch being that he's one of the few characters in the game who genuinely punishes the by-then-thoroughly-inculcated reflex to just automatically select any skill check you're capable of passing. One-upping him through the barter check in your initial conversation guarantees that you'll have to kill him later, potentially hours of playtime after the perceived slight in question- which is certainly a fitting character beat for a man who's been trying to ruin his dead one-sided rival for 200 years for the crime of being happier than him. If you decide you want to keep him alive, you actually have to maintain a specific tonal approach throughout your interactions with him, picking dialogue options that assuage his neuroses, frequently bending over backwards to manage his ego. He isn't a base-game companion you found standing on the edge of a life-changing precipice, waiting for a push towards a good or bad life outcome; all that's up in the air here is how you react to his 200 years of accumulated awfulness.

And this, in turn, leads you (or at least led me) to the follow-up question- if you do thread the needle, stay in his good books, put up with all his bullshit, say all the right things so that he genuinely likes you when you meet for the last time at the Tampico theatre- why? Given the levels of meta-knowledge about the story you need to bring to the table in order to successfully jump through all these hoops, you almost certainly know what he did, and if you're playing as the kind of positive-karma character typically associated with a quote-unquote "golden ending," you've probably killed other characters for less. But those other characters weren't framed to you as companions. No help in firefights, no combat barks, no unique perk with bespoke art, no achievement nudging you towards the conclusion that saving everyone is the best possible outcome. Certainly none of the miserable anti-charisma that's charming in fiction and homicide-inducing in an actual workplace-slash-kidnapping. If you go through all the work to save him you're probably letting your embrace of the game-logic framing run counter to how the vast majority of personalities would likely react to him. Certainly I'm guilty of this- every time I've run the DLC, regardless of how I'm roleplaying, I've slipped up and let the seductive logic of party-member-as-puzzle-box override any previous commitment to just doming the fucker this time.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #27

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯.��| 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

"I knew I would see you slacking off. Again."

It doesn't take long for you to recognize the teasing and edge to the very familiar voice, the one you could probably never get mistaken. Glancing at Yoongi who's walking towards you, an evident smirk glowing on his features as he rolls up the sleeves of his black button up.

"Bothering me again? Here I was thinking you finally left me alone." you murmur, audible enough for him to hear because that's exactly what you wanted but all he gives you is an amused chuckle.

You don't even bother explaining to him that you're just taking a ten minute break, before you've to make calls for upcoming photoshoots. It's not worth it and he wouldn't care for sure.

"Me? Never," he smirks, leaning against the window sill where you're standing glancing at the busy Seoul streets. "And you seem happier, so now I'm back."

It surprises you that he brought up the sudden change of your mood, even if his words were tactical and light without actually prying at what happened. You purse your lips, trying to hide a grin because this man is just unstoppable and unbelievable. From the corner of his eyes you notice the corner of his lips twitch as he stares at you with those sharp eyes.

"Such a shame. I was hoping you'd leave me alone for a few days at least." you joke, hearing him feigning a dramatic gasp that makes you snort as you both laugh.

"Well, I'm glad you got your humor back," he teases, wiggling his brows as you roll your eyes although a soft grin spreads on your lips. "But are you okay?" he asks, the teasing long gone from his voice as you stare at him with widened eyes.

He sounds genuine and--

"Min Yoongi, are you worried about me?" you ask, a grin making its way back onto your lips as Yoongi scoffs.

"Don't be ridiculous," he denies, scrunching his nose as if the mention of him being worried about you disgusts him. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"Uhm," you hum, smirking when he growls in disagreement. "But since you're so curious about me, yes, I'm okay." you answer, knowing that he's waiting for your answer nevertheless of your teasing and he nods in acknowledgement.

You're okay. When you woke up, unfortunately there were no signs of Jungkook because he had to wake up earlier than you. In a sleepy state, you can remember his alarm going off but you drifted back to sleep before you could pry your eyes open. Jungkook managed to turn off the alarm quickly, before it could wake you up entirely. However, this morning has been different because there was a small note waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

'I had to wake up earlier, we'll talk when I get home. Have a nice day, JK :)'

Just a simple note was enough to make your day a little bit better. Oh, who are you kidding. It made your day better a lot considering how worried you were about your friendship and Jungkook as well. You're glad you got to talk and understand each other better.

"Oh, I take it you got laid."

You almost choke at Yoongi's blunt words, your eyes scanning the break room which you're currently alone in. Thank god.

"No, I didn't!" you deny, but it sounds like a lie even to your ears and your very attentive co-worker seems to know that too as he starts grinning.

"Oh my god, you did!" he exclaims, grinning as you hiss at him, annoyance crossing on your features.

"So what?" you grumble. There's no point of denying it. Well, at least you tried. "You should get laid too, maybe it would help you with your attitude."

"Are you offering?" he asks right away, catching you off guard as your eyes almost bulge out.

Heat spreads over your cheeks as you suddenly imagine Yoongi naked, most likely being intimate with you but before you can get a proper image, you shake out of it. Fucks sake, this is your annoying co-worker. Why would you even imagine something like that? In your defense, he's the one who said it. Not you.

"Oh, you've a boyfriend." he pouts, causing you to roll your eyes. As if that makes any difference.

"He's not my boyfriend for fucks sake," you groan, "He's my best friend." you clarify, growing tired that for some reason he doesn't believe you.

You don't even know why that bothers you so much. Maybe it's the same thing when people would assume you were dating, but you weren't. You weren't having sex back then and they still thought you and Jungkook are secretly dating, or that you will. It always annoyed you and not just you. It annoyed Jungkook too but he had always been better at brushing it off, unlike you.

"Wasn't he your fuck buddy?" he feigns confusion and you're super close to slap him across his face.

Yoongi finds this entertaining as he's staring at you, seeing you twisting with discomfort written all over your face. Ah, he loves making you embarrassed. You always play tough around him, but he knows you're much more sensitive than you're showing him.

"Actually, I don't think he is. He's no longer my fuck buddy." you tell him, sounding almost proudly which catches Yoongi off guard and you see it by the way his lips part.

You and Jungkook still haven't justified your deal, but you both know it should've been over a long time ago. What happened last night – well, you had sex and that's it. There's nothing much to say about that. You both were horny, angry and it felt like angry sex is the right decision at that moment. It definitely helped you get that anger and irritation out of you.

"And that's why you are so happy?" he asks, sounding confused and surprised as you shrug.

"Not exactly. We talked yesterday and sorted some things out. He's probably getting back with his ex anyway. We both got what we wanted." you tell him, not really sure why you're so honest all of a sudden.

"And you're... fine with that?" he asks slowly, as if he's still trying to process your answer. Poor guy, he's confused and isn't trying to hide it at all. It's a rare moment to see him so confused and out of place.

"Why wouldn't I be? We had a deal, there are no hard feelings." you shrug.

It's understandable Yoongi is most likely confused and tries to put the pieces together. He doesn't know your whole deal after all. All he knows is that you've a best friend and you became friends with benefits for some time. And according to your words, that has ended.

"Shit, you're even crazier than I thought." he exclaims, causing you to frown as you glare at him.

"Thanks." you mutter sarcastically, ready to get back to work before Jinho notices you're gone longer than you should be. You don't need him to ruin your day.

"Hey," Yoongi calls out, causing you to stop as you glance at him. There's something about his features that make them look more softer as he glances at you. "I was just joking, you're not crazy."

You blink a couple of times, staring at the man that uncomfortably shifts on his spot as you lick your dry lips. "Thanks?"

"Maybe just a little bit." he says, his lips twitching as you snort.

"Aren't we all?" you ask, slowly backing away. "You really are growing soft on me." you joke, causing him to scoff immediately.

"Fuck off." he says as he hears your laugh. The middle finger you show him with you walking away while turned with your back to him doesn't go unnoticed by him too, a scoff of disbelief filling up the empty break room.

When you get back home, Jungkook's home, you're surprised by the sight of Jungkook himself. He's pacing around the living room, patting the pockets of his black slacks as he makes sure he has everything. You stare at him, legs bare and out of those awful heels that you were wearing the whole day, but you can't focus on the ache of your feet. It's hard to do so, especially when Jungkook looks extremely good. He always does, but there's just something about him wearing all black, especially that goddamn black button up exposing some of his chest. His black locks look natural but add just the right pinch of hotness to his whole look. It's the details too, like the silver earrings he usually wears and a shiny silver ring wrapped around his tattooed finger.

"Hi?" you call out, Jungkook's head snapping to yours as he finally notices you.

He gives you a big smile, greeting you right away as he reaches for his wallet before putting it into the pocket. "Hey, I was wondering when you'll get back." he says, voice light as he ruffles his hair.

"I had to go over Monday's plans with Yoongi, got caught up." you explain, giving him a small smile in return as his soft features twist in a mere confusion.

"Yoongi?"

"My co-worker." you answer, wondering if you've ever mentioned Yoongi's name. You probably didn't since he's asking. And there was no reason, you're glad you don't get to talk about him in your private life. It's just enough to bear with him almost every day.

"Ah," Jungkook hums, "Well, Jin texted me and the guys, and he wants to hang out tonight."

That would explain his outfit and obvious fact that he's about to leave.

"Oh, is he back from the honeymoon?" you ask, putting your bag onto the couch as if it's your daily routine every day coming back from work. That's because it is. You managed to have your own new routine ever since staying over at Jungkook's.

"Yeah, came back last week actually. They just had a little bit after the honeymoon phase," he chuckles.

Obviously, you know what that means. Sex, sex and a lot of sex. 

"And now he wants to hang out with us. You wanna go with us?" he asks, waiting for your answer as you open your mouth in surprise.

It's probably all guys hanging out, you don't think they would mind if you came too but you wouldn't want to intrude. Not that Jungkook would mind anyway. You're touched that he's asking you to come too, considering that you would be left alone in his apartment. But you're tired, you don't mind relaxing. Although, you thought you'd talk tonight.

"Ah, no. Thank you though. I'm tired and I just wanna relax tonight." you assure him, knowing that if he saw any doubt on your face, he wouldn't let you live.

"You want me to stay with you? I can just text them and decline, I don't mind." he says, and your heart warms up all again but you shake your head.

"Don't be stupid. Have fun, go hang out with them. I'll just watch Netflix or something and then go to sleep. Do you have a ride back home? I assume you all will be drinking." you tell him, changing topic knowing he would question you for a couple more seconds.

He looks as if he's contemplating asking again but just shakes his head. "I'll just call a cab or something." he waves his hand.

"You sure? I can pick you up." you offer, but he shakes his head again.

"No, it's okay. I'll probably come back late. You should just go to sleep, don't worry about me." he smiles, walking towards you as he pokes your nose causing you to frown.

"My apartment is already fixed," you tell him, remembering the call you got around lunch time.

You hoped you'd be happier when the repairman called you and informed you that it's all good now, and you're free to move back in. Well, living with Jungkook has been nice. He's been cooking for you, more than you had for him. You helped with cleaning, but it's proven that Jungkook has everything under control and manages to clean everything on his own. Surprisingly, looking at the fact that Jungkook is a man, he's very clean and likes his things in their place. Oh, and he's been taking care of washing your clothes and now they smell like him. Not entirely, but the fabric softener he's always using.

"I'll go back tomorrow." you add, his doe eyes staring at you as he sighs.

"Oh, okay," he says, sounding disappointed. "I'll miss having you around though." he says, causing you to snort as you push his firm chest. Oh god.

"I barely did anything." you laugh, causing him to grin as he scrunches his nose.

"Believe it or not, but just having you around is enough."

"Oh my god, Jeon. You're such a sap." you snort, causing him to roll his eyes but there's an amused grin spreading on his lips.

"What? You don't believe me?" he wiggles his brows, pinching your cheeks as you slap his hands away causing him to put a little bit of pressure which makes you whine.

"Let go of me, Jeon!"

He does, but not before he starts cackling at your red cheeks and frustration filling your face. What a kid. 

"But seriously, I'll miss you." he says, chuckling as he watches you rubbing your red cheeks to make the pinching feeling go away.

You glare at him, but how can you stay mad at him when he's scrunching his nose again as he's laughing at your expression. "I'm not dying, Kook. We can still hang out whenever we want." you remind him, growing soft that he really looks kind of bummed out that your apartment is fixed.

"I know that," he says, shrugging. "I hope you're not. Imagine if you were, who would I annoy?" he pouts fakely, causing you to raise your hand as you're ready to slap him but he's already anticipating it, dodging your hand with ease.

"Jimin or Taehyung? Or the hundreds of other friends you've." you murmur, giggling when he makes a grimace and shakes his head.

"None of them are like you," he says, voice soft but serious as he steps closer to you. Your breath hitches, anticipating his next move but you definitely don't expect him to poke you in your ribs as he lets out a cackle. "And you're too easy to annoy."

"I really hope that one day when you'll have kids, they'll annoy the shit out of you. You deserve it." you tell him seriously, only causing him to laugh as you're trying to hide your grin.

"Kids annoy the shit out of their parents anyway," he points out, shrugging as if your comment doesn't mean anything. "And your kids will annoy you too, don't think your kids won't be annoying just because it's you." he teases, causing you to roll your eyes as you shrug.

"We'll see, Jeon." you muse, pursing your lips while he snickers at you.

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, and you already know that look in his eyes. He lightly coughs, preparing himself for whatever he wants to talk about but you already have an idea what it might be. You wanted to talk after all.

"So..." he starts, nibbling on his bottom lip before he sighs and opens his mouth again. "What now?"

"What do you mean what now?" you ask, chuckling. "I guess our deal is off, isn't it? There's no point of us pretending to be dating. I'm guessing you've already agreed to meet with Kiko...?" you ask, a question lingering in the air for a couple of seconds as Jungkook nods.

"Well, we haven't set the date yet. She's visiting her parents right now. She told me she'll let me know when she's back." he explains, causing you to nod.

"But she agreed to meet up with you, right?" you ask just to be sure, earning a nod from Jungkook.

"Yeah, she did. I just don't know what to expect from it." he admits quietly, causing you to frown in a confusion as you glance at him.

He sighs, ruffling his hair as he walks up to the back of the couch and leans against it. Crossing his arms over his chest, you open your mouth to ask; "What do you mean? I thought you wanted to get back together with her."

Does he have any doubts about their relationship? About Kiko? That's hard to believe. He's been so determined and even though he was vocal about his recent thoughts with you and trusted you with his struggles and thoughts, there could always be something more. Love is confusing. Thank God, you're not going through the same thing he's going through right now. Even if he's the same Jungkook, teasing you and annoying you, you know his heart is cracked and he's trying to do the right thing by listening to it.

"I want to," he exclaims softly, almost sounding annoyed at himself. "But I told you... I don't know what will happen when I see her again. This time it'll be just the two of us again and the last time we were alone, just the two of us, she told me the most heartbreaking thing she probably could've said to me. I don't know how I'll feel about that. I've no fucking idea how I'll feel when we'll talk."

You look at him with a pity in your soft eyes. "Of course, you don't know. That's why you want to meet her and talk to her."

"I love her," he admits, like it's not obvious, "But a part of me wishes I'd hate her. It would make everything easier."

"Don't say that," you whisper, "You would be heartbroken either way." you tell him, walking towards him as you give him a tiny smile.

He's looking at you, eyes traveling all over your face as they stop at your eyes. He gives you a soft look, thankful even as the corner of his lips lifts up. "Yeah, maybe you're right. But hating someone is easier than loving someone who hurt you."

"Kook, you're not capable of hating someone. And by no means you're able to hate Kiko. You're just hurt and it's completely understandable. You know how you'll feel when you meet up with her. For now, just enjoy your night and don't stress yourself that much. I know it's easy for me to say but be with your friends, get drunk or something." you chuckle and he joins you, although it sounds pressured. Not that you're surprised.

"Come here," he says, already reaching towards you with his arms.

Taking two steps, he pulls you to his chest as he hugs you. Your nose is pressed against his chest, smelling the amazing and same cologne he always wears, the same one that smells like home. Because in a way, Jungkook is your home. Your friendship is so valuable, you've never had this kind of friendship with anyone.

Growing up, you had a best friend in primary school. He was cool and you got along with him better than with any of your girl friends. You remember when you used to order pizza almost every day after school. You'd try the one with seafood and examine little octopuses with a giggle before you ate them. Those are soft and nice memories. Until you both grew up and you stopped hanging out. He started hanging out with one of your other classmates, right before you went to high school. Then you heard he started smoking weed, not that defines him as a person but when you saw him in your home city, he looked... different. It wasn't the same boy you used to laugh and joke around with. He was someone else, he grew up just like you did.

But it's different with Jungkook. You might not know him from the complete childhood days, but long enough to remember the little pimples he used to have and the innocent look along with his big eyes, that remained the same. The only difference is that he's not a boy anymore, he's a man full of muscles while his skin is filled with a couple of tattoos decorating his right arm. His baby fat is no longer present and his jaw is sharp while his cheekbones are defined. And his appearance might've changed, but he still remains the same person. Yes, you got to see new sides of him (not just from the sexual side). He's no longer the innocent boy who blushed whenever a girl talked to him. Yet, he never changed towards you. No matter how many years passed, he's still the same.

Wrapping your arms around his frame, you smile into the hug.

"I feel bad for leaving you here alone. You sure you'll be fine?" he asks softly, mouth pressed against your hair.

"Yeah," you chuckle, "I'm tired. Have fun, Kook. We'll have fun some other time, I promise."

"I know we'll, we always do." he jokes, causing you to pull away so he can see the roll of your eyes. He mimics you and snickers when you want to push him away but he doesn't let you go, arms still wrapped around your body.

"So, I guess I'm no longer your fake girlfriend, huh?" you ask, chuckling when his eyes drop to your moving lips before they flicker back to your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess you're not," he chuckles, "Well, it was a pleasure to have you as my girlfriend." he jokes, causing you to snort.

"I'm sure it was," you snicker, "You're full of shit, Jeon."

Amused smirk adorns Jungkook's lips as he bites his lower lip. "I'm not, although your acting wasn't as great as I hoped it'd be." he jokes and you slap his back, the only available place for you where you can hit him.

He laughs, throwing his head back as squeezes you tighter. "My acting was perfect! Okay, the beginning wasn't that great but it wasn't my mistake!" you exclaim, laughing through your words as Jungkook nods with pursed lips, teasing you.

"Was I good with my part of the deal?" Jungkook asks, your body tensing for a second as you tilt your head to look at him.

"Are you seriously asking me if you were good at sex?" you ask with a chuckle, trying too hard not to let your cheeks flush. Fuck, you've no idea why you're so shy all of a sudden.

"No, I know I was great," he says, earning another roll of your eyes. Seriously, you can't with him. "I'm asking if I did everything you wanted." He sounds genuinely curious, but there's a dark glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, waiting for your response.

It's not helping that he's so close to you, your bodies pressed together. You can perfectly feel his warmth and you're suddenly remembered of all the times your bodies collided with each other. There's a sudden tingle between your legs and you've to shake yourself out of it before you can let it cloud your mind.

"Uhm," you hum, although there is something else that comes to your mind. For example, like there's a lot of things that you can think of. But you don't tell him that. But judging by Jungkook's weird chuckle and the way he frowns, he notices your short and unsure answer. "Our deal is off, remember?"

"Yeah, I know." he answers, slowly letting you go at the same time as his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. "Sorry," he apologizes but you just wave it off and wait for him to answer the phone.

"Yeah?" There's a distant muffled voice that you recognize as Taehyung, although you can't hear him properly. "Yeah, yeah I'm going. See you soon," he ends the call as he gives you a tiny smile.

"It was Tae, they're already there." he informs you, but doesn't move an inch.

"Go," you laugh, nudging his shoulder as he chuckles. "Don't let them wait for too long. You know how impatient Taehyung gets."

"Knowing him, he'll be drunk by the time I get there." he jokes, causing you to laugh because you both know Taehyung. He likes to loosen up a lot lately.

"Oh god, don't let him get drunk like he got at Jin's wedding." you whine, remembering Jimin and Jungkook coming to the rescue because Taehyung got wasted and threw up all over the bathroom. Jungkook said the sight wasn't pretty and it was a good thing you stayed at the bar.

"I'll try," Jungkook promises, flicking your nose. "You can always tag along and babysit Tae." he jokes.

"No, thanks," you snort, "I'm sure you'll manage on your own. I trust you." you pat his chest before you turn around, seeing him grinning at you as he shakes his head.

As you're ready to grab your clothes from Jungkook's bedroom, you hear his keys rustling as he calls out to you. "I've my phone with me, don't hesitate to call me if something happens." he calls out to you, a laugh escaping from your mouth as you poke your head from the bedroom.

He's standing at the front door with a hand on the doorknob, big eyes looking at you innocently although his whole appearance screams the exact opposite.

"Don't worry, dad. I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." you tell him, laughing when he stares at you in a mere horror.

"Don't call me that," he murmurs, "I know you can take care of yourself, just-- yeah, have a nice evening, okay?"

You look at him, a soft smile spreading on your lips as you give him a nod. "Of course, have fun." you call out to him, giving him a wave of your hand.

You see the dubious look on his face and you just know he's deciding if he really should go, and leave you alone. Your heart warms up at his kindness and before he can decide not to go and not to have an actual fun, which he really needs, you lock yourself in the bathroom and treat yourself to a steamy shower.

The blasting rap music sounds like a knife digging into Jungkook's earlobe, but the amount of alcohol flowing in his system makes one of the main sensory organs almost numb. Who would've thought a nice evening in the diner with his friends would erupt into a night full of clubbing, alcohol and loud music. Well, he could've predicted it. It always happens and deep down he knew their next steps after their stomachs are full, would lead to one of the clubs. Jin's back, glowing with happiness after the honeymoon as he didn't fail to spill some details to his friends. The mood has been great, ever since Jungkook stepped into the diner and his friends welcomed him while teasing him of his late arrival – which wasn't that late. He was only twenty minutes late but of course Taehyung teased him the most.

The whole evening seemed fun and nice, women throwing their eyes at Jungkook which he bluntly ignored and prayed none of those women would actually make their move. He would feel awful to turn down any of them, knowing they would be most likely embarrassed if he did that. Couple of drinks later when a painful realization of his current life hit him like a ton of bricks, he couldn't think about anything else than what's happening in his life.

"Jungkook," Jimin says, patting Jungkook's shoulder as he's sniffling trying to cover his face even though nobody could tell he's crying, considering the lack of light in the dimmed club. If it weren't for Jungkook's slumped figure and worried eyes of his friends, he'd just look like another drunk guy barely holding up.

Instead, he's a drunk guy with a broken heart that couldn't hold it in any longer.

"What's wrong? Please, don't cry." Jimin's worried voice fills Jungkook's ears but just as the loud and energetic rap music, it's numb to Jungkook's ears and he barely registers it.

"Jungkook, did something happen?" Taehyung asks, sitting next to him as he clutches his other shoulder in comfort. But he barely feels that, not registering his friends' voices as they're just another empty noise.

He hates himself, he's ruining the fun for his friends who came here to have fun and loosened up, not wanting to experience Jungkook's breakdown that he desperately tried to hide before they noticed it. Trying to act like everything's fine is harder when he's drunk and barely managing to control his emotions and features. He never expected to find himself in this situation, fuck, he never thought he would have this breakdown like a little heartbroken boy.

"No," he sniffles, stubbornly shaking his head as he denies quite the obvious. "I'm fine."

"It's us, Kookie. You don't have to lie in front of us," Jimin reminds him softly, his gentle voice carrying itself as it contrasts with the music. "Is it something with Y/N? Did you guys have a fight?"

Jungkook lifts his head up, staring into Jimin's worried and big eyes as he stares at his friend that sniffles and shakes his head. "No, we're good."

If Jimin remembers correctly and he does, he knows you and Jungkook had a fight or something weird happened at the camping trip. As much as you tried to put a smile on your face when he asked you about it, he's not stupid and is observing enough to notice that something happened. Of course, you both had to figure it out because he witnessed Jungkook buying you pads and tampons, seeming determined to buy you both just because he wasn't sure. It touched Jimin's heart and he's not even a fucking woman.

But it still breaks him to see his friend crying over something nobody knows about. And all of a sudden when just a few minutes ago he was laughing with the rest of them.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Taehyung reminds him, rubbing Jungkook's shoulder who lets out a defeated sigh. "Just let us know if you'll be okay."

Jimin nods, something Jungkook fails to see because of his head hanging low as he stares at his black boots. His whole body feels heavy, along with the alcohol settling in his stomach. Fuck, why he chose to eat that much? And drink too. He should've stopped himself, but he was having so much fun.

"It's Kiko." Jungkook murmurs, almost inaudibly but Jimin and Taehyung hear him perfectly as they look at each other confusingly, before Jungkook leans himself against the booth.

"Kiko?" Jimin doesn't hide his surprise. "What happened with her?"

"What happened?" Hoseok joins the rest of them, the three guys staring at Hoseok lapping for his breath as he spent a good thirty minutes dancing his heart out with some girls.

He frowns, worriedly glancing at Jungkook who just stares back at his older friend with a mere frown.

