#sorry this was a very quick glance through my following lmao

[javiscigarette]

Ease

Javier Peña x f!reader

Requested:

requesting… daddy!javi comforting u after a stressful work day 👀 pls n thank

warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, fingering, squirting, spitting, spanking, a bit ass play (I cant resist), dirty talk, daddy!javi obviously, d/s dynamics obviously, extreme overuse of pet names and I'm not sorry, fluffy Javi deserves its own warning

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: the long overdue Javi fic is finally here lmao I wrote this very quickly and I haven't written for him in a long time so it may not be my best but I'm honestly just proud that I finally got something out :)) pls let me know if you like it!! ALSO! I reached 1.5k followers awhile ago which is just mind blowing so I just wanted to say THANK YOU to everyone who has joined me and continues to support me. This blog and all the friends I've made here have helped me through some pretty rough times and I'm forever grateful AHHH I just you all soo much!!

my masterlist

You’re not there to greet him when he opens the door. Usually you’d have a glass of whiskey in your hand for him, already a little tipsy from the glass you had for yourself earlier.

There’s a unpleasant shiver that runs down his spine as the thought of you being in some sort of danger immediately crosses his mind. But the sound of you puttering around in the kitchen gives you away. That and the haze of smoke and smell of burnt food wafting through the entire apartment. 

He kicks his shoes off and loosens his tie as he rounds the corner to the kitchen to find you standing in front of the stove, tending to what he assumes is some chicken in a pan. The exhaust fan on the range hood and the ceiling fan are working overtime, pushing the smoke out of the kitchen and through the open window. 

“Hi, bebita” Javi says as he enters the smokey kitchen. You don’t say anything in response, just give him a quick sideways glance before turning back to the stove. 

He crosses the room and moves to stand behind you. Maybe if he had seen the frown on your face, or the way your eyebrows are deeply creased in frustration, he would’ve said something very different. 

But he didn’t see. 

“Dinner smells delicious” he teases, squeezing your hips. He’s expecting a little chuckle from you, or at least an annoyed eye roll with a hidden smile. 

So he’s caught very off guard when you slam the spatula down on the counter with a loud, frustrated sigh.

“Well I’m sorry that I tried to make a nice meal. Guess I’m fuckin’ useless at that too.” 

You try to push yourself out of his grasp, but his grip only tightens. 

“Hey okay okay, easy.” Javi soothes, turning you around so you’re facing him. “What’s wrong, bebita?” he asks, his tone immediately switching from teasing to soft and tener.You puff out a heavy sigh, refusing to look up at him and staring at his white shirt stretched across his chest instead. 

All the thoughts about your horrid day at work that you’ve been trying to block out break the damn and come flooding back into your head; your boss telling you that you fucked up two different major tasks and refusing to tell you how to do them correctly, catching your coworkers gossiping about you in the breakroom, your computer dying right before you could save any of the work you had done for the day, and how you tried to come home and cook as a distraction but you clearly forgot about the chicken sitting on the stove and almost caught the house on fire. 

You hadn’t even noticed the tears welling up in your eyes until Javi is wiping away the ones that have brimmed over and slid down your cheeks. 

“Cariño…” Javi whispers, his tone drenched with concern. That’s all it takes. You instantly break down, falling forward into Javi’s chest as your whole body shakes as you sob, your tears wetting the crisp fabric of his shirt. 

You tell him everything in between wet gasps and uneven breaths, unloading everything at once. He just holds you through it, nodding along and giving you an occasional understanding hum while running his palms up and down your back until you finish talking. 

“Your boss is an asshole” is the first thing Javi says. “Your coworkers too” 

You respond with a pathetic sniffle. “I really fucked up though. And now everyone thinks I can’t do my job” 

"Bebita,” Javi starts, continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “Everyone has tough days at work. It doesn't define your abilities or your worth. You're so much more than a single bad day."

You sniffle again, still leaning heavily against him for support. 

"It's just... I'm tired of feeling like I'm constantly failing."

Javi clicks his tongue and moves one hand to use two fingers to gently tilt your chin up, making you meet his easy gaze. 

"You're not failing, mi amor. Sometimes things don’t go as planned and that’s okay. You're learning and growing."

You wish he wasn’t so right all the time. Sometimes talking back to the false narrative that runs rampant in your head 24/7 is too much work. 

"I know”  you sigh, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “It’s just hard not to let it get to me."

Javi's thumb brushes against your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. 

"I understand. Just remember you're not alone in this. I’ll always be here for you, my sweet girl” 

You manage a weak smile, feeling a bit of warmth starting to seep back into your heavy heart. 

“Thank you” you whisper.

Javi smiles warmly, his eyes full of admiration and unwavering support. 

“Of course, baby. I’m here for you always. No matter what.” 

You let your head fall back to his chest and you take a deep breath. He keeps rubbing your back, physically feeling the tension leaving your body as you melt against him. Without your brain in overdrive, you finally register the smell of his faded cologne and his cigarettes sticking to his shirt, the scent immediately washing away more of the tension in your muscles. The warm feeling in your chest starts to spread all the way down to your toes, your whole body feeling 10 times lighter than it did 5 minutes ago as his embrace brings you a sense of solace you hadn’t experienced all day. 

After another silent minute or two, he places a kiss to your hairline before leaning in close, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 

“You know, there’s another way to forget about it for a little while.”

His low voice alone already has the base of your spine tingling. You pick your head up to meet his gaze, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. 

“Yeah?” you ask, a weak smile slowly spreading across your face.

“Mhmm” he hums, his hands sliding down to your waist and slipping under the hem of your shirt, his warm fingers splaying over your skin. 

"You've had a tough day," Javi continues, his voice a sensual murmur. "And I think you deserve something to take your mind off all that stress."

His words, laden with suggestion, push all the worries out of your body, replacing it with a thrill that courses through your veins. He leans in until his face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me take care of you, bebita."

All you can do is nod dumbly. Javi grins as he pulls you in closer. His lips capture yours in a slow, tantalizing kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands slide up from your waist to your rib cage, rucking up your shirt in the process. Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, drawing you impossibly closer to him. He pulls away just long enough to pull it over your head before his lips capture yours again. 

He wraps one arm around you, keeping you close as his other hand cups your jaw, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as his thumb mindlessly brushes your cheek. Your hands find their way to his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. 

He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and you part your lips with a soft sigh, his tongue immediately sliding against yours. It’s a dance of desire and vulnerability, an unspoken promise that he’s here to take away all of your worries. The rest of the world quickly fades into a distant blur, leaving just the two of you in this electric connection.

 His lips eventually leave your mouth, his breathless chuckle fanning across your jaw at the sound of your quiet whimper. He trails wet kisses along your jaw, down to the side of your neck, each one accompanied by a soft exhale that causes goosebumps to erupt over every inch of your skin. The sensation is exquisite and maddeningly arousing, and you find yourself tilting your head back, giving him better access. 

His teeth gently graze over your pulse point, sending shiver coursing through your entire body. Your heart races as he finds a spot just below your collarbone, nipping and sucking before soothing the dark spot with his tongue. His hands roam your torso, big, warm palms exploring every inch of exposed skin. You can feel the bulge in his jeans rapidly grow against your hip and your core throbs with a dull ache in response. Everything that happened earlier is miles away as you feel yourself relaxing deeper into his embrace, losing yourself in him. 

He pulls away when you whine quietly and looks down at you, his pupils already blown with lust and desire. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear then ducks down to place a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering “Bedroom. Now.” 

You nod and turn to head out of the kitchen, letting out a small giggle when he lands a quick slap to your ass. His eyes are glued to your backside as he follows you to the bedroom, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt along the way

You flop down on the edge of the bed with Javi just a few steps behind you. He tosses his shirt to the corner of the room and starts working on his belt as he stalks towards you. You smirk and reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slide off your arms. Javi licks his lips at the sight of you sitting there in only your soft cotton shorts, looking like he’s about to pounce on his prey. 

He crosses the room until he’s standing inches in front of you, then slips his belt out of the loops and tosses it aside. You reach out, intent on undoing the button and zipper of his jeans but he stops you by wrapping a large hand around your wrist before you can touch him. 

“Nuh uh, baby. I’m takin’ care of you tonight”  

His words send a strong pulse of excitement down your spine and your heart pounds in your chest. He lets go of your wrist and you let it fall limply back to your side as you stare at him through your lashes. 

“Take off your shorts.” 

You immediately follow his command, quickly standing and moving to slide your shorts and panties down your legs so fast that you stumble a bit when they get caught around your feet. Javi reaches out and grabs your arm to steady you as you step out of your shorts and kick them to the side. 

“Good girl” he chuckles, dropping his hand from your arm. You watch with wide eyes, saliva gathering in your mouth as he shuffles out his jeans, his hardened cock gently slapping against his lower abdomen. He catches your gaze and gives you a knowing wink before making his way onto the bed. You stand in place, patiently waiting for your next set of instructions as he props himself up against the headboard. 

“C’mere” he says softly, patting his thigh. You positively beam as you climb on the bed towards him. You face him and you’re about to straddle his lap, but he stops you with a hand on your hip. 

“Turn around, cariño.”

You listen and immediately turn around and sit down between his spread legs, pressing your back into his chest. His cock presses firmly into the small of your back, a warm and welcome presence. With a contented sigh, you lean back and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“You listen so well, baby” Javi rasps, his voice rough with arousal. You only hum in response, your lips curving into a grin as you glow under his praise. He presses a kiss to your temple and his hands find your torso once again, slowly sliding up and down your sides. But he can only resist temptation for so long. 

He uses both hands to cup your breasts and you both let out soft sighs in unison. 

“Tan bonita, princesa” he whispers, his fingers finding both of your nipples. A small noise escapes from your parted lips as he feathers the pads of his fingers over the sensitive buds, teasing you until they’re stiffened peaks. He then pinches both, gently rolling them between his thumb and fingers. 

“That feel good?” he asks softly, his lips moving against your temple. 

You nod, letting out an uneven breath as you involuntarily push your chest forward into his touch. He pinches a little harder, pulling a delicate gasp from you. His cock twitches against you in response. 

“Want you to use your words, bebita.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before responding. 

“F-feels good, Javi.” 

He clicks his tongue and squeezes a little harder again. 

“And what do you call me when I’m makin’ you feel good, princesa?” he asks, his voice dangerously low in your ear. 

Your mouth goes dry and your heart skips a beat in your chest. 

Fuck. 

The stress of your day was already far in the back of your mind, but Javi was intent on erasing it completely. And he knows exactly how to do so. 

“Daddy” you correct yourself, the simple word placing you on precipice of submission “Feels really good, daddy” 

“That’s right, bebita” Javi groans softly, his cock twitching in approval. “Such a good girl for me.” 

He then hooks his chin over your shoulder while you exhale a long, shaky breath as one of his hands leaves your breast and slides down your stomach. You clit pulses in anticipation, but he avoids where you want him most and instead smooths his hand over the top of your thigh. Your chest heaves with every breath as he teases you with gentle touches, getting you all worked up just the way you both like it. 

“You want me to touch you, princessa?” Javi asks, his fingertips dancing delicately on the inside of your thigh. It tickles and you reflexively try to close your legs, but he brings his foot to the inside of your calf and pushes it to the side before placing his foot flat on the bed, keeping your leg firmly in place. “Answer me.” 

“Yes, daddy, please” you whine, your voice coming out a lot more desperate than you intended. 

“Where, baby? Tell me where you want daddy’s fingers.” 

He’s teasing you, but it serves as an excellent distraction –  the events from earlier today are the least of your concerns right now. 

“You want them here?” he asks, his fingers now just barely tracing your dripping seam. “Want me to touch your pretty little pussy? Rub that pretty little clit?” 

You nod fervently and buck your hips up without thinking, your body betraying your patience and chasing after his touch. Javi chuckles darkly and harshly pinches your nipple with his other hand, making you jump in surprise. 

“Tell me, baby. Be a good girl and tell me.” 

You whimper, a hot flush spreading across your chest and creeping up your neck. You’ve been here a thousand times with him, been in far more desperate situations too. But the butterflies still tickle your tummy and the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment. 

“Want…want you to touch my pretty little pussy, daddy.” you murmur, the last of your sentence barely audible. 

He immediately rewards you by dipping two fingers into your slippery folds, groaning softly in your ear when he feels how wet you are for him. “Mmm that’s my good girl. Always fuckin’ soaked for me, huh?” he asks, dipping the tips of his fingers into your hole, gathering your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You nod lazily, your eyes fixed on his hand between your legs. 

He starts with slow, languid circles, his cock pulsing against your back with every small noise that bubbles up out of your throat. His other hand is still occupied with pinching and rolling your nipple. Hot arousal flows through your veins, every nerve ending on fire just from his easy touches. You want it faster, you need more. But you know he won’t give it to you unless you ask. 

“Pl-please, daddy. Faster please” you huff, squirming in his lap as you try to suppress the urge to buck your hips up again. 

“Look at you, princesa. Being such a good girl asking’ nicely like that” Javi whispers, instantly picking up the pace of his fingers and adding more pressure. You let out a long, low moan, the sound of it filling the bedroom. “Sound so pretty too” he adds, pressing his lips to your temple. 

His other hand leaves your nipple and he shushes you softly when you whine at the loss. He doesn’t tease you this time, his hand immediately joining the other between your legs. He keeps his two fingers on your clit, rubbing firm circles just like you asked while his other hand finds your leaking entrance. 

He doesn’t make you ask again before he slides his middle finger inside of you, probably more out of his own desperation to feel you clenching around him. You’re absolutely soaked, you juices freely flowing out of you, down his finger and into his palm like warm honey. He wants to draw it out, slowly work you up until you’re about to snap, but he’s not feeling very patient anymore. 

He slides his finger in and out of you a few more times before adding a second, curling his fingertips. He finds the spot inside of you instantly and you reward him with a loud gasp, your whole body trembling as you relax against his chest. 

“That’s it, baby. Just relax for me” Javi coos, his voice tight and strained as he tries to contain his own excitement. He pumps his fingers inside you, his fingertips nudging against the spot that has your whole body jolting with every pass. Every inch of your skin feels on fire as he works you, lewd sounds filling the room as he plays with your slick pussy. You feel wetness on your back and quickly realize that it’s his precum leaking from his warm tip, smearing against your skin as you squirm around. 

“Mierda, princesa” Javi groans as you clench tightly around his two fingers. “You close, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer. You answer with a high-pitched whine, throwing your head back on his shoulder. 

“Cum for me, baby” Javi grunts, moving his fingers faster, bringing you to the edge. “Cum all over my fingers and then I’ll fuck you, nice and deep just how you like it” 

His fingers are relentless, rubbing dizzying circles on your clit and punching up into your g-spot. You can’t hold back anymore, rocking your hips and grinding down on his fingers. Your chest burns with every breath you manage to suck in, the hot coil in your tummy wound tightly, threatening to burst at any moment. You open your mouth and try to tell him that you’re about to cum, but every time you try to speak, the only sounds that come out are loud gasps in-between broken moans. 