"I found out she cheated while we were dating." Jungkook answers, surprisingly completely clear and loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jimin gasps out in shock, Taehyung's mouth dropping as Hoseok's eyebrows shoot up in guilt and worry. Jimin sees the interaction, mouth dropping as well as he stares at Hoseok. "You knew?"

"Of course, he knew. He's Kiko's best friend." Taehyung comments, frowning at their hyung who seems guilter than ever. Especially when he sees the reddened eyes that belong to the youngest, pain visible in them.

"That's why she broke up with you?" Jimin asks Jungkook, glancing back at him but not before he glares at Hoseok. Jungkook gives them a slow nod, closing his eyes for a few moments. The pain is too much, he wishes he could just forget it and he reaches for Jimin's drink that he bought for himself but hasn't had the time to drink it, since he found Jungkook crying and all alone.

"What a bitch!" Taehyung exclaims, causing Jungkook to stop and snap his teary eyes at him while Hoseok glares the shit out of Taehyung.

"Hey!" Hoseok snaps, causing the younger man to shrug as he glares back. "It's... it's not my place to say anything. It's between you two, Jungkook." he reminds him, his voice softening.

"Are you seriously standing up for her when she cheated? What has Jungkook ever done to deserve that?" Taehyung asks, voice raising his voice as everyone stares at him with a shocked expression. Taehyung barely shows anger, if it's not a part of him playing a video game or something, so it is quite surprising to hear his deep voice getting frustrated and even more that it's aimed at Hoseok.

"Nothing," Hoseok sighs, "I'm not saying any of this is alright." he tells them gently, sitting down at the opposite of the table as he glances at Jungkook with a pitiful look.

"Well, you act like it." Taehyung murmurs, causing Jimin to sigh as he shakes his head.

"Tae," he warns him softly, standing up from his crouch position as he sits down next to Jungkook.

He watches Jungkook reach for his drink again but before he can even touch the cold glass, Jimin's already slapping Jungkook's hand away and moves the drink away from Jungkook's reach. "I think you've had enough."

Jungkook rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything as his head keeps dropping down. Thank god he's sitting down, at least he has some kind of stability now.

"I'm gonna grab some water for him." Hoseok says, excusing himself as he gives all of them a pitiful look again, looking guilty and sad at the same time.

"He does look miserable about this." Taehyung comments, watching Hoseok's figure disappearing in the crowd.

"Go easy on him, Tae. He doesn't have it easy, he's Kiko's best friend and Jungkook's friend." Jimin sighs, reminding Taehyung which makes Jungkook scoff. He heard similar words just a few days ago.

Whatever Taehyung's thinking, he stays silent and just lets out an exhausted sigh as he glances at Jungkook. He still looks miserable, the conversation bringing another set of memories and pain.

"I know it hurts, Kook. But look at the positive side, you've got Y/N. She would never--"

"We're not together." Jungkook slurs, both of his friends freezing.

"Wait, what?" Jimin asks, staring at Jungkook who seems to be spacing out as he curses when he falls forward and almost bumps his head into the table in front of him, if it weren't for Jimin's and Taehyung's fast reflexes. "What did you say?" Jimin presses, staring at Jungkook who grins lazily and closes his eyes.

"What about Y/N?" Taehyung tries, holding Jungkook in case he'd stumble forward again.

"Me and Y/N," he slurs, letting out a burp that makes him almost gag. "We're not together."

"What? You guys broke up?" Jimin exclaims, not believing his ears as Jungkook seems to live in his own little world, completely ignoring Jimin's question and reaction.

"Jungkook," Taehyung nudges Jungkook's shoulder. "You and Y/N broke up?" he asks, Jungkook eyes opening again as he processes Taehyung's question.

He sits there, staring dumbfounded in front of himself before he shrugs, remembering something. "Oh, yeah, we did." he sighs.

"What? When?" Taehyung asks, glancing at Jimin who looks just as shocked as he shrugs.

However, he's not the only one and Jungkook shrugs as well, not knowing how to answer that. What is he supposed to say? You did tell him that your deal is off today, well yesterday. It's already past midnight if he can remember.

"What about Y/N? Is she okay? Where is she?" Jimin asks, blurting out all these questions at Jungkook that makes him just shrug which causes Jimin to groan in annoyance. Talking with a drunk person is extremely hard, Jungkook is a perfect example of that.

"Fine," Jungkook slurs out, "She's fine."

"I've to call her. She's probably--"

"No," Jungkook says, trying to touch Jimin but he just pats with his hand awkwardly in front of Jimin as he stares at Jungkook with an arched brow.

"But where is she, Jungkook? I don't think a person can be fine after a breakup."

"She's at mine." Jungkook answers, Taehyung scoffing a chuckle as he seems to grow genuinely amused at the current situation. He wishes it wouldn't be so serious, maybe he'd actually laugh.

"What?" Jimin asks dumbfoundedly, "You broke up and she's at your place?"

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, brows pinching confusingly as he looks at even more confused Jimin.

"You're an idiot. You broke up, she's at yours and you're partying here?"

"She didn't want to go." Jungkook answers innocently, shrugging slowly.

"Oh my god, Jungkook," Jimin exclaims, slapping his forehead. "Of course, she didn't. You broke up! Why the fuck is she even at yours?"

Jungkook shrugs causing Jimin to groan. "And don't shrug all the time!"

"Okay." Jungkook sighs, head hanging low as he lets out a defeated sigh.

Taehyung snickers, patting Jungkook's shoulder. "Don't yell at him, Jiminie. He's drunk as fuck."

Jimin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've to call her."

"No, she's fine," Jungkook waves his hand. "She's probably sleeping."

Jimin stares at Jungkook, wondering if he wants to let out a desperate sigh or laugh at Jungkook's drunkenness. He doesn't do either, simply sitting in silence for a moment. It's his sudden silenced cries and sniffles that snap both men into action, Taehyung rubbing Jungkook's shoulder as Jimin sighs.

"I'm gonna take him home." he informs Taehyung, not thinking Jungkook is paying attention to both of them and definitely not to what neither of them are saying.

"You drank, you can't drive." Taehyung says, still rubbing Jungkook's shoulder as he gives him another glance of worry and pity.

"Of course, I won't drive. I'm not stupid Tae," Jimin tells his friend, "I'm gonna call us a cab and then come back here."

Taehyung is ready to nod, thinking it's probably best for Jungkook to sleep it through. He won't enjoy this night anyway, not in this state. They all will probably go home soon and Jungkook looks like he'll either throw up or fall asleep any minute. They can just pray he won't be throwing up in a cab, maybe Jimin should try to make him throw up before they'll actually hop into a cab.

"No," Jungkook disagrees, shaking his head. "No, no cab."

"Kook, we've got to get you home." Jimin reminds him softly, pulling out his phone as Jungkook gives him a glare before he burps.

He slurs something, so quiet that both men stare at him with a dumbfounded gaze, wondering what the hell he just said. Taehyung asks him to repeat it, causing the younger and drunk man to blink a couple of times before he says it again.

"Y/N," he says simply, burping again as he covers his mouth with a hand. "Call Y/N."

"Jungkook, she's most likely sleeping, you said it yourself. Let her sleep, let's not wake her up." Jimin says, wondering when the fuck has Jungkook grown so stubborn. He's always been stubborn when it came to work or his determination, but not in these kinds of scenarios. But then, those scenarios where Jungkook would get drunk and emotional never really happened.

"Call her." he snaps, causing Jimin to groan as he throws his head back.

"You're selfish, you know that right?" Jimin mumbles, chuckling when Jungkook scoffs in response and crosses his arms over his chest.

"For fucks sake, just call her." Taehyung tells Jimin, causing the both friends to glare at each other as Jimin fumbles with his phone with an unsure expression.

"You heard him," Jungkook says innocently, "Call her."

"God, you're so annoying. No wonder you guys broke up," Jimin mumbles, but not inaudible enough for him not to hear.

"Hey!" Jungkook exclaims pouting before he stares into the distance, nibbling on his bottom lip.

"You okay?" Taehyung asks, leaning forward to get a better glance at his friend's face as he sees tears falling down his cheeks.

"I can't believe she cheated on me," Jungkook cries out, falling onto Taehyung's side as he drops his head onto his shoulder and starts letting out soft cries. "Why?"

Taehyung looks at Jimin, both sharing the same look of pity by the evident heartbreak of their youngest friend that awfully reminds them of the very moment they both found out Kiko broke up with him. The only difference was that Jungkook was too stubborn to actually cry in front of them. And he wasn't drunk, but still the pain in the ass before you came to the rescue. Even though Jungkook's reaction might've been different, they can notice the pain and heartbreak in both of them. And just like before, they both look at each other while Jungkook's soft cries are muffled by the loud music that slowly blends into the background.

Taehyung opens his mouth; "Call her." Is all he says before Jimin is already searching for your number as Hoseok is coming back with the bottle of water which Jungkook refuses and almost throws it back at him, calling him a liar.This whole night became a mess, a heartbreaking mess for Jungkook and nothing seems to help. You're the only hope they all have left. Again.

[alwayssassydreamer]

I Think I Love You

Day 29 of Kikitober

A/N: needed a fluffy story for kid and well this is the outcome, not proofread

Plot: Kid is trying to ask you on a date.

Warnings: a lazy fluffy story, maybe mention of reader getting hurt during a fight,

Characters: Kid x F!Reader, Killer (minor role)

been listening to this while writing

You were laying on the ground, a bleeding cut on your face barely missing your eye, your opponent standing over you his sword pointed at you.

You were sure you'd die here. Until your enemies sword got ripped out of his hand and then metallic pieces piercing through him. You heard a low voice. "Why the fuck is it so hard for you to listen to me. Killer take her to the ship" the voice ordered. You felt yourself being lifted up then you passed out.

Well you thought it was a good idea to take on the enemy by yourself which proved to be a horrible mistake. You were holding up pretty good but were caught by surprise when out of nowhere you heard Kid shout your name the little distraction was enough for that bastard to attack you.

"You really thought you can just jump into any fight? You had no backup!” he yelled at you after House patched you up. A scar now covering your face.

"I was doing just fine Kid, but you had to be the knight in shining armor coming to save the poor damsel" you shouted back.

"Maybe I am. You were about to get your head taken off! You should’ve stayed back!” he scoffed angrily stepping closer his hand squeezing your cheeks.

You pushed it away. "If you hadn't distracted me this would not have happened" you said pointing to your scar.

"So you blame me now?" He growled fire in his eyes.

You couldn't blame Kid, it was your own fault. He was just calling your name and you got distracted by it - distracted by someone calling your name, sounds actually a little pathetic.

You huffed and made your leave.

"Really? You're running away now" he yelled after you. You just put up your middle finger and made your way into the kitchen hoping to find Killer there.

"What's wrong" he asked as you hopped onto the counter sighing.

"He's still mad." You said frustrated.

"Don't mind it. That's his way of showing he cares" Killer hummed calmly.

"Great, I'd prefer it if he would stop yelling at me"

"Stop pouting little one. How would you react if it was him who got hurt" Killer asked and you could've sworn there was a mocking undertone in his voice.

You avoided to look at him feeling yourself blushing. You couldn't deny it but you felt a little attracted to the menace you call your captain.

"So? I'm waiting for an answer" Killer teased as he made you look at him.

"Don't recall your cheeks being this red" he continued mocking you.

"Stop that asshole," you said playfully shoving at his chest. "God, i would be really worried, you happy now" you sighed face burying in your hands.

Killer chuckled satisfied.

After observing the two of you for weeks, Killer had seen the tension between you and soon realized that this was more than just a meaningless bickering.

You cared for each other more than you two would like to admit. But you were both terrible at showing your feelings.

When he found Kid pacing the deck with a frown on his face he approached him.

"What keeps you awake Kid" he asked crossing his arms.

Kid stopped his movements and looked at Killer. "Nothing"

"I know you're lying. Tell me what's wrong" the blonde kept pushing.

"Just thinking"

"About y/n" killer teased, Kid shooting at glance at him.

"Fuck Kid finally make a move"

"It's not that easy" Kid blurted out catching Killer by surprise.

"Yes it is. Ask her to spend time with you and try not to yell at her"

After Killer spent almost the rest of the night talking to Kid he finally agreed on asking you out the next day.

He was about to make his move on you when a lower pirate crew ambushed you. They were easily defeated but Kid was frustrated afterwards. No one dared to get in his way. While the crew celebrated Kid tried to find solace outside on the deck, in the cold and dimly lit night.

Looking through the port hole you caught a glimpse of Kid sitting in the darkness all by himself.

"You know he might enjoy some company" Killer said as he carefully nudged your shoulder.

"You mean he needs someone he could yell at" you hissed though you felt kinda sad seeing him out there all alone.

"He won't, I'm sure he would enjoy your company. Trust me" he assured you.

"Fine but if he yells at me I'm going to punch you" you said with a small laugh.

"Sounds fair. Here take this with you" he chuckled handing you a bottle of rum.

You carefully approached your captain, sitting down right next to him.

He shot you a glance but didn't say a word. There was an uncomfortable silence between you two as you handed him the bottle.

Kid tried to act tough, but his annoyance from the ambush seeped through. You felt the weight of the moment, unsure of how to break the ice.

The stars above you shining brightly as a cold breeze hit you. You shivered a little as you took the bottle from Kids hand taking a sip before handing it back to him.

The moment your hands touched you felt a warm feeling rush through you. Looking up at him curiously studying his face.

"Stop staring at me" he finally broke the silence but you kept staring.

"I said stop it, what are you even trying to find" he asked a mix of annoyance and affection in his voice.

"Trying to find out why you're so mad and frustrated. This was nothing but a minor pirate crew ambushing us didn't even take a lot of effort yet you're here pouting" you teased still studying his face.

"Am not pouting" he snapped taking a big sip from the bottle.

"Of course not" you mocked. "The great eustass kid never pouts" you added laughing.

He turned to you a mischievous grin on his face as he gently and carefully shoved you making you laugh.

"Seriously what's bothering you?" You asked soft eyes looking at him.

He didn't say a word just looked at you before carefully tracing his thumb over the scar on your face as you leaned into the touch.

"We're matching now" you chuckled.

"We look kinda bad ass together now" he teased.

"Is that what's bothering you? the scar?" You asked shyly as he removed his finger.

"Yes i mean no, wait what? He stuttered as you looked confused.

He sighed. "It bothers me that i wasn't there to prevent this from happening." He said avoiding your gaze taking another sip.

"Not your fault, I'm sorry i didnt follow your orders" you replied, having a hard time admitting this.

"What was that? Did you just apologize for being an idiot" he taunted you smiling devilish.

"Shut up asshole" you muttered taking the bottle from him.

"I've planned something." He started as you looked curiously at him "you know i had a plan before the ambush but it got ruined because of those bastards, got me a little mad and frustrated" he continued as you removed the bottle from your lips.

"Care to share your plan or is it a secret"

"I wanted to ask you on a date" he stammered his confidence fading.

It took you a moment to process the words that just left his lips which he mistook as a form of hesitation maybe even as a rebuff.

He muttered something to himself before angrily getting up leaning against the railing staring into the open sea.

"You should get back inside" he ordered his voice low and full of anger and shame as he emptied the bottle.

Sighing you got up leaning against the railing right next to him carefully placing your hand on his startling him.

"Why? I thought we're having a date" you said smiling shyly at him while playing with his fingers.

You could see a small blush on his face.

"Not quite what i had in mind" he chuckled.

"It's perfect given how long I've been waiting for you to make a move" you teased both of you now blushing.

He pulled you closer his metal arm carefully wrapped around you your back against his chest holding you tightly. You placed your hands over his as he leaned his chin on your shoulder nuzzling into your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin.

The warmth coming from his body felt soothing making your heart beat faster. His embrace making you feel like home. You could've stayed like this forever.

"Kid?"

"Hmm" he hummed as you wiggeled out of his grip.

"I was actually waiting for you to do this first but i guess you're too stubborn and prideful soooo" you teased taking a deep breath, biting your lower lip.

"What do you-" you cut him off by placing a finger on his lips.

Eyes wide, heart beating faster you felt the nervousness build up inside you. Ok now or never.

"I think I love you" you blurted out feeling like throwing up afterwards.

He smiled smugly at you as he removed your finger giving it a small kiss.

"You think you love me?" He taunted you, causing you to playfully punch his chest.

"Stop being an asshole this was really hard" you complained though your lips twitched into a small smile.

"I think I love you too" he replied.

"You know what actually I know that i love my little troublemaker" he added his hand caressing your cheek.

He smirked down at you leaning in kissing you surprisingly soft though not less passionate.

"I love you captain" you mumbled into the kiss as you enjoyed the rest of the night in each others arms.

[devilfic]

Idk if you have seen daredevil but in the case you have can I request a head cannon of you making a playlist for him and him talking about songs that remind you of him?

Like I was listening to The Marias and I felt that their songs give this feeling of how it would be to date him.

❝making a playlist for matt murdock❞

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader. cw: established relationship, brief mention of sex. words: 1k.

a/n: I actually have seen daredevil and I love him a lot, this will be fun. shoutout to this post that confirmed the "matt murdock loves jazz" vibe he gives off

I wanna start off by saying that as soon as I saw "daredevil" and "songs" in the same sentence, I got a VIVID image of matt in a jazz bar

I can't recall off the top of my head if matt mentions any specific artists or genres he listens to in the show, but I personally think matt likes jazz, funk, maybe some soul/neo-soul, or anything you'd hear in a nice understated bar downtown

the thing is I think that matt really likes instrumental-heavy music because he appreciates being able to pick apart the melodies

I also imagine he's a stickler for his favorite genres and won't really relent unless you introduce something new to him by force

so, a playlist

you push an mp3 player into his hand as you walk past him and he thumbs over the buttons, twists a finger through the cords of the earbuds, and smiles, "what's this?"

he hears you land on the couch and makes his way over to sit beside you as you take one of the earbuds to put in your ear, stretching your legs over his lap, "I made a playlist for you!"

"yeah?"

"yeah. I know you like your vinyls but this is smaller, more compact. easy to put in your pocket and hopefully not break when you're running around the city at night. I'm serious. don't break that."

"I'm honored," matt tilts his head in your direction, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, listening for the parting of your lips as they break into a smile, "nothing too shocking, I hope?"

"I tried to stick to things I thought you'd like, and I did include some of the songs you've recommended to me over the years since you can't lug your vinyls everywhere. it won't sound as nice but... it's something. it's pretty romantic, right?"

it is romantic

matt imagines you hunched over his computer, tediously searching up mp3s of his favorite songs and putting together a playlist for him, trying your best to ease him into unfamiliar territory

he can also hear the nervous thumping of your heart as you wait for his reply, so he splays a hand over your ankle and squeezes, "yeah, you're pretty damn romantic. any particular order I should play it in?

"just hit play, handsome."

when the first song starts playing, he's transported back to hearing it for the first time in the bar where he met you, sharing drinks at a table as you humored him on your theories of who the devil of hell's kitchen really was

you were a few drinks past tipsy and had come to chat him up at the behest of your friends who—and you learned this several days later—he'd heard call him sexy at least four times

but it was you whose voice had caught his attention, who had sworn that a "man like him" had to be waiting for a date, that there was no way he'd be here all alone

and had promptly eaten your words when he chimed in to let you know that he did not, in fact, have a date

he was fuzzy on the details as to how you'd gotten on the topic of his alter ego, but it tickled him nonetheless how you presented your theories more confidently than you flirted

he countered each one but in good faith, playing devil's advocate if only so that he could hear how your mind whirred with ideas

after a few pretty well-articulated counterarguments, you'd snorted and asked, "what are you, a lawyer?"

and when you learned that he was a lawyer? the matt murdock of nelson, murdock, & page? oh, he was sure you lit up like a christmas tree

even after walking you to your place, matt was humming the tune of the song he'd discovered you to, a feeling in his bones that more than just it would be sticking around

matt takes you to a jazz bar for your first date, feeding you details about the musicians over drinks as you ask him about his favorites

he likes a lot of the classics: things his dad enjoyed, stuff he's heard at the jazz bars he's roped foggy into visiting with him during law school

he tells you he likes some of the new stuff but nothing beats the classics, all of which he has vinyls of at home

and you ask him about the newer artists he likes and he tells you he'll put some on for you at his place if the night is still young

that night, he brings you back to his and plays this while you make love

most of the songs matt thinks of when he thinks of you are wordless, often more abstract representations of how you make him feel

the few songs with words are quite literal. whatever the lyrics say is how he feels about you

you've learned—if you're not already a fan of the same genres—to appreciate his taste

and you've also learned to love the way he lights up as you describe what the music sounds like to him, the way he slips in a word here and there when you come up short and it always just fits

it's kind of like his love language

you've got some of these songs on the playlist too

you see him get a little stiff when a song comes on that he doesn't know, and so you watch all the minute expressions in his face as it plays, wondering anxiously if he likes it or not

you know he does when he replays it

he'll tap out the rhythm on your ankle like he's picking apart every detail of the song piece by piece, placing them layer over layer in his mind until it becomes whole and he turns to tell you he really likes it

while he usually likes to keep his ears open for anything in the city while he's out and about, he'll pop in an earbud and start your playlist and think about you

now, if only you'd add a recording of you singing to yourself every morning, it'd be complete. that's gotta be his favorite

taglists: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[mothmancutie]

You strut into the little local cafe a little after noon, the bell above the door ringing cheerfully, alarming the few customers and the man at the register to your presence. His head snaps up, that familiar glint in his green eyes meeting yours. Julias. Really, you couldn't not praise him these days, with the amount of caffeine he was willing to help you pump into your system less than an hour after the cafe opened. ‘You're worrying too much.’ He would shake his head, watching you practically finish the coffee in one sip. But this time, you weren't here to complain about the house repairs, nor the rude residents. With quick, calculated steps, you approach the counter, leaning against it with a false mask of casualty, quietly watching as he makes your order by memory.

“I was thinking you wouldn't come today. Thought that lil ol’ me scared the pretty thing away.” he comments with a shrug of his shoulders, his eyes busy with the ceramic mug as he pours in the hot liquid. You watch with amusement, a small, amused huff making its way out of your mouth, followed by a few tsks.

“Like I'd just disappear on you.” He placed your finished order on the counter, wiping his hands at the small towel thrown over his shoulder. Not waiting for a reply, you continued. “When do you end your shift?” You question, taking a sip out of your coffee, letting out a small, consent humm at the taste. He always knew how to get it just right. He gives a short, thoughtful look, moving his attention to restocking the to go paper cups.

“Around 4. Why?”

“Great, you’re coming with me.” He gives a slight look over his shoulder, shooting you a questioning glance.

“Is this your way of asking me out on a date?”

“You’ll see. Just meet me by the old church at 5.” With a small huff of amusement, the man just shrugs his shoulders.

“As you wish.” Satisfied with your answer, you put a few dollar bills on the counter, almost forgetting your coffee in a rush of excitement. You finally step back outside, the humid air of the little town doing little to ruin your mood, even if it feels like an exercise just to breathe properly. People shoot you side glances as you walk past, probably still bitter about you moving in.

Sure, you understood, they were probably just bitter that a stranger moved into the house of someone they knew, but they didn't need to look at you like you were the devil himself. Julias was probably the first one to actually greet you properly, instead of just glaring at you. Honestly sometimes you wondered whether he was just being nice out of pity, after all no one really hid how they simply didn't want you here. But honestly, you really wanted to give him the benefit of doubt. After all, he doesn't seem like the type of person to lead people on, not to mention he didn't really hesitate at your invitation. Would he if he knew you wanted to go explore the woods? Maybe… But safer together than alone, no? And with that, you took off home a little faster, already making a mental to-do list of stuff to pack for both of you.

The worn down church creaks ominously, as if it were to fall apart any second now, the cool air biting into your bare hands as you looked around for the 100th time, trying to spot that golden retriever of a man. Did he forget? You hoped not. Just when you wanted to check the clock on your phone, you see him running across the small stone bridge going over the small river separating the church from the rest of the town, his hand waving enthusiastically in the air. You wave back, giving him a minute to catch his breath when he finally stops in front of you.

“Was starting to think you forgot.” You comment, drawing a small, breathless chuckle from his lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, beautiful.” He straightens up, looking around. “So…What are we doing here exactly? Didn’t take you for the type to hook up with people at abandoned places.” You can’t help rolling your eyes, giving his shoulder a smack.

“Very funny. Now cmon!” You turn, already moving on the dirt trail by the time he collects himself, forcing him into a faster pace to catch up.

“You seriously wanna go to the forest? Bad idea…” He mumbles when he finally gets next to you as you pass the first few trees, the greenery thickening around the two of you. He looks a bit nervous, eyes drifting from one tree to another as you go further. “What do you need from here anyway?” He questions, giving you a questioning side glance. You just shrug, kicking away a rock from the path as you walk.

“Just curious.” He gives a small hum, not really believing you. Must think you're a bit weird, not like he wouldn't think the same if you swore something was watching you from the same forest. And with that, you pushed on, looking around with hints of curiosity as the trees just kept getting thicker and thicker, not letting as much sunlight through the leaves, but the bits it did let through were beautiful, the setting sun casting a golden glow on the ground. Julias follows behind, giving a comment or cracking a joke here or there.

“You know, we should LEAF this place.” He said at one point, giving a small, awkward chuckle once he realized that the pun did little to deter you from going forward. “You know, me and my siblings used to go here all the time.” He said pretty much out of nowhere, his voice taking on a sincere tone.

“Your siblings?” You question, looking over your shoulder at him. He still looked nervous to say the least, his pupils a bit too dilated to look natural.

“Yeah,” he continued, “we were a bunch of rowdy kids. Still are.” Finally, after a couple of minutes of quiet walking, the mood now way warmer, the two of you stop at a split walkway, both directions looking way too dark to venture now that the sun has set.

“We should probably go back.” You finally agree, a little disappointed from the lack of answers, but also feeling closer to Julias than before. Speaking of… “Julias?” You call out, not even fully turning back before something tackles you to the ground. Your back hits the forest floor, hands and legs immediately punching and kicking at the large animal, voice crying out for the other person that went there with you. No. You can't die. But your pleas aren't met with words, just low, sad whines from the creature above you, it's large paws wrapping around your body to keep your arms pinned to your body, it's hold firm, yet not bruising. You finally look up, being met with a pair of green eyes, the pupils dilated so far the green was barely visible. The big, wolf like creature was standing on it's hind legs, hunched over your much smaller figure with its ears pinned back. The adrenaline finally died down allowing you to connect the dots.

Oh.

The nervousness, the eyes, the way the creature looked at you. It finally clicked together. “Julias?” You question, eyes searching his before he leans down, answering your question with an affectionate lick to your neck, causing you to shiver slightly. You could hardly believe it. This had to be a dream, right? A twisted fantasy of your mind that played on your secret love for the nonhuman. But no, it was real. And even through the days you poured into fantasizing about a moment like this, you didn't say any of the multiple cheesy confessions you have thought of over the years. Instead, you gently reached out, his hands letting yours go now that you weren't fighting like a mouse in a cat's grip, and gently touched his snout, watching as he nuzzled into it, an apologetic look in his eyes as you watched him with fascination, your other hand gently digging into his fur.

“You're beautiful.” Was all you could whisper, more to yourself than to him, accepting the following wave of affectionate licks and whines with enthusiasm. 

The series masterlist

[svtgg]

Edyth started their LIVE: Cooking Live!

pairing: edyth x jeonghan, mentions of other members & carats

dont wanna cry era

genre: humor, slice of life

wc: 800ish, short and sweet!

“Hi, everyone!”  Edyth waved at the camera, eagerly waiting for people to enter the live. She glanced over at her own phone screen, looking through some of the comments.

“Where is your headband from? Oh! My headband is actually a gift! Yun got it for me on Christmas.”

She answered a few more questions before clapping her hands, signifying the beginning of the actual liveshow.

“Good morning, everyone! Or, I guess it could be night where you are… anyways! It’s morning here and since I mentioned being recently into cooking, I was thinking I could do a little bit of a cooking vlive with you guys!”

The obvious excitement in her voice was enjoyable to watch and many carats expressed liking the idea of the stream.

“Since it is morning, I plan on making pancakes from scratch. None of the members are awake yet, so hopefully I’ll be done by the time they wake up!”

Edyth took her time reading through a recipe that she had found online, showing the ingredients to the viewers as she went. Soon enough, she had put all of her dry ingredients in one bowl and her wet ingredients in another. She planned using a hand mixer in order to get the batter done quicker. She plugged it in and placed it in the bowl.

“Why am I kind of nervous to do this?” Edyth asked carats. She chuckled nervously, then taking a deep breath, she finally turned it on. The batter immediately flies everywhere and Edyth lets out a scream before shutting the mixer off again. She’s frozen, with her mouth open and wide eyes flickering from the comments that are flying past her screen, the mixer still in her hand, now dripping with unmixed batter, and the batter now sticking to the counters and even the wall. 

“What happened?” 

Edyth whips her head at a person off screen like a deer caught in the headlights. Despite his raspy morning voice, carats are able to tell that it’s Jeonghan that has walked in on Edyth’s mess..

She pouts and puts down the bowl and mixer, “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.” She is just now remembering how much of a light sleeper Jeonghan is and how she should have done this on the other floor where she wouldn’t have woken any of the light sleepers.

Jeonghan carefully steps over some batter that has splattered onto the kitchen floor. He shakes his head at Edyth, “How could I have not woken up when you're ruining our kitchen.” He chuckles when Edyths frown deepens, “I’m just kidding, I’ve been awake for a while but got worried when I heard you scream. I just wanted to make sure that nothing happened. Are you making breakfast?”

“Yea. Say hello to carats!”

Jeonghan waves at the phone. “Why don’t you clean the mess you’ve made and I’ll finish mixing this for you.”

The two get to work, Edyth whips down the counters and the floor while Jeonghan finishes mixing the batter, without getting it everywhere. They tear open a bag of chocolate chips. Edyth giggles as she adds them to the batter, trying her best to keep them away from Jeonghan, who was not so sneakily eating them. Soon enough, they’re taking turns pouring the batter onto a pan and flipping them.

It isn’t much later that they’ve moved to the living room, sitting cross legged in front of their table and with plated pancakes waiting to be eaten.

“Okay!” Edyth claps in excitement, “You take the first bite.”

Jeonghan laughs at her bubbliness. He’s still chuckling when he brings a fork up to his mouth and takes the first bite. He suddenly quiets down and his facial expression stills before seemingly recovering.

“What was that?” Edyth asks.

“What was what?”

Edyth points a finger at him, “I saw your face change! Do they suck?”

“No, no.” Jeonghan denies, his hands waving in front of him. “Sure, they’re not the best, but they’re….” He trails off, not being able to come up with an adjective to positively describe the food without lying. Edyth hits Jeonghan on the arm and they laugh.

“You eat it,” Jeonghan says.

Edyth reaches for her utensils and cuts herself a piece, shooting Jeonghan a dirty look, “I bet it’s good, you’re just messing with me.” 

Jeonghan laughs when she finally puts the first bite in her mouth. She chews slowly, as if trying to make up her mind on what to think of their creation. “It’s good?” Jeonghan teases.

The two of them decide to scrap the pancakes all together and instead of trying to make themselves breakfast, they chat with carats as they sip on their coffees. Soon enough, members start to wake up, each of them being offered a bite from their failed pancakes, and each of them spitting it out. Jeonghan and Edyth can only giggle as they watch their members suffer the same way they did.

As the stream comes to an end, Edyth thanks Jeonghan for making their morning fun and carats for sharing their morning with them. The two of them share a knowing look when Dk is the last member to enter the kitchen and is intrigued by the pancakes sitting on the counter.

[ivoryghostyy]

「 image isn't mine. sourced from pinterest. 」

「 this was supposed to be a re-vamp of "love bite" but, well, i guess i got a bit too carried away. this one's pretty long, so have fun! 」

「 tw: possessive behaviour, swearing, non-consensual biting, mentions of blood, mentions/implications of violence — read with caution. 」

"don't touch that!"

crash!

"oops. :("

"oops? that's all you have to say- don't give me that look."

":("

"fuck you."

"ohhh, i like the sound of that-"

you groan in frustration, rubbing your throbbing temple. pieces of a broken flower pot lie carelessly on the tiled floor—a flower pot that was meant to house your newly grown Daffodils if someone could keep his hands to himself.

he frowns at your distress, snaking an arm over your shoulders to pull you in. his free hand rests snugly on the small of your back. right where it belongs.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart. i'll get you a new one, okay?"

you shake your head, making your way through the array of potted plants within your shop. once your hand grasps the familiar wooden handle of your broom, you reply.

"no. it's alright. i can just order another one; it wasn't that expensive, anyway."

he hums, looking through his phone. at this point, you know he hadn't listened to a single word you said. he's been your closest friend for years. by now, he's probably-

"i got you a new set. they'll arrive in a few days. is that alright, honey?"

-already ordered another one. actually, he ordered more. you don't even need that many pots right now! you can feel another headache settling in.

"okay, whatever. what are you doing here, anyway?"

you sweep up the sad pieces of the flower pot, sending your Daffodils an apologetic look. 'i'm so sorry, my babies. i'll get you a new home soon, i promise.'

he watches the exchange, eyes squinting. you're no stranger to the look. you've seen it more times than you could count on two hands.

or, well, you assume that was the case. you're not really counting-

while you're cleaning his mess, the man in question leans idly on the counter.

'how strange,' he muses. he's seen the way you coddled your.. shrubs. for the last time, they're not shrubs!

maybe you were unknowingly born with the ability to talk to plants? or you simply have some form of connection with your babies, as you liked to call them.

or perhaps you've simply lost your mind ages ago, so you've convinced yourself that the shrubs- they aren't shrubs!!

-sorry, the not-shrubs could communicate.

wait, did you talk in his head?

you ignore his sudden confusion, opting to mourn over the loss of a perfectly good pot. fly high. you will be missed. after dumping the broken pot, you turn back to the insufferable man.

"you didn't really answer my question."

"what? am i not allowed to visit my favorite florist?"

"mind you, i am the only florist you know. besides, you're too busy to pay any unnecessary visits."

he laughs, muscles flexing as he pushes off the counter.

"alright, you got me. so you remember when i told you that i've found her?."

her? oh! he means his, uh, what did he call it? ah, right. his destined pair. pfft, that sounds cheesy as hell. why can't he be normal and say he fell in love?

"yeah? are you going to man up and tell her? you've been dancing around it for years; you haven't even introduced me yet!"

with a snort, he crosses his arms.

"well, sorry. i don't really find the need to introduce you."

eh? you take personal offense to that!

with a dramatic gasp, you clench the fabric of your top, right where your heart is.

"i've been your best friend for this long, dealing with your stupid ass for years, but you won't tell me who the love of your life is? i see how it is."

he smiles, "i.. don't think we'll still be friends after i tell you.."

what?

"don't tell me, is it my sworn enemy!? i can't believe you would settle for that-"

he denies it immediately, face scrunching in disgust.

"absolutely not. i would sooner choose to marry a horse."

you crack up at that, clutching your stomach as you laugh.

his eyes soften with a small grin. sometimes, he wonders what he'd done to deserve you.

you, with eyes that light up every time you see him. with that smile stretching your lips into a carefree curve; delighted and so full of life. you fill his heart with an immeasurable amount of love. if only you know what you do to him.

everything about you is so perfect. you're mesmerizing. you're his everything.

but he's not the only one.

just thinking of all the eyes who've dared to look at you..

his smile falls.

if only he could gauge their eyes out; or better yet, he could keep you all to himself. he'd mark you as his own, give you everything you could ever want or need. it isn't hard for him to do as he pleased.

but at what cost? you wouldn't be happy. you would hate him. but worst of all, he would hurt you.

and he couldn't hurt you. never.

and yet, as he watched a customer—another man—flirt with you, he couldn't help but rethink his choices. would it be better for him to take you, after all?

his eyes darken.

you're stuck.

after you had closed the shop, you were forced down.

he held your trembling wrists, firmly pressing them against the counter. 'his hands are cold,' you noted, breath hitching as he stared you down.

"look, i know i said 'fuck you' earlier, but i didn't mean for you to actually do so-"

"shut up."

you did.

he was mad, you could tell. frustrated, even.

why? did you do something wrong? were you being too mean earlier? did he find the secret stash of snacks you've been hiding from him-

you squeak when he hauls you up by the waist, fully lying you against the wide counter instead of the previous awkward position.

"w-wait, seriously, we can talk about this-"

you're cut off when he grips your chin, roughly forcing your eyes to meet his own.

"you know i don't like it when you avoid my eyes."

he's only an inch away from your face; his stare holds an intense wave of emotions. they swirl within his eyes, almost unreadable to you—but one stands out.

you lean your forehead against his, facing him head on. you don't avoid his eyes. you're not scared of looking directly at him, even in this situation. that might be another one of the reasons why he's fallen so hard.

"why're you hurting?"

his eyes crinkle as he grins. such a sweet human. no matter the circumstance, you never lose your heart. do you not find him threatening? he stares at the guilty little twinkle in your eyes. how can one be so cute.

you're not making this any easier for him, are you? he can barely control himself as is.

your eyes catch a glint, honing onto his sharp fangs.

what-

"ah, the cat's out of the bag."

his voice sends shivers down your spine, and unconsciously, you move back.

he doesn't allow it, however, as he guides you closer. his fingers draw up your leg, leaving a trail of heat despite the contrasting temperature of his hand.

he stops at your thigh, pulling it up to his hip.

he's so fucking close.

"i can feel you shaking, sweetheart. are you scared?"

you shake your head, but he's already caught the traces of fear that linger on your features.

"lying is a sin, love. weren't you the one who taught me that?"

the next moment is a blur.

he leans down, fangs poking the skin of your neck. dread settles into the pit of your stomach. the fear comes after; and then the panic sets in.

but it's already too late.

you whimper, biting your lip to distract you from the pure, unadulterated pain. your trembling hands find their way to the back of his shirt, tightly clutching the fabric.

you don't even realize that you're crying until he rubs your cheek, and you feel the tears sliding against your skin.

his fangs sink deeper, and the agonizing pain melts away, replaced with a growing heat in your abdomen. you stifle a moan, the metallic taste of your blood lingering on your bitten lip.

he keeps you against the counter, a hand tracing circles on your waist. suddenly, you're not scared anymore. your heart beats erratically, but you find nothing out of place. in fact, everything feels right.

a headache surfaces, and you groan into his shoulder as he pulls away. a drop of blood trails down your neck, but he licks it off. you shiver, feeling hyperaware of every movement.

he smiles at your dazed state. he rubs your head, pulling you closer when you bury yourself in his chest, nuzzling into his embrace.

his eyes trail down to the mark on your neck, and he grins with pride; kissing your temple.

you'll probably be mad when you're not dazed anymore..

no matter, he'll make it up to you later. right now, he can't wait to take you home.

[moriartyluver]

ARE YOU MINE CHAPTER III

"FIFTY QUID FOR A CUP OF COFFEE?!”

"Keep your fucking voice down, Sherly!" (Name) whisper-yelled at the noirette "We didn't come here to drink the stupid overpriced coffee anyways." 

It was a Monday afternoon, about 4 ish now, and (Name), as well as her fellow band mates, had the bright idea to go to an expensive coffee shop in central London. 

So here they were, in an exclusive coffee shop full of white men in suits or stressed out secretaries, and the occasional rich women hanging out. 

"Kopi Luwak.." James muttered "What even is that..? It's so damn expensive..."

"Bet you could still afford it with those sugar daddies of yours," Sherlock remarked before (Name) kicked his leg under the table to shut him up 

Obviously they weren't here without reason. (Namen had seen a TikTok talking about all the places to find a rich boyfriend, which she wasn't really interested in, but she decided that because coffee shops usually were full of businessmen around this time of day, it would be a perfect place to find themselves a rich manager. 

John took out his phone, Googling the expensive coffee, before showing James and Sherlock who sat opposite in the little booth with wide eyes. 

"It's made of what?!" James exclaimed 

"You guys didn't know that?" (Name) raised an eyebrow 

"What and you did?" Sherlock mimicked "No wonder..you're always picking up random facts." 

"Why would they drink that crap in the first place anyways?" James asked, looking through the Wikipedia article on John's phone. "Like why do they need a weird cat raccoon thing to eat the coffee cherries and then take their poop for the coffee..?"

"It more because of processing rather than the actual crap that comes out." (Name) said "Hey what if I order a large cup of plain coffee and then get some extra cups for free so we don't look stupid while also not spending a shit ton on coffee either?" 

"Good idea, I'm not paying." Sherlock said bluntly 

"Fucking cheapskate." (Name) rolled her eyes "I have enough to buy a cup but it's like twenty quid for a large cup...I'll make sure to get as many sugar packets as possible, okay?" She said, standing up to go order at the counter. Everyone nodded, prompting (name) to leave. 

As she waited in the queue, a man carrying three cups on coffee as well as a few biscuits and cakes in little boxes. His arms were full and he was clearly struggling to keep everything together, not to mention, he looked exhausted! 

With the current rush in the coffee shop, it wasn't really that surprising, but based on the man's appearance, he did seem to be quite the wealthy businessman. She could see the little Cartier watch on his wrist and his suit was clearly expensive. 

Another, likely wealthy, businessman and walked right by him, ruining the balance of items and causing the brown haired gentleman to drop his coffee cups. (Name), who's attention was turned away for a moment as she moved along in the queue, turned around as if she had spidey sense or something. 

Before they could hit the ground though, (name), who was stood fairly close, managed to catch it all in time, almost comically. 

'How the fuck did I manage that..?'

'How on earth did she manage that..?'

"Yikes .." (Name) chuckled awkwardly, "that was a close one" she said, handing the items to him with a small smile. She looked up and met eyes with the stranger, her mind racing back to the other day. 

"You're.." The green eyed man muttered to himself, recognising her as the girl Herder knew of as (Name) 

"I see my reputation really does precede me.." She hummed "The world really is small, huh?" 

"it is indeed," Albert smiled "I've heard..great..things about you and your band." 

(name) blinked in surprise "Really? because I'd expect that Mr Von Herder would paint me out as some sort of war criminal..hah.." her eyes drifted back to the rest of the band in their little booth "I'm assuming he told you about my little musical ambitions.." she said as Sherlock mouthed a 'the fuck are you doing?' to her  

"He did," Albert confirmed with a nod, then looked to his watch on his wrist, cursing under his breath "Deepest apologies, but I must be going..my brothers are waiting for me." He said, somehow retrieve it a business card from his pocket and handing it to a dumbfounded (Name) before taking off. 

Her eyes scanned the card. 

Albert J. Moriarty 

'What a fancy name..' 

(Name) eventually came back as planned, the business card in the pocket of her jacket, and a large cup of black coffee, a few empty cups and a lot of sugar packets. 

"So, were you just eyefucking that rich guy or am I high?" Sherlock asked, right before (name) kicked him in the shin. "Ow!" 

"I wasn't.." she raised her eyebrows, moving her eyes around in a strange manner, conscious of  the members of polite society around them "you know..you lot couldn't hear me, but rich guy was at Herder's the other day, and I just happened to remember him while he was about to drop all his stuff and have a big dramatic disaster." She said, sitting down beside Sherlock, opposite James, who looked anxious to say something. 

"Anyways," (Name) continued with a grin. "He gave me this." She slid the business card onto the middle of the table, recreating that one scene from 'American Psycho' "mission: find potential manager is a success!"  

John picked it up, inspecting it closely, then put it back on the fancy table "this is legit! The card and the font and everything, it looks like a real rich guy business card." 

"I don't think I've ever heard you say legit before." Sherlock said "also how do you know so much about business cards?" 

"A lot of old guys think I'm gay." 

"Moving on," James said, giving John a little side eye before allowing a wide smile to creep up onto his already cheerful face "I have some news~" 

"You're starting an onlyfans?" (Name) asked 

"No-" James scrunched up his nose, looking offended "I, your extraordinary bassist, got us a gig." 

"You did?!" (Name) exclaimed "Are you for real?!" 

"I did indeed," he said smugly, leaning back in the plush seat  "It's a birthday party-" 

"I knew there was gonna be a catch," (Name) sighed, resting her forehead against the table as Sherlock gave her a sympathetic pat on the back. 

James shook his head "it's not a kid's party, don't worry. The birthday girl's turning 18 and she wanted the party to be like a concert I guess, so she wants us to do a hunch of Arctic monkeys covers instead of the usual stuff," he explained 

"If she wanted a concert, then why doesn't she just go to one?" Sherlock groaned 

(Name) lifted her head up "in what universe would the Arctic monkeys play at a birthday party full of kids? Besides, they're not on tour in the uk anymore, so it's not like she could go to a concert for her birthday either." She said "I mean, it's fine as long as the songs she picks out are good...I don't wanna have to play any of the TikTok famous ones anymore." 

"She seems like the type to like every song, but the list I've got is a bit of a mix," James said, pulling out his phone, reading off his notes app "Teddy picker, Bet you look good on the dance floor, cigarette smoke..stuff like that." 

"Well that's bearable then," (name) nodded "When's the party?" 

"Uhhh.." James trailed off nervously "Friday.." 

"Oh, next Fridays alright, a bit soon, but we can manage," she said, brushing away her hair from her face 

"I mean, this Friday..like in four days.." The blond sank into his chair, bracing himself for (Name)'s reaction. 

"What?" She blinked "Are you fucking shitting me?" 

"It'll be fine, (name)," Sherlock reassured, dragging his words  "you always work best under pressure anyways." 

"Yeah well you lot clearly fucking don't." (Name) glared at her friend beside her, then sighed deeply "Okay, this is fine. We'll have to start practicing all the songs immediately, it should be fine considering we've done most of them already," she muttered to herself "The band t-shirts I ordered should be here by Wednesday..we'll be fine..we'll be fine." 

The noirette groaned "see, you're freaking out over nothing."

"As usual." James added. 

(Name) rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee. "As the band leader, I'm the one who needs to be in charge of things until we get a manager, that means I have the right to freak out over this shit." 

"Who made you band leader?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. 

(Name) scoffed "you think you would do any better? I literally just got us a potential rich manager just by being pretty and memorable. Besides, I'm the leader singer  and guitarist, and the only girl and we all know girls are much more mature than you xy chromosome havers." she said, putting a hand to her chest. 

"She has a point." John agreed 

"Shut up, John." Sherlock kicked him beneath the table. He turned to (name) "So are we gonna start practicing today or..?" 

"I don't know, do you want to sound like shit or..?" (Name) mimicked. "Of course we'll practice today, we don't have that much time, stupid." she said, standing up "We need to make use of the next 100 or so hours we have left." 

"You calculated it?" James asked

She rolled her eyes again "Obviously." 

"I literally have nothing to wear, James, I'm freaking the fuck out," (Name) spoke to her phone, propped up on her desk as she walked around the room "I mean I'm not much of a party goer, so obviously I'm not gonna have party clothes, but I thought, maybe I'd have something!" 

James sighed, his face filling the screen on (name)'s phone as they FaceTimed. "Just put on one of those shirts and a pair of bootcut jeans and you're done." He suggested as she dug through her wardrobe. 

"No, I need something wow, you know. Something that'll make an impression." She said, pulling something out from the hangers. A cheetah print coat. "Perfect." 

"What is it?" James called out to her 

"I just so happened to find this old thing," she said, going back to her phone and showing him the jacket "If anything I own screams arctic monkeys, this definitely does." 

"Ohh..that is clever. You put on some red lipstick and a pair of boots and you're done, might as well change your name to arabella." James smiled before returning to his mirror to apply some eyeliner. "Do you think sherly and John would be ready by now?" 

(Name) rolled her eyes as she's looked for a pair of jeans/black skirt to wear with band t shirt she had got and a pair of black boots, putting her phone down so James could only see her cieling while she changed. "Knowing sherly, he's probably asleep or something. I swear if he didn't wear that outfit I planned for him, I'll beat his ass." 

"Yeah, he really suits that whole emo boy look, I think it's the hair." James agreed as (name) propped her phone back up once she was done. "I'd bring some eyeliner and eyeshadow just in case be does use the cheap stuff you lent him." 

"I'd be surprised if he even managed to open the makeup at all by himself, he's so incompetent." She sat down, quickly putting on her makeup, messing it up on purpose

James laughed "Well at least he can play guitar, half decently." He said "Hey you think I should look through my 2020 alt stuff, see what I can salvage?" 

"God no." (Name) advised. "Unless you plan on getting tomato's thrown at you the entire gig." 

"Yeah you're right," the blond admitted "those boots have outgrown me anyways since I started taking hormones." He said, putting down his eyeliner. "You done yet?" 

"Mhm." 

"Gimme a spin, we need to mutually agree on your cuntiness." James said, his voice going up a couple octaves. 

(Name) snorted in amusement, backing away once she'd finished so he could see her full frame, twirling around, kicking her leg up to the back of her knee as she posed, eliciting a few cheers and 'yas queen slay!'s  (Obviously not in a serious sense) from James. He even took a few screen shots so he could post them on his Instagram story after the 'concert'. 

"Alright. I'm gonna hang up now,so I can get going." She said eventually, thumb hovering over the 'end call' button. "Call sherly and tell him to be at john's in like Ten minutes ish. He's driving us, Yknow." 

"Yeah cool." James said, fixing up his smudged eyeliner, emphasising those bright blue eyes of his. "I'll remind him of your little murder threats, too if you want." 

"Alright, see you later." (Name) chuckled hanging up. 

"Look who's not an hour late," (name) called out her friend as she saw him approaching johns house just as she was about to knock on the door. 

"Look who isn't an hour early," Sherlock retorted. His deep blue eyes landed on a little waggon beside her feet. "Is that..?" 

"My guitar and amp? Yeah, it is." She looked at sherlocks own equipment on his old skateboard "I'm assuming we had a similar idea, just different executions. Just goes to show why I'm smarter than you." 

"Tell that to your exam results." He spat 

(Name) scoffed "as if yours are any better." 

"Bitch." 

"Druggie." 

"Punk." 

"Emo." 

Sherlock gasped dramatically "I am not an emo!" 

"Well either that or your zesty," (name) smirked "I mean, with that hair, you definitely have tried a little more than most." 

"I'll have you know I've only ever been attracted to p-" Sherlock was cut off by the door opening, revealing John and James at the door. 