And then you finally snap. Javi groans as you clamp down around his fingers, so tight that he can hardly keep moving them. He then quickly pulls them out, his eyes wide with amazement as your juices gush out of you, drops of it landing on his leg, most of it soaking the blankets underneath you. 

 “There’s my good girl” he hisses between clenched teeth. He watches intently as you thrash around, the sight of you squirting and the sweet sounds of your moans going straight to his cock as he works you through your orgasm. He doesn’t let up until you come down, whimpering and jolting at his touch. 

You collapse backwards against his chest, your head on his shoulder as you pant and try to catch your breath. He goes back to tracing your seam, his touch featherlight once again. You let out a sigh, your limbs heavy and head fuzzy with pure ecstasy.

He eventually moves his hands away, placing them on your thighs and letting out a low whistle. 

“Did so well, princesa. Look how much you came for me” Javi rasps, nosing at the column of your neck.

You pick your head up, looking down at the aftermath of your orgasm. You laugh breathlessly at the dark spot underneath you and the liquid on Javi’s calf shining in the dim glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Javi’s chest rumbles with his own chuckle as he presses sweet kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

He doesn’t give you much time to recover before he taps your thighs and gives you your next command. “Hands and knees, princesa.” 

You’ve barely had time to catch your breath, but your pussy still aches in anticipation of his earlier promise. You take a deep breath and find enough strength to sit up straight. Your limbs are weak and noodly as you crawl over to a dry spot on the bed and get into position, your ass in the air with your face pressed against the soft blankets. 

You crane your neck to watch Javi who flashes you a devilish grin as he assumes his position on his knees behind you. You give him a sweet smile back and wiggle your ass. And he takes the bait, groping your cheeks with both hands before he spreads you open, putting everything on display just for him. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.” he growls before leaning over to spit. You gasp and moan softly at the feeling of the warm liquid landing on your asshole and sliding down to pool at your swollen clit. He then brings his thumb up, using the pad to gently rub his saliva against your puckered hole. “So fuckin’ gorgeous” 

“Daddyyyy” you whine pitifully, pushing your hips back into his touch. He chuckles breathlessly and wraps a hand around the base of his cock and lining himself up. 

“You’re so good, baby.” Javi starts as he slides his cock in the mess between your cheeks. “My strong, beautiful, intelligent, good girl.”

Your face heats up at the praise, the words stirring up the butterflies in your stomach yet again. 

“Thank you, daddy” you murmur, the sound muffled by the blankets. Javi just hums and continues to glide his cock through the wetness, addicted to the way whimper every time his cockhead brushes against your swollen clit and your aching entrance. You whimper and wiggle your hips again, trying to get what you want. 

“Repeat it.” Javi commands simply. “Wanna hear you say it” 

You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper again. He’s completely taken over your headspace now, forcing you into a place of submission where there’s no room to think about anything other than him and what he asks of you. This is how he takes care of you, how he can turn every bad day on its head and take away every single one of your worries until you’re a blissed out mess underneath him. And he’s really fucking good at it. 

“I’m your strong, beautiful, intelligent, girl” you choke out, a fresh wave of slick gushing out of you and onto his rock hard cock at the forced admission.

“Forgot one” he breathes, his thumb still rubbing at your tight little hole. You wrack your brain, thoughts moving slower than syrup in your head as you try to remember what he said not even 10 seconds ago. 

“Good.” you say, as soon as you remember. I’m you’re good girl, daddy.” 

“Yes you are, baby” Javi says, notching his tip at your entrance. “So fucking good for your daddy.” 

He pushes all the way in, burying himself to balls deep in your aching cunt in one smooth movement. The sounds you make are obscene as you twist your fists in the blanket underneath him. He’s so deep, you swear you can feel him somewhere near your lungs. Just like he promised. He moans roughly behind you, the feeling on your warm walls squeezing rhythmically around his neglected cock overwhelming all of his senses.

But you don’t let him catch a break. You barely give yourself time to adjust before you take matters into your own hands and start rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock. Javi inhales sharply, both hands finding your hips and trying to hold you in place, but you’re not having it. 

“Daddy please–oh shit– please fuck me, need it so bad” you whine as you continue to rock your hips despite Javi’s best efforts to stop you. 

Javi just growls in response, his fingertips digging into your hips as he slides out until just his tip rests inside before slamming back into you. The loud moan that he pulls from you travels as a shiver down his spine and fuels his fire. He quickly finds a steady pace, brutally slamming into you like he’s fucking the stress out right out of your body. You let all the moans and whines and whimpers float freely out of your mouth as you take what he gives you, as he fills you up and stuffs you full over and over and over again. 

“You're so good for me” Javi grunts, gripping your hips and moving them backwards to meet his every thrust. “Feel so fucking good squeezing me like that, this tight little pussy was fucking made for me” 

Your eyes roll back into your head, his words once again turning your brain into mush as he fucks you into another plane of existence. You’re already teetering on the edge of another release, your lower abdomen burning with it, your swollen, neglected clit pulsing and desperate for attention.

And Javi feels it too.

“Already gonna cum again?” Javi asks breathlessly before landing a smack to your ass. You yelp in shock and there’s another wave of your juices leaking out onto his cock. 

“Ohh you like that, don’t you baby?” Javi coos before spanking you again, this time a bit harsher. Your face scrunches in pleasure and words have completely eluded you so you just cry out against the mattress, hoping that and your clenching pussy gets the point across. 

Thankfully Javi doesn’t ask you to answer him. Instead he keeps fucking into you, delivering firmm hits to your ass, completely mesmerized with the way it jiggles as he spanks and fucks into you. He’s just as close as you are, never lasts very long if he’s inside without cumming at least once beforehand. 

He moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, his fingers tracing where you’re stretched out so nicely around his thick cock before they land on your clit once again. You sob as he starts immediately rubbing fast, harsh circles that send you speeding towards the finish line. 

“Oh fuck, daddy! Gonna cum m’gonna cum pleasssee let me cum” 

Javi sucks in a harsh breath, his eyebrows furrowing together as his cock lurches inside of you. 

“Yeah, fuck yeah, baby. Cum on this cock like a good girl” Javi grits out, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth together, trying to hold himself together. Your hands scramble against the blankets as he slams into you with newfound vigor, pushing you up the bed with each thrust and making you scream in ecstasy.

“Cum and then I’ll fill you up” he grunts. “I’ll fill you up and fuck it so deep that it’ll be leaking out of you for days, just reminding you of how good you are for me. Always so fucking good baby jesus christ” 

His filthy promises send you flying over the edge. You bury your face in the blankets and scream, your legs giving out from the force of it, your hips dropping to the bed and leaving you in a prone position. And Javi doesn’t miss a beat. He presses his chest against your back, using his freehand to support the bulk of his weight as he keeps working his fingers on your clit the best he can, not letting his pace falter even once. 

The new position shoves his cock even deeper inside of you, punching against your cervix with each thrust as he rearranges your guts. Your only option is to lie there let him drag out your release for as long as possible. 

“That’s it” Javi rasps, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked now. “Sweet little pussy is fuckin’ milking my cock, cariño. You want my cum? Want me to stuff you fuckin’ full?” 

You’re too far gone to respond, reduced to nothing but putty in his hands, your trembling body limp and pliant just for him to use. He can only hold it together for a few more thrusts before he buries himself all the way inside of you, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you.

Staying true to his promise, he fucks you through it, shallowly moving his hips and pushing his cum as deep as possible. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the sensation of it all pushing you over the edge once again, though you’re not sure if you ever came back from the last one. Javi watches in amazement as you cum again, your voice breaking on desperate sobs while you squeeze around him, truly milking him for all he’s worth.

He moves his hand from your clit once your moans start to die down and then collapses on top of you, carefully though as not to completely crush you. You welcome the weight, a comforting pressure that makes you feel so warm and safe and secure. 

He stays buried inside of you as you both come down. You can feel his heart pounding from where his chest is pressed against you, his warm breath fanning across your neck as you both try to catch your breath. The two of you stay there for a while, basking in the post coitus glow. His cock softens inside of you and he only moves when his cum starts to dribble out of you. 

You whine softly as he moves to sit up, his now soft cock slipping out of you and leaving you feeling empty. But the feeling doesn’t last too long. 

He scoots back so he’s kneeling between your legs, both hands on your cheeks and spreading you open again. You feel his eyes burning holes into your skin as he watches his cum slowly leaking out of you. He doesn’t let it fall too far though, using a finger to scoop up all that’s dribbled out and pushing it back inside. You moan softly at the sensation and it takes everything in him not to fuck you with his fingers once again. 

“Think we need to get you in a nice hot shower” he says, his tone sweet and soft once again as he removes his fingers. 

You turn your head to look at him through hooded eyes, a dopey smile plastered to your face, looking completely fucked out.

“And we’re ordering take out too” he announces, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on your cheek. Images of the burnt chicken sitting on the stove float through your head, along with fuzzy memories of the events from earlier today. But you don’t give a single fuck anymore. Javi thoroughly wiped every ounce of stress from your brain. And now anything that isn’t directly related to you and Javi at this moment, on your shared bed in the dim light of the evening sun filtering through the curtain is far, far away. 

“We’re not getting fucking chicken” is all you say and the sound of yours and Javi’s laughter rings pleasantly through the room and in your ears as content seeps deep into your bones.

I LOVE THIS MAN okay thank u for reading <333

[kyojurismo]

How would Kyojuro feel if he found out his father was being cruel to his (Kyojuro's) wife while he's away on missions?

▸ ANSWERING. i’m sorry for being super slow at replying but i’ve been sick for a few days and i can’t concentrate very well (not that i’m usually that much concentrated, but anyway). i hope you’ll enjoy it and as usual, thank you so much for sending a request <3

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. kyojuro rengoku x fem!reader

▸ RATING. sfw

▸ WARNINGS. abusive behaviour, crying, mention of alcohol, well it’s sad ngl… kyojuro is super sweet at the end + i think i got a little carried away lmao sorry if it doesn’t make sense or sum

first of all, none of you (i’m talking about senjuro too) would speak about it with kyojuro, because you know how stressed he is about his missions and you don’t want him to worry about you

so it’s up to you and senjuro getting through it

if shinjuro hits senjuro you try to stop him, but end up being scolded by him for getting too involved in family situations

“hitting your son won’t solve your problems!” that’s what you usually say to him

“you should learn to keep your mouth shut and just take care of the house.”

you know he doesn’t mean to say those things on purpose. he drinks too much and you know that deep down he’s deeply scarred, but still you find it cruel to take it out on young senjuro

you find yourself defending kyojuro too, most of the time

“i don’t understand how he keeps going on missions, he’s useless and doesn’t have talent.”

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” senjuro apologises about his father every single day, even though you assure him it’s not his fault and he shouldn’t worry too much about it

the day kyojuro was coming back from one of his missions, shinjuro completely lost it

“i’m so tired of seeing you around my house! you’re always smiling, you encourage my older son to do his job and tell senjuro to believe more in himself… who do you think you are?! you sleep under my roof, you eat my food, you-you… WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE?”

what’s going on inside his head? well, he sees ruka into you and he can’t stand it, not because he hates her, or you, but because it constantly reminds him that he couldn’t help her

of course you run out of the house in tears, senjuro deeply sorry sends a glance to his father and then follows you outside, finding you sobbing on your knees right in front of the house

“i don’t know how to apologise…” he mutters and starts crying too. “you shouldn’t be the one who needs to apologise,” you say and hug him as soon as you notice he’s crying too

that’s when kyojuro pops up, smiling but clearly tired

“hello there!” his voice makes you and senjuro jump a little, then you’re quick to wipe away your tears and get up, cleaning your kimono nervously. kyojuro notices everything, of course

“why were you crying?” he’s concerned and looks at his brother too, noticing he was avoiding his face. “i was… i think a crow came to the wrong house,” you fake a smile but you were truly grateful he wasn’t injured, he only has some dirt on his cheeks and a little scratch on his forehead

“we’re so happy to see you’re okay, brother!” senjuro joins the conversation, raising his voice a bit too much

“i’m glad to see you’re okay too, but… your frown is still here, darling. i feel there’s something more bothering you,” he genuinely cares about you and you burst into tears once again because you hate lying to him but you also don’t want him to have a discussion with his father

“our father raised his voice again… and said that y/n should leave,” senjuro gave up hiding it and you quickly turn to him. “t-that’s not true… he’s just having a bad day,” you try to convince kyojuro

[he did the right thing, idc]

kyojuro stares at you for a moment before walking straight into the house. he goes to his father, busy drinking as usual, and confronts him about the situation

he’s not one to yell or raise his voice during a discussion [i know he’s pretty loud on daily basis, but you know what i mean] so he’s pretty calm while talking to his father

on the other hand, shinjuro has no problem yelling at him and insulting all of you. you and senjuro find yourselves standing close to the door, hearing everything

when you hear kyojuro getting up you take senjuro with you and sit down, sighing deeply

they come out of his room and all of you sit down to eat together

“i’m sorry,” you hear shinjuro mutter into his rice bowl. “n-no problem,” you whisper and show him a little smile, before staring down at your own food

you and senjuro were able to hear only the end of the discussion, but kyojuro before said to his father that he should take more care of his health and try to drink less. he reminds him that ruka wouldn’t be pleased with his behaviour and that if he needs it kyojuro is here to help, and the same goes for you. he seeks a happy family and wants all of you around

and deep down, he knows his son was right.

part of you was glad senjuro spilled it out but you hope kyojuro won’t spend the time he’s away worrying about it

“you should have told me sooner,” kyojuro kisses your temple and hugs you as soon as you two are alone, comforting you properly. “my mission is also to make sure you’re happy.”

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated. that’s it i guess… 🫣 have a good day / night !!

[thelikesoffinn]

AAA, okay - (it's fun for everyone involved I think, it's so interesting reading everything you have to say, like seriously....) My tav is a human noble, and her name is Saoirse (this doesnt really matter i just love her lmao) and she has a bad relationship with her family; her parents are very traditional in that they see men as the heirs, and women don't take over thrones/noble houses, it's the sons that do this. She had one older brother, and her parents intended to have another son to have the "spare" so to say, and instead, they had her- a daughter. No matter how many times they tried after her, they could never have another child (a lot of miscarriages tw) and they ultimately blamed Saoirse, saying she was a curse to their family. Her older brother eventually dies in battle- and he was the only family member who loved her/treated her well; in an attempt to get *anything* from having a daughter, they intend to have her married off- but she runs from home and never goes back; she's a barbarian and the reasoning for that is because she's so full of pent up anger and rage from her familial life that, well, being a barbarian is an amazing outlet for that rage. She's kind of on the middle ground of being good and bad- she likes to help people (usually children or people she feels are pure of heart) but she also likes to get things in return for doing things (it's how she lived after leaving her family!) And she's actually pretty vulgar with her speech despite having been a well and proper noble (she was groomed to be a good noble girl - because if they were going to have a daughter- she was at least going to be proper.) A bit blunt sometimes. But sometimes, her little noble girl peaks through in some situations. It's what makes her good at convincing people and being diplomatic... And I just wonder if Astarion would just be... So annoyed by her/hate her noble upbringing- like I always thought perhaps at first he pins her as a noble and thinks she's been raised with a silver spoon in her mouth... Like I wonder if they'd even work at all, you know? Anyways sorry I'm going on for too long- and her story is probably very cringe but I still love her!!!

Aw, come now, flower. We don't do cringe. We love all them Tav's and Durges on this blog. Unconditionally.

Also, Saoirse and my durge Whisper - born Alastríona- have to be chaps now solely based on the fact that they both have Irish names 👉🏻👈🏻

Anyway!

At first glance, I can't see why Astarion and Saoirse wouldn't work. I don't even think he'd be that annoyed - at least there's no inherent reason for him to be as far as I can tell.

I can only speak very generally, of course, because I don't know how exactly Saoirse would behave in conversation and what traits she carries the most openly, so a lot of what follows will be based on assumption.

The "worst" clash of character I could see would be the part where she likes helping people. But that's relatively infinitesimal of a problem since she at least wants compensation for what she does. He generally handles that better than he does straight-up martyrs.

Furthermore, Astarion is a man of quick judgement - both by nature and by affliction - so how he first views Saoirse is probably highly dependent on how she initially presents herself.

Is the first impression more noble or barbarian?

He might look down on a very posh noble girl, but less because of her inherent nobility and more because she's "sheltered". (She obviously isn't, but he doesn't know that yet.)

(And, let's be honest; the former would be rather ironic, seeing as Astarion is likely of nobility as well. I wouldn't put it entirely past him, but it would need a very special attitude to make that one probable. )

But, going off of that: Nobility is basically the peak of shelteredness, as we probably all agree. Like, sure, being of nobility might not be easy, and there's a lot of expectations that come with it, but, in the end, nobles never go hungry.

They don't have to sleep in dirt.

They don't have to grovel just to be able to live.

Their pride is intact in all it's facettes and their dignity hasn't been ripped to shreds.

Astarions, however, has.

His dignity was shredded by Cazador, every little plight against his humanoid rights leaving another mark until it's raw.

Over the course of the game, we see him regain some of the pride he likely used to hold in himself. We can see it in how he stands up for himself later on - one of my favourite moments being when he berates Tav after they mention that Cazador has "really destroyed" him and he's like "No. I'm still here." and all that.

BUT that's later.

He has to get there first so, at first, "sheltered people" are likely to be a sore spot of his.

I think I mentioned it before in another ask, but people who experienced a lot of trauma tend to view those they consider "sheltered" in a rather negative light.

"Sheltered" relates to naïveté and naïveté can be viewed as idiocy, thus leading to infantilising behaviour towards the sheltered person. They "Don't know anything" and "haven't seen anything", so "how dare they talk"? It's a very normal point of view, and Astarion is probably not different in that regard, even if he's not outright saying so because he needs Tav on his side.

But, with Saoirse specifically, I see another thing coming up that could possibly be interesting.

Saoirse was raised as a noble, but she is somewhat blunt, vulgar and angry. She is used to having poise and grace. It's what she grew up seeing, what was expected of her and what was instilled in her for the longest of times. But at the same time she's a barbarian. A barbarian! The very opposite of a noble; the true opposite of poise and grace.

That's a contradiction if I've ever seen one and with Astarion being as deep in his survival mode as he likely is...well, he'd definitely notice. He'd notice that her gait is too elegant for your standard barbarian, her poise too graceful and her choice of words too perfect at times to be what she seems. But he'd also see the rage she carries and her willingness to let it out when the situation arises.

It's two very different natures that meet - the elegant and somewhat cold nature of nobility and the fiery passion of barbarians. It will take time to actually see how those two correlate and that is definitely something that would have him wary.

Contradictions like that are dangerous, because they make people somewhat unpredictable. That is something he absolutely doesn't need right then. If he can't somewhat estimate her actions, he can't make use of her. Worse, he can't plan his own actions properly because who knows what sets her off?

No. Astarion needs Saoirse to be predictable so that he can be safe.

So he'd likely hesitate a bit longer before he can truly be open with her. He needs to scope her out and get to know here more - enough to actually see who she truly is - to feel safe enough to trust her.

(Learning of her past is likely helpful here because it weaves the red thread through everything. Knowing how she grew up will explain her anger, thus helping ease his uncertainty. It basically takes the contradiction out of Saoirse because her actions suddenly begin to make sense.)

But as I said, despite that contradiction, I don't see any reason why those two wouldn't work! If anything, I think it could be a very healing relationship for the both of them.

(Especially Saoirse, seeing as Astarion is extremely loyal once you're in his heart and he's not shy about telling you that you're the only one he's ever cared about. He'll choose you over everything else, maybe shy of his own hide, and that could be exactly what someone like Saoirse needs after a lifetime of disdain. )

That's it, flower! That's as much as I can say from what you've told me - but do hit me up if you'd like to know more or for whatever other reason!

Saoirse sounds absolutely lovely, and I would love to hear more about her ❤️

[kanndlila]

Genshin Impact imagines from Tiktok : School AU

Yes, I am chronically online. And by chance it landed on all Inazuman characters to might as well make a fic out of it.

—

Person people ship you with: Gorou

“Dear [Y/N], what is Gorou to you?” The question took you aback. Of course, Yae Miko would put color into your ‘affection’ towards Gorou.

However, unlike what they all think, or at least what you think they think, Gorou is simply someone you want to take care of, like a son. You’ve ‘adopted’ some of your classmates before. You were sometime considered as the ‘mother’ of the group.

Answering her question doesn’t come easy as someone who doesn’t know you very well. You were only transferred in this class for the second time in your whole academic life so… “A friend?” An eyebrow raised followed by a pause. “I mean, he’s adorable but no, I’m not romantically attracted if that’s what you’re asking.” “Hey! Don’t talk as if I’m not here!” Gorou’s red up until his ears. You just giggled at him. He is so cute.

—

School officer that helps you cheat: Heizou Very fitting lmao.

You were going through your Chemistry test. Double checking your answers and all that when your pen decided to take a deep dive off your table. Ah shit. You were going to go pick it up and Heizou did so for you, and that’s when you noticed it. A quick glace at Heizou’s paper showed you his answer for number 35. It asked for Planck’s constant. You didn’t have an answer for it yet as both Avogadro’s number and Planck’s constant shared the number 6 as the whole number, the rest you didn’t bother to memorize but the exponents. You knew that Avogadro’s 10^23 and Planck’s is in the negatives. Heizou got it the other way around.

“Thanks.” Heizou handed you your pen before going on with his test, throwing you a suspicious look while you went back to double checking your test. Once you were done, you simply put the test on its back side and laid your head upon it to look like you’re taking a nap. You blankly stared at nothing, trying to pass time when Heizou spared you a glance just as you were about to actually nap. You handsigned, said hand hidden from the test proctor but in Heizou’s plain sight. 3. 5. C. He looked at you like he had a sudden realization and went back to the said number. Yep, he corrected it. Soon he was done with his own test. Like you, he laid his head down as if to take a nap and- he drew on his thigh. 9. 7. A. You looked at him in the eyes and he winked at you. You just smiled back. 5 minutes before the test was over you made the correction. In the end, the both of you aced the test. It isn’t like the both of you needed help but an additional point won’t hurt would it?

—

Has a crush on you: Thoma ; Your crush: Kazuha ; Your enemy: Itto

***I can’t find a simulator that does FB GCs, I’ll change this once I have access to one, sorry!

Kamisato Ayaka: Hello everyone! Please stay after class so we can discuss about the upcoming school festival!

Kujou Sara: Noted.

Kaedehara Kazuha: I’ll be there my lady.

Thoma: I’ll bring donuts for everyone!

Arataki Itto: YAY DONUTS

You: Sana ol my lady I cri Lisa babe, Good Hunter?

…

You: Oh shit 😭

Kamisato Ayato: You’re on a ‘babe’ basis with someone? Interesting…

Kamisato Ayaka: Ahehehe you won’t be a lady, you’d be a princess! 😁

Yae Miko: Oh dear, she’d be a queen instead with the way that she acts. Smart, diplomatic but domineering.

You: Nauurrr stop psychologically assessing me 😭 and yes I call my friends babe

Thoma: Will you still come to the meeting my lady? I’ll get nutty choco donuts! 😁

You: Thank you Thoma, you’re the best ❤️

You: aaaand I take it back, don’t call me my lady it’s making me cringe 😖

Arataki Itto: So… what do we call you then?

You: Stop it Itto.

—

Sana ol means hope all like, I hope [everyone] gets to be called my lady in this case.

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Seat 21 - Chapter 6

A/N: So so sorry for the long wait on this one!! Shit hit the fan and I forgot to update lmao. Going to mass update soon!

“Do not fear, students,” A voice booms. The discomfort it usually brings me is overrun by relief.

“I am here.” All Might zips toward us, seemingly flying inbetween villains on the way.

Everyone he’s touched is down. 

I glance up at Aizawa sensei, his eyes losing their glow. 

Though suddenly, I’m looking down at him instead.

My shoulder clashes against someone else, the warmth of their skin startling me. Sopping wet cloth sticks against my tail. Frantically, I search for everyone; only to find them encased by the same large suit-clad arms as myself.

All might. 

Wind rushes over us, and I feel my fins start to shrivel away. 

Gently, we meet the reddish cement. 

“Everybody head back to the entrance; and take Aizawa sensei. He hasn’t got much time.” The number one hero instructs, barely sparing us a glance. All I can do in response is nod.

My newly returned legs tremble as I pull them underneath me.

The pavement is rough and hard, my shoes long gone in the struggle. By the time I’m up, there is little I can do to help except follow my fellow students up the staircase.

The mutters from my left are near incoherent, but concerning nonetheless. Words like limits, trouble, time, are all I can pick up.

“Tsuyu, Hinode?” He speaks up.

“Yes Midoriya?” Tsuyu croaks.

“I need you two to carry Aizawa sensei.” His voice is warbling, eyes distant. 

I’m scared. I know whatever he intends to do, it will be dangerous.

But I cannot help, not without hindering him.

I slide an arm under Aizawa sensei’s arm; Midoriya takes off. Heading directly back into battle.

Careful. I think. Be safe, be careful.

Mineta and Tsu scream after him to no avail.

A commotion begins from the scene and my head snaps. Three more classmates.

The hotheaded Bakugou, the cheery Kirishima and the reserved Todoroki.

Forcing myself to turn back, I trudge up the stairs; Aizawa’s weight heavy against me.

From there; everything is a blur.

By the time we get to the top, everyone is hopeful. All Might is winning. 

Thirteen is in as good a shape as Aizawa is.

My damp skirt does little to clean the blood off of my sensei’s face. 

Cheers; All Might won.

Iida bursts through the door - our teachers in tow.

The villains warp away.

Aizawa sensei is rushed to hospital, I stay kneeling next to where he was laying.

We take the buses back to U.A.

A policewoman with a feline head takes my statement.

I walk home; head spinning with worry.

-

That night, dreams plague me. 

Blood running down Aizawa sensei’s face.

Midoriya starting to drown.

Blue and red and blue and red and blue and red and blue and red and blue-

I wake up with a soaked pillow and scales on my cheeks.

It takes what feels like years to fall asleep, but seconds to wake back up. My phone trills relentlessly.

A quick swipe, and the video call is answered.

Warm honey oozes out of me.

Hi Jun. I sign.

“Aneesan! I just saw the news! Are you okay? Was it cool? Did you sing?” Green eyes shine as my brother babbles on.

I’m fine, and it was I start, before Jun whines.

“Aneeesan, Mama’s at work, plus its a phone call. Talk to me!” 

I am talking. I grin cheekily. Another exasperated groan.

“Yes, it was very exciting,” I finish, all the leftover tension fading. His eyes shimmer like stars.

“Did you sing?” He asks again. My throat burns.

“I didn’t have a choice, Jun.” I explain.

“Whoaaa!” The boy awes, “I bet you were so cool.”

Laughter bubbles in my chest, floating out of my mouth. I can barely see his green stars, Jun smiles so big.

His smile drops, hair flopping to the side.

“What was that?” He asks, looking behind me. I hum, turning my head.

Then again, a patient rapping at the door.

“I’ll call you back Aneechan, bye!” Jun drawls, the chirpy dial cutting him off.

Wrapping a stray blanket around me, I scurry to the door. Considering yesterday, the peephole seems like a good idea.

Bright chartreuse stares right back at me.

“There she is!” A cheer from the other side of the door. Though the relaxed hair is different, its hard not to recognise those pointy yellow glasses.

Unlocking the door, I swing it opened.

Mic sensei? My fingers spell swiftly.

“The one and only, kiddo!” My teachers grin is overly wide, and comfortingly normal.

“Sho- uh, Aizawa sensei is awake now, he said you were pretty worried about him yesterday. Thought I’d come check in!” His smile softens, giving me a once over.

“Not alot of sleep, huh?” Kind eyes evaluate my face, quirking an eyebrow. I shake my head.

Is Aizawa sensei okay? I ask; images still flashing through my mind.

“Nothing he can’t handle, he’ll be good as new in no time!” A gentle hand on my shoulder, but when I look up; Mic sensei’s eyes are looking right through me.

“Your ‘rents home kiddo?” Again, I shake my head.

“They gone out for the day?” He asks, eyebrows furrowing.

No. I’m here for school, my mama and brother live on the coast. I explain.

“On your own?” Surprise is evident in his tone, but I shrug it off. 

“Not even a cat?” Surprise becomes shock, and I shake my head. 

“That’s,” Mic sensei pauses. “Not ideal, kiddo.” 

All I have to offer is another shrug. 

I manage.

Blond brows stay knitted together. 

“Hey kid? I need to make a few calls, mind letting your sensei in?” He asks.

I weigh everything up, ultimately deciding on letting him in. 

Mic sensei leads himself in, sitting at the kitchen table; diligently tapping away at his phone.

“You keep doing whatever you were doing kid, I won’t be long.” He waves offhandedly.

Awkwardly, I shuffle around the tiny kitchen - making a bowl of cereal to bring back to bed.

Junkun: Who was it?

Aneesan: One of my senseis.

Junkun: :0

Junkun: Is it a hero??

Junkun: Who is it???

Aneesan: Present Mic sensei

Junkun: THE Present Mic????

Aneesan: Yes, he’s just checking in on students today.

When I go back to the kitchen, Mic sensei is muttering into his phone.

“-just a kid,” followed by some grainy mumbles from the other side. I quickly hurry back to my room.