"There you two are!" John beamed. He looked his usual self, but instead of his usual dull jumper, he wore a black t shirt with the words 'Baker Street boys' in a thick white font, just like the other members, except Sherlock was wearing a pair of baggy dark jeans with an embroidered skull to match his skull ring, (name) was..slaying, to put it simply and James was wearing a pair of pair of straight legged jeans, covered in rhinstones to match the glitter on his eyes. 

"Alright, we all ready? We need to hurry if we wanna get there on time." James said, exiting the door to walk towards johns old car. "Put your stuff in the back and we'll get going." 

"Didnt you say we'd be going to one of those rich neighbourhoods?" (Name) asked, putting her guitar in the boot of the car carefully. 

"Yeah," James nodded, opening the door to the passenger seat "The kids turning 18, so her parents let her do whatever the fuck she wanted. One of those new money types, you know." 

"That explains the money we're getting then." Sherlock said, shutting the door to the boot "If we can get more of their little rich friends to hire us for a parties or something, we'll be rich in no time." 

"Which will only happen if we don't play like shit." (Name) said harshly as she put on her seatbelt "You guys remember the song list?" 

"Considering we've been playing it non stop since Monday, yes, yes we do." James peaked behind his seat to look at her. He looked at Sherlock sat beside her. "You need to get your make up done before we start playing." 

"It's not my fault that shits so difficult." Sherlock groaned, folding his pale arms over his chest "Cant we just do it before we start playing?" 

(Name) sighed "you really are incompetent, arent you?" 

"At least my parents love me." 

"Are you the band?" A girl, about 19 or 20, asked the four at the door. 

(Name) held up her red guitar "obviously." She said "Where should we set up?" 

"Follow me," the girl said, guiding them through the large house to a big hall "There's only a few people here, you're lucky you arrived early." She explained while the band dragged their equipment in there. "You can set up in here, get the band stuff out that car, and you can start playing when there's like more people or whatever. The birthday girl's with her friends right now, but she'll come in here soon." 

"Alright, thanks." James murmured as she walked away "god this place is fucking huge." He said, turning to (Name) who was busy plugging her amp in

"I hate rich people." She whispered to him "Bet they have a pool or like a cinema room or some shit...Wonder how they could afford all this." She turned to Sherlock who had a blank expression "go help John get his drums in, dude." Sherlock rolled his eyes, walking out and dumping his guitar on the floor. 

"Her dad's an mp and her mums like a model, vogue and everything," James said, setting up his bass guitar 

(Name) narrowed her eyes at him as she put the mic down "how do you know that?" 

James chuckled nervously "err..google?" 

"Whatever." She said, turning her attention to Sherlock and John who were bringing in the drums. "Hurry up, I heard some cars pulling up out there. We still have a couple of things to do." 

"Actually we're pretty much done after we put these instruments in place," John said matter of factly then paused "oh wait, Sherlock needs to do his Makeup." 

"You're making me sound like a girl." Sherlock glared "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. (Name), can't you help me out?” He begged with a whiney voice. 

“Sit down.” She said, pointing to the drummers stool before pulling out her makeup bag, kneeling before him. “Close your eyes.” She said, applying dark blue eyeshadow on the centre of sherlocks eyelids, surrounding it with glittery black eyeshadow on the edges. She took out an eyeliner pencil, asking Sherlock to open his eyes again and look up while she applied it to his waterline, smudging it slightly. 

“Done.” She held up her pocket mirror to his face. He took it, looking at his eyes slowly. “You look like Effy stonem if she was a guy.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sherlock said, shutting the motto and handing it back to (name) who was putting away her makeup. “Thanks.” He said reluctantly. 

“Don’t mention it.” (Name) stood up, checking the mic to make sure it was working correctly. 

John peaked outside the open entrance, looking down the hall to see a storm of teenagers, mostly 17 and 18. He turned to the band, sitting down by his drums “ready?” 

“Barely.” (Name) groaned, watching the crowd gradually form while someone switched off the lights. She could smell the faint stench of alcohol flood the air, along with the scent of body odour and..was that weed..? 

“PST,” someone hissed from the side of the makeshift stage. It was the girl from earlier, the birthday girl’s older sister. “Hurry up, these kids are waiting.” She whispered 

(Name) ran a hand through her (hair colour) hair, messing it up on purpose as she picked up her guitar, leaning forward to the mic in front of her. 

(Quick A/N: this is the first song btw, super good, please listen to it.) 

It made a loud noise before she spoke. “Um..we’re the Baker Street boys,” she said nervously “Happy birthday,” she shut her eyes trying to remember the name 

“Tabitha, happy birthday Tabitha.” She repeats. “My name’s (Name), f-from the Baker Street boys, here with Sherlock,” cue a few giggles at his name “James, and our drummer, John.” She hesitantly smiled. “And this is ‘I bet that you look good on the dance floor, by the Arctic Monkeys, which is funny because uh..we’re doing only arctic monkeys covers today, haha.” 

Crickets. 

“A-Anyways, make some noise, or whatever.” She muttered as she took a deep breath, strumming her guitar while John started drumming. “Stop making the eyes at me, and I’ll stop making the eyes at you.” Her voice had cracked mid line in a whine, but somehow she had pulled it off, sparking a few of the sweaty teenagers to start singing along, despite it not being a typical TikTok song. 

“What it is that surprises me is that I don’t really want you to,” she sang, gripping the mic with one song whilst the rest of the band played in the background. 

Surprisingly or not, (name) was stiff, lacking any stage presence she may have previously had while she attempted to sing and play at the same time. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but thank god Sherlock was there as the backup guitarist. 

“And your shoulders are frozen,” She continued, slowly getting more confident 

“Cold as the night!” 

At least the others managed to remember to do back up vocals. 

“Oh but you’re an explosion!” (Name) had slowly begun to realise the rawness in her voice actually made this particular cover sound fairly good, and with the encouragement of those around her, the confidence had started to settle in. 

“You’re dynamite!” 

“Your name isn’t Rio but I don’t care for sand and lighting the fuse might result in a bang b-b-bang-oh!” She sang, fingers pointed in a gun while the other strummed at the guitar strapped over her chest “I bet that you look good on the dance floor, I don’t know if you’re looking for romance or, I don’t know what you’re looking for! I said I bet that you look good on the dance floor, dancing to electro pop like a robot from 1984, well from 1984!”  

“I wish that you’d stop ignoring me because it’s sending me to despair. Without a sound, yeah you’re calling me, and I don’t think it’s very fair,” she raised her voice slightly as she tried to sing over the increasingly loud crowd before her, her body much less stiff than when she started. She continued with the chorus, earning a few cheers as the band played better with each passing second. 

“Well from 1984..!” She almost panted, losing breath as she strained her vocal chords “Oh, there ain't no love, no Montagues or Capulets, Just banging tunes and DJ sets and dirty dance floors and dreams of naughtiness” 

While she sang that particular line, a face popped into her head, or rather the face. What was the posh blond man doing in her thoughts while she was screaming her lungs out singing some indie rock song? 

“Well I bet that you look good on the dance floor! I don’t know if you’re looking for romance or what, I don’t know what you’re looking for!!” Frankly, she doubted she would ever see him again, as upsetting as that seemed. Not like she had much of a chance though. “I said, I bet that you look good on the dance floor,” it would be funny, a smart guy with a rockstar wannabe like her “d-dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984,” She did want to see him again though…but he was probably an apparition or something, that explained why he looked so angelic. No. She had to see him again some day.

“Said from 1984!”

A/N: I wonder what will happen next >:). I’m so sorry for those who are only reading for Liam, I promise he’s gonna make another appearances in like a couple of chapters. Also this arc is kinda inspired by the Pistols series so watch that because it’s so good. Off topic but I got a cat and he’s so cute but also looks like Alex turner it’s hilarious.

[did-i-mention-the-shirt]

Drabble | Teddy Lobo x Reader

Just a random thing me and @broccolithebunni had been talking about. Teddy's an idiot /pos.

TW: Food, mentions of choking, not being able to pair the proper wine with food, excessive use of the word 'fuck'

Being associated with the Lobo's was still something you were getting used to. Before, people would treat you like anyone else, not even turning their heads if you walked into a room. Now, it was pure association that seemed to have everyone desperate to never anger you. And that was when you were on your own. And it was nothing compared to how they treated you with him.

Tonight he insisted on treating you for dinner, telling you to pick any restaurant. You should know by now that nothing can be lowkey with Teddy, but part of you hoped the two of you would just sit down and enjoy dinner.

That dream was of course crushed the moment you approached your favorite cajun place. Teddy always made comments about owning the town, and you knew he was talking about fear, but part of you was beginning to believe maybe he legitimately owns New Orleans, because as soon as you walked in, everyone sat up straight. A waiter took your orders and gave them to you as soon as humanly possible. With the take out (that you're not even sure they normally have), you both headed to your place.

Now, about twenty minutes later, you were watching with disgust as Teddy attempts to crack a crawfish with his teeth, like a dog on a chew toy. The occasional, "Fuck," is heard before he checks if his tooth is still in his mouth. You wait until he gives up before sliding over a plate of peeled crawfish, waiting to walk him through how to eat it. "You done?" You ask, smiling at him.

He looks over at you with his signature wide-eyes before slowly putting the mangled crawfish down, blushing as he tried to stammer out an excuse.

"How'd you fucking do all that?" He points to the plate between the two of you.

"Twist the head and separate it-" "Nope, no, ew. Okay, how do you eat it?" He picks one up, inspecting it suspiciously.

"Squeeze the tail right here," You demonstrate by holding one up and pitching the fan-shaped part of the tail, sucking the meat out of the body. He stares at you, raising his eyebrows.

"That's so fucking gross," He laughs.

You roll your eyes at his hypocrisy, "Just eat." He nods, looking down at the crustation in hand before copying what you did. You smile, proud that he could finally do something on his own. Then he begins violently coughing, and your smile drops.

"Teddy, are you okay?" You ask, looking for any signs of choking. He seemed fine, just really red in the face.

"You didn't say it was spicy!" He gags, chugging the red wine he's been drinking. You leaned back, lowering your brows in confusion.

"It's not spicy at all. It's, like, the opposite of that, actually."

"Mhm, sure," He finishes his wine, waiting a moment to see if the burning in his mouth dissipated at all, "Fuck, man."

"Come here, let's get you some water," You offer a pitiful smile, standing up with him and walking into the kitchen, holding his hand like a hurt child.

As soon as he got the water, he chugged it as fast as he could. You watched his Adam's Apple bob, wrinkling your eyebrows. How has he even lived this long?

In one swift movement, he slammed the glass down on the counter, "Fuckkkk me…"

He panted, staring at the floor. You just nodded your head, genuinely concerned for him.

"Do you want to get something else to eat?" You tilted your head until he met your eyes. "Yeah," He responded, flustered and embarrassed, "Sorry I ruined dinner, but next time, I'm choosing," He placed a kiss on your lips, an apology for the whole night, before shoving you away.

"What?!"

"I forgot you just fucking ate!" He cried, refilling his glass. Done lol

[rotworld]

Sheep's Clothing

you live and work in eastridge. the mountains are close enough to see but not so close that you worry much about those werewolf rumors. tonight, though? you're worried.

->contains workplace harassment, feral behavior, a few mentions of vomit and vaguely sinister behavior.

.

.

.

You deserve hazard pay for the things you see and unwillingly experience during weekend shifts at Club Mountainview. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of insufferable behavior from shitfaced and entitled patrons, and a lot of vomit. Whoever decided that Eastridge’s most popular nightlife attraction needed a restaurant is a genius and a misanthrope. The food is overpriced but nobody cares after a few shots and some uncoordinated flailing on the dancefloor. Taking orders has made you an expert at lipreading and interpreting inebriated miming, a necessity to understand anything over nonstop synth melodies and pounding bass. You smile through a lot of bullshit because the people who don’t forget to tip entirely make the whole night worthwhile.

For some reason, tonight is extra bad. The girls at table four manage to spill not one, not two, but all five of their drinks, leaving ice, broken glass and a sticky, sugary alcohol mess all over the booth seats and floor. You have to call in one of the bouncers when a drunken brawl breaks out in the party room over mozzarella sticks and a chair is lobbed at your head. A guy argues with you about his mini tacos never arriving despite your insistence that he ate them ten minutes ago, and then he pukes on your shoes.

“It’s the full moon,” Donna grumbles. She was already at the bar when you got there, head resting against her hand and eyes bloodshot. A few long, blonde strands of hair escape from her ponytail and she’s forever pushing them behind her ear before they fall loose again. “Makes people act weird. All our worst shifts are during full moons.” 

“Full moon, huh?” you mutter, rubbing your temples to soothe an oncoming headache. The bar’s design straddles a cave and cabin concept, the back wall textured like stone and the counter a natural-edged slab of wood with a glassy finish. It’s the only place where your eyes and ears can rest, far enough from the dancefloor that the noise is tolerable and the lights soft and steady, firelight orange instead of flashing neon. 

“Rough one tonight, huh?” you hear. A glass of water slides across the bar and you find Irving’s sauntered over to chat while he works. He moves like a well-oiled machine, hands quick and graceful as he juggles empty glasses, mixes drinks and pours ice. “I hear there was a bit of a scuffle in the party room earlier. Glad you two got out unscathed,” he says conversationally, wearing his perpetual charismatic, glad-to-be-here smile. You have no idea how he maintains it this late into his shift.

“You’re so fucking lucky to be on that side of the bar,” Donna grumbles. 

“It’s not exactly a walk in the park back here either. I’m not sure I’ll have a barback for much longer, Tim looks about ready to quit. Someone threw a drink at him earlier.” Tim, the new hire sheepishly collecting empty glasses at the other end of the bar, is staring forlornly at Irving like a castaway watching a ship leave him behind. 

Donna insists, “Full moon.”

“That sounds more like a werewolf thing,” you say.

Irving shakes his head. “That’s a myth, actually. Moon phases don’t do anything to them. You know what, though, this is their hunting season.” 

You stare at him, waiting for him to laugh or say he was just kidding. He doesn’t. “Hunting season?” you echo, morbidly curious.

He rests a forearm across the bar counter, leaning in a little and lowering his voice. “Mhm. Late spring to early summer. They’re opportunistic, but this is the only time of year that they’re actively on the prowl. Did you know that the majority of people who go missing in the mountains around here disappear sometime in April or May? You two should be careful, actually, I hear they’ve got a thing for overworked waitstaff.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Donna says.

“I’m serious! My girlfriend told me—”

“Your werewolf girlfriend who nobody’s ever met and only visits when we’re all conveniently too busy to meet her, right?” 

“Tale as old as time,” Irving sighs. He gives you a wink before he drifts back to the other end of the bar. You linger for a little longer, nursing your water. That must’ve been a joke, right? You’ve never heard of a “hunting season,” but you don’t know enough about werewolves to be sure. You’ve never met one. Then again, people say it’s hard to tell. Your gaze wanders the club scanning the dancefloor crowd, the groups chatting further down the bar or squeezed around booths, the loners leaning against the wall. Would you even know one if you saw one?

Donna heads back to the trenches first when she spots a couple wander in and you’re not far behind. Right on time, too, because a huge group just walked in and meandered over after looking around all starstruck and delirious like they’ve never been in a club before. You do a quick headcount as they make their way to the restaurant seating area. Eight, nine, ten guys—you hope it’s not another bachelor party. 

“Welcome to the Mountainview Club Kitchen—” Your throat tightens before you finish the sentence. They’re all looking at you. Which shouldn’t be weird, you were trying to get their attention. But the second you spoke up, all of them went from distracted and overly interested in the decor to laser-focused on you and only you. That still doesn’t seem sufficient to explain the cold grasp of heart-stopping terror keeping you frozen in place. You don’t feel like you’re talking to customers at work, you feel like you’re standing in the woods late at night and something big, powerful and hungry just stepped into your path.

Cornered. That’s what you’re feeling. Like a trapped animal. Like a rabbit chased by…

No way, you think. You quickly plaster on a smile. “Uh. Welcome! You’ll have to give me a second to check how many tables we’ve got open right now, I can push a few together for you if there’s enough.” 

“Don’t sweat it, I’m the only one eating.” One of them waves off the others with a chuckle. “Go on, get out there and mingle. I’ll hold down the fort, yeah? You guys are guests tonight so it’s my treat if you want anything.” He looks normal. They all do. Not really dressed for clubbing but nothing that weird, lots of tank tops, denim and well-worn sneakers. The group disperses without a word to you or each other, leaving you alone with the friendliest one. 

You search him for anything amiss, anything that screams “werewolf” and come up empty. He’s just a guy. Black jacket, band t-shirt, jeans with ragged knees. Not unusually tall or tough-looking, honestly a little on the scrawny side, dark hair that curtains his face and feathers around his shoulders. Were you just imagining that feeling earlier? He sticks his hands in his pockets and tilts his head slightly, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “Something on my face?” he drawls. Shit, you’re staring. You try to play it off as spacing out and lead him to a table, wrestling with paranoia. You’re relieved when he starts scrutinizing the menu instead. 

“This is new, isn’t it?” he asks absently. “There wasn’t a restaurant last time I came here. I guess it’s been a while.”

“It opened a few months back,” you tell him. “Are you a regular?” 

“Eh, not really. I’m here like once a year.” 

Always around the same time? you wonder. Right around April or May? You scold yourself. Irving loves fucking with people, that’s all that was. And even if he wasn’t, a nightclub doesn’t really seem like prime werewolf hunting territory. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Just water, thanks. What’s good here?” He rests his chin against his palm while you try to think of a recommendation, smiling up at you. “I’m Corbin, by the way.” His eyes flick to your name tag and he reads it in a slow, teasing drawl. “So. You local? Live in Eastridge?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you say, utterly blindsided. “Uh. All of the appetizers are pretty good, and the tomato soup comes with this really good bread—” 

“Corbin.” You nearly jump out of your skin when one of the other guys seems to appear out of thin air, suddenly standing beside you. Sure, it’s hard to hear much of anything with the music, but he’s right there and he’s not exactly small. You aren’t sure how he snuck up on you. “Purple or green?”

Corbin tilts his head, glancing at something past the guy. You follow his gaze and see some of the people he came in with chatting up some college kids on the dancefloor. One’s in a sequined purple dress and the other’s wearing a green t-shirt. Corbin’s face scrunches up in distaste. “Neither,” he says. The other guy nods slowly like he’s just heard something truly profound and walks off. You have no idea what to make of the exchange and Corbin doesn’t let you dwell on it. “Is it always this busy?” he asks.

You shrug. “On the weekends, mostly.”

He hums, lips pursed and brows furrowed like you’ve just told him something heartbreaking. “Is it hard? A job like this? Seems pretty thankless.”

“A job’s a job,” you say with a tight smile. 

“It doesn’t have to be like that, y’know. There are places that would appreciate you so much more than this.” The discomfort must show on your face because his expression softens a little, less of a smirk and more of a sad smile. His voice gets softer and softer and you have to lean in to hear him clearly. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m just being nosy. But the thing is, I’ve got a good intuition. I can tell when people are…dissatisfied. Unhappy with their lives. You laugh it off, but it’s getting to you; how effortless it is for these people to hurt you. How brittle the bonds between humans are.” He pauses for just a moment and then he’s full of boisterous energy again, grinning. “Tomato soup, huh? Could I get that, and maybe the mozzarella sticks? Oh, and the wings too! They’d probably like that.”

“Sure,” you say weakly. You’re not entirely aware of your movements, running on autopilot to take the menu from him with numb fingers and put in his order. Why do you feel so shaken up? This is obviously a shitty place to work, anyone could see that. But it was more than that. The way he said it, the way he looked at you—like he knew you. Really knew you, the way strangers aren’t supposed to.

You try to shrug it off, make your rounds to other tables, but he’s on your mind all night. You bring him water and he takes it before you set it down. The pads of his fingers caress the back of your hand and slip away slowly, hesitantly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Thank you,” he says, his smile affecting you in embarrassing ways. You run to the bathroom and splash cold water on your face, trying to shock yourself out of whatever weird, emotional haze you’re in. 

Corbin is thankfully distracted when you come back with his appetizers. Someone else from his group swings by the table with his arm around a younger guy. “Oh, you’re on summer break? What’s your major?” Corbin asks. You don’t linger but you catch bits of conversation, enough to hear that the guy Corbin came with barely says a word. Is he the wingman for all of his socially awkward friends? You look around and see the others scattered around, a couple perched at the bar with a woman giggling between them, a few lurking around the dancefloor. One makes eye contact with you halfway across the club and your heart skips a beat. 

You’re getting that feeling again—the prickling on the back of your neck. The primal sense that there’s danger lurking somewhere nearby, hungry eyes raking across your skin. 

Corbin’s friends and their hookups drift by the table frequently. Every time you glance over, someone new is hovering next to him or sliding into an open chair with their plus one chatting happily. You’re not really surprised. There’s something magnetic about him, an effortless charm in his open, welcoming body language, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. Strangely, none of them stay long. People cycle in and out until you’re sure his whole friend group has stopped by at least twice, sometimes snagging something from an appetizer plate, but they don’t stick around.

Eventually, someone else entirely—a club regular, not someone Corbin came with—snags the chair across from him. They’re flirting and he’s apparently not interested, hardly looking at them, humming or muttering disinterested, one-word answers to their questions. You come back with his tomato soup just in time to see the interloper storm off, tears in their eyes. Corbin watches them go, leaning against the table with his lips curled in a snarl. “Packless,” he mutters, the word rolling off his tongue in disgust. He stiffens up when he notices you standing there, plastering on a smile. “Oh, that looks so good! Thank you!”

“Enjoy,” you manage to say, struggling to make sense of what you just saw. Corbin isn’t looking at the food, even when you set it down in front of him. 

“Why don’t you sit with me? I wanna talk more,” he says, nodding to the chair beside him. 

You laugh nervously. “I really can’t.” 

“Aw. Not even for a little bit?” You’re a little surprised but nonetheless grateful he doesn’t push. Instead, he pulls a hair tie out of his pocket to keep the long strands falling around his shoulders from falling into his food. “Sorry, sorry. I’m doing it again. It’s my intuition, y’know? I feel like we’re both missing out if we don’t get to know each other! But no worries, I know you’re on the clock.” He tosses the long strands of his ponytail behind his back and smiles at you.

Your heart drops into your stomach. You didn’t notice it before with his hair hanging around his neck, but he’s absolutely covered in painful-looking marks. Some are old, puckered scars and some are fresher, scabs and scrapes and flushed half-moons. They’re littered across both sides of his neck and even more disappear beneath the neckline of his shirt. There’s no mistaking them for anything else—those are bites. Big, human-sized bites, left by teeth too sharp to be a human’s. Your gaze darts back to his face and you know he caught you staring. 

He looks euphoric, eyes half-lidded and smile dreamy, like you’re fulfilling some exhibitionistic fantasy. 

“C…can I get you anything else?” you force yourself to ask.

He’s not discreet when he looks you up and down, gaze lingering on your hips, trailing slowly up your chest and eventually returning to your eyes. He licks his lips. “Nah,” he says, grinning. “I’m good for tonight.” 

You know he watches you for the rest of your shift. No matter where you go, you feel him staring. You want nothing more than to avoid him until he leaves but you don’t want him to complain about being neglected, eventually circling back to refill his water and take his empty plates. You don’t make eye contact and he doesn’t strike up a conversation. He pays his bill without anything weird happening until he hands you an insane tip, a few big bills rivaling your paycheck.

“We’re kindred spirits, y’know,” he says, looking satisfied by your wordless shock. “But you’re stuck in this awful world where nobody’s taking care of you right. So I’ll just have to do it myself until…” He never finishes the sentence, smile widening when you look at him questioningly. “Take a picture with me!” he says. You don’t argue. You’re so tired, so exhausted from all the mixed signals, and you’ve decided he’s ultimately harmless. Weird as hell and uncomfortably perceptive but harmless, and if he tips like this, you’ll give him all the pictures he wants.

Corbin pulls you down into the chair beside him with an arm around your shoulder and holds out his phone for a selfie. You fully intend to look at the camera but your eyes are pulled slightly off center by the sight of his bites displayed on the screen. It comes out awkward. Your smile is half-hearted and Corbin’s not quite looking at the camera either, his gaze focused on you with an uncomfortably fond smile stretched across his face.

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Darkness At The Heart Of My Love

Pairings: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia X GN!Reader

Type: Fluff that turns to angst w/ no comfort

Summary: Copia had just begun his reign as Papa, and was overworked. He needed to get away from the ministry and all of it. He found someone along the way. Someone who showed him love and happiness. It was perfect, until things changed, and then things descended into chaos.

Warnings: Mentions of character death, heartbreak, use of Y/N, google translated Italian

Word Count: 3,619

Notes: I’m debating on whether I want to make this into a short series. I already have the second part written, but I don’t know how I feel about the plot I previously had for the third part. I originally did this as a self insert, so if there are pronouns that don't correlate with a gender neutral reader, please let me know I will fix it asap. Also I'm sorry for the way the song lyrics copied over, you're just gonna have to deal with it (unfortunately).

Read on AO3

~

When the summer dies

Severing the ties

I'm with you always, always

Will you walk the line?

My path serpentine

Remember always

That love is all you need

Tell me who you wanna be

And I will set you free

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

For you

It was a September afternoon. The leaves were just starting to change and the air had just started to relieve itself of its hellish temperatures. Summer finally started saying its goodbye.

The Clergy had been on Copia’s back recently due to his most recent accomplishment of being in talks to become the new Papa. He knew that they just wanted everything perfect, but he was struggling to believe he could live up to their practically impossible standards. It had been an impossibly long day, and he knew that he needed a break before he snapped, inflicting the wrath of Sister Imperator.

He drove around, just trying to clear his head until he found a café. A small little thing that looked very simple. He didn’t bother to check the name or the reviews before walking inside.

“Good afternoon! How can I help you today?” A chipper voice called out to him. His head snapped up from his phone as he set his eyes on them.

“Oh, hello. I-I’m good. How are you today?” He responded, his cheeks reddening slightly as he stumbled over his words.

“Well, it would be better if it were time to go home, but honestly I can’t complain too much,” the cashier responded. “What can I get for you today?”

Copia looked over the menu for just a moment. “Could I just get a black coffee and a blueberry scone?”

“Sure thing!” They smiled as they told him the total and grabbed his scone. They handed him the bag, and his hand lingered for a moment. He held his breath once he realized what he was doing, and grabbed the bag.

“Grazie,” he mumbled as he walked over to the other end of the counter to wait on his coffee. He watched as they poured the coffee, entranced by their every move.

“Here’s your coffee, sir,” they called as if he wasn’t jumping at the chance to talk to them again.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and finding a seat. He was the only person actually sitting down, everyone else who came in got their orders and left. Copia knew that wouldn’t do for him. If he left, he didn’t know what would have happened.

He sat for a while, eating his scone and sipping his coffee. It was peaceful in the little café. Soft music played over the speakers, and the scent of freshly baked treats filled the air. It was nice.

“I’m heading out now! I’ll see you guys later!” He heard them call, apron off and bag in their hand. He watched them walk towards the door, and jumped up, not really knowing what he was doing.

“Excuse me, but I was just wondering if you-if you had any plans today. It’s been a long day, and you seem like you would be nice to talk to. Only, if you want to of course! I just thought you were gorgeous-I mean you seemed nice. Not that you aren’t gorgeous of course! I’m sorry, I don’t really talk to people outside of my work,” he rushed his words. He was slightly shaking, scared of what they would say.

“I don’t have any plans,” they smiled. “There’s a park right down the road, I could take you if you wanted.”

A look of relief washed over his tired face. “Really? I-well, I would like that actually.”

“My name is Y/N,” they said, holding out their arm.

He looped his arm in theirs, internally smacking himself for not asking their name earlier. “Copia.”

“Well, Copia, it’s nice to meet you.” They squeezed his arm lightly as they left the café. He smiled and looked at the ground.

The park wasn’t far at all, just about a ten minute walk. It was pretty, especially now that the leaves were changing their colors, shedding their summertime glow. There was a winding path that had trees scattered along with a few bushes surrounding them. The flowers on the ground were already wilting, but the scene was still beautiful nonetheless.

“So, Copia, what brought you to my little café?” They asked, their head tilting as they continued to walk arm in arm. Copia found it refreshing to not have his title used to address him for once. It seemed to be all he heard now.

“Well, work has been getting to me. Sis-My boss likes everything to be perfect. It’s just the way that the company is run. I’m beginning to take on a new…new mantle, and in order to properly take it on, I have to be perfect. It is a lot of stress for one man.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure it is stressful. May I ask where you work? I might be able to help, or at least provide some comfort with a little more context.”

He was hoping they wouldn’t ask that question, terrified of scaring them off. “Well, it’s a, uh, ministry of sorts.”

“Oh, so you’re going to become a priest. I guess that could be difficult. Not living a life of sin and being perfect for God and all of his followers.”

“Well, not exactly,” he admitted to them. “Are you religious?”

“I’m not entirely religious. I’m sure there’s a source of something out there, but if it is, I haven’t found it. I don’t judge religions though.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” he sighed. They gave him an odd look. “Our ministry isn’t exactly…Christian.”

“Now I'm a little bit confused.”

He laughed lightly at their response. “It’s a Satanic church. We preach about the word of Satan, and it’s a fun little gig we have going. We use a band to spread the word. Maybe you have heard of it?”

“That's interesting. What is your band called? I’m not sure whether I would have heard of it or not.”

“It’s called Ghost, we are pretty popular,” he teased. He wouldn’t be sure whether they’d heard of it or not, and was surprised by their reaction to saying he was with a satanic church.

“No, I don’t think I have heard of it actually.”

“Well, what kind of music do you like? I can help be a good judge of whether it would provide entertainment. It’s, eh, not really your basic music.”

“I’ll listen to almost anything, honestly. I’m always down for a good tune.”

Copia was taken aback by this a bit, a pleasantly shocked look on his face. “Well, it’s a rock band. A pretty good one if I do say so myself.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a listen later.” 

They continued to walk for a minute in silence before Copia piped up. “So, what do you do for fun?”

“I don’t really know. I like to read, watch TV, listen to music, and all the basic things.”

“What about video games? Any of that interest you?”

“Not really. I never got into gaming.”

“Interesting.”

“What about you, Copia?”

“I play a game or two here and there, but with the Ministry, I don’t get much time to myself.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that sucks. You can always call me up, if you want some company. I don’t really do much other than work. Here,” they said, sticking their phone out to him, “put your number in, and then you can text me whenever you get too stressed and need an outside source for comfort.” Copia took the phone, put his number in, and sent himself a message to make sure he didn’t put it in wrong, then they continued on their first walk of many.

And that is what they did for months.

They texted back and forth often, called, and even went on quite a few dates. Copia had yet another long day, and knew that he could trust the person he now proudly called his partner. He called, asking if he could spend the night at their apartment, and of course they said yes.

Copia made his way to their apartment, using his key to get inside. “Dolcezza? I’m here, amore.”

“I’m in the bathroom! Just got out of the shower!” They called, and he walked that way. He still had on his paints, which still shocked them sometimes, but they were beginning to grow used to it. “Well don’t you look handsome?” They teased, noting that he was in a hoodie and sweatpants.

“What? Oh, heh, yeah I guess I am a beauty. But you, amore mio, look stunning.” He grabbed their hips, pulling them into a kiss. They had on a plain black t-shirt and a pair of black shorts to match. Their hair was wet, and before the kiss they were drying it with a towel. As they kissed, they dropped the towel in favor of wrapping their arms around his shoulders while his arms crossed around their back to pull them in.

“Well, someone missed me,” they said as they pulled away, leaving their arms around him.

“I always miss you,” he said, pressing a lighter kiss to their forehead.

“You’re so sweet, Copia,” they hummed, staring up into his mismatched eyes, nothing else but adoration showing.

“I love you, tesoro.”

“I love you too. What brings you tonight? Anything special?”

“No, just a long day. Needed a way to relax,” he hummed, looking at them.

“What do you want to do?” They asked, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“What do you say I treat you to a dance?”

“What do yo-” before they finished, Copia removed them from where they leaned on the counter, dancing with them out to the living room. They laughed as he spun the both of them around, one hand holding theirs while the other rested on their waist, kissing them while he dipped them.

They were absolutely in love, and that was easy to see. They had only been to the Abbey a few times, but any sibling of sin, ghoul, or anyone who crossed their paths could see the love on their faces.

Soon, the rings on their left ring fingers became evidence enough. Copia, being the romantic he was, proposed to them about a year and a half later.

The air was warm, spring just beginning to settle in, as they walked through the park they first walked at. They walked there often now, finding comfort in the atmosphere. Little did Y/N know that Copia had a surprise waiting for them. It wasn’t uncommon for them to go on picnics, especially not if they were sunrise or sunset picnics.

They walked the winding trail, arms linked together, as Copia nervously led them to their destination. In the other hand, Y/N held a picnic basket that had all of their favorite things, as Copia’s hand nervously fiddled with the small box containing the second most precious gem. The first being his beloved.

The sky was a gorgeous pale blue, the clouds outlined with pink and orange as the sun began to sink past the horizon. Their normal picnic spot had been set up to look very different.

Copia had to pull a few strings, but the trees were decorated with lights, and all of their favorite flowers formed to make a walkway that led to a small platform that was covered in more flowers.

He walked them towards the destination while one sibling of sin hid in the bushes to capture it on video and get the most perfect photos.

Y/N was in absolute awe. It looked like something out of a movie. “Is that for me, Copia?” They asked innocently, unsure of whether this was just for them or someone else.

“Yes, carissima. This is all for you.” He walked up to the platform, letting them take the first step. He steps up next, bending down on one knee. “I knew from the moment I laid my eyes on you that I wanted to be the one you loved. I have cherished every moment, every laugh, even the fights, all because I got to spend that time with you. You are the love and the light of my life. I love you beyond words, Y/N. So please, will you marry me?”

Crying, Y/N lowers themself to be level with him. “Yes,” they cry, holding his face in their hands and kissing him. “A thousand times, yes.”

Copia’s face lights up as he takes their left hand off his face, slipping the ring on, then pulling them into the closest hug they will ever feel in their lives.

Will you spill the wine

To summon the divine?

I'm with you always, always

Now paint a pair of eyes

And let's watch as it dries

Remember always, that love is all you need

Tell me who you wanna be

And I will set you free

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

So bold, so sweet

The big day was here. The day where Y/N and Copia would pledge their love in front of everyone.

Marrying a Papa was a big deal. Everyone in the Clergy would gather to watch the occasion. The reception, however, was for close friends and family members only.

“Are you ready?” A voice called from behind Y/N . It was their father. He wasn’t entirely on board with the concept of marrying a satanic pope, but once he realized just how wonderful Copia made them feel, he accepted the relationship, and welcomed Copia with open arms.

“I believe so,” they said, using one hand to hold the bouquet of flowers, the other smoothing down their outfit.

“Then I believe it’s time,” he said, taking their arm in his as the doors opened. They looked up to where Copia was standing in awe. He had on a gorgeous suit and his paints were on. Tradition is that they wear full regalia, but he didn’t want to remember this moment as Papa, just as Copia. He finally was able to compromise with just using his paints, so he took what he could get.

They could tell that there were tears in his eyes. He was always the sentimental type. They smiled as tears welled in their eyes as well.

As they reached the altar, their father smiled at them and kissed their cheek before sitting down. Copia reached a hand out to them as they walked up the stairs, handing a bridesmaid the bouquet of flowers.

“Hi, you look gorgeous,” he whispered excitedly.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” they said, giving him a wink. The officiant began speaking, signaling the ceremony had begun. There was a bottle of wine, two chalices, and their rings on a small table next to the officiant.

A little while into the wedding, both of them poured wine into the other’s chalice, crossing their arms as they sip. It wasn’t the most necessary part of the ceremony, but it was something that they decided to do. A symbol of their joining together.

They slipped their rings on after, officially combined as one.

They walked back down the aisle, arm in arm, smiling like children, so happy that they found their perfect match. Neither of them wanted to get their outfits messed up, so as their chosen guests filed into the reception room, they changed into simpler, yet still formal, outfits.

“I am so happy that I have you now,” Copia said, coming behind Y/N to wrap them in a hug and leaned his head on their shoulders.

“Until death do us part,” Y/N responded in a joking tone.

“Not even death could keep us from each other,” he said, kissing their neck. Y/N turned around, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, kissing him.

“I would never let that happen,” they smiled.

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

For you

“Are you excited? It’s your last concert of this tour. I’m so proud of you,” Y/N said, kissing his cheek as they helped fix his robes.

“It has been a blast. I’m sad to see it come to an end, but that just means we can start new journeys now,” he smiled.

“You’re going to do amazing.” They both walked to the side of the stage, waiting for the cue that they were good to go. “Do you hear that? Copia, they love you.” A smile rested on their face, their head leaning on their husband's shoulder.

“No one could love me the way you do, dolcezza. They may love me, and I may entice them, but my eyes are only for you. I am only for you. I will be with you always,” he said, listening to the crowd’s chanting.

“It’s time. I’ll see you after the show, my love.”

“I love you,” Copia said, kissing them lovingly before walking on stage, the crowd screaming their heads off.

Y/N made their way to their designated spot above the crowd. There was always one section where they would stand and watch, no one else to bother them. The crowd was extremely reactive tonight, everyone having the best time. Even the ghouls looked to be having the greatest night of their lives. 

They smiled, singing along to every song. Occasionally, Copia would look up to where they stood, and they waved each time.

He bounced around the stage, everyone enchanted by his every move, but now the concert was coming to an end. He looked so content and happy performing that neither of them wanted this to end.

“Now this song is very special to me. I used to sing this song, worried about the pain another would cause me, or a pain that I would cause another if I let anyone near me, close to my heart. I said no! No relationships!” He paused, looking around the crowd then looking up to them. “Now, I know that I was wrong. I wish I could have figured this out sooner, but when I stepped into that little coffee shop, I’m glad it took all the time that it did. For the past few years, my love, my beautiful, my angel, my partner has been by my side. So now, I sing a new song of love. Love for the one I am so glad to be able to call my partner. For my Y/N.” He pointed at them as the crowd cheered at the mention of their name, causing them to grin and blush. "This is Darkness At The Heart of My Love!” The crowd cheered some more as the opening notes played.

He sang beautifully. His voice was perfect, and his movements bewitching. Everything about this performance proved Copia was a masterpiece. Y/N leaned onto the railing, singing and watching as their lover made his way through the song.

“Remember always that love is all you need. Tell me who you wanna be, and I will set you free,” he sang as the song drew near its end, looking up to Y/N as he did.

There's a darkness at the heart of my love

That runs cold, runs deep

The darkness at the heart of my love

So bold, so sweet

There's a darkness at the heart of my love (my love)

That runs cold (runs cold), runs deep (runs deep)

The darkness at the heart of my love (my love)

So bold (so bold), so sweet (so sweet)

Y/N didn’t notice the security coming behind them, but they recognized similar strange figures standing on either side of the stage, stalking towards Copia.

Panic flooded them as they turned to run to try and save him, though it was a waste of effort. The security guards behind them grabbed them, forcing them to watch the events unfold.

“And all this time you knew that I would put you through the darkness at the heart of my love for you!” Copia sang, unaware of the men behind him while Y/N struggled.

When the summer dies

Severing the ties

I'm with you always, always

The men came behind Copia, grabbing his arms and legs, pulling him away from the microphone. A look of fear filled his face.

Paint a pair of eyes

Let's watch as it dries

I'm with you always, always

“No!” They screamed out, watching him get dragged off stage, struggling in the same way they were. “Copia! Please! No!” People in the few rows below them turned, watching the tears streaming down their face as they continued to scream.

Sister Imperator walked out on stage, beginning to say some words, but Y/N couldn’t make it out. The guards let them go, and they crumpled to the ground, shaking and sobbing, feeling utterly broken. “No,” they cried quieter. The crowd was painfully silent as they watched Sister. “This can’t be happening. No. Please.” A few siblings of sin walked toward them, lifting them off the ground, walking them back to a car.

They took them back to the ministry, and they cried the whole way there. They brought them to bed, changing their clothes and making them comfortable. They listened to their cries, sad looks on their faces.

They said nothing now, laying in the bed them and Copia would never share again. They held his pillow close, crying into it.

He was gone, and they wouldn’t get him back.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Congratulations, you so deserve all the followers and many, many more!!! As you know I am a HUGE fan of Heat and recommend it to all my friends. Anyhoo my ask is ⚖️🤨✨

My wonderful and most prolific cheerleader! I’m SUPER sorry for the ridiculous wait on this, but I finally got around to your wild Marcus Pike/Sex Pollen?! prompt. I really hope I did this sweet boy justice and that all the banter and smut make up for keeping you waiting so long~!

Thanks, as always, to @just-here-for-the-moment for putting up with my ass and beta reading to make sure this wasn’t complete trash and smutty enough.

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Spanish woman, written by a Latina. Here’s my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 17,000

🚨Author chooses not to include detailed warnings, but the following: Mentions of Teresa Lisbon, marriage, con artist behavior, crime, past relationships, unrequited love, sex pollen, deception, undercover work, graphic depictions of unprotected sex, and slight hurt-comfort.

Haze

There was a time when you were simply a skilled vixen – an entrancing, expert wheeler of the power of suggestion who'd been skimming your way through affluent circles from city to city, but never enough to draw attention to yourself. At least unless you wanted to.

Then, it'd all changed with a chance fumble that was spotted by the least likely source.

He'd been the special agent that had ensnared you and brought you into the fold – propositioning you into using your talents to sharpen the skills of the task force he'd taken the lead position in D.C. for. His team admittedly needed the consultation of someone with the experience and sophistication of being entrenched in the art world, albeit from the wrong side of the law. And you fit the bill.

You hadn't had much choice, considering the prospect of prison for your femme fatale lifestyle to date, and the precarious situation you'd been caught in by said special agent. So, you'd agreed to a career as an indentured asset to the bureau, with the tenure of your time working within the task force at his total discretion.

It had been a contentious adjustment.

Part of you was incredulous that you'd been foiled by the likes of Marcus Pike, and part of him was perplexed that rather than be eager to happily oblige the task force – and him, as its leader, you instead were intent to buck all conventions. This included a vexing, seemingly incessant need to push his buttons – buttons he never even knew he had.

Overtime, though, you'd both found a status quo – a begrudging understanding of how you'd each need to operate and let the other maneuver in order for the arrangement to work.

"—Hope you're not having another late night, Savedra. Not with all the work we have to tackle on this case—"

"Ah, I wonder: Was there ever a time in your life that you weren't in your pajamas and nursing your warm milk before Nick at Nite comes on, Pike? That you went out and had fun without fretting over an early bedtime? Don't worry, I'll be in bright and early—"

"That's what you said the last time, though—"

"Extenuating circumstances beyond my control, Pikey boy—"

"A 'couture trunk show' is Manhattan is hardly a good enough excuse to blame as an 'extenuating circumstance'—"

"To someone who wears the same rumpled suits? Oh, I'm sure it isn't. Now c'mon, Pike's Delight, tell me: How hard did the cashier at Kohl's laugh at you when you bought three versions of the same tie on-sale?"

"They did not—! This tie was a gift, actually—"

The pinch between his brows, the twitch of his lips fighting not to pull into a scowl, and the gruff way he countered back were his unmistakable tells that you'd needled him just right.

"You literally wore one that looked exactly like it the other day, and there was the blue version you had on for the inter-agency ops meeting last week—"

"They're completely different colors, though—"

"But they have the same dull polka dot configuration and they're the same exact semi-satin fabric, which makes them different versions of the same tie—"

"Alright, Dandy Lion. Give it a rest, and go before I set a curfew for your comings and goings."

Your smirk had been charming as you turned to lope down the hall towards the elevators, tossing a casual wave over your shoulder.

"Have a nice night, Pike."

The snappy repartee between you two had become notorious within the task force, and many couldn't help be amused – and take bets – on which of the two of you would have the last word, and the best zinger. Pike tended to score the most in the former, while you easily dominated the latter.

Still, though, Marcus found ways to rein you in, and started to take secret satisfaction in exasperating you right back.

"—I do not appreciate you freezing my accounts, Pike—"

"First of all, it's a single account, although I am considering having all your accounts frozen. Even the ones you think we don't know about—"

"That seems punitive and uncalled for—"

"The account in question is a corporate account, Savedra. It is for work-related expenses, not for lavish shopping hauls at Nordstroms—"

"Um, excuse me, that was a work-related expense. You want me to impersonate a wealthy socialite traveling to London for a black-market art auction, remember? I can't seriously be expected to do so without having the latest Fall must-haves—"

"Oh, so three Mooglar dresses and three Loubootan heels are the Fall must-haves, eh?"

Your full lips flattened in that peeved way for a nanosecond – the tell that indicated he'd successfully annoyed you before you placed your hands on your hips and smoothly deadpanned, "It's Mugler and Louboutin, Pike. And yes, they are essential if you want anyone to believe my cover—"

"You can expense one outfit. The costs of the other two will be docked from your stipend for next month—"

"So, it wouldn't be a good time to mention that I also pre-ordered a limited-edition Chanel purse…?"

"…How much?"

"Oh, it's an absolute steal! And, it'll only go up in value—"

"How much, Dandy Lion?"

You knew he meant business whenever he refers to you by your codename.

"Just a little over six grand…"

"That's more than three times your monthly stipend—!"

"…So then you'll let me expense it to the corporate card?"

"...Close the door on your way out, Savedra."

The smug purse of your lips indicated you'd been teasing him, and you confirmed so by chiming over your shoulder as you strolled out, "No worries. I already have a Chanel bag that'll work for the trip."

"Good. I'll make sure to call the Shanell store and let them know to go ahead and cancel that order, then—"

Pausing at the door, you turn to shoot a berating glare at him where he's sat behind his desk, and scoff condescendingly, "Oh my god, you are purposely butchering the label—you know damn well it's Cha-nel, not Sha-nell!"

You see the sly little quirk to the corner of his mouth he coolly veils by dropping his chin low as he shrugs and drawls, "Dully noted, dandelion."

You pursed your lips and grunted a cavalier sound before strutting out, deciding then and there you needed to do some forensic accounting of your own.

According to his records – the ones you pulled up after hacking into the bureau's internal database, Marcus Pike had been an FBI agent from right out of college. Graduating with honors from a Criminal Justice major, he'd been recruited, gotten stellar marks in Quantico, and received several letters of recommendation. He had an impeccable record, and was frankly a poster boy for a government do-gooder.

A few more backdoor breaches and search engine deep dives later, and you were able to paint quite a full picture from the social media collage-like bits of information you were able to access from college buddies, family friends, and federal databases.

Circumventing the encryption of his email provider allowed you an administrator's view of his account, and you were mystified that this man archived so many communications, no matter how inane, dated, or of innocuous consequence they seemed.

At least until you found the consequential stuff.

There was the correspondence with his divorce attorney from over a decade prior, the utility bills for the home he'd once shared with his ex-wife, the frank and disarmingly candid emails between said ex and him – one of which had the doozy of a line: I love you, Marcus, but I don't think I'm in love with you. I'm not really sure I ever was.

You felt guilty reading his response. Not because you were invading his privacy, but because you could feel how sympathetic he was towards basically being told how having married him had been a mistake – that they'd been fools who rushed into it at a young age before they even knew what they wanted in life. His answer, which was brimming with a veiled, resigned sadness to it that tugged at a heartstring – I guess I just got ahead of myself and took you along with me. I'm sorry – was a window into Marcus you didn't expect to get, nor feel deserving of having.

And then seeing the emails between him and an Agent Teresa Lisbon? How they'd gone from platonic forwards of suggested restaurants to check out, to apartment photos sent back and forth between them? Jumping then abruptly to a galling 'Dear John'-style email from her where she apologizes to him and offers to go in person in order to handle the shipping of her belongings back to Dallas, and promising to properly discuss her decision to break things off with him and not take the job he got for her at the D.C. FBI Major Crimes unit after all?

You'd been astounded.

"Did he really ask her to marry him after a couple of months of dating?!" was your flabbergasted rhetorical question to your empty office during the afterhours snoopfest.

Using your powers of suggestion, you'd eventually gotten more of the details from the task force's tech expert who'd come from the Dallas office with Pike, having befriended the congenial guy who tended to get very chatty over caffeinated drink breaks.

"—Totally brutal. Like, one minute he was smitten and cajoling her into picking an apartment, then he was fist-pumping about her saying yes to his impromptu proposal, and boom – she dumps him for Jane. Talk about getting mind-fucked," he prattled on over coffee, none the wiser that you were internally cataloguing everything.

However, this wasn't the usual fact-finding on a mark that you were used to undertaking.

Pike hadn't struck you as a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, and you perplexingly felt complicit in capitalizing on manipulating your way further into the good graces of the bureau thanks to him vouching for you with the powers that be, knowing now how much of a true-blue good guy he was. Even when he was getting his heart torn out and stomped on.

You ignored the thought about the parallels between he and you in that regard.

"—You with us, Savedra?"

Focusing back onto the meeting you're currently in, you curtly nod to Pike and quip, "Yes, I was just thinking about who would be best suited for the undercover side of the operation, since no offense, none of your fellas really fit the bill."

"Oh?" Marcus crosses his arms and leans back into the wall next to the projector screen that's currently displaying the pattern of the art theft ring's hits. "Care to share why you think so?"

Glancing across at the male agents, before arching a brow when you look at Pike, you gesture to the screen and explain, "The museums aren't the pattern; it's what they took that reveals the pattern. The items taken were antiquities – meaning requiring large crates and secure shipping out of country. Antiquity theft is a perfect front for the real heist: Moving narcotics across borders. They get packed in with the stolen piece, and act as payment for the traffickers moving it."

As you explain, you pull out your tablet and take over the screen of the laptop attached to the projector to screenshare several examples of police busts showing drugs packed in with stolen sculptures.

"There is a very elite pool of players with the means and networks to pull this kind of heist off, and based on the size of these antiquities? I think we're dealing with The Jackal."

Everyone exchanges looks of varying degrees of confusion before Marcus furrows his brow and queries, "Who?"