As I’m replacing my blanket for a hoodie, I hear an outburst from the kitchen.

“-have a duty of care! It’s not safe!” A chair scrapes, and I jerk back.

Not long after, a knock on my bedroom door.

“Hey kiddo, I’ve got some other errands to run, but I’ll come by and check in again later, kay?” Messy strands fall from his bun.

Ok. 

-

MASTERLIST

[tibby]

could u rec some good taylor swift blogs to follow? lover was really good and now i'm invested

@monica-geller @youllbeeightynine @inredunderlined @andyoucallmeupagain @andreaswift @afterglowlesbian @afragileline @albumseven @beginagain @incorneliastreet @lastskiss @thefearlesstour @ilovespeaknow @colorsinautumn @corneliastreets @reputation2017 @lovestory @messthatuwanted @thearrcher @pacelikeaghosts @lovertour @justathousandcuts @andneversayinsorry @kissinbarsyoufool @whocouldstay @readyforti

also main swifties of the��‘cule are @billhaderdyke @dykeswiftie @dyketaylorswift

[letterstotheflre]

that’s the thing about illicit affairs

summary: james was never hers to lose.

warnings: CHEATING, age gap (not specified but reader is in her 20s), tiiiny angst?? i don’t think it’s sad lmao, allusions to sex and one miniature sex scene, some food mentions, and a very badly written argument.

word count: 3k (why are they always so long ffs)

a/n: my first james potter fic <3 i love this man so much, sorry for making you the bad guy here. this one’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks, and since i’ve been feeling kinda sad i finally got around to edit it. also hedric rights!!

They always meet like this.

The room is dark except for a small sea salt lamp she bought on sale from Target. Her clothes are piling up on the floor, discarded carelessly by her lover, and his are not too far from meeting the same fate.

He is kissing her hungrily as he could never get enough of her. His hands travel all over her back while she unbuttons his shirt, their lips never parting. He moves her to her bed, the sheets a pale green that reminds him of—

No. He closes his eyes tightly, pretends the green is actually blue like the lacy bralette that covers her breasts and moves his lips down to her jaw. He sucks and nips and bites, letting her moans echo freely between the four walls that make their little sanctuary.

Her hands quickly undo his belt and stroke him lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He groans against the junction of her neck, the skin softer than anything he’s touched in years.

He pushes her down on the bed, cupping her face while he looks at her properly, noting the tangled hair caused by his fingers. Her lips are puffy and shiny, his kisses being the perpetrator of their current state. He waits for her to say something, to give him a sign that this is okay.

(It’s not okay, and they both know it. It’ll never be okay.)

She nods her head, and he kneels in front of her, pushing her legs wide open before he dives in.

—

She is laying on her bed, the sheets covering her body as she watches him try to fix up his hair in front of the mirror on her makeshift vanity.

“Make sure no one sees you leave,” she says, “and put—”

“Put my hood up, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her. It’s not the first time they do this dance.

“Sirius and Remus are with Harry at home. I told them I was going for a run, so they won’t say anything if I show up all sweaty,” he adds, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She just nods her head, fingers playing with a loose thread on the edge of the sheet, pulling it a bit more every time she twists her index finger. He steps forward, then sits on her bed and traces her cheekbone with his knuckles. “You know I care about you, right?” he asks.

Her heart clenches, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest that makes it hard to breathe for a second. She lowers her eyes, refusing to stare at those hazel irises that started everything. “I know, James,” she assures quietly, looking at a picture of her and Harry that’s stuck to the wall just behind him.

James brushes back some stray hairs that are still stuck to her forehead, then presses a small kiss on the slightly sweaty skin. He gives her a tentative smile before heading to the door, and she only looks in his direction when she hears the click of the door.

(He might care, but not enough.)

—

Sundays are always a slightly awkward affair at first.

Both of their families have been friends for years, getting together every Sunday for lunch at the Potter’s. James and Sirius always man the grill with her dad, all of them wearing those corny ‘kiss the chef!’ aprons. Her mother helps Lily make the salads in the kitchen while they gossip with Remus, who steals a few tomatoes when they aren’t looking. Now that it’s summer, she and Harry splash each other in the pool instead of catching up in his room.

It’s always strange seeing James in the light of day, pretending that this is the only version of him she knows: the version of him that is a friend, a father, a husband.

But she knows the other version of him: the one that has her on her knees begging for a taste of him, the one that grips her hair while he pounds into her from behind, the one that lets his tongue explore places of her no one else has. The version of him that kisses her forehead and plays with her fingers while their bodies are tangled together under the sheets. The version of him that kisses her as if she were the only one made for him.

(She isn’t.)

They are sitting around the table eating. Sirius is laughing about something with his arm around Remus’s shoulders, his bark of laughter echoing across the garden. Her mother’s shoulders shake as Lily rolls her eyes in amusement. James and her father have gone back to the grill to bring everyone their second round of burgers, and she can hear her father complaining about something from work.

“Here y’go, kid,” says James as he places the plate in front of her before ruffling her hair. She tenses up for a second before relaxing, muttering a small “thank you” before reaching for the ketchup.

She hates that nickname. It’s so impersonal, keeps a distance between them that truly doesn’t exist. As if he isn’t the only person that can make her vision whiten and the colours of her room hazy while she clutches his shoulders. As if he isn’t the only person who can pull so many different sounds from her vocal cords, sounds he knows no one else has ever heard before because he is the only one who can create them.

She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her as she stretches one arm, so she hesitantly glances at him. He raises an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between James and her, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind.

She gulps anxiously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and goes back to eating.

—

James’s moans are loud as he gathers her hair in a makeshift ponytail. His cock is buried in her throat, and he watches as she gags for a second before relaxing her throat.

She’s taking him so deep that her nose nuzzles his pubic hair, the musky scent of James filling her nose as she breathes deeply through it. She starts moving her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip every time she rises.

He is a mess above her, needy whines and wanton moans leaving his mouth. His hips thrust up softly, slowly fucking her mouth, and he relishes in the small choking sounds she makes. His head rolls back as he groans, “That’s it, baby, so good to me.”

She winces at the name and pulls away from him. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but her hands never stop stroking him. She takes him back into her mouth and starts sucking with a newfound fervour, his voice echoing inside her head as she tries to make him forget about her.

(She tries to forget too.)

—

Honey rays filter through her window.

They are both laying on her bed, James on his stomach while she refills the glasses with some cheap wine she got from the store. He looks at the tiny purple splotches on her neck and the red fingerprints on her hips, then smirks proudly. When she turns, she smiles at him softly.

There’s a summer breeze that ruffles her curtains, and he can hear some teenagers laughing as they walk down the street over the music that plays from her speaker.

She places her glass on her nightstand, her nipples brushing his naked back as she leans over him. She lays down on her side, her fingertips softly drawing shapes on his skin. It takes him a moment to realize they are not random shapes but letters.

Her name, written over his scattered freckles and connecting his moles with cursive loops.

He takes her hand and kisses it, slightly chapped lips pressing against her open palm. Then he kisses her lips, still bitterly sweet with grapes, as his tongue moves languidly against hers while he pulls her by the hand on top of him.

It feels like a distant memory. It feels like a dream.

—

The cacophony of different voices singing “Happy Birthday” rings in her ears.

Harry is at the front of the table, an adorable blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. On either side of him are James and Lily, smiles wide as they watch their son blow the candles. Cedric is behind him, hands on his shoulders, and he leans forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

She sings and claps, whooping with Sirius when Harry blows the last candle. She eats cake and drinks the pretty cocktails Lily ordered. She smiles and laughs, pretends she couldn’t see the way the candles made the golden band on James’s ring finger beam like the sun.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way James holds Lily’s waist before kissing her. She pretends she can’t see them dancing slowly to a song Remus put on the Spotify playlist as a joke.

She pretends she can’t hear his footsteps following her when she goes to the bathroom. She feigns disinterest when he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards a deserted corridor.

But she can’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach when he kisses her, the thrumming in her veins when he pushes one leg between her thighs, nor the pleasure-filled gasps and moans that leave her mouth when he helps her roll her hips along his covered thigh.

It’s thrilling; they’ve never done something like this in public, much less in such proximity to friends and family.

(In such proximity to her.)

Even though she knows it shouldn’t, it gives her a sense of victory. Because he is here with her now: he is kissing her, making her moan, and whispering dirty things in her ear.

A faraway call of his name breaks the spell they’re under. They pull away hastily; she fixes her dress while James makes sure there are no lipstick stains on his face. The footsteps are getting closer, heels hitting the floorboards at the same rhythm as their rapid beating hearts.

It’s Sirius.

James almost breathes a sigh of relief, but she remains tensed up. Sirius looks between them, the same look he had that Sunday all those weeks ago on his face, and she feels bile rising in her throat.

“Lily’s looking for you,” he says, his thumb pointing back over his shoulder towards the reception where everyone’s gathered.

“Right,” says James. “Better go see what she needs. You do not want to see an angry drunk Lily.” He laughs, almost oblivious to the awkward tension between his two friends. He goes back to Lily, leaving her leaning against the wall and Sirius standing in the middle of the hallway.

Sirius looks at her, and even though his mind already knows, he refuses to believe it. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she offers as an explanation. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows that, but it’s the best she can do under this kind of pressure.

“Right,” he whispers with a short nod, then follows James.

She stays rooted to her spot, lips tingling with the ghost of James touch and a guilty mind.

—

Hours later, she clings to a pillow as she lays on her bed alone. The same pillow James was resting on less than twelve hours ago.

She breathes in deeply, trying to catch any scent of him she can, but there’s only the scent of her fabric softener.

There’s no James. No citrus shampoo or woodsy cologne nor salty air from the beach near his house. Because he never wears any cologne when he comes to her, ensuring that there’s no trace of him once he leaves.

Like he doesn’t even exist.

—

It ends in a parking lot a month later.

She was waiting for Luna to arrive at the mall but ended up asking for a rain check when James texted her, saying they needed to talk.

‘Meet me behind the mall’, she texts him.

She walks to the back of the building and waits for his red car to show up. She already knows where this conversation is going to go, and her heart shatters at the thought of saying goodbye to him.

She raises her head when she hears a honk in front of her, and she gets in while whispering a small “hey”. He doesn’t start the car again, just settles for turning the ignition key off. She looks at the families leaving the mall through the tinted window, refusing to look at him, as her knee bounces up and down anxiously.

The silence is heavy, and she suddenly feels cold in the August heat.

James takes a deep breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

She can’t help the snarky comment. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday while you had your fingers buried inside me.” He looks at her unimpressed, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s wrong,” he says— as if she doesn’t already know that. “C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to—”

“I told you not to call me that!” she raises her voice, and the car gets silent again. She hates the tears that gather in her eyes, hates that she cares so much about him and their stupid game, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he whispered so many sweet nothings in her ears and caressed her skin so softly, almost afraid to break him if he was too rough.

(Not that he cared about that when he stretched her wide open and thrust so hard into her that the bed frame banged against the wall.)

“You can’t just show up here and tell me it’s over like you weren’t the one that came to me first,” she jeers, and she can see the tick of his jaw as he clenches it. Good, she thinks, make him angry.

“Don’t just blame me. You didn’t say ‘no’ once.” He grounds out, “In fact, I can recall you were begging me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her cheeks turn into a small fire, a slight feeling of shame overcoming her. “Oh, like you were any better!” she exclaims. “‘Been thinking about you for months.’ ‘You have no idea the things you do to me.’ ‘No one can suck my cock like you.’ ‘I care about you!’” She deepens her voice to mock him.

James opens his mouth to keep the ball rolling, and she wants him to do it because it meant that the fight was still on, that they wouldn’t have to end this. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m telling you now it’s over. Stop acting like a kid who didn’t get her Christmas present,” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing with those words.

“I’m not a kid,” she snaps, her eyes fighting back angry teats at his dismissal. “Then stop acting like one,” he shrugs.

Her hands turn into fists, nails digging themselves into her palms as she tries to keep her anger at bay. “Do you know how much of myself I gave to you? How many plans with my friends have I cancelled in case you called? How many guys I stopped seeing because they weren’t you?” she rants, her voice increasing in volume as she lets her frustration take over. Then, she pauses. “You’ve ruined me, James.”

Her voice is so pained that it makes his heart clench, and he lowers his head, refusing to look at her. He knows, God, he knows what he’s done, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so lonely with Lily spending so much time at the hospital, and then there she was with her caring and understanding nature. With her adorable laughs and those touches that were so addictive, a mercurial high that gave him the lowest lows whenever he tried to stop.

He keeps his mouth shut; there’s nothing left to say anyway, and it’s better for her to hate him rather than anything else. “You are not going to say anything?” It’s meek, vulnerable, and she wants to slap herself for acting this way. She knew it would never last, that he would always choose her.

He was never hers to lose, so why is she still fighting?

She nods her head in surrender, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing. The anger now gave way to sadness, “I can’t believe I let you make a fool of me.” Her voice is hoarse, a result of the lump in her throat that prevents her from swallowing comfortably.

She gets out of the car and slams the door shut, then leaves the parking lot, leaving him behind. She keeps walking, fingers gripping the straps of her bag until she reaches an empty street.

The golden sun is ready to dip on the horizon, and she can hear James’s car speeding behind her.

—

She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s inside her apartment.

The moment she closed the door, she crumbled to her knees, loud sobs falling from her mouth and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes her a moment to gather enough strength to walk to her room.

She cries and cries, buries her face in her pillows and starts sobbing even harder because she can smell him. The salty scent and citrus shampoo finally embedded themselves in the fabric, and she can’t believe that after all those days she craved to feel him close to her, he chooses now to leave a trace behind.

She cries for hours until her eyes are puffy and red, and snot comes out of her nose. Her chest heaves with short breaths that don’t really fill her lungs as she clings to that damn pillow before throwing it across the room. She can’t believe it ended like this: with her completely broken for anyone else while James gets to go back to his life and act like nothing ever happened.

Yet she knows that if she had to choose, she would do it all over again because if she had to choose someone to be her ruination, she would choose James Potter a million times.

TAGLIST: @emmaev @gxtitobxby @ildm4ev @capsmischief @arisblackhole @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @tonystarksmutgarden @blowing-mikey @roonilwazlibswhore @lovelylupinx @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @marxy-06 @glossiable @remusjlupinisdead @amixedwitch @mattefic @artisancowbells @zzzfour — if you want to be added tap here

[indigoh4ze]

party || rafe cameron

warning- SMUT // vaginal fingering, eating out, vaginal penetration, mentions of intoxication

rafe cameron x fem!reader

a/n- so this is my first time writing for outer banks, im terrible at writing actual interactions so im sorry its so bad at first lmao. also disclaimer: rafe in this fic is nothing like he is canon, so his characterization is off. enjoy :)

also feel free to request for any outer banks characters i write for

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the lights were blazing, different colors zapping throughout the room as you made your way over to the couch. your head was slightly fuzzy from the intoxication, but you managed.

since the couch was empty, you took the chance to sprawl your whole body out on it, head on one arm and feet dangling off the other. you watched as everyone danced and made out and filled their bodies with even more toxins. soon, you found yourself just dazing up at the ceiling, lips opening and closing slightly as you lip-synced in a whispering tone to the loud music.

after what felt like hours, but could’ve only been a few minutes, you felt something nudge your thigh. without moving your neck, you let your eyes flash down to find the source of the movement.

hovering over you was rafe cameron. his dirty blonde hair framed his face messily, a single cross earring dangling from his left ear, a red solo cup in his hand as his free hand poked at your thigh.

“what?” you slurred, now moving up on your elbows and blinking back the haziness.

“i wanna sit,” he said, taking a sip from the cup. even in this state it wasn’t hard to notice how good the boy looked, tilting his head back and gulping down the liquid, eyes never leaving your own.

you groaned, pulling your knees to your chest and allowing rafe to throw himself onto the cushion. you were now facing his side, as his hands gripped your legs and pulled them back to their original position, except now they laid over his leg. giving him a curious look, you laid the side of your face on the back cushion and fidgeted with the bracelet around your wrist.

“shouldn’t you be like- getting shit faced or something.” rafe snickered at your words, sending you a glare before looking back down to his cup, which he was also mindlessly playing with.

“sorry, did i interrupt your little..nap?” he teased with a hint of amusement, referring to the previous state you were in, and you scoffed in return, mind clearing a bit more and making room for annoyance.

“whatever.” and then, you were pulling your legs off him and standing up, albeit wobbly as you almost fell to the side, caught by rafe’s firm grip around your arm.

“you good?”

“‘m fine,” you dismissed the boy, confused as to why he was even talking to you in the first place.

the truth was, you never liked him, he was rude and careless and selfish and way too much to put up with. but you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards the boy, and the tension that was always evident when the two of you were together.

but you always just pushed those thoughts aside, because even the thought of anything happening made your mind whirl with a plethora of emotions, not good ones by any means.

but then, you also couldn’t deny the recurring fantasies of things that could happen. could but wont, because he’s rafe cameron, and not even you’re desperate enough to be one of his bitches.

“hey?” a light tug of your arm pulled you back to the present, and you turned to see rafe at your side, cup forgotten as one of his hands molded around your waist and the other wrapped around your bicep to steady you.

“i’m really fine-.” you pulled away from him, and right as you did so, you felt someone back up on you, pushing you towards rafe and into his chest as a cold liquid spread from the lower half of your head and down your back.

you gasped in surprise, suddenly awake and alert as you sharply turned to see a boy standing there, cup tilted and empty as all its contents spilt on your back. he mumbled a quick apology, then took off laughing with his friends about something they said that probably wasn’t even funny.

“you sure about that?” rafe inquired, eyebrow raised in amusement as you stepped away from him, this time more cautiously. “c’mon, we’ll clean you up.”

although you wanted to say no and tell him to fuck off because you could handle it yourself, you were too exhausted from the long night to put up much protest other than a dramatic groan. then, you nodded, and rafe led you away from the crowd of people with a tug of your wrist.

—//—

now, you found yourself in a bedroom, rafes bedroom, waiting expectantly as you stood in front of the boy.

“what now?” you ask, palming your eyes and yawning, looking back at rafe with glossy eyes now, which were sending waves of tingles through the boys stomach.

“take a shower,” he implied, as if it was obvious. you scrunched your brows as he pointed to the bathroom on the other side of the room.

“i don’t have any spare clothes.”

“i’ll find you something to wear,” rafe shrugged, “go on,” he urged you to the bathroom, and you followed obediently, not having it in you to put up any sort of fight or ask questions.

“i’ll be right back,” rafe said from the room as you closed the bathroom door, only to hear the door to the bedroom close as well, meaning rafe left.

your mind was filled with the thought that he just ditched you, which was a possibility, but you ignored that thought and slipped your shirt over your head. once all the articles of clothing were thrown onto the cold tile floor, along with your shoes which sat messily in the corner, you lift a foot into the tub, stepping in.

immediately, you played with the oddly fancy knobs and managed to turn them on, warm water rushing through the shower head as your tilted your head back into it. the odd colored drink washed away from your hair, falling onto the floor of the tub and down the drain smoothly. you searched for soap, quickly cleaning up and scrubbing your hair twice for good measure. the smell of the soap reminded you of rafe, not surprising considering it was literally his own soap, you told yourself, annoyed by your current thoughts.

the feeling of the slightly cold water hitting your skin was enough to wake you up fully, but you were too lost in the blissful feeling of the water to pay much attention to your surroundings.

that was until you heard the door to the bathroom open, and you peaked your head through the curtain to find rafe, setting a towel on the counter, along with a shirt and a pair of shorts.

“who’s are those?” you questioned, making rafe jump as he realized you were watching him.

“sarah, i just took some from her,” he shrugged, and now you were even more confused.

first, he started talking to you randomly. then he’s helping you stand. then he’s taking you to his room..so you can shower. then he’s getting clothes for you to wear? how much did you have to drink? you started to ask yourself, questioning if this was all you just being wasted.

but it wasn’t, you felt pretty much fine. so there had to be something you were missing.

“just hurry up and change, i’ll be in the other room.” without another glance towards you, rafe left the bathroom, leaving you standing there, wet hair dripping forward from the way you had tilted your head to peek through. you went back to getting the soap out of your hair, rushing a bit more now.

meanwhile, rafe was in his room, just outside the bathroom, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. what the fuck am i doing? was his only thought.

he was honestly just confused as you were. it started when he saw you laying on the couch, mouth agape as your eyes sketched shapes on the ceiling. you just being there was tempting enough, but after that he just had to make his way over to you.

the two of you hadn’t had many conversations in the past, at least no genuine ones. most were just bickering, to be honest. but, just as you thought, the tension was undeniable. the feelings weren’t one sided, that was for sure.

when he caught you from falling over, you had leaned into his warmth and something almost turned in his stomach, which was quite nauseating on his side. it was annoying how fucking worked up he got around you. his mind would spin with options of what to do with you. did he want to just kiss you, fuck you or annoy you to death? he had no idea, but it was overwhelming, to say the least.

so when he invited you to his room to clean up, he wasn’t really thinking about it, because everything was happening at once. he even searched his sisters room for goddamn clothes for you.

interrupting his inner monologue, a door opened and out came your figure, except you weren’t wearing the clothes he had given you. no, you were just in your towel, actually. your skin looked slightly damp still, but your hair had been fluffed out and dried a bit from the towel.

“what are you- where are the clothes i gave you?” rafe asked, standing hesitatingly.

“dunno, wasn’t my style i guess,” you shrugged, looking around his room casually, taking in the very rafe feel it gave.

rafe just scoffed, messing his hair up and stepping closer. “well, you can’t really go out in a towel now, can you?”

this reminded you that there was still a party going on, although it was muffled and a bit quieter as people began to call it a night.

“then i won’t go out.” you stepped closer, looking up at rafe with an expression of uncertainty, trying to identify the look behind his eyes, figure out what the fuck he was up to. but you saw nothing. if anything, there were just a bit of nervousness hidden there.

“and what exactly do you plan on doing, then? since your obviously so wise.” now his guarded demeanor was back up, though he had taken a step closer so your heavy breaths were hitting each other perfectly, hands close to grazing one another’s.

“i don’t know.” then, another reminder flashed in your mind, and you looked back at rafe, “wait, why are you even here? isn’t this like- your party?”

“well, technically topper wanted a party, i wanted to go to bed and sleep for a year.” you chucked at this, figuring he had already gotten fucked up today and didn’t feel like another party. then, taking a risk, you leaned in just a bit, and rafe didn’t pull back. actually, he pushed forward, bringing his large hands to wheel around your waist, setting fire through your veins.

it was as if both of you snapped at the same time, first eyeing each others lips, then pushing forward and taking said lips between your own. the kiss was hungry and long waited, immense relief flushing through you, which took you both by surprise.

not even a few minutes of this passed by before rafe was tugging at the towel, still clinging around your naked body, droplets of water probably wetting his floor.

before letting the fabric reveal your body, rafe looked at you, pulling away for a moment and looking over your features, silently asking permission. a quick nod was all it took for the material to be ripped off and throw to the side, rafe spinning you both around until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell back onto the mattress.

rafe looked over you with a smirk, eyes skimming over each and every detail of your body as if savoring it. a lick of his lips was all it took for your thighs to rub together, anticipation becoming too much as you waited for him.

this obviously pissed him off, because now his hands were tearing your legs apart, exposing your bare cunt inch by inch. “don’t even try to cover this up, got it?”

his voice was demanding, and luring, enough to make you nod, eyes softening in obedience, resulting in a snicker from rafe.

he leaned back in, delving down to leave kisses along your collar bone and suck on the flesh until bruises built against your skin, making you whimper and grab his dirty blond tressed with your fingers.

the sound of your whimpers made rafe go crazy, but he tamed the need inside him long enough to work his way down your stomach, placing teasing kisses down your inner thighs, but not once touching the spot you needed the most attention in.

“please, rafe,” you pleaded, not sure where it came from but gong with it once you saw the way he looked up at you, lust blown eyes and parted lips, waiting to be against your cunt.

“please what, hm? tell me what you want me to do, baby,” rafe cooed, fingers clenching around the inside of your thighs so he could push them apart and kiss your inner thighs, resulting in your back arching and hips begging upwards.

“n-need your mouth.” your face blushed with embarrassment of having to speak the words, but rafe just tsked, one hand moving upwards as he used his thumb to draw circles around your cunt, only passing your folds, earning a cry from you.

“i need more than that, doll.”

“fuck! please, j-just need your mouth on me, rafe, need to feel your mouth on my pussy, please!”

it seems that was acceptable for rafe, his thumb pausing just above your clit, then dragging down, finally grazing over the sensitive bud and stimulating it perfectly. your hips jerked at the sensation, but you grew accustomed to the feeling once he began working in small circles.

soon, his mouth was on your cunt, tracing paths over your folds and rubbing at the nub with a flat tongue, constantly sending shivers through you as you moaned with pleasure. his hands stayed at your side, ring clad finger’s cold against your flesh as his tongue dug inside you and began fucking your hole with no remorse.

the shapes and letters his warm tongue carved into you were almost too much, and when you reached down to rake your fingers through his hair, you fought the urge to push his head down and allow him to bury himself completely between your thighs.

“f-fuck! rafe, oh god, feels so good,” you sobbed, voice becoming louder as he hummed into you, a smirk on his lips, no doubt, from seeing you fall apart for him.

rafe pulled away within a second, licking his lip and keeping his eyes on your cunt, calculating his next move. you watched as he did so, suddenly feeling exposed as he raked his eyes over the slick coating your folds and your clit throbbing painfully through them. you squirmed at the emptiness, about to squeeze your thighs together, but you were too late as rafe brought a hand up, middle and forefinger pushing through your folds and embedding themselves within your walls.

a loud gasp escaped your lips as he did so, and you bit down painfully on the cushion of them as his fingers pumped in and out of you with nonstop speed. rafe looked up at you, his own lips parted beautifully as he watched moans flow easily out of your mouth.

“you like that, baby?” came his husky voice, only intensifying your already great pleasure that ran through your body. you nodded at his inquiry, not able to form coherent thoughts under his gaze. and that was when his fingers made a hook and pressed against your most sensitive part, making you squirm.

his smirk became bigger, and his fingers fucked you harder, a desperate attempt to ruin you right there. then he was leaning down, still pumping his fingers, and began to lick your clit with fervor, flicking the bud and sucking without resistance until your thighs were clenching around his head and you were a complete moaning mess.

“oh fuck- i’m g-gonna come rafe, pleaseplease,” you begged pathetically, having no time to be embarrassed as he hummed, nodding his head while still sucking on your clit, and permitted you to let go.

the orgasm took over in a huge wave, which came surprisingly fast, and the only thing on your mind was the bubbling in your stomach that was finally freed. moans and gasps fell from your lips as you wet his tongue and fingers, and rafe didn’t let a drop go to waste as he lapped up your slick, helping to prolong your orgasm.

hands reaching for his hair in dazed motions, eyes closed and lips parted, you mumbled, “t-too much, rafe,” which was the boys que to give you a final kiss on your clit, then remove his head and fingers from your cunt.

now, rafe stared up at you, swiping a ring clad thumb over his bottom lip, which was glistening with your arousal. his thumb then moved to enter your mouth, and you dutifully took in the digit, sucking with starry eyes, and whimpering when he removed it from your grasp.

rafe rose to his full height, still in his shirt and pants, which were no doubt keeping his hard dick from standing tall. suddenly, you felt that flush arise to your cheeks from your being nude, and you bit your lip and reached a hand out to grapple at his shirt. he took this as a sign to pull the material over his head, then going in for his buckle as well. the sound of the metal clinking as he loosened it from its straps was enough to send you into a spiral of anticipation, eyeing his clothed prick impatiently.

rafe had that smirk plastered to his face still, throwing his belt aside and then his pants, making sure not to go too fast as he tormented you.

you let out a whine as he hooked his fingers around his boxers, not pulling them down fully but revealing his v line. “rafe,” you pouted, and he decided to be nice and let them fall down, now unclothed as he kicked off his shoes and settled ontop of you, marking your chest and neck immediately.

sighing with content, you held him close and let his lips suck on your flesh, until the arousal was too much and he began to grind against you, slowly. your cunt was already becoming slick again as he rubbed against your thigh.

rafe lift himself up to his knees, pumping his cock, the point of his tongue poking out from the side of his mouth in concentration. the image of your breasts on display for him, and your lips parted and chest thumping was enough to make the boy cum on the spot.

he raised a brow at you, making sure you were still okay, and once getting a quick nod, he pressed the head of his cock against your folds. in the next second, he was thrusting into you, earning a loud gasp from you, which he covered with a hand on your mouth.

“shh, ‘m gonna fuck you good, okay? just lay there and look pretty,” he teased, but you nodded, wanting nothing more than to do as he said.

the thrusts started out mild, but soon quickened tempo, hips stuttering against yours as he wrapped a hand around your leg and pulled it over his shoulder. this allowed a better angle, and you moaned with him as he repeatedly pounded into your already sensitive cunt.

you slid a hand down your bouncing breasts and stomach, then to your throbbing clit, soothing it with your gentle fingers before rafe slapped them away, as if saying “mine.”

his own hand went around your propped up leg to thumb at your clit, whilst the other made a path over your hips and breasts, fondling with the mound of flesh and pinching your nipple.

the overstimulation was rushing through you violently, his thrusts becoming sloppy, orgasm at the brink. you watched his head fly back, eyes rolling and mouth a gape, hypnotized by how pretty he looked even when he was fucking you.