You roll your eyes as you seamlessly pull up the digital dossier that you'd taken the liberty to compile for the meeting. "It's a wonder how this task force is meant to achieve a damn thing, with the lack of intel you guys have involving actual international art theft…" is your aloof musing as you pull up a database cataloguing the thefts of antiquities and ancient artifacts. "So, The Jackal, boys and girls, is the head of an intercontinental ring of thieves operating in the Mediterranean the last five years or so. No one knows his true identity, but many of the buyers who were captured and cooperated with authorities in Egypt and Greece have given details about how they network."

"Ok…and what leads you to believe that no one here is suited to go undercover on this?" Marcus questions, crossed arms tightening as he eyes you intently when you give him a mischievous look.

"So, there's no way to actually infiltrate this ring. Which makes this operation moot. However, if we impersonate the ring to one of the trafficking syndicates, we might be able to find the buyers and retrieve the artifacts. And right now? None of your fellas resemble the description on file for The Jackal—"

"Wait, you want an agent to go undercover as The Jackal?" Marcus cuts in before he braces his hands onto the conference table so he can lean against it after you nod dramatically. "Well then. Care to tell us your plan?"

You do, detailing the honeypot-trap-style plan and how you'd be the facilitator for The Jackal and the targeted traffickers.

"—However, like I said, we don't have anyone who currently fits the bill for The Jackal—"

"And what is the bill?" Marcus inquires before remarking, "You just said so yourself. No one knows what this guy looks like—"

"No, but most do know rumors of what he's supposedly done, and his physical description leaves a lot lacking, but paints a general picture: Tall, broad-shouldered, boxer-like physique, tan skin, dark hair, strong jaw, dark eyes, and a well-kept beard. His demeanor is intense, intimidating, reticent, but quickly prone to violence," you elaborate, pointedly glancing around at every agent at the conference table, silently noting to Pike how none of them fit the description.

"However, I think with some sprucing up and a change of grooming habits, we might have a decent candidate," you remark coolly before you tap on your tablet screen to pull up a current badge photo of an agent in the task force that you think could be transformed to go undercover.

Marcus glances over at his own I.D. photo and watches the gif animation you created that augments his appearance by adding a beard and lengthening his hair slightly.

Some of the other agents have to stifle snickers or check their smirks as you innocently smile at their boss, who is glaring sharply at you.

Needless to say, when it's just you and him in his office after the meeting, you are able to argue your case effectively.

Marcus spends extra time at the gym, and grows out his hair in preparation. He even agrees to allow for your styling of him when the time comes.

A month later, Marcus has grown a beard and let his hair shag out into a more rugged style. You've been covertly taking notice, appreciating how his boring dress shirts now cling to his shoulders and accentuate the muscle of his pectorals and arms. It would still be another month before the seeds you'd planted for the sting operation had taken root, and likely a couple of additional weeks after that to actually execute the operation, so you figured you'd use the time wisely while your guy Pike threw himself into work across the task force's other major cases.

Marcus had gotten to a point with you where he didn't see you just as a rambunctious asset anymore, and with your cooperation and aptitude for the work, he began to categorize you as an integral member of the task force.

After all, you'd ingratiated yourself with the other agents and techs, helped train everyone in how to spot forgeries from the real things, and had volunteered to be the lure on certain cases, as well as his expert when it came to navigating relations with the bigger international agencies. There had been many times now he'd been complimented on the ingenuity of employing you to the cause, and there'd at least been one offer to take you off his hands if he was inclined to part with your expertise and charm.

Marcus took the praise in stride, and summarily declined the offer.

You were smart, resourceful, and masterful when it came to the work. His team was better for it, and he recognized – privately – that he was lucky to have you helping the task force look so skilled in cracking cases.

And the fact you were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen wasn't bad, either.

Still, he'd learned his lesson on courting while on the job, and you were definitely not someone he could earnestly consider as, well, anything more than an unconventional resource with a riskily long leash he was responsible for.

However, he debates about how sustainable this whole arrangement was, long-term. He'd gotten better at reading you, though, so he decides to bide his time for the right moment to discuss where your ambitions currently sit. After all, just because you were an 'indentured servant' didn't mean you weren't looking ahead to things – to a life after you'd done your time.

He wondered if you might want to become an in-field consultant, permanently. You'd partnered with the agents on his team on a whole variety of cases, and had earned their respect. Hell, they trusted you, and from what he could see, it seemed to be vice versa with you as well. And with every case you participated in, Marcus saw something new that slowly peeled the mystique and chipped away at the impression he had of you.

From witnessing how truly charming you could be while talking to foreign officials, to how genuinely kind and selfless you'd been when empathizing with victims of a museum heist, to the infectious warmth you exuded when the team was on downtime after a particularly grueling case. All these different facets had started to form a better picture of the woman you really were, and Marcus found himself looking forward to learning more.

When he returns from a short trip to Dallas for a deposition after a couple of days and heads up to the task force's floor to catch up on work late in the evening, he walks by your office and finds you pacing around with your tablet, in the middle of strategizing the big operation.

"That's a big artifact you've pulled from the archive," Marcus comments after he's watched you map things out.

You whirl around and snicker at seeing him lope in to survey what you've pinned to the transparent board in your office.

"Go big or go home, Shaggy," you can't help razz, grinning when he gives you a deriding look. "What? It's a good look for you, Pike—"

"Careful, Savedra. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment," he puckishly taunts and slips his hands into his gray slacks pockets when you squint humorously at him.

"Well, that's because it was," you remark simply, turning to retrieve your stylus from the desk and missing the way his features etched with surprise. "I think another couple of weeks of beard growth, and you'll be ready. Oh! And at some point, we have to go get you fitted for a couple of suits—"

Frowning, he crosses his arms and grumbles, "I have plenty of suits—"

"Correction: You have plenty of sad, drab, 'I clearly work for the FBI' suits. Nothing dashing and stylishly-tailored like what The Jackal has been rumored to wear," is your matter-of-fact counter as you sketch out a floorplan for the honeypot's meet room.

He grunts noncommittally and runs his fingers across his moustache as he looks over the map of the warehouse planned for the fake stolen art depot. "Well, it's a good thing I have a fashionista on the books who'll help spruce up my wardrobe, then, wildcat," he drawls in a raspy musing, and you can't help glance his way and admire the broad set of his shoulders under the gray blazer.

"So, how was Dallas?" you find yourself asking as you busy yourself saving the schematic that's on your tablet screen.

He turns halfway to look at you, as if surprised, before shrugging and recovering the aloof look on his features while he turns back to the board. "It was uneventful," is all he replies, but by the way he balances his weight onto one leg and crosses his arms tight, you can tell he's lying, but trying to be cool about it.

He's lying to himself—trying to convince himself it was uneventful.

You hum, and set your tablet and stylus aside on your sideboard before sitting on the edge of your appointed desk. "Well then, Pike's Delight! Please tell me you'll do something eventful? Have a wild weekend planned? Or are you going to spend it organizing your sock drawer—?"

He turns with a snort to snicker, "Give me a little credit. If you keep the sock drawer organized, you don't have to spend time getting it organized," and at your chuckle, he adds, "I'll spend it likely how I did last weekend—"

"Oh, let me guess: Farmer's market, then back to your place for dinner in front of the TV—"

"…I don't always go to the farmer's market to grocery shop, but yeah, dinner and a movie, sure—"

"Bet things were riotous at the produce stand—Oh! And I bet you watched something racy on Lifetime?" you can't help jibe irreverently as you cross your arms and lean into your perched seat more.

"Nope," Marcus smoothly refutes, before admitting, "It was TCM, and nothing racy."

You smile, truly amused. "Food shopping outside, cooking, and a Turner Classic Movie? Sounds like some action-packed shi—"

"Instead of ragging on it, you should try it out for yourself," Marcus finds himself blurting charismatically before he's registered the gravity of such a proposition. Your features betray mild intrigue, as if you're waiting for him to say something else to signal it's a joke. When he begins to muse, "Ah, I only mean—it's a cool spot with great vendors. I'm not much of a splurger on that kind of thing, but every once in a while, I go and get stuff to whip up a nice dinner—"

"Oh? Have you been holding out on me, Pikey boy? Are you a secret foodie?" you chime with a lilting tone, smile brilliant when he scoffs, as if caught. "You are! Well then, now I gotta see this 'nice dinner' and be the judge of your culinary compétence, cowboy. Although, I'm pretty sure I can whip up a way more delicious supper—"

"I'm gonna have to see that for myself, so it's settled, wildcat."

How you ended up making plans to meet up at the farmer's market on a lovely autumn afternoon to ingredient shop and have a cook-off at Pike's place is beyond you, but then again, he had a way of wearing your guard down into lightheartedness, and it wasn't the first time you'd had fun just bantering with him either. So, here you were, with your canvas tote at your shoulder over your nondescript leather carryall purse as you glance around for the agent in the promenade's foot traffic. Thinking about the puckish smirk he had on his full lips when he called you 'wildcat' – the nickname he seemed to prefer when he wanted to disarm you, while 'dandelion' is what he used when he was charmed by you.

"Well, you actually showed."

You turn to see Marcus in a pair of comfy-looking jeans, light-gray Henley shirt, and dark leather jacket with matching boots and belt.

He eyes you with an appraising glance before admitting, "I had to do a double-take to make sure it was you. I think I've only ever seen you in fancy tailored outfits the entire time you've been with us."

"I'm just channeling a cool and relaxed normie at a farmer's market," you tease as you smoothen down your comfy thin-cotton terracotta sweatshirt, feeling at ease in the formfitting black jeggings and cognac-colored boots.

"It suits you," he compliments before his brain has registered the inappropriateness of it.

You can't help smile before you hand him the shopping tote and deride, "That's quite the compliment, I suppose. Now make yourself useful and carry this so I can have my hands free to peruse, hot stuff."

Huffing in amusement, he takes the tote and falls in step with you as you both start strolling through the bustling outdoor farmer's market.

It's an afternoon filled with light conversation, quipping repartee, and lots of shopping thanks to you both agreeing to a friendly cookoff back at Pike's place. Once your shopping tote is full and he's carrying two paper bags filled with items, you both head down to the nearest metro station and ride the line to his stop.

The walk to his apartment is pleasant, even though you're arguing.

"—Why keep it a secret?"

"Because you'll have a smart remark and develop an instant bias—"

"We're cooking in the same space, Pike—"

"So? You just make your dishes without spying over at mine—"

"Ugh, fine. Oh, we haven't discussed what the winner will get—"

"Lifelong bragging rights?" Marcus proposes smugly as he keys open the entry door and holds it open for you.

"That's it?" you snicker while opening the foyer door and holding it open for him.

"What else is there?" he jokes as he leads the way to the elevator.

Once you're both in and he's pressed the button for his floor, you chime, "How about if you win, I'll quit ragging on you for a week, and if I win, you let me out of my servitude—?"

"That's hardly equal in value, dandelion," is his glib counter as the elevator doors slide open.

"Alright, M. Then what do you propose?" you lilt sardonically while he leads the way to his door and keys in.

Marcus grunts a humored sound, thanks to your James Bond codename reference growing on him the more you use it in convivial conversation.

"Winner gets to pick the movie?" he compromises as he opens his door and gestures for you to enter.

You do so, and take in his bachelor abode with so much veiled intrigue that it takes you a moment to think of a retort to his proposal. "Uh, fine. Sure," you finally singsong, as if resigned to it, but really you don't mind it.

After all, you're too busy admiring the art on his walls.

The apartment was cozy. He had a large L-shaped sectional couch and mid-century modern side tables mixed in with functional bookshelves and accent pieces that made the space warm, yet tastefully elevated compared to the general bachelor pad.

It's an open floorplan, so the kitchen is adjacent to the living room with the island separating the spaces, making it easy for Marcus to catch your appraising surveying after he's set the grocery bags down on the counter next to the stove.

"Alright. C'mon, let me have it," he charismatically jibes, gesturing for you to go ahead and voice your critiques of his place.

You chuckle and shake your head irreverently as you lope over to set down your full canvas tote onto the opposite side of the kitchen island from where he's standing.

"I'm impressed, actually," you tell him honestly, smirking when his brows arch up in surprise. "No, really. Being confronted with proof that you do have good taste is quite gratifying—"

"And there it is," he scoffs and blows a raspberry as he sheds his leather jacket and tosses it onto the nearest kitchen table chair's back before hiking up his Henley's sleeves and drawling, "Alright, Barefoot Contessa, let's get this show going. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Placing your purse on the end table with the lamp and strolling around to go to his sink, you nod towards the record player stand with the organized shelf filled with vinyl albums you spotted next to the entertainment center and remark as you wash your hands, "Impressive collection. What's the last record you had playing?"

He's just finished setting out all his ingredients onto his designated end of the kitchen island when he quirks a taunting brow and drawls, "Nothing you'd be into, I'm sure—"

"Hah, try me. Put it on, and I bet I can guess what it is—"

"If you can't, then you have to tell me your favorite album, and if I don't have it, you have to pull it up on your phone and play it," he challenges with a charming smile as he goes to the record player.

"Deal," you chirp as you take stock of his kitchen before checking in the bottom cabinets for the pots and pans that you'll need.

You get a head start on setting up for your cooking thanks to him fiddling with the record player before you hear the speakers crisply come on as the distinctive intro to the song reverberates through.

At the melodic plucking of guitar strings, you smirk and shout over your shoulder, "'Roundabout' by Yes, off of their album 'Fragile'."

Marcus is impressed, poking his head around from where the wall beam blocks you in the kitchen. "Well, shit. It didn't even get to the chorus—"

"I told you, Pike. I know my stuff," you smugly rub in as you start to chop vegetables on the cutting board you found in the nearest drawer.

"Marcus."

You pause and look back over at him with a curiously arched brow when he lopes in and leans his shoulder against the beam after crossing his arms, casual and relaxed as he stares with warmth in his dark brown eyes at you.

"We're off the clock, so…you can call me Marcus," he elaborates.

"Well then, you do the same," you tell him softly before dipping your chin down to hide your delighted smile as you resume chopping.

He leaves the album to play, and you can see his broad frame near in your peripheral. His baritone is like velvet over steel when he says your name, then rasps, "—We're each doing three courses still?"

Your brain fixates on how Marcus said your first name for the first time. Not the shortened version some of the other agents and techs refer to you by while at happy hour, but your full first name, and he enunciates it the way it's meant to be, which sends an exhilarated, effervescent tickle up your spine.

Heat tingles into the seat of your core, for some odd reason. "Yes. Best of two out of three wins, and gets to pick the movie," is your smooth retort as you cube the rest of the tomato. "Now, quit cheating and go to your corner of the kitchen!"

He chuckles and hops to it, seeming unconcerned with the needing to do any prep for his dishes.

"So, you're into 70's rock?" he queries as he washes his hands in the sink.

"I like all music. But c'mon, that was a classic. Anyone would've guessed right—"

"You'd be surprised," he counters affably as he dries his hands on a dishtowel. "If it isn't from the last decade, most people can't name it—"

"By most people, do you mean 'most women I break out the record collection to' can't name it?" you joke, smirking over your shoulder at him when he turns to look at you coyly. You're tempted to ask, 'Did Agent Lisbon pass your music test?' but decide against it, and instead muse, "Well, lucky for you, I have great taste – in all things."

Marcus glances over at you, and smirks, remarking in a cool hum, "It would seem so."

The cook-off becomes more of a banter session while you both work on your dishes, maneuvering around each other and trying to keep your attention on your individual courses in order not to spoil the surprise of the grand reveals.

"—You were in a band?!"

"Yep. Back in the day—"

"Oh! Let me guess…you played rhythm guitar—"

"Nope! I played bass, and sang vocals. Well, backup vocals, mostly—"

"So you can totally play the bass riff in 'Roundabout', right?"

"Most definitely. Although, don't ask me to sing—"

"I wasn't. I was going to demand that you sing—"

"Quit trying to distract me. I'm doing delicate work here, wildcat—"

"You've literally not started anything on the stove—"

"My dishes are fairly quick, though, so I'm being chivalrous and giving you the advantage…for now," Marcus roguishly quips while seamlessly uncorking a bottle of wine, pouring a serving into a nice glass before handing it to you with easy charm.

You giggle despite yourself before sipping the wine.

Before long, you have enough of your meals in progress that you offer to change the record while Marcus starts marinating and whisking things in the kitchen.

"Oh, you do have my favorite album!" you exclaim convivially, causing Marcus to grin as he seasons his main entrée's protein. "Ok, I'm putting it on, and you better be able to guess—"

"Ah, I will, dandelion. Go on," he lobs humorously over his shoulder as he starts to cook.

The aromatic cornucopia of cooking fills the apartment with so many interwoven scents that it's difficult for either of you to decipher what the other's dishes are, and all his pots and pans have opaque lids, or are in the oven covered with tinfoil.

Marcus is contemplating taking a little peek at one of the simmering pans you have on the back burner when he hears the record start playing.

The instrumental piano bars sound prescient through the speakers, but Marcus knows instantly what album it is.

"That's 'Imagine' by John Lennon, off of the 'Imagine' album," he declares as he gets the griddle hot on the available burner, smiling broadly before asking, "This is really your favorite album?"

"Yes! I love John Lennon—"

"I'm more of a Paul McCartney guy."

And so begins the next round of banter between you.

Soon enough, though, you're both plating your dishes and hiding them on the opposite ends of the kitchen's countertops before Marcus sets the table and brings over the bottle of wine to top off both your glasses.

"—Alright, ladies first," Marcus declares as he sits on one end of the square table.

You are more than happy to go first, believing there's no way he can top any of your three dishes.

"Well, M. First, I present a bruschetta with both heirloom and cherry tomatoes," you place the dish before him, and Marcus marvels at how delicate yet rich all the ingredients look on the toasted crostini-style breads.

"Next, is a black bean and mushroom risotto," is your lilting announcement as you return and place the piping dish down, smiling as he leans forward to catch the curling aroma wafting up from the center of the risotto.

"And finally, herb roasted chicken breast with garlic confit mashed potatoes," is your confident declaration as you place the dish down.

"Wow," is all Marcus can muster as he eyes the gourmet-looking spread you were able to whip up. Begrudgingly impressed, he scrapes his palm along his bearded cheek as he marvels, "This…this is good—"

"You can't say so until you've tried it," you snicker as you sit across from him. "Well? Time to show yours, Mr. Confident."

Marcus's lips quirk at the moniker, and the dark gleam of cocky amusement warms his eyes before he stands from his seat.

"Ok, close your eyes. I'm gonna carry all three out at the same time."

You do as you're asked, smiling goofily at the mental image of him in a ruffled apron effortlessly flouncing around a kitchen with all the dishes balanced in his arms.

"Ta-da!"

You open your eyes, and stare dubiously at the three courses he's placed before you before shooting a snarky stare up at him.

"Oh my god. You literally went the Denny's route?!"

"Hah, Denny's got nothing on any of my dishes! Here is my special vanilla-cinnamon French toast with homemade sausage patties and pure maple syrup. Texas-toast grilled cheese with Monterrey jack and cheddar cheese – with a creamy tomato soup with freshly-picked basil sprinkled on top for dipping. And last, but not least, cheese burgers with lettuce, onion, and tomato, and hand-cut steak fries, with my own mix of salt, pepper and dry-rub buffalo seasoning sprinkled on 'em," Marcus grandly presents and gestures to every dish before giving you a boyish little smile.

Diplomatically, you stand to arrange all the dishes to be within reaching distance for you both before you pat the chair nearest you, indicating he should sit there rather than across from you.

"Ok, cowboy. Let's dig in while it's all still hot!"

You both try each other's dishes, and are blown away by how delicious they are. Then, you eat from your own courses, and trade compliments. Soon enough, the bottle of wine is dry and you're both full – unable to eat another bite. So you help Marcus pack what's left and store it away while continuing to rate which of you won out in the cookoff.

"—How about this: We call it a tie, and we'll surf through the channels until we find a movie we both want to watch?" Marcus proposes as he uncorks the new bottle of wine while you take your boots off and set them aside by the front door.

"No! C'mon, no participation trophy draw," you challenge with a goofy scoff before rounding his couch to meet him halfway to take the offered glass of wine.

"Ok, then you tell me, who medaled in each course?" he derides as he puts the bottle onto the kitchen island and joins you on the sofa with his own topped off glass.

"Hmm, let's see…I think scrumptious breakfast always trumps its challenger, so my bruschetta is out," you rationalize out loud and cross your legs as you lean back into the comfy cushion. At his proud grunt, you quickly caveat, "But! While I really liked your burger, I think my herb roasted chicken was slightly better."

"Alright, so then the tie-breaker is the second course round," he remarks, and at your hum in agreement, he honestly rumbles, "I really liked your risotto."

"And I really liked your grilled cheese and tomato soup. So I think we're stuck with one win each," is your faux huff, but the smirk pulling you lips is impish when he squints dubiously at you. "What? Do you disagree with my assessments?"

"I don't," he drawls, picking up the remote with his free hand before offering it to you. "Start surfin', wildcat."

You do, and end up surprising him by stopping on the TCM channel and looking over at him when the movie description lists Gold Diggers of 1933 as the film that was about to begin.

"This is a good one. Up for watching it—?"

"You like old movies?"

"Well, yes. There are few good ones. I think I've must've seen Casablanca in six different languages at this point," you retort with genuine delight and shrug when he balks at you.

"Really? Casablanca?" he asks, truly charmed when you smile sheepishly for the first time. "No, I'm not teasing. I just don't think I've ever met anyone other than my grandmother who liked that movie too—"

"Well, I moved around a lot, and no matter where you're at in the world, classic cinema will be playing on some channel or at a theater. Watching old movies overseas – when they dub over the English, or at least list the subtitles beneath? It's a great way to learn the language," is your thoughtful rationale as you shift to comfortably sit in a way that you're angled towards him. "They're filled with old-fashion charm, glitz and glamour – even when they're dark and tragic stories...but this one is a silly romp of a musical, if you're into that kind of thing."

He knew your history from the intel reports he'd been given after you'd been detained. Clearing his throat, he set his wine glass aside and got comfortable on his end of the sofa, making the split decision not to broach the topic further.

"I've only seen parts of this one, so I'm good with watching it," is Marcus's easygoing remark, glancing over at you with a smile as he assures, "Go on. Stretch out and take a load off. If you get chilly, help yourself to the throw blanket."

You don't have to be told twice.

Soon enough, you're both engrossed in the film. You sit with your legs tucked underneath you, the blanket over your lap, and your arm folded over the back cushion while Marcus lounges with his sock-clad feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table. Every so often, one of you points out something, or joke around during the short commercial breaks.

"—I find it real telling how you spent so much time raggin' on my low-key evening plans," he chuckles now after he's finished his latest glass of wine. When you feign incomprehension, he rolls his eyes and rumbles, "You're just as big of a relaxed homebody as me—"

You snort, conspiratorially leaning towards him, a bit uninhibited now that the wine is cruising through your bloodstream, and confide in a flirty murmur, "What can I say, Marcus. I just enjoy hassling you."

A flicker of thrill flares in his apex at your words and the beguiling smile you give him. The alcohol's started flushing his cheeks, but the blush that creeps up his neck is definitely not from all the imbibing.

"I kind of picked up on that…eventually," he finds himself replying, lopsided smirk infinitely endearing to you. He was just about to say something else, when the commercial break ended and the movie returned on screen.

Before long, that film ends, and you're both in such a mellow state that you end up watching the next movie that runs right after it.

You talk during the breaks for that film too, and are charmed to learn more about each other.

"—So your mom liked art?"

"Yeah. She loved watercolors. Every so often, she'd take me to the museum when they had a new exhibit. Growing up, she wanted to be a painter…"

He tells you about how he'd grown up of humble means. His father had died when he was still very young, so his grandparents – a retired police deputy and first-grade teacher – helped raise him while his widowed mother held down two jobs. It explained a lot about him – his timelessly endearing charm, the chivalrous way he comported himself, and his love for classic films.

"…My grandmother loved Gone with the Wind the most. My granddad would watch old Jimmy Stewart Westerns pretty exclusively, though," he finishes remarking with a faraway smile on his features.

You can't help smirk as you lilt, "A real Bandolero! fan, then?"

Marcus snickers after draining the last of his wine. "Yep. Although The Man from Laramie was his favorite."

You both enjoy the rest of the movie once it resumes, but at some point, all the food and wine catch up with you both, and the movie on the TV becomes the perfect ambient-inducer for slumber to occur.

You don't know how, but when you eventually wake early the next morning, you find that in your sleep, you'd stretched out length-wise on the couch – and had slept snuggled between Marcus and the back cushions, with your head resting on his shoulder and your arm around his waist, while his was folded around your back.

Besides the sobering shock of it, your senses are flooded with the appealing whiff of his faint cologne, and the intermingled scents of his soap and natural musk. His body against yours felt good, and the alluring urge to nuzzle into his neck has arousal tingling down into your core before you're able to come to your senses and jolt up.

Marcus wakes groggily at the shift of the cushions as you amble up and shimmy away from the spot next to him you'd just vacated. The TV is still on, playing Father of the Bride, and it isn't until you're tossing the throw away from your legs that he snaps fully into awareness.

"Mmph, shit—sorry. I didn't mean to doze off like that," is his gruff mutter, baritone rough from disuse as he yawns and stretches.