“rafe,” you repeatedly mumbled, forming no other words in your clouded mind.

“hm? does it feel good? d’you like the way i fuck you, pretty girl?”

“y-yeah, so good,” you hummed, your own head rolling back onto the pillow, hips thrusting up to meet his and satisfy the hunger that once again boiled in your core.

“i’m gonna cum on your tits, are you gonna be good for me?” he said just as your orgasm was about to wash you away, and you nodded fast, once again wanting to be the best you could for him.

then, you came, waves of pleasure splashing through you before he pulled out, still thumbing your sensitive bundle of nerves, using his free hand to fist his cock which hovered over your breasts.

you held your tits in two shaky hands, squeezing them together and massaging them while rafe came, painting your breasts and stomach until he had milked out every last drop he could. he mumbled yes’s and fuck’s, along with your name until his high died down.

breathing harshly, you set ur sight to the ceiling, deep intakes of air causing the ends of rafe’s lips to turn upwards slightly. he leaned down to place one last kiss on your flushed cheek before letting himself fall onto the mattress beside you.

“let’s clean you up,” rafe said, turning to look at you, “the party’s not over yet.”

uhhhh yeah idk how i feel ab this i hope it wasn't terrible ig. reblogs appreciated :)

@o-rion-sta-r @saggyb1lls @rylynn-m @dobbysockcollection @arcaneslut @arianagreyy @el-imaskingforyourlefthand

[junghelioseok]

absolution.

↳ second chances aren’t very common, and neither are men like him.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ action | smut | secret agent!au ◇ 21.9k [1/1]

notes: lmao my only notes in this draft were “how much you wanna bet this won’t be done in time for hobi’s bday” and here we are now, in august! i don’t wanna talk about it!!! 🙈🙈

anyway, this takes place in the same universe as crosshairs and budapest. both fics are also linked at the end, if you wanna check them out!

warnings: smut, fingering, thoughtful and considerate hobi! violence and a bit of gore. guns. a brief discussion about religion and the existence of aliens and ghosts. yoongi is a dick but only a little bit. not as edited as i want it to be and my god i hope it’s coherent

Third time’s the charm, Hoseok thinks to himself.

It’s been exactly one week since he first noticed that someone has been following him like a shadow, melting away into thin air as soon as he tries to catch them in the act. No doubt it’s an enemy agent—an assassin, even—but Hoseok isn’t too worried. Bangtan is one of the most elite, dangerous spy organizations in the world, and enemies accompany the job as consistently as a good paycheck.

And Hoseok—he can handle his enemies. He’s been handling them for years now.

The street ends in a dead end up ahead, and Hoseok allows himself a quick smirk of triumph as his stalker is forced to flee down a small, narrow alleyway. Rounding the corner in pursuit, he slows to a walk, unholstering the gun at his side as he treads past a line of dumpsters and a rusty old bike leaning against the grimy brick wall. Carefully, he tries one of several doors lining the buildings on either side of the alley, but to no avail.

There’s no sign of his stalker now, and Hoseok grits out a curse when he spots the broken lock on the metal gate at the end of the alley. Just beyond it, he can make out the main road—bustling with midday traffic and pedestrians. Guess the third time wasn’t the charm after all, he muses, just as a faint rustling sounds on his right.

Hoseok whirls, gun at the ready, and spots an even narrower alleyway that he hadn’t noticed before, half-blocked by a dumpster and shadowed by the tall buildings on either side. Apartments, if his memory serves, both of which have several small businesses occupying the first floor. Dry cleaners, barber shops, and a restaurant or three. There’s a liquor store on the corner, too, if he’s not mistaken.

“Hold it!” he barks, rounding the corner with his gun raised—only to stop dead in his tracks when he’s greeted by the sight of a young woman, shrinking back in terror with a bulging black garbage bag clutched in both hands.

“P-please don’t shoot!” you gasp, your knuckles tightening around the bag. “Please, I just—”

You trail off, quivering, and Hoseok slowly takes you in. There’s a logo on the plain black t-shirt you’re wearing—a crescent moon accompanied by a familiar font that he recognizes from all the times Jimin and Jungkook have dragged him out for drinks. And now that he’s thinking about it, he’s pretty sure he recognizes your face, too.

“Sorry about that.” Hoseok lowers his gun and rakes a hand through his mussed hair. “You caught me off guard.”

You manage a nervous smile, finally managing to heft your trash bag up and over the edge of the dumpster where it lands with a muffled thwump. “Really? You don’t say.”

Hoseok smiles back. “I’m really sorry,” he repeats, much more genuinely this time. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

A weak little laugh escapes you as you glance down at the gun still loosely gripped in his hand. “So you didn’t mean to point a gun at me? That’s a relief.” Then you hesitate, your eyes darting up to Hoseok’s face before returning down to the firearm. “Why are you even running around with a gun, anyway? Are you a cop or something?”

Hoseok blinks, and decides to run with the lie you’ve so readily provided. “Yeah,” he says, racking his brain for further detail lest you decide to press the issue. “I was, uh, chasing a perp. Guy’s been stealing wallets. He tried to grab mine a few blocks back.”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth as you gesture up and down the narrow alleyway. “I didn’t see anyone. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

There’s a beat of silence, before you clear your throat and peer up at him from beneath your lashes. “Hey, could you, uh, maybe put your gun away? It’s kind of freaking me out.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Right!” he exclaims, and the residual adrenaline pumping through his veins raises the volume of his voice. Awkwardly, he reins it in, tucking his gun back into its holster and ensuring everything is hidden beneath his jacket before flashing you a sheepish grin. “Right, yeah. Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, offering him a tentative smile before the two of you lapse into silence once more. You take the opportunity to look at him a little more closely—the straight angle of his nose, the auburn hair parted across his forehead in waves, the sharp structure of his jaw contrasting with the soft swell of his cheeks. He’s handsome—you’d have to be blind not to see that. But you have a job to get back to, and your manager absolutely hates it when anyone dawdles, so you raise your hand and clear your throat again. “So, um. It was nice to meet you and all, but I should get back in there. I still have twenty minutes left in my shift.”

Hoseok glances at the heavy steel door behind you, emblazoned with the same logo that decorates your shirt and a single line of text that reads Bar Luna. “Right, of course. You’re a bartender, right?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’m {Name}.”

“Hoseok.”

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Hoseok grins again, but this time there’s an edge of hesitation to it—something tentative in the curve of his lips. “Sorry again for scaring you, seriously. I feel terrible. I don’t suppose you’d let me buy you a drink as an apology?”

You blink at him—once, twice—before your mouth slowly begins to curl up at the edges. “As long as it’s not from here.”

///

The two of you end up at a bar just down the street—a cozy little hole-in-the-wall that’s as unassuming as it is unpretentious. You’ve been here a handful of times, after your own shifts at Bar Luna have ended, and Hoseok has too if the way he greets the bartender is any indication.

“How’s it going?” he asks, flashing the man behind the counter a megawatt smile that puts the sun to shame. “Busy day?”

The bartender—whose nametag reads Ray—shrugs, his muscular arms bulging out of the thin black t-shirt he’s wearing. “Typical Tuesday—people come and people go. What can I get you two?”

Hoseok turns to you, and you glance at the liquor display before ordering a vodka soda. Hoseok decides on one of the beers on tap, and Ray slaps two napkins down onto the counter. A minute later, he places two glasses atop them, nodding when Hoseok hands him a credit card and asks him to open a tab. Quietly, you take a sip of your drink, and watch out of the corner of your eye as Hoseok does the same before the foamy top of his beer gets a chance to settle.

Hoseok doesn’t look like any police officer you’ve ever seen before, not with his auburn hair parted and windswept across his forehead. No doubt he’s off duty, considering the faded jeans and a blue crewneck sweatshirt he’s wearing, but there’s also a certain delicateness to his build that you imagine makes him easy to underestimate. You see in the elegant curve of his wrist and the leanness of his build, and his aura radiates a certain warmth and kindness that’s impossible to miss.

Quietly, you take another sip of your drink. Ray is heavy-handed with his pour—something you appreciate more with each passing second as liquor floods your veins and warms your insides. The city is still shrugging off the last vestiges of a particularly nasty cold front, and the lingering chill has settled deep into your bones despite the brief walk over from Bar Luna. “So,” you begin slowly, racking your brain for a conversation starter. “About this guy you were after. How worried should I be about getting pickpocketed on my way home today?”

The laugh that escapes Hoseok is a loud, boisterous sound—one that rings bright in the dimness of the bar and draws several stares from the other patrons. “I think you’ll be okay,” he reassures. “Just keep a tight hold on your bag, yeah? And watch out for any sketchy men wearing black.”

“You said it, not me,” you reply, inclining your head at the black leather jacket he’s just shrugged off and hung over the back of his stool. Hoseok laughs again, and your gaze wanders to the little freckle on his top lip, just shy of the peak before it dips into his cupid’s bow. Fleetingly, you wonder what it would be like to kiss it.

“I’ve seen you before, you know,” Hoseok says, a smile still playing on his lips. “At the bar, I mean. You’re there on Tuesday nights.”

“I’m there most nights,” you correct wryly, running a fingertip along the rim of your glass and smearing the chapstick imprint you’ve left there. “Days, too. You won’t believe the number of people who get trashed on a random Thursday morning.”

“Yikes.” Hoseok pulls a face. “I bet you have plenty of stories. Drunk and disorderlies? Broken glasses and broken hearts?”

You chuckle. “You’re the cop, right? I bet you have just as many as I do.” And that’s how you spend the next half hour—exchanging stories about the weirdest people you’ve met on the job while snacking from a plate of crispy potato skins that Hoseok orders on impulse.

Ray has just brought around your second round of drinks, when Hoseok suddenly rises to his feet. “Restroom,” he says by way of explanation. “Don’t eat all the potatoes without me, okay?”

“No promises,” you tell him, popping another one into your mouth. “You better hurry back.”

Hoseok laughs and departs for the back hallway where the restroom sign hangs. You pull your phone from your pocket to check for any new notifications, scrolling and swiping your way through the messages as you sip idly at your drink, the ice clinking gently against the glass.

When Hoseok returns a few minutes later, it’s to a half empty plate of potato skins. Fixing you with a playful glare, he lowers himself back into his seat and snags a few pieces before you can eat any more. “Didn’t I say to save me some?” he teases. Then he frowns, his brow creasing. “Hey, are you okay?”

You glance up from your phone, blinking several times in rapid succession. “What? Oh. Yeah, yeah—I’m fine. I must’ve spaced out for a second.”

“You looked upset,” Hoseok notes, and your cheeks warm beneath the scrutiny. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy,” you confirm, tucking your phone away and offering him a small smile. “Did you want to order any more food? Turns out I’m hungrier than I thought I was.”

Hoseok swipes a menu from the nearby display and flips it open, handing it over before taking another one for himself. “Sure. What were you thinking?”

“I could go for a burger,” you reply, scanning your options. Ray stops by to take your order, refilling your drinks in the process, and you fall back into conversation with Hoseok as you wait for your food. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to arrive, and before you even realize it, an hour has passed. Your plates have long since been scraped clean and cleared away, and the liquid in your glass is down to the very last dregs of half-melted ice and watered down alcohol. Hoseok signs the check that Ray brings over, waving away your protests, and smiles as he stands up to help you into your coat.

“So,” he begins as you slip your arms into the proffered sleeves, his palms skimming gently across your shoulders. “Is it too bold of me to say that I’d really like to see you again?”

You glance up at him—at his handsome face, and the way sunshine seems to radiate from his very skin. You take in his earnest expression and the way his eyes seem to sparkle like light off of a rippling river, and something warm bubbles up in your belly.

“Not at all,” you tell him, laying a hand on his forearm and returning his smile. “I’d like to see you again, too.”

///

You’re in the middle of emptying the dishwasher behind the bar, setting aside the stemware to be polished and scrolling idly through your phone with your free hand, when a familiar voice calls your name. Glancing up, you find yourself eye-to-eye with Hoseok—his hair tousled across his forehead and his grin sheepish.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply, tucking your phone back into your pocket and tilting your head in silent inquiry. “What are you doing here? I thought we weren’t going out until Friday.”

Hoseok chuckles ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. But I—”

Whatever he was going to say is cut off by a colorful blur of motion, and in a matter of seconds he’s engulfed in a mass of limbs and drowned out by laughter. Two young men have encircled him and wrangled him into what appears to be a double chokehold, and you watch on, stunned, as he struggles against his captors’ tight grip. “—was dragged here,” he finishes weakly, resigning himself to his fate with a sigh. “As you can probably see.”

One of the young men extricates himself from the tangle and looks you up and down, his face creasing into a playful smile beneath his blond fringe. “So, you’re {Name}, huh? Hobi here hasn’t shut up about you since you went out, y’know.”

Hoseok lets out an offended noise and finally frees himself from the other man’s grasp. Both men straighten up, and you flash Hoseok an amused smile as the other man smooths out his rumpled t-shirt and shakes his wayward dark hair out of round doe eyes. “He really hasn’t stopped talking about you,” he says as he plops down on one of the many barstools lining the counter. “We had to come and see what all the hype was about.”

“Don’t lie. You just wanted an excuse to go drinking.” Another voice sounds from behind the trio of men, and you watch as a third stranger steps up to the bar and fixes you with an unreadable look. Dark, indolent eyes stare at you from beneath pale platinum hair, and you tamp down your embarrassment at his unabashed scrutiny.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok’s eyes are wide. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Honestly? Neither did I.” The man named Yoongi casts a pointed look at the other two men, who offer him equally unfazed grins before grabbing a menu and hiding behind it. “But since I was dragged here, I may as well have a drink.”

Immediately, you reach for the napkins, laying one down in front of each of them. “What can I get you?”

Hoseok shakes his head and jabs a thumb toward the back of the bar. “I’ve got to run to the bathroom first. You guys go ahead.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the blond man replies with a cheeky grin, waving Hoseok off as he departs. “Whiskey, neat, for me,” he chirps. “Preferably the cheapest one you have.”

“I’ll have the same,” his dark-haired companion says, barely looking up from the happy hour section of the menu. Meanwhile, Yoongi lets out a thoughtful hum, his gaze flitting across the bottles lining the shelves before settling back on you.

“Can you do a Vieux Carre?”

You nod, already racking your brain for the ingredients and taking stock of where you keep them. “Sure. Knob Creek okay?”

“Rittenhouse, if you have it.”

“No problem.”

Lining up three glasses on the counter, you pour whiskey into two and hand them off to their recipients. The third you leave empty, grabbing your cocktail shaker and filling it up with ice before adding the liquor and a dash of bitters. Yoongi is watching you closely, his eyes sharp, and your focus wavers beneath his unrelenting gaze. “Shoot. I’m definitely forgetting something,” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

“Vermouth,” Yoongi murmurs. “You forgot the vermouth.”

“That’s it.” You sigh and shake your head. “Thanks. Mind’s all over the place today.”

“Happens to the best of us,” he replies, accepting the now finished drink and taking a sip.

You nod. Yoongi doesn’t say anything further, and though you’re curious about Hoseok’s friends, you take advantage of the break in conversation and use it to check on your other patrons. By the time you return, Yoongi is a third of the way through his drink, drumming his fingers softly against the wooden countertop in time to the music playing over the speakers.

“Solid work,” he says when you come to a stop before him, gesturing at his glass. “Rivals what I got in New Orleans, even. You ever been?”

“Once,” you admit, spotting the half-emptied dishwasher and resuming your earlier task. “But that was years ago.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi raises a brow. “It’s not a short trip. Business or pleasu—?”

“I’m back!” Hoseok plunks himself down on the stool opposite you, cutting Yoongi off mid-sentence and ignoring his scowl in favor of flashing you a grin. “Miss me?”

“No,” Yoongi says immediately, earning himself an eyeroll from the other man.

“Someone’s moody today,” Hoseok remarks. “Have you even introduced yourself properly?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” the pale-haired man says, unfazed. “Name’s Yoongi. And the two kids over there are Jimin and Jungkook.”

At the mention of their names, Jimin and Jungkook glance over and wave. “I’m Jimin, and that’s Jungkook,” Jimin clarifies, raking a hand through his already tousled blond hair.

You wave back. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ditto,” Jimin says. “Seriously. I told you already, didn’t I? We’ve all been dying to meet you.”

“It’s not every day we see Hobi get tongue-tied,” Jungkook says, laughing. “But every time someone says your name, it’s like—”

Hoseok is out of his seat in an instant, slapping a hand over the other man’s mouth as he casts you a pleading look. “Don’t listen to him,” he implores. “He’s exaggerating.”

Jungkook wriggles free of Hoseok’s grip, slipping off his stool and darting over to use an unbothered Yoongi as a shield. “Am not.”

“Don’t start with me,” Hoseok warns, taking a threatening step forward. “Or do you want me to tell the whole world how broken up you were when your girlfriend left, huh?”

The dark-haired young man opens his mouth, but seems to reconsider a moment later. “She came back,” he grumbles under his breath as he returns to his seat beside Jimin. “And that’s beside the point, anyway.”

“Seems pretty relevant to me,” Jimin remarks, earning himself a scowl from Jungkook and a jab in the ribcage with a pointy elbow.

You hide a laugh behind your hand. Turning back to face Hoseok, you pour him a glass of water and slide it over to him, smiling when he murmurs his thanks. He’s wearing a faded denim jacket over a simple white t-shirt today, the front of which is tucked into slim black jeans. A silver chain glints faintly at his throat, and you follow it down to where it comes to a rest in the slight dip of his collarbones before clearing your throat and forcing your attention back up to his face.

“So, how do you guys all know each other? Are you cops too?”

Yoongi beats Hoseok to an answer. “We were in the academy together,” he says, propping his chin in his palm and taking another lazy sip of his drink. “Been close ever since.”

“We probably wouldn’t have made it through without each other,” Jimin chirps, throwing one arm around Jungkook and the other around Hoseok. “We work in different precincts now, but we still meet up as much as we can. And when Hobi mentioned he’d met someone, well…”

“We had to meet you,” Jungkook finishes.

You smile. “I’m flattered.”

The night wears on, and your bar gradually begins to fill up, spilling into the empty seats around Hoseok and his friends. It’s clear that the men know each other well, from the snippets of conversation that you manage to catch during lulls in your work. Swiping a customer’s credit card through the machine, you listen in as Jimin regales everyone with a rather tall tale about a time he found himself in the middle of an inadvertent car chase with a taxi in Daegu.

“Couldn’t you just pull off into a side street?” Jungkook asks dubiously.

“You think I wouldn’t have if that was an option?”

Smiling to yourself, you shake your head and run the last of the credit cards in your possession, watching as the printer whirs to life and laboriously begins spitting out a long roll of receipts. Surreptitiously, you pull your phone out as you wait, scrolling through numerous new notifications and losing yourself in the text lighting up your screen.

A soft call of your name pulls you back to the present, and you belatedly realize the printer has finished its work. Tearing the receipts free, you turn back to face Hoseok, raising an inquiring eyebrow when he stares a little too long and hard at your face.

“What is it? Do I have something in my teeth?”

Hoseok shakes his head, his expression dissolving into an easy smile that dimples his cheeks. “You were off in your own little world for a second,” he replies. “I thought we’d lost you to the aliens.”

You tilt your head curiously. “You believe in aliens?”

“You don’t?” He shudders. “The universe is huge, and we’ve only explored a tiny bit of it. Don’t you think there’s something else out there? Multiple something elses, even?”

A laugh rises up in your chest and spills out. “I didn’t take you for the extraterrestrial type. Do you believe in ghosts, too?”

Hoseok’s lips thin out into a straight line as he reflects on his answer. “Honestly? I haven’t really ruled out the existence of anything. There’s too much weirdness in the world. And when it comes to ghosts, well… I think everyone has a few. Ghosts, skeletons in the closet, things we’d rather hide away and forget about—we’re all haunted by something, aren’t we?”

Your fingers still, midway through sticking a receipt into an empty black card book. “You’re probably right about that,” you admit. “I guess I just have a hard time believing in things I can’t see or touch. It’s probably why I could never get into the whole religion thing.”

“Religion is a tough sell for lots of people,” Hoseok agrees. “I’m not much of a believer myself, but even I have to admit that the whole higher power thing sounds pretty nice sometimes. Unconditional love and forgiveness for my sins? Not a bad deal, if you ask me.”

You hum softly. “Yeah, maybe. But some sins might be too big to forgive.”

Hoseok’s mouth opens to respond, but further conversation is brought to a halt when Jimin slams his glass down onto the counter and sends the half-melted ice within sloshing against the sides. “This conversation is getting way too heavy,” he declares loudly. “Let’s talk about something else. Hey, {Name}, did Hoseok ever tell you about the time he went on a roller coaster and nearly cried?”

///

Gradually, the evening draws to a close. The sky fades to dusky navy, and you watch through the window as the hazy orange illumination of the streetlamps replaces the warm glow of the sun. The flow of customers has lulled to a mere trickle, though with the continuous laughter and chatter coming from Jimin and Jungkook, the bar may as well be full. Diligently, you bring a couple of regulars a refill on their drinks before returning to where Hoseok is sitting. He’s engaged in conversation with Yoongi and sipping water through a straw, but looks up at your approach, his expression softening.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You offer him a weary smile. “Do either of you want anything else? Drinks? Food? Dessert? I know you love the brownies here.”

Hoseok chuckles and reaches across the counter to grab your hand, twining your fingers together. “As much as I do love the brownies, you’re working way too hard,” he admonishes, stroking a gentle thumb along the ridge of your knuckles.

You roll your eyes and tug your hand free from his grasp. “Yeah? In that case, you’re being way too distracting.”

“I could be more distracting,” he replies easily, his arm falling flat against the counter with the fingers still outstretched as if to reach for you again. “Maybe I could show you, after you’re all wrapped up here.”

Off to the side, Yoongi pulls a disgusted face and turns in his seat to talk to Jungkook and Jimin instead. You don’t pay him any mind, though, too caught up in the expression glimmering in Hoseok’s eyes—a cocktail of earnestness and mischief and desire that catapults your heart into a series of somersaults.

“Hoseok.” Your voice is a whisper. “I can’t. I—I have to open tomorrow. Early shift.”

His smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Next time, then,” he says, and you can only nod, glancing down the bar for a distraction from the nervous butterflies that have erupted in your belly.

Another hour passes before your manager finally locks the front door, declaring that you’re closed for the night. Jungkook and Jimin depart with friendly waves and promises to come again soon, and you watch as the door swings shut behind them, leaving you alone with Hoseok and Yoongi. “Last call,” you tell them, setting a nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the counter and pulling a fresh one from the cabinet to replace it. “How about one last drink on me?”

“If anyone deserves that drink, it’s you,” Hoseok replies, reaching for his wallet. Pulling out a few bills, he slides them across the counter and nods at the bottle. “Here, go on. It’s on me.”

You huff out a soft laugh, murmuring your gratitude before upending the bottle’s contents into your mouth. Your manager has disappeared into the back, leaving no one to admonish you, and there aren’t very many clean glasses left anyway. And after a long night, the burn of liquor down your throat is almost a comfort, washing away your overactive thoughts and sanding down the sharp edges of your worries.

“Better?” Hoseok asks once you’ve lowered the bottle back down, and you nod.

“Yeah. Much.”

“I guess this is our cue to leave,” Yoongi drawls, rising to his feet and shrugging on his army green bomber jacket. “Good meeting you, {Name}.”

“You too,” you tell him. “Come back anytime.”

“Will do,” he says, already turning toward the door. “Hobi, I’ll be outside.”

Hoseok nods and waves him off. “Be there in a few,” he promises before turning to face you, his expression softening when you step out from behind the counter and join him on the other side. “Hey. About what happened earlier? I want to apologize.”

Your head tilts in confusion. “What?”

He swallows. “Earlier. I was—I was too forward, and I didn’t mean to scare you or rush you into anything you’re not ready for. So, I wanted to say sorry. I don’t know when to shut up sometimes.”

In the pit of your stomach, the butterflies stir. “It’s okay,” you tell him, reaching out to take his hand in both of yours. “I’ll still see you Friday, right?”

That earns you a grin—bright and near blinding. “Definitely,” he murmurs, reaching up with his free hand to slowly touch your cheek. His thumb skims along the swell beneath your eye, soft and tender, before he lets his hand drop again. “Goodnight, {Name}.”

You hesitate—the span of a single heartbeat—before pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a soft kiss on his cheek, just shy of the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight, Hoseok,” you whisper.

Hoseok’s breath catches, his throat bobbing. “Goodnight,” he repeats, his gaze roving across your face one last time before he turns and heads for the door. You follow his retreating back as he joins a bored looking Yoongi leaning against a nearby lamppost, and watch until he disappears inside a cab that pulls up a minute later. The car door swings shut behind him and the vehicle pulls away, but the fluttering in your belly remains—irrepressibly warm and ebullient.

///

Before you know it, you and Hoseok are five dates in. You have yet to take him up on his offer at Bar Luna—the one where he promised so slyly to distract you, but you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t been on your mind.

And tonight, something feels different.

Hoseok has distraction on the mind if the way he’s staring at your mouth is any indication, and your cheeks heat up when his tongue inadvertently darts out to moisten his lips. The two of you have just returned from dinner, a pleasant buzz from the bottle of wine you shared working its way through your veins. The deep blue of nighttime has settled over the city during the short walk back to your apartment, and Hoseok looks near ethereal in the soft glow of the streetlamp on the corner, his hair illuminated like burnished gold.

“I guess this is your stop,” he murmurs, his gaze flitting up to meet yours before dropping back down to your lips. “I had a really good time tonight.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers intertwined. “Me too. Thanks for walking me back.”

“Anytime.”

There’s a beat of silence. Hoseok hesitates, his free hand rising to stroke the swell of your cheek, and your eyes flutter at the soft touch. “When can I see you again?” he asks.

You hum. “I’m free tomorrow. How do you feel about breakfast?”

Hoseok smiles. “Best meal of the day. It’s got the best food, no contest.”

You smile back. “Definitely.” Then you step forward, tentatively pressing a little closer. “So, maybe you can stay tonight, and we can grab something in the morning.”

Hoseok’s gaze darkens, but you don’t miss the hesitancy that lingers there. “Really? You want me to stay?”

Instead of answering, you lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth, ensuring that he can feel the swell of your cleavage against his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, and you gasp when he tugs you flush against him, one hand sliding down to rest just above the curve of your rear.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he breathes, and your answering nod is urgent. Hoseok’s mouth quirks up into a smirk, laden with the kind of dark, sinful promise that sends shivers rippling down your spine, and you shakily locate your keys in your purse. Hoseok, ever the gentleman, holds the door open for you before entering himself. He winds a firm arm around you, fingers settling comfortably in the curve of your waist, and you press closer as you step across the lobby and into the elevator.

“Been thinking about this for a while now,” he admits, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “How could I not, when you always look so gorgeous, huh?”

Your breath hitches when he cages you up against the wall of the elevator, the gunmetal doors sliding shut behind you. He reaches up to cup your cheek, delicately as if you’re made of the finest porcelain, and you sigh when he tugs aside your scarf to mouth at your neck.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice dipping an octave. “And I haven’t even done anything yet. I can’t wait to get my hands on you for real.”

The elevator doors open, and within seconds you’re at the threshold of your apartment, inserting the key into the lock and twisting the knob. Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows you inside and down the dim hallway, and you nearly smack him when you turn to flip the light switch behind him. “Sorry!” you gasp, and Hoseok laughs as light floods through the kitchen and spills out into the living area beyond.

“No harm, no foul,” he assures. “You barely grazed me.”

And then his mouth is on yours—warm and soft and curious. You can sense his restraint, feel it in the way he kisses you carefully—gently—as if the barest whisper of wind might send you skittering away. But Hoseok’s mouth is intoxicating, and it’s all too easy to lose yourself in the feeling of his lips against your own. Your fingertips drift down his chest, past the deliciously taut muscle of his abdomen and down to the bulge that’s beginning to stir in his jeans. Hoseok groans when you brush against him, his breath hot against your cheek as he breaks away to release a strangled noise of appreciation, and you smile as you lean in to kiss him again.

Hoseok’s hands are scrabbling down your back now, midway through unzipping your dress, when your phone buzzes insistently against your thigh. Your eyes fly open, a little gasp escaping your lips, and your companion reluctantly pulls away as you tug the device from your pocket and glance at the screen.

“You’re pretty popular,” he remarks. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, but I… I should take this,” you mumble, sitting up and swiping at the screen. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replies softly, watching as you stand up and start in the direction of the bathroom. “Just come back soon, yeah?”

Already distracted, you nod and let the bathroom door click shut behind you. Pressing the phone to your ear, you listen as a familiar voice crackles through on the other side, clearly irritated.

“Don’t even start,” you snap. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? Then why isn’t it done?”

You scowl. “Because I’m doing this my way, that’s why. It’s not as if you’re paying for a rush job, anyway.”

“I’m certainly not paying you to dilly-dally.”

“It’ll get done,” you answer coolly. “I’ll contact you when it’s over.”

With that, you hang up, sighing and letting your phone drop onto the countertop. You flush the toilet and wash your hands for good measure, and when you exit the bathroom again, you nearly jump out of your skin at the sight of Hoseok leaning against the opposite wall, his face illuminated white by the screen of his phone.

“Hey,” he says, looking up. “I didn’t mean to creep, but nature calls.” Then he steps closer, scrutinizing your face a little more carefully. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”

Your phone weighs heavy in your pocket. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Hoseok gives you a curious little smile, but doesn’t press the issue. He skirts past your frozen frame and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and you stare at the plain wooden expanse for a few long moments before returning to the living room.

You’re seated on the couch when Hoseok returns, an opened bottle of wine and two glasses sitting on the coffee table before you. “Drink?” you ask, gesturing at the wine. “Maybe a movie?”

Hoseok joins you with a smile, winding an arm around your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Sure. A movie sounds great.”

///

Hoseok doesn’t like lying. All of the lessons instilled in him as a child—those repeated mantras about how honesty is the best policy—play through his mind every time he tells so much as a white lie. Logically, of course, he knows that falsehoods and half-truths are necessary in his line of work as an agent. They’re the only reason he’s stayed alive as long as he has, and he knows he’s gotten better over the years at coming up with them on the spot. But there’s still that nagging sense of guilt, that lingering remorse for the lies he’s told, and it plagues him every time he leaves Bangtan’s headquarters with a new mission and an information file that weighs heavy in his briefcase.

This latest mission is going to send him to Bogota, and according to Namjoon, it’s more a reconnaissance trip than anything else. The manila folder that Bangtan’s leader handed him contained a plane ticket dated for one week from today, and Hoseok has already tucked it away in his wallet for safekeeping. Rooting around in his pocket, he digs out his keys and lets himself into his building, flashing the concierge behind the lobby desk a quick smile. Hoseok is one of the few Bangtan agents who doesn’t live at headquarters, and as much as he hates trekking the four short blocks between buildings, he values his privacy and precious time away from the louder members far too much to give up his downtown condo.

The ride up to the twentieth floor is a short one, and Hoseok lazily loosens the knot of his tie as he approaches his front door. His gaze flits across it—taking in the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and the silver knocker that always hangs just the slightest bit askew.

And then he freezes, his eyes narrowing at the matching silver doorknob.

Handling a firearm is second nature to Hoseok. His hand drops automatically to where his holster sits, the sturdy leather strapped to his belt beneath his jacket, and he releases a long, slow breath as his fingers wrap around his gun. With his other hand, he unlocks the front door and steps past the threshold, every sense on high alert. Cautiously, he makes his way down the hall, staring warily at the closed door of the coat closet before edging forward past the archway that leads to the kitchen. His condo—and the kitchen, in particular—has an open concept design, which leaves very few spots for intruders to hide. Still, there are places where a person could conceal themselves if they tried hard enough, and he scans the wooden cabinets and the stainless steel refrigerator thoroughly before putting his back against the opposite wall and moving into the living area.

It happens in a split second—in the span of time it takes to suck in a breath of air. There’s a flurry of movement to his right, a dark shadow against the cream walls, and Hoseok shifts on instinct to block the jab before he even gets a good look at his assailant. Black clothes, black boots, and a black ski mask. One arm rises, an elbow driving into Hoseok’s solar plexus, and he grunts at the impact before regaining his balance and launching an offensive.

In many ways, hand-to-hand combat resembles dancing. There’s a rhythm and a flow to it—intricacy and purpose behind each movement. Hoseok’s gun digs against his side, and his fingertips skim across the grip just as his assailant trips him up with a well-timed kick in the shins and he’s forced to throw his arms out to recalibrate his balance. That flows into an attack, one that strikes at his assailant’s exposed left side and sends them stumbling back several steps. Hoseok takes the opportunity to spring forward and tackle them to the ground, and that’s where the real tussle begins. A harsh grunt escapes Hoseok’s lips when his assailant jabs an elbow into his ribcage, hard enough to bruise, and he retaliates with an attempt to get them into a headlock.

Meanwhile, his gun hangs heavy at his side, still holstered safely in its spot on his belt. Against his lower stomach, he can feel the hard press of his assailant’s own weapon—the metal cool and unyielding even through the barrier of his jacket and shirt. It would only take a second to pull it out—either for him or his assailant. And yet, no one goes for the draw.

Hoseok is not a stupid man. The gears in his brain have been turning ever since he arrived home—ever since he saw the doorknob of his front door angled ever so slightly downward instead of up like he always leaves it. A theory as to his assailant’s identity has been brewing, but it’s one that he doesn’t want to confirm. He isn’t sure if he’s ready for it, yet he knows he doesn’t have a choice.

And so, he calls your name. Softly—in a voice no louder than a whisper of wind rustling through barren tree branches. No louder than the faint rustle of a dry leaf underfoot, or the tiny gasp of surprise that leaves his assailant’s lips. There’s a pause—loaded and heavy with implication. It lasts no longer than half a second, but it’s enough.

Enough for Hoseok to reach out, and pull the black ski mask off of your head.

Your eyes, when he glimpses them, are wide and blown out with surprise. A beat passes—then two—and then you’re twisting away from him, turning on your heel and making to flee.

But Hoseok is quick. He grabs ahold of your wrist, his thumb digging into your pulsepoint, and you don’t even try to fight back. Instead, you deflate completely, your shoulders slumping as your hands drop to your sides. Your gaze flickers down to the hardwood floor and stays there, and Hoseok can barely make out your next words.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I think I’m the one who should be asking questions,” he answers coolly. “Don’t you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath before releasing it back out in a shaky exhale. “Let me go, Hoseok,” you whisper, but he only shakes his head, tugging until you relent and allow him to pull you over to the couch.

“Not until you tell me why you’re doing this,” he murmurs, watching as you perch nervously on the very edge of the cushion. “What’s going on, {Name}? Why… why did you attack me?”

“I—” You hesitate. “I can’t, Hoseok. I failed, okay? Just let me go, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

He hums. “That’s hardly fair. What if I want to keep seeing you?”

Your breath catches, your head whipping up to look him in the eye. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe not,” Hoseok replies. “But then again, maybe I do.” Sitting down beside you, he takes your hands and cradles them in his own, enveloping them in solid, steady warmth. “Help me understand, {Name}. Is that even your real name?”

You look away. “Yeah. But you might know me better as something else.”

“And that would be?”

You hesitate, your heart thudding hard enough to rattle the slats of your ribcage. Hoseok is staring at you, waiting, and you suck in a deep breath before letting the syllables escape out into the open air. “Stheno,” you mumble, in a voice no louder than a whisper. “You would know me as Stheno.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. Rumors abound when it comes to the infamous assassin known as Stheno, and the mysteries that surround their identity are many and varied. Many believe that Stheno is simply a myth—a way for the governments of powerful countries to wipe their tracks. Others believe that Stheno is an organization—a guild of operatives who carry out the dangerous assassinations that have been attributed to the name.

And now, here you are, claiming to be the face behind the name. You, with your voice that lilts like his favorite song and your eyes that sparkle like constellations even in the dimness. His gaze drops down to your hands, trembling slightly in his grasp.

“Are you lying to me?” he asks softly.

Your shoulders slump, and whether it’s in defeat or relief, Hoseok cannot tell. “No,” you whisper, your throat tight. “I’m not. I’m tired of lying, Hoseok.”

He nods, letting out a long breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “And I’ve been a job this whole time. Right?”

Your gaze doesn’t stray from your knees as you nod. Hoseok sighs and lets go of your hands, and you cross your arms tightly across your chest as you chance a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m sorry,” you breathe, so quietly that you almost think he doesn’t hear.

A beat passes, and then two. Hoseok exhales heavily through his nose, and you’re on the verge of standing up to walk away when he speaks again. “Prove it,” he says, and you nearly give yourself whiplash from turning to face him again. “Tell me who wants me dead.”

“I-I don’t actually know his real name,” you admit. “He calls himself the Baron, and I don’t like to press my clients for more information than I need.”

“The Baron,” Hoseok repeats slowly. “Never heard of him.”

“Well, he definitely knows you,” you remark, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve until it begins to unravel. “He wants your head. Literally.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Thoughtfully, Hoseok rubs his chin. “What changed, then, {Name}? Why am I still alive? You must know that your reputation precedes you, and from what I hear, you never miss a shot. So why are we sitting here right now, talking?”

“I—” The syllable sticks in your throat, and you swallow before continuing, wringing your hands together in your lap. “I don’t know. I thought I could do it. I was going to. But then I saw you, and I just… I couldn’t do it. I can’t hurt you, Hoseok.”

“I don’t know about that. You did hit me pretty hard back there,” he replies, and you’re about to open your mouth to apologize again when you see the tiny smile that’s tugging at his lips. “But I like to think I gave you a run for your money.”

You huff out something that’s halfway between a laugh and a snort, breathing deeply through your nose before glancing up at him again. “You definitely did,” you agree. “But I don’t… I don’t really know where to go from here. The Baron’s still out there, and he still wants you dead. So what do we do now?”

Hoseok stares at you for a long moment, his gaze searching. Then he nods and pats your knee, rising to his feet. “I think I have an idea.”

///

Cloaked in the deep blue of nighttime, the city becomes a different place. Shadows and unseen monsters linger on every corner, at the edges of your vision and just outside the orange circles of light cast by the flickering streetlamps. The warehouse district is as good as abandoned once the sun sets, and you wince when a particularly large pothole sends you bouncing in the seat of your car. Tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you slow to a crawl as you search for the designated meeting place.

Your destination is a dilapidated concrete building that was once a parking garage. Now, it sits forgotten, both by the city and by time itself. Weeds have sprouted from the spiderwebbing cracks in the walls and floor, and the painted lines that mark each parking space have long since faded. As instructed, you stop near the entrance on the ground level, scanning your surroundings as you turn off the ignition and grabbing the black trash bag on the floor of the passenger side. Your watch, when you look at it, reads 8:59.

At nine o’clock on the dot, you hear the low purr of an engine approaching. Slowly, you step out of your car as a nondescript black sedan rounds the corner and comes to a stop beside you, the tinted window rolling down to reveal a man with dark stubble lining his chin and a baseball cap pulled low to obscure his features. Dark sunglasses cover his eyes, matching your own, and you nod as he cocks his head in silent question.

“Here,” you tell him, hefting the trash bag up. It hangs heavy in your hand, weighed down by its contents, and the man nods and beckons you closer. You oblige when he gestures for you to open it up, the decapitated head inside coming into view. Grayish brain matter seeps through the cracked skull, and the hair is dampened black with congealing blood and viscera.

For a few long seconds, the man stares into the bag. Then he glances up, inclining his head once before grabbing the manila envelope in the passenger seat and handing it through the window. “The Baron thanks you,” he says simply, and you rifle through the bills inside before nodding back.

The window rolls back up, and you’re left staring at your own reflection in the dark glass for a long second. Then the car starts up, rounding the corner smoothly and disappearing from your sight. In your pocket, right beside the holstered gun on your belt, your phone vibrates.

[9:04pm] HS: u ok?

Fine, you write back, tapping at the screen as you climb back into your car. You?

[9:05pm] HS: 👍🏻

[9:05pm] HS: see u in a few?

[9:06pm] You: yeah. on my way

Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you start the car and carefully maneuver out of the parking garage. Leaving behind the warehouse district, you turn onto a street with more traffic, following it until the low buildings around you turn into skyscrapers. This time, your destination is a building with a modest glass and steel front tucked away on a road just off the main street. Hoseok is standing just inside the front door, his lithe frame visible through the glass. He’s leaning against the wall, a lock of auburn hair falling across his forehead as he scrolls through his phone, but he breaks into a smile when he glances up and spots you parking at the curb.

“You’re here,” he says once you’ve stepped past the threshold, straightening up to his full height and giving you a once-over. His eyes linger on the envelope clutched in your hand, and your cheeks warm when you follow the trajectory of his gaze to see what he’s staring at.

“I feel dirty accepting this,” you tell him honestly. “Technically, I didn’t do the job.”

“I’m probably biased, but I think you deserve it,” Hoseok replies, flashing you a grin. “Come on. Let’s head upstairs.”

You nod and trail him into one of the elevators at the far end of the entrance, tucked away in a little nook. The ride up is mostly silent, save for the playful little sound effect Hoseok makes when he swipes his key card through the reader and pushes the button for the seventh floor. The elevator dings when you arrive, and the steely gray doors open to reveal a familiar face standing there. Hurriedly, you affix a smile on your face as recognition dawns.

“Jimin, hi.” You glance at Hoseok, who doesn’t look the least bit surprised at the appearance of his friend. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The blond man smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day Hobi decides to pull a clandestine mission without telling us about it, so here we are.” Turning to your companion, he nods. “RM’s in the conference room with the others already. We’ve been waiting.”

Hoseok nods and ushers you out into the paneled white corridor, following behind you as Jimin takes the lead. The doors that line the hall are thick frosted glass, and you peer curiously at the blurry shadows you can see moving inside. Then Jimin comes to a stop, swiping his card through the reader and pulling open the door at the very end of the hall. Hoseok gestures for you to enter first, and you tentatively do so, blinking as you take in your surroundings.

It’s a large room, but the dim lights and lack of windows make it appear much smaller. A bank of computer monitors occupies the far end, the screens bright, but the majority of the room is taken up by a large conference style table. About a dozen people are seated around it, and your eyes immediately go to the man seated at the head. There’s no doubt that he’s the leader, and you raise a hand awkwardly in greeting as Jimin steps away and plops down in the chair beside a young man you recognize as Jungkook. Yoongi is seated on his other side, and you suppress the urge to balk beneath his sharp, inquisitive stare.

“I take it the mission went well, then.” The leader stands up, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in his collared white shirt and adjusting the glasses perched on his nose. “You must be {Name}. My name is Namjoon.”

You wave again, suddenly feeling very small. It certainly doesn’t help that Namjoon is incredibly tall—six feet, at least. “Hi. It’s, uh—” You glance over at Hoseok, who gives you an encouraging smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Hoseok steps forward, cocking his head as he takes a closer look at the largest monitor on the wall. “Looks like the tracker works,” he says, gesturing at the blinking red dot moving across a map of the city. “Target’s moving north pretty quickly.”

“I’m already tapped into the security cameras along the route,” Jungkook pipes up, tapping a key on his laptop and bringing up a grainy feed of traffic on another screen. “I don’t know what we’re looking for, though, so does anyone wanna explain exactly what’s going on here?”

Hoseok glances at Namjoon, and Namjoon nods before clearing his throat. “I apologize for keeping you in the dark,” he begins. “When Hoseok approached me with this plan, we decided it was a necessary precaution. The Baron is a formidable opponent, after all.”

“The Baron?” Jungkook zooms in on the blinking red dot, his eyes wide. “Are you saying this is the Baron?”

“Not quite,” Namjoon says. “Someone who does his dirty work, if I’m not mistaken. Is that right, {Name}?”

You nod. “With any luck, though, this guy will lead us right to the actual Baron.”

“And then we’ll finally know who wants me dead,” Hoseok adds. The room falls silent after his casual revelation, and he blinks a few times in confusion before realizing what’s happened. “Oh, right,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling the hair at his nape. “The Baron wants me dead.”

“You don’t say,” Yoongi pipes up dryly. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand though. What exactly is the bartender