You're too busy trying to hide your mortification as you bolt up from the sofa and round it to grab your purse before heading for your boots. "Um, yeah. It's morning, so, I'm just gonna let myself out—"

He sits up and frowns as he scratches at his mussed hair, realizing indeed, it's before dawn.

"Hey, you don't have to rush out. I can give you a ride to your place – I'll make us coffee, and whip up some breakfast before we go," Marcus offers warmly, not realizing you've already got one boot pulled on and are fussing to get the other on.

"No, that's alright. I'll catch a cab," you're telling him as you stand, looping your purse over your shoulder, crossbody, before self-consciously brushing your hands over your hair and finally sparing a glance his way as you remark, "I don't wanna impose any more than I have already—"

Marcus springs up from the couch, internally swearing at the morning wood he's sporting, while already assuring, "C'mon, you're not imposing at all—"

Bemused, he's just turned after covertly adjusting himself in his jeans to see you already at the door.

"See you at work, Pike."

You're out the door before he's even able to articulate a response.

If you were both honest, there had been a not-so-subtle buildup occurring between you.

However, after cookoff-gate, things had swerved into a direction neither of you seemed equipped to maneuver.

Your guard was all the way back up with him. So much so, you weren't even verbally sparring with him at the office anymore.

Marcus handled it the only way he knew how: Focus exclusively on work, and leave no question that his intentions were recalibrated back onto what he assumed you expected. That you wanted nothing but a professional rapport, and to rebuff anything else.

Even after that theory was tested with the club incident soon after the distance between you began – a torrid event that had left him pining for something more, Marcus was left more confused than before when you instead became even more distant.

You were on the precipice of uncertainty for the first time since you'd been ensnared into the task force.

So much so, that you were planning on making the antiquities sting your last.

None of this was because you didn't feel anything for Marcus. Quite the contrary. Your attraction was magnetic, and you hadn't realized how much you'd longed to be safe with someone the way you did when you were with him. It was too dangerous to give into it. That's why you intended to keep your walls up and to suppress all your feelings on the matter in order to concentrate of your impending exit strategy.

But then, things are never that simple.

Marcus is livid when he gets off the elevator and storms at a stalking pace down the corridor several days before the undercover operation is targeted to begin. Everyone takes notice, but the uncharacteristic glower on his rugged features is so intimidating that no one dares check in with him.

He makes it to your office, abruptly enters, and slams the door after himself before stomping to where you're sat behind your desk.

"What the hell possessed you to go around my back and contract an informant without my authorization?!" he shouts forcefully as he looms over you while you stare up at him and frown.

"Nothing. He's been part of the plan since the beginning—"

"Part of the plan that you haven't disclosed to me. And had you told me about the fence you recruited from within the group we're trying to take down, I would've never allowed it!" is Marcus's furious harangue, hands going to his hips to prevent him from gesticulating angrily at you. "You went to the U.S. Attorney and secured an immunity deal with him without my consent—!"

"There was no feasible way to infiltrate this organization without someone on the inside willing to vouch for me, and who can also co-sign that you're The Jackal. He's one of the very few people in the world who has actually seen him and knows his demeanor. And, he's got the motivation to not screw us. He wants out of the life, and knows we're his only chance of making it out alive," you rationalize as you stand and round your desk to point at your transparent board. "See? He's given me key coordinates, and after this morning's intel session with him, I have even more crucial info—"

Marcus grabs your elbow to steer you around to face him and his unwavering scowl. "You are not an agent, Savedra. All you are is a resource – an asset to this team, with no standing to orchestrate these kinds of things behind my back—"

"Listen, Pike. I'm the last person you have to remind of how short my leash is here. I've never forgotten that, least of all that you're the one holding the other end of it. Your task force is a joke, mostly. If you're going to be meek about how you go after these syndicates, then you might as well close shop and go back to Dallas," you snap and shrug your arm out of his hold, staring at him fiercely as you add, "Now, be mad all you want, but if you pull the plug on things now, you're going to derail weeks of work, and set your team back months. I, for one, would like to make all the effort count."

Clenching his jaw, Marcus exhales through his nose and pins you in his dark glare as he grounds out, "Fine. But this is the last time you pull a stunt like this. Understood?"

You nod curtly before turning away to recalibrate your poise as you sigh out.

"Now that we got that out of the way, I set up a session with him so he can detail to you what you need to channel when you're undercover."

Said session does nothing to assuage Marcus, but at least he gets the needed context of what this middle-aged criminal knows, and is briefed on key intel no one has on The Jackal.

The initial meet a few days later with the traffickers goes according to plan.

You convince them of your expertise as a collector of privately-acquired relics, and they buy your explanation of needing the help of a network in order to transport the large, archaic limestone Greek statue of the sphinx you sought to move overseas to a wealthy buyer. The fence, Elio, steers the crew to The Jackal being the appropriate track, and as planned, arranges the fake meet between the traffickers, you, and The Jackal himself.

Marcus didn't need a lot of motivation to channel a reticent, stony man quick to intimidation. His intense demeanor was exactly what everyone in the room expected, thanks to The Jackal's reputation preceding him. However, Elio had divulged one thing that no one outside of this kind of black-market syndicate knew about the head of the Mediterranean art theft ring.

"—Before I give my blessing to this transaction, I'd like to get to know who I'm doing business with."

You'd turned to Marcus and expertly portrayed cautious intrigue. It really wasn't hard, with how dapper he looked in his dark black suit, sans a tie and with a matching open-collared dress shirt underneath the tailored blazer. His hair was swept back, curling in shaggy whisps at his nape and behind his ears. And while his beard wasn't as thick and full as Elio had mentioned The Jackal's being, you thought he looked roguishly handsome, nevertheless.

"And I would be obliged to do whatever necessary to make our business nothing but successful, Sciacallo," you tell him, using the Italian moniker The Jackal favors when doing business.

As planned, Marcus leads you out of the impromptu gathering at the hangout the traffickers use and escorts you to the private quarters upstairs. However, unlike you'd planned up until five minutes before you'd entered the hideout for the meet, you and Marcus weren't dropping your covers once the door to the room closes.

You can't. Not with Elio mentioning that they had installed hidden cameras throughout the hideout, and he couldn't guarantee that the security goons monitoring the feeds wouldn't leave any camera or audio device on in the private quarters.

Marcus had been fuming when you'd faked leaning in to flirt with The Jackal, and whispered about the cameras in the room upstairs. His eyes had hardened and his jaw clenched, but he feigned like he was annoyed by someone talking too loudly close to you both.

So, having not planned this part, you were anxious and exhilarated.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Marcus gave the room a cursory stare before turning to you and murmuring, "See? Much better. We can hear ourselves talk. Perhaps you'll repeat what you said downstairs?"

You feel butterflies in your stomach as you approach him sultrily and caress your hand over the lapel of his suit. "I said, I'm eager to partner with you, handsome," you purr, eyes inviting as you glance up at him through the fringe of your lashes.

"That's what I thought," Marcus husks before trailing his hand up your arm to graze along your shoulder before snaking across your collarbone and up to clasp the slender column of your neck and wrap his thick, dexterous fingers around your throat lightly. He can feel your pulse racing, so he backs you up slowly into the nearest wall before cradling your jaw with a possessive caress of his hand as he rumbles, "I like eager and beautiful women."

Your body reacts, arching into him as you tilt your head back and stare alluringly at him before he leans down and kisses you with voracious zeal.

You dimly wonder if it's truly improvised undercover work when you've wanted Marcus to kiss you like this for weeks – maybe even longer, if you were being honest with yourself.

Marcus is wound tight in his chest with worry, but the way you loop your arms around him and hum into his mouth when he deepens the kiss gives him some relief that maybe this isn't a complete clusterfuck. The thought that they could be watching you both, though, kept him on edge – focused on not getting carried away in how phenomenal having you like this was and instead hyperaware of staying on task.

Mercifully, before things got carried away, a clueless underling walked in on you both, which gave Marcus the perfect opportunity to showcase the infamous fury The Jackal was known for.

He was off of you and slamming the guy up against the doorframe in an instant, yoking him up and contumely cursing him out before the dude could stammer an apology and the girl he had brought up with him ran off to avoid any wrath herself.

Fracas smoothened over by the underling's leader, who profusely apologized to The Jackal, things went back on track as planned, and you were able to leave the hideout with a guarantee that your antiquity could be smuggled overseas and sold to your contact.

The final meeting for the sting operation, however, did not go as planned.

You'd made it all the way up to the handoff at the warehouse when the boss of the trafficking syndicate suddenly tried to change the terms of the deal, by trying to make you reveal the name of your buyer overseas. There you were, surrounded by underlings and enforcers who were packing the crate housing the artifact with the contraband supplied by The Jackal, when you had to smoothly refuse.

The burly man had approached you swiftly, making a veiled threat you'd already composed a rebuttal for when all hell broke loose. You don't even know how it happened, but one second the tactical team rushed in and the guy pulled out a knife while he was lunging to grab your elbow. In a blink, though, you're yanked away and the knife swung wide and slashed at one of the stacked bundles near the crate.

You'd given up on trying to regain your bearings with how your eyes and sinuses were burning, vision watering and stinging as you blindly let Marcus haul you out of the sting's warehouse – having barreled into danger to extract you. The unidentified powder was part of the narcotic contraband to be stored in the crate with the artifact, but the contents of the torn bundle went airborne and caked over you before he was able to whisk you out of the fray and to a safehouse.

Even in the hyper rushed aftermath, his ears were still ringing.

Marcus had yanked you away from being attacked or taken hostage, but not before the powder exploded out like a confetti-cannon over you while shots started ringing out in the warehouse.

The pink haze had the consistency of dry cement as it fluttered down, and even he wasn't spared the hit of it flitting against the side of his face in the chaos.

The fallout was technically his fault, but the main target of the sting had threatened you, so he'd rushed in with backup. The ensuing pandemonium of the raid and the frenzy of pink powder haze and bullets flying had made it a frenzied operation for him.

He'd acted first and thought second, which was not the norm for him. But the threat? It had propelled him to determinedly bust in to extract you, cover being blown be damned. As far as he was concerned, it was unimportant now and of little consequence to him.

Well, now, while he hissed and scrubbed the chemical residue from his face as he locked the door and engaged the security system, he did let his anger swirl up in him all over again.

He hears you coughing in the bathroom, and no matter how exasperating you've been, something fierce coils in his chest at the distressing sound of you dry heaving and gasping to catch your breath.

Tucking his service weapon into the holster underneath his leather jacket, Marcus finds his way down into the narrow hall where the bathroom is, squinting the entire way as he absently wipes at his heated features in attempt to get the strange powder removed.

He knocks on the door before grousing lowly, "Hey, you ok?"

You croak some sort of scoff before running the faucet again and trying to get the cakey residue out from your nostrils so you can breathe without wheezing. Once you've splashed water over your face, you mumble, "I think so."

The door cracks ajar before Marcus pokes his head in to survey you. "What?"

"I said, I think so," you snap, cupping your hands under the faucet and splashing water messily over your flushed features.

"Damn…here, come sit and let me have a look at you," you hear him grumble as his footsteps approach you from behind.

He cups your elbow and firmly tugs you away from the sink to steer you towards the bathtub's ledge, yanking a hand towel from a nearby rack as he sits you down so he can try helping you scrub the remnants of the bubblegum-pink powder off your face.

You sneeze, which causes an itchy sensation in the back of your throat that sends you into another coughing fit, so Marcus hurriedly gets the glass you'd left on the sink vanity and refills it with cool water before placing it in your hands and helping guide it to your lips.

"Small sips. Take it slow," he murmurs in a firm baritone, ignoring his own discomfort to tend to you.

"Mmph," you grunt before taking a breath and shaking your head. "What the hell—what is this stuff?!"

"I'm not sure—"

"What if it's some kind of toxin?!" you exclaim as you try to stare at him without having your eyes water from the menthol-like burn.

"It's not. Remember the narcotic contraband was loaned to us by DEA. There's no way they'd let something toxic be used for a sting—"

"Then why is this stuff making me feel like I just got hit with powdered speed?!" you gripe as you snatch the towel from his grip so you can scrub your face more.

Marcus feels feverish and antsy himself, so he goes to the sink and runs the tap to splash his own features with cool water. "Probably just an irritant from the pink dye—"

"Ugh, I'm covered in this crap," you grouse as you begin to scrub the damp cloth down your neck and decolletage, ignoring how your slinky black dress is hanging in a racy, askew manner at your bustline from the strap drooping off of your shoulder.

Marcus catches himself staring at your cleavage before he hoarsely clears his throat and turns away. "I'll go see if there's anything you can change into," he croaks as he rushes out of the bathroom, heading for the spartan bedroom at the end of the hall and into the armoire across from the bed.

It's then while he's muttering crossly to himself, that he realizes his phone is vibrating in his jacket's pocket. Swearing, he retrieves it and answers, "Pike."

"Jeez, man! I've been calling yah nonstop," the DEA partner, Agent Jarvis, who helped coordinate things with the narcotic contraband for the sting, is barking in his ear. "Where are you?!"

"At a safehouse—"

"I was told your asset got a face-full of one of the powder bricks when shit went south—"

"She did. I caught some too, in the melee of trying to extract her—"

"…Shit. Ok, so, we have a problem," Agent Jarvis warns, before seriously instructing, "Listen to me very carefully, Pike. You and your asset were exposed to Pheral. If you haven't already, you're going to start feeling some effects from it—"

"Whoa, what the hell are you talking about? Pheral? What even is that?"

"So, it's a designer drug out of Amsterdam that's becoming big in the affluent, socialite drug scenes at clubs all around the world. It's a synthetic chemical composite of human pheromones, but it's potent and has the same effects as doing ketamine and acid. However, it's a disinhibitor; it hits the system and can cause coronary distress—"

Marcus is listening in horror while the man instructs him to remove any tainted clothes and rinse the residue off as soon as possible, all as he feels the effects of the drug start to palpitate in his chest. His pulse had been racing and he'd chalked it up to the adrenaline of extracting you from the botched sting, but now he's realizing that it's an elevated sensation pounding in his veins and zinging south, making him feverishly aroused.

"—How do you stop it?! Is there an antidote?"

"Lab hasn't been able to come up with one yet. It's absorbed through mucus membranes, so it hits the bloodstream quick. Get as much fluids in her to clear it out as quick as possible, but mostly, just keep her from hurting herself, Pike. She's going to be jonesing for physical gratification like a hellcat in heat. It's supposed to be the ultimate aphrodisiac—a heightened state of euphoria, but only when done in dab-like doses. If she was doused bad…I don't know. Users get so desperate from the effects when they overdo it that they lose sense of their pain thresholds—"

"I gotta go."

Marcus ends the call quickly before discarding the phone and then pulls the holster with his gun from the back of his waistband to be plopped onto the dresser in order to sprint down the hall to check on you.

He hears you whimpering just before he burst through the bathroom door.

"M-Marcus."

You're in a state of amplified arousal that is bordering on hyperventilating distress. Sweat has broken out along your hairline, and your bare skin is dewy from the overheated racing of your pulse. The ache of desire has you squirming in discomfort, feeling hypersensitive and raw-nerved as you stare wildly up at him from where you're curled into the corner of the floor by the tub.

He rushes to your side to cradle you against him as he hurriedly turns the shower's faucet handle to start spraying cold water into the tub. He says your name firmly before explaining in a hoarse rasp, "—I gotta get this stuff off of you and you're gonna have to drink more water for me."

You sob and grip onto his shoulders, trembling as you whine, "What's happening?!"

"It's the drug," is all he says as he hastily sheds his leather jacket in order to ease his own overheated discomfort, grabbing the glass to fill it to the brim with water before chugging half of it and refilling it in order to kneel down and insistently press it to your lips so you can guzzle as much as you can. When you drink your fill and push the glass away, he blindly sets it down on the back of the commode's tank lid before he rasps, "Now, c'mon, dandelion. I gotta get you under the cold water—"

"Come in with me?" you plead as he lifts you to stand on shaky knees. "You got it all over you too, Marcus," is your watery whisper as you caress his face and swipe at the pink smudge on his cheekbone.

The contact to his skin makes Marcus shudder, and against his control, arousal throbs riotously into his apex and pulses in his loins.

Rock-hard now, he huffs raggedly as he insists, "I gotta take care of you first, so let me get this off of you."

You're feeling like liquid fire is thrumming under your skin and your pulse is at your center, blood pumping from the silken clutch in your pelvis rather than from the organ in your chest. The usual tingle of arousal is instead a rapacious, searing heat at your core – making you quiver and drip with desire while Marcus rushes to gently remove the slinky black cocktail dress off your torso.

Your blush feels like you've been sitting under the Saharan sun, and the brush of Marcus's touch over your ignited body has you shivering and biting back a whimper as he strips you to your black cotton and lace thong before lifting you into the tub and under the cold spray of the showerhead.

The yelp you let out when the water beats down on your bare skin has him scrambling to grab you as you writhe to be in his embrace. "N-No, the water will help—"

"It feels like needles!" you cry and cling to him, quivering as you grip on to him desperately and chatter, "You feel good," before nuzzling his neck and giving yourself over to the urge that's become an incandescent force inside your body.

Your bare breasts press against him, nipples studded and tingling for gratification while your pussy clenches at how good his skin tastes when you suckle a kiss into his neck.

Marcus can't keep a lid on his own baser urges any longer at your distress melting away the more you touch him.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he gravels out and kisses your burning cheek, and at your breathy mewl, he kisses your mouth. The water on your body soaks into his shirt and jeans as you clamber to wrap your legs and arms around him with intoxicated urgency.

When he breaks the kiss to catch his breath, he has to soothe you when you whine for him.

"Can't—I can't just…don't want to lose control—"

You kiss him possessively and slink down his front while simultaneously yanking on his clothes he now desperately tries to peel off of himself.

Feeling his feverish skin press against yours after he shoves his clothes down and rushes to sit on the edge of the tub to kick the remainder off while simultaneously yanking you down – settling you to straddle onto his lap, you moan at having the length of his cock nestle against your damp cloth-covered crotch. You can feel your folds drench with arousal, making you ache to be split by him to the hilt – to be filled by his throbbing erection.

"No antidote—can't lose control. D-Don't want to hurt you," is all he's managed to string together as he gropes you against him and grazes wet, open-mouth kisses along your neck and jaw. Your clit throbs when he grips your waist and starts edging you onto his cock.

"You won't! W-Won't hurt me," you groan and encircle your arms around his shoulders before whining, "Please, please, Marcus—"

He shakes his senses loose of the horny haze to press, "Listen to me, wildcat. We need to wash this shit off. It'll be quick—we'll do it quick, and once it's off I'll do whatever you need—"

"Need you. Want you," you exhale in a frenzied state, staring with blown-out pupils at him as you start to pleasure yourself by rubbing your aching pussy along his cock. The friction of your soaked panties along his velvety, pulsing erection has Marcus buzzing from the electric pleasure sparking across his nerve endings.

"You'll have me, dandelion. C'mon, be a g-good girl for me," he husks and stands, holding you in his arms as you cling to him and whimper.

Once sure you won't bolt, he gets in under the shower spray with you.

The water doesn't feel as horrid against your skin as it had the first time, so you snap out of the hedonistic daze once Marcus has stood under the frigid spray for a few minutes and clumsily scrubbed the pink residue from your shoulders and back for you.

You hurriedly unlatch yourself from him to stand on quaking legs in order to wash the pink powder remnants quickly off your skin and hair, then help Marcus get it off his beard and neck while he lets the water spray directly into his face in hopes to get the maddening sensation to cease.

Now that the water going down the drain is no longer tinged in pink, you and Marcus maneuver so the spray can run down his back while you sway on your feet and try to regain your wits. Instead, you both end up standing in the cold cascade, staring into each other's flushed features.

It feels like a fever dream – seeing his naked body like this, and your pussy clenches around nothing when you caress your palms down his abs and watch his ruddy, pulsing erection twitch at your sensual touch.

He murmurs your name when you lean forward to kiss along his heated skin after nuzzling your face into his pecs, chasing his delectable scent.

You're dialed into this primordial attraction, so you kneel at his feet from how your mouth waters to have his cock stuffed in it – to have the weight of it on your tongue before he fills your pussy with it the way you're convinced he needs to in order to stop this feeling from consuming you like a leaf flung onto a blazing fire.

Marcus shakily cups your jaw as he rasps your name again, and at the skittish unease of his tone, you stare up at him and snake your other hand between your thighs to touch yourself while you mewl for permission to do what you hunger for. The sight of you has him trembling, and his thumb grazes over the corner of your mouth, attempting to tow you back up to him, but then you lick it and make a needy sound that sends a jolt of insatiable arousal to his cock.

"T-This'll make you feel better?" Is his hoarse whisper, cold cascading water raining onto his back completely forgotten.

"Yes, hot stuff. I want you in my mouth—"

He groans, muscles flexing in anticipation. "Wanna give you what you need, baby—"

You gratefully hum and finally put him in your mouth, savoring his salty pre-cum and the velvety smooth thick of him you suck lustfully on.

His hand buries in the back of your wet hair, a raspy moan tumbling from his lips as he grapples to stay balanced with the other planting against the tiled wall.

You're enthralled by his reaction, sucking him off while gripping the base of his cock and pumping him in your fist every time you let his thick cock slip from the warm purse of your mouth so you can catch your breath. All while you rut against the palm heel of your other hand to try and ease the ache of arousal pulsing beseechingly for gratification.

It's when you grind too hard and whimper like it hurts that finally snaps Marcus to focus on you and not the exquisite pleasure that you're giving him.

Your senses sway as Marcus manhandles you off your knees and picks you up to be carried out of the cold shower.

Latching your arms and legs around him with a yelp, you wail, "M-Marcus, wha—?"

"No hurting yourself," he grumbles heatedly as he hurriedly stalks as best as he can, in the state he's in, to the bedroom with you. "M'gonna make you feel good so you don't hurt yourself by accident—"

You hiccup, "Hurt?! What's h-happening to us, Marcus?"

He makes it into the room and puts you on the bed. You're both still drenched from the shower, and he eyes you intensely as he peels your soaked panties off of you whilst trying to soberly explain, "The pink powder? It's a designer drug. The way you're feeling—that we're both f-feeling is because of it. You got dosed with way too much of it—"

You rear up onto your splayed hands and gape at him once he's tossed your drenched thong aside. "C-Can't they give us something to counteract it—?" you begin, but he shakes his head vigorously and sends water droplets to halo about before a shudder makes him wring his hands across his overly-heated features.

He's still rock-hard, and completely naked in front of you now, and the insatiable force in you is suddenly dismissing your panic to instead fixate on him.

"Marcus?"

"Hmmph?"

"Are we going to die?"

"N-No! Jeez—no, of course not," he begins to assure as he drops his hands from his face and rushes to convince you, but ends up avidly staring as you provocatively spread your legs to show him how needy you are for him, keeping your gaze fixed on his blown-out pupils. He watches you sit up and beckon for him to come to you while you shimmy backwards onto the bed.

"Ok then. Take your socks off and get over here, now."

Marcus looks down and realizes that indeed, he still has his socks on. They're sopping wet from the shower, and explain why he had such a difficult time getting traction over the tile and floorboards as he carried you from the bathroom to the bed.

Yanking them off with as much dignity as he can muster, with how worked up and ravenous he is, Marcus tosses them and clambers onto the bed after you. You admire the way his broad, muscularly toned physique looks under the bedroom's track lighting, thrill tangling excitedly in your core at how thick and hard his ramrod cock is as it bobs from his prowling towards you.

Once he's in reach, you loop your arms around his shoulders and pull him down for a rapacious kiss, wanting to have his weight on top of you finally.

His hands are warm and assertive as he pulls you into him while his tongue plunders your mouth, and yours encouragingly grope down to grab his ass when you mewl and roll your hips into his.

He breaks the kiss suddenly, as if compelled to keep his wits about him while he stammers, "W-We don't have to do this. I-I can just—"

You roll your positions so that he's on his back with you straddling him now.

"You said I could have you. I want you, Marcus," you husk silkily as you brace your palms over his broad chest and undulated your hips to grind yourself against his ramrod cock. He groans and grips your thighs, so you lean down to kiss him before you purr against his panting lips, "Now let me have you, handsome."

Marcus feels like you've hit the payload that is his stockpiled arousal he's been trying to keep buried deep in his gut, unleashing a feral desire he's never allowed himself to experience.

You gasp in surprise when he sits up and lifts you by your waist so he can nudge his cock between your soaked folds in order to notch the smooth tip at your dimpled entrance before plunging you onto him to the hilt.

The moan that falls from your lips comes out almost like an overawed wail at how amazing he feels inside you, making you arch into him and cling to his shoulders as he starts fucking up into you with bruising, ruinously precise thrusts that have him stroking nerve-melting pleasure to flare inside you.

"Oh my god!" you cry out when Marcus starts using one hand clutching the small of your back to slam you over and over onto his cock while the other squeezes one breast before pinching your nipple while he suckles the other into his mouth.

He barely registers the sting of your nails pinching into his upper back when you whimper his name after a particularly nippy suckle onto your pebbled flesh, and he doesn't realize how overcome you are with pleasure until you start begging in a frantic tone he's never heard you use.

"Marcus, I—I can't—oh Marcus! Please—"

His hand abandons your breast to instead grip the back your neck and anchor you to him as he nuzzles your cheek and soothingly coos, "Tell me, gorgeous girl."

You feel overwhelmed. The heat of it singed across your face. It has you sobbing against his jaw, "I want more – w-want you to use me. Please, Marcus. I need you—"

There's something primordial that you're both dialed into, and at your words, Marcus just knows what he needs to give you.

Pivoting up on the bed with you, he tosses you onto the mattress before manhandling you onto your hands and knees so he can possessively yank your hips to be positioned just right for him to spear his cock back into your molten pussy from behind.

"Fuck," Marcus grits between clenched jaw at how your walls clamp greedily onto his shaft while you let out a sound akin to a hearty cry of triumph. When he crowds you and starts to pound into you insatiably, he moans at how you rock back to meet his thrusts.

You feel like an animal in heat. Like all there is right now is his cock inside you and his body enveloping around you and his taste and his scent and his sweat and it all has your head spinning in the best way while you interlace your fingers in his and crane your neck out so his face can fit perfectly in the crook as he suckles on your dewy skin.

For Marcus, it's like something was turned on inside him – an undiscovered feeling of belonging and power and accomplishment was cresting free, and the more he reveled in you, the hotter and brighter it was burning in his chest.

It was so liberating that he let his feelings escape the hive-like place in his heart where he kept them trapped away.

"You make me feel things I've never felt before," is growled into your jaw, and you clench around his cock like a silken vise while you moan and arch into him.

"Marcus—"

"M'gonna protect you. Was scared—scared I'd lose you—"

You whimper, "Oh, Marcus—"

"Tell me what you want, wildcat," he gravels in a rough timbre that rakes exhilarated desire through you.

"Fuck me, Marcus. Want you to fuck me until this feeling stops—until I'm yours. M-Make me yours—"

All inhibitions are gone from him now.

Marcus fucks you with abandon, railing you with such ferocity that you're turned into an alight, moaning mess as bliss tears you asunder with a deliriously scorching orgasm that has you bowing down into the bed while Marcus pounds through your fluttering cunt flooding his apex with your climax.

His hands grip your hips as he pivots back onto his haunches and prolongs your ecstasy, eyes glazed with his lust for you and watching you continue to mindlessly rock back to meet his thrusts.

He's throbbing for release, but this heightened state of arousal caused by the drug has an insatiable, prolonging effect – extending his libido's hold-out like a refractory period.

When you dissolve into the bed face-first with an exhausted mewl, Marcus pulls out and marvels at how much slick coats his cock and drips down his apex.

The scent of sex permeates the once sanitized-smelling air that came from the filtered vent system. The room feels humid from how elevated your body temperatures are, blood pressure feeling like it's sky-high as your pulses race. He knows that's dangerous, and in the syrupy miasma of his sex-dazed mind, he remembers the instructions he was given.

You are a blitzed-out heap of tingling nerve endings. So much so, you barely absorb when Marcus rumbles, "Gonna get more water. Be right back, dandelion," as he rolls you onto your back and pets the damp hair sticking to your warm skin away from your face.

"Stay," you mumble and take his hand, kissing the inside of his palm.

He grunts a reassuring sound before kissing your forehead and promising, "I'll be right back."

You vacantly nod and roll on your side with a tired sigh.

Marcus strings together enough control of his fine motor skills to rush out of the bedroom and go for the closest source of water. He enters the bathroom and finds the shower spray still on – having not realized he'd completely forgotten to turn it off. After doing so now, he grabs the discarded glass and refills it in the sink. He guzzles several glass-fills down, feeling more clearheaded the more he rehydrates. His body is running hot, tremors of arousal like muscle spasms in his apex that leave a tingling throb in his loins and have him idly palming and stroking his erection – gauging the muted sensation compared to normal – as he chugs the last of the water before he tops the glass off to take back to you.

When he enters the bedroom, he finds you still on the bed, but you're now restlessly trying to get yourself off – hand between your thighs and panting harshly as you grind against it.

He goes to your side and places the glass down on the night table before wrangling you into his arms.

"No, you'll hurt yourself doing that," he protests while you whine and squirm in his embrace. "I'll take care of you, baby. Just settle down enough to drink some water—"

"I don't want water. I want you," you complain heatedly, slinging your arms around his neck to anchor him down into bed with you.

He picks you up to maneuver you both on the disheveled covers, attempting to appease you before pressing, "I know. I want you too, wildcat. But you need to get fluids—"

"Marcus, you need to keep fucking me until you give me those," is your raunchy counter, smiling when he gapes at you before you start kissing along his cheek and suckle on his earlobe. He groans and ruts up against you, so you purr, "Please, I need you inside me. All of you—"

"Alright, then sit on my cock, naughty girl," he husks bawdily and clasps his hand to the back of your nape to tow you back so he can stare intensely into your dazzling eyes as you squirm in excitement. "You can use me – ride me as hard as you want. But first, you have to drink the water for me."

You look sinfully delicious as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth and arch your brows to obediently nod while already reaching between your bodies to guide his erection to be aligned with your plunging undulation over his lap.

Marcus groans hoarsely and guides you to remain still – flush over where you're both now joined – before hurriedly reaching for the glass and offering it to you.

Compliantly, you drink, and realize how parched you are, so you end up chugging the water until you gasp in relief and uncaringly glide the glass back onto the night table before burying your hand into the back of his damp hair and pull him into a hungry kiss.

Your tongue flicks and twirls against his as you start to fuck yourself onto his cock, mewling heatedly from the effort while Marcus fondles his hands possessively over the globes of your ass before squeezing them when he bucks up into you.

After you reach bliss riding him, shouting his name and staring at him in euphoric satisfaction, Marcus rolls you onto your back so he can dominate you into the bed, spinning you up into delirium all over again as he snaps his hips into a devastating angle that has him colliding dead-center with your nested pleasure clustered deep inside your fluttering sheath.

Time is lost to you both as you couple like animals during mating season.

He can't count how many times he makes you come, nor keep track of all the positions he takes you in, and you're so far flung in the throes of insatiable need that you don't realize until he's just got you off after fucking you with your legs propped up against his shoulders, that he hasn't orgasmed once.

While he slows his barreling thrusts into you once you've melted breathlessly under him, Marcus kisses along the crook of your neck and relishes how you quiver from the aftershocks of your climax. He's just about to shift back and pull out when you clench your floor muscles suddenly around him.

"Oh fuck, mmph," he moans gruffly before maneuvering your legs off of his shoulders and hooking the backs of your knees at his forearms so he can rear back and haul you with him as he says your name warningly and growls, "—You keep doing that and I'm going to lose control."

Your pussy aches, every muscle is sore and protesting, but still the insatiable heat persists, so you stare sultrily at him under heavy lids and coo, "I want you to lose control, you dope. Want you to fuck me until you come, and then keep fucking me until we both can't move or think anymore—"

He swears gruffly, but you feel his cock throb inside you, clearly betraying how enticed he is.

"It's not like I've been holding back. The drug takes the edge off and changes our pleasure and pain thresholds; affects sensation. I don't think I could come even if I tried," Marcus admits lowly as he wrings his hand over his heated features, clearly embarrassed.

"Hey, M."

"Hmm?"

"You're gorgeous when you're all flustered and naked and hard," is your silky murmur, smile cheeky when he pauses swiping the sweat off his brow to stare at you heatedly. Your smile sobers meekly as you admit in a mumble, "And, you're so sexy. Even when you're being maddening and all I want to do is wring your neck and run away…"

Marcus feels that incandescent pressure in the back of his sternum – the one that makes him feel like his ribs ache but feel full at the same time.

Overawed, he sits back on his heels and pulls out of you with a hiss before leaning over you to kiss a worshipful path up from your navel to your jaw. After he presses a kiss to your cheek, he nuzzles your ear before murmuring, "Don't run away. Stay with me, dandelion."

You feel stripped raw and soothed over at the same time by his words, and before you can stop it, your heart wrings in your chest as you confess, "I want to. I've wanted to for a while, b-but I can't help feel this way—"

He props up to gaze wondrously at you. "Feel what way?"

"Ugh!" you groan and cover your eyes with your forearm, too jelly-jointed to do much else to keep your frazzled guard up. "You know, M—"

"No, I don't," he firmly huffs and stretches out onto his side next to you in order to pull your forearm away so you have to look at him.

"…It doesn't matter. This is a mistake – a fluke accident and the weirdo horny mating drug doesn't change that reality—"

"What reality?"

"This!" you shout and weakly gesture between you and him. "Whatever this has become is a mess. I am a fool to feel this way, knowing how reckless you think I've been already and how badly you want to be done with the hassle—"

"…You're serious," Marcus deadpans, derailing your ramble, and when you focus on him, he scoffs and shakes his head, as if astounded, before rumbling in a honeyed baritone, "You don't even know, do you?"

You frown, confused.

Marcus sidles close, dark brown eyes softening as he exhales sardonically before caressing your chin between forefinger and thumb so you can't turn your face as he looks at you purposefully.

"I feel the same way," he tells you, smirking softly before professing, "I love you."

You can feel his body heat and see the unwavering truth in his handsome face, and your flustered mind is processing that this is real while you're carnally supercharged already for him.

"That's the drug talking—"

"No, it's not—"

"Marcus—"

"If you don't feel that way, it's fine—"

"That…that's not it. I'm saying we can't trust what we're feeling right now. We're literally in heat—"

"I fell in love with you before getting hit in the face with pink dust, wildcat—"

"Attraction is not the same as love, Marcus—"

"Oh trust me, I've learned that the hard way plenty already," is his deriding huff as he tucks his chin and smiles self-deprecatingly.

You pout and cup his bearded cheek, caressing it lovingly before mumbling, "You're too good for me. Literally – I don't think I can take how sweet and considerate and…and wonderful you are—"

He says your name huffily before caressing his touch along your side reassuringly, crooning, "—Don't be like that. A sexy little smartass like you can't be contrary all the time."

"Oh yeah? You're seriously not dying to unload me, after everything?" you mutter as you brush your lips along his bearded jaw and card your fingers through his hair. "It isn't just the libido drug making you talk crazy?"

"All the drug is making me do is stay rock-hard and be bold about saying how I feel," he says honestly, and smirks when you hum interestedly before palming his thick erection. When you trace your touch along the underside of the shaft, he husks throatily, "You've clearly grown on me, dandelion. P-Pressed all my buttons, made sport out of challenging me daily, and I hated it all…until I started liking it."

You feel your heart summersault in excitement at that, so you nuzzle his cheek after you carve your hips around his to nestle his throbbing hard-on against your warm, wet pussy, lightly grinding on it as you whisper, "Liking is not the same as lov—"

"Tell me how you feel."

You pause and stare into his eyes. Pressed this close together, you can see how brown his irises are, and how free of judgment they are twinkling soulfully at you.

"I—I care…care more than I ever have, and I feel things that I haven't felt—that I haven't felt in a long time. I just…" you trail off, huffing at yourself before admitting, "The way I feel about you is something I don't know how to manage."

Marcus keeps your hips rocking against him, all the while you flustered to the truth.

"That kind of sounds like the same thing I'm telling you I feel about you, stubborn girl," is his amused rumble. You can't help snort and bashfully curl into him. He doesn't let you hide your face in his neck, though. "C'mon, look at me."

You do, shivering when he cups your jaw and pins you into place with his passionate stare.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you whisper, feeling like you've just jumped off a cliff with no idea what's beyond the precipice.

But the look Marcus gives you – the way his handsome features brighten with delighted surprise, it makes something twinge warm and hopeful in your chest. You kiss him before girlishly scoffing, then stammering, "W-What're we going to do?"

"Right now?" Marcus sits up and caresses his hand down your body to touch where your warmth is flush up against his twitching member. You mewl and melt a little when he teasingly grazes his lips over yours before purring, "Right now, we're gonna keep fucking like rabbits until this damn drug is out of our systems."

You giggle enticingly before timidly snickering, "I'm exhausted, cowboy. I don't think I can manage doing anything but this right now," as you undulate against him for emphasis.

Smirking, Marcus hums, affectionately squeezing your thigh as he croons, "I got an idea."

He assertively rolls you over onto your opposite side and spoons up behind you while possessively fondling your curves. You mewl at the feeling of his warm body up against you from behind while his cock starts rutting against your pulsing womanhood.

Marcus lets you acclimate and simply revel in the feeling of being in his covetous embrace while you rock back against him lustfully. When he starts pressing his throbbing arousal into your pussy from behind, you moan an ecstatic little sound before whimpering, "More, Marcus. Please."

With a deft thrust, he gives you more, and more, as he cups your pussy and grinds his fingertips over the hood of your clit while grazing his teeth down your neck to claim it with a rough kiss at the base.

You reach your arm backwards to sling around his neck so you can keep his mouth on you while you both set a ravenous rhythm, bucking backwards onto him while he fucks forward into you.

The hand that cradles the curve of your waist tightens when you cry his name and desperately loop both your arms backwards to hold onto him as you're lost to the euphoric ecstasy of reaching bliss like this.

Marcus aches when you sob a gratified cry, and he feels pride crackle in his chest when your hands grip the hair at the base of his nape so you have leverage to pivot in his grip in order to kiss him passionately.

His cock pulses inside you when you break the kiss to lick at his bottom lip before you susurrate, "I want you to fill me with your cum, Marcus."

Incredibly turned on by the prospect, Marcus bucks into you with a gruff groan before gravelling tensely, "Now that's the drug talking—"

"No, it isn't," you contradict and look at him with sultry heat blazing in your eyes as you purr, "What's a girl gotta do to get you off, Pikey boy."

You feel him strain enticingly against your fluttering walls at the pet name, which has you shivering in delight just as Marcus growls, "Keep telling me what you want. Please."

That has you divulging things. Some seductive things, like, 'Want you to be all mine, cowboy,' and some salacious, authoritative orders, like, 'Fuck me like you want me, Marcus. I want you. I'll let everyone know you're mine, but only if you make me yours.'

The more you tell him what you want, the more worked up into searing arousal Marcus gets as he buries his moans into the back of your neck whilst he fucks you faster and harder – hands clutching you to him as your pitch gets more alight from your own pleasure cresting incandescently through you.

He's feral with need by the time he's got you on your stomach with your ass up for him to plunder his cock deep into your fluttering cunt. You're blitzed out – lasciviously keyed into the wild throes of carnal elation of being ravished by him. Sweat and slick and the heat of your flesh pressed together is making both your senses flare with rapturous yearning – panting breaths wild as you both are finally at the precipice of savage release together.

At his thrusts picking up frenzied pace that has your warm flesh colliding rhythmically over your hearty sounds of pleasure, you press the button he didn't know he had in him.

"Please, m-make me yours, sweet boy—"

The exhilarating, searing pleasure that snaps loose from Marcus at your airy mewl has him barreling ferociously into you while moaning in guttural, incredulous bliss just as you cry out and orgasm with him.

He buries his cock deep and clings over you as he shudders through the bursts of his climax that fill your rippling sheath while you exhale a rapturous, sated sound and melt under him, toes curled and arms draped around his as they clutch you to him. You feel made whole as the warm bloom of his spend filling you diffuses through you, and Marcus feels like lightning struck him and the electric buzz still scintillates through his sinew.

Reduced to trembling, breathless heaps tangled against each other, you and Marcus lay on the sullied sheets for a while. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, and he can feel your pulse against the hand pressed between the bed and your womb. Neither of you can think beyond the content reassurance that the other is still there, warm and safe.

Feeling returned to yourself a disorienting amount of time later, you shift clumsily under him to squirm around and face him. Marcus heavily rolls off of you and grunts from the effort, but groggily rubs at his forehead to get the matted hair off his skin.

You tiredly rest your hand on his tacky chest, caressing it along his broad pectorals soothingly.

"…You ok?"

"…Yeah…can't move."

"Same…you feel ok?"

Marcus snorts exhaustedly before lulling his head to stare with hooded eyes at you. "M'feelin' like I fucked a marathon. You?"

You snicker girlishly. "I'm feeling like the marathon you fucked."

His laugh is raspy, features dewy and relaxed from sweat and all the over-exertion. Your hand reaches up to trace his bearded jaw, affectionately caressing along it until he hums and closes his eyes contently.

"Do you still feel in heat?"

"It's more of an aroused little tickle now versus the raging inferno of insatiable mania of before," you answer as you continue to caress his handsome features. "You?"

With a cleansing exhale, Marcus rumbles thickly, "About the same. I'm gonna need a few before I can go again, though—"

"Oh my god. I just said I'm not in nymphomaniac-mode anymore, you dope—"

You catch his sly smirk when he cracks an eye open to goadingly peer over at you. "You're cute when you're all worked up, gorgeous—"

With a scoff, you silkily mutter, "You're so lucky I'm too wrecked to slap you around, hot stuff—"

"C'mon, wildcat. Wouldn't you rather just have your way with me instead?"

You laugh, as if intrigued, before sidling up to him and giving him an alluring look, purring, "Is that what you want, sweet boy?"

Marcus feels arousal skitter down into his loins, zinging pulsing want into his cock before he can even try to not react to the titillating pet name that was much of his undoing.

"Yes. That's what I want, wildcat," he husks, too tired to be timid about it.

Appeased, you slink up against him and loop your arm around his midriff. "Good," you lilt around a yawn before murmuring, "That's what I want too, sweet boy. After we conk out for a bit."

His chuckle is like rich honey to your senses, and the warm tingle that tickles down into your womb when he nuzzles a kiss to the top of your mussed hair has you shivering with delight.

"Sounds like a plan, dandelion."

_____________________________

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.

Taglist:

@redsilentwolf28 | @just-here-for-the-moment | @mandosmistress | @sarahjkl82-blog | @knittingqueen13 | @mamacitapascal | @hylasposts | @hnt-escape | @eri16 | @gracie7209 | @casssiopeia | @athalien | @qwertymx | @rosiefridayrogersunday | @pascalesque | @maknimuk1 | @kirsteng42 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @littlemisspascal | @southotheborder | @rosegxoxo | @in-for-a-pennyx | @dolly-on-the-dotted-line | @harriedandharassed | @deadhumourist | @trickstersp8 | @pedropascalsx​ | @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine | @angstylittlepascal | @mrsparknuts

[starset21]

Standard Disclaimer: I only own my original characters, I've done some research but there will likely be Navy/military inaccuracies, and I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may be found is on tumblr and Wattpad under @.itswildflower

A/N: This story is heavily inspired by the hallmark movie of the same title and is very self-indulgent. I'm also trying a different format than I'm used to using so it may change in the future chapters.

Looking for the next chapter? U.S.S. Christmas Masterlist 

Summary:  She’s on her way to a Christmas ball to meet her brother Jackson, a fighter pilot in the Navy. There, she spots a certain blonde, tall drink of water with gold wings clad in full dress uniform waiting at the bar.

Chapter 1: The Christmas Ball

“Oh, my. I feel like I should be standing at attention,” Kayleigh whispered to her brother.

“Relax, Kate. Even the most disciplined sailors know how to have fun. You just wait until this dance floor fills up. I'll go get our table number.”

Kate took a deep breath. “Okay. I'll get drinks,” she told him before walking over to the open bar.

“Hi. A red wine and a whiskey neat, please,” she ordered. The bartender got to work quickly and was handing them to her within a minute. “Thank you so much,” she handed him a 5-dollar tip before taking them and turning around only to run smack into a woman wearing white, effectively spilling her red wine over the white fabric.

“I'm so sorry!” she gasped, turning and setting the drinks down and picking up a towel to hand to the woman.

“We have literally been here for three minutes,” the woman complained.

“I- i-i-i-i'm… I'm gonna get your dress dry-cleaned. Actually, you know what? I'm gonna go get you a new dress. I'm gonna actually go to the mall right now,” Kate rambled on.

“I finally found a flattering white dress… Of course, this happens,” the woman mutters. 

“I'm so sorry. I feel terrible,” she apologizes. “It's... fine. Accidents happen. If you'll excuse me, I am headed to the restroom.”

The woman leaves, leaving Kate with the handsome stranger.

“I'm so sorry,” she apologizes again.

“Red wine, the enemy of flattering white dresses everywhere,” the handsome blonde quipped.

“Yeah. It's a fashion emergency if I've ever seen one,” Kate muttered embarrassed.

“She'll survive. Although you might want to have your date grab your drinks for you next time,” he suggested.

“Oh, no, I'm not…” she trailed off when another man patted the handsome blonde on the shoulder.

“Hangman! Long time no see, buddy.” The two men speak for a moment.

“I better get back to my date,” Kate tells the man. “It was nice meeting you,” he tells her before she walks off. 

“Kate! Over here,” her brother calls out, standing with a familiar face.

“Merry Christmas! It's so good to see you again,” the older man greeted and opened his arms for a hug.

“It's good to see you too, Captain Kerner,” Kate hugged him.

“No, no, no, you're a civilian. No formalities. It’s Ron or Slider... I cannot believe how grown up you are, I haven't seen you since your Dad's funeral.”

Kate nodded. “Yeah. You gave such a beautiful speech, sir.”

“Thank you. Sam was one of the finest RIOs and a great wingman out at sea,” he complimented.

“Yeah, he was the best,” Jackson chimed in.

“He would have been proud of you two. Your stories in the paper, Kate, and, of course, you following in his footsteps on the Polaris, Jackson,” Ron told them.

“It's my honor to serve, sir,” Jackson smiled.

“It's a shame, however, that you didn't sign up for the Christmas tiger cruise along with your mom this year. You could have seen your brother in action,” Ron told Kate.

“I just have so much work right now. Big stories percolating,” she countered.

“A chance to watch Jackson launch a $65 million jet off the deck of a carrier, why, that's a big story,” Ron laughed. “Not to mention we're gonna make a stop in New York City this year,” he added after a pause.

“Isn't it too late, sir? The cruise leaves Norfolk day after tomorrow,” Jackson asked.

“We carry 6,000 people on the ship. I think we can find an extra bunk for Kate,” Ron patted him on the back.

“Kate?” he asks.

“Well, thank you, really, for the offer, but it's just so last-minute with Christmas being ten days away,” She tells the older man.

“Well, the offer is there if you change your mind,” Ron told her with a smile.

“Sir!” A younger service member approached them. “Ah, yes. If you'll excuse me? It was great catching up.” 

“You know Captain Kerner is my boss, right?” Jackson muttered to Kate as the older man walked away. “Like, my big boss?” he stressed.

“Yeah, I know. I'm not interested in going on a tiger cruise, okay? I didn't want to go when we were little, I don't really want to go now,” she told him.

“I get it. Now, the more important question is, where are those drinks?” he asked her.

“Oh, um…” Kate trailed off.

“Isn't that your shawl?” Jackson asks, his eyes following the woman she had spilled wine on. Kate nodded. “Who is that, anyway?” He looked at his sister.

“I don't know. I had a little bit of an accident at the bar. Some guy actually told me to have my date get the drinks next time,” she tells him, hanging her head in embarrassment.

“From the looks of that woman's dress, maybe you should have got the Merlot?” Jackson teased.

“Affirmative,” Kate sighed.

“Come on,” Jackson offered her an arm and led her to the table where they caught up on each other's lives. 

“Oh, it's Jenny. I'm gonna grab this,” Jackson told her, grabbing his phone and standing.

Kate nodded and yawned. “I know the military can be stiff… But are we really that boring?” Hangman, the handsome stranger from earlier approached.

“Sorry, it's just… It's been a long day,” Kate tells him.

“There's your shawl. Solo again?” he asks as she takes the shawl from him.

“Thank you. What about you? Is your date okay?” Kate asks.

“She's a little traumatized.”

Kate’s cheeks flushed. “Seriously?” she lamented.

“She likes things to be… Just right,” he told her.

“Oh. A good match for you, then.”

Hangman raised a brow. “Based on...?” he questioned.

“I just know most military officers are meticulous,” Kate told him.

“I can be pretty easygoing. Spontaneous, even,” he countered.

“There you are. Your tie's a little crooked, Jake,” the woman in white came up to him and fiddled with his tie. The lieutenant mouths sorry to Kate before being led away by his date.

“Is Jenny okay?” Kate asked when Jackson returned to the table.

“She's good. She'll be back tomorrow. Look, I'm real glad you came with me tonight,” he told her.

“Me too,” Kate smiled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, excuse me. May I have your attention, please? The captain would like to say a few words.”

Ron steps forward. “Thank you, Commander. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Captain Ron Kerner, skipper of the USS Polaris, and I want to wish you all happy holidays and thank you for coming to the Navy Christmas ball. Now, as you know, while the Navy is not about self, but country, I look around this room tonight and I see so many fine men and women who make incredible sacrifices for this nation every day. And I'm not just talking about the sailors, but those who love them, as well. My apologies… I know we're not an easy bunch. And I can't wait to host your families on the Christmas tiger cruise. It's always exciting to me when they get to see what an incredible job you do on the ship. So during this holiday season, be thankful for family and for this fine country. Raise your glasses in a toast. To the Navy!” he cheered.

“To the Navy!” Everyone repeated.

“Merry Christmas,” he finished before the music began once more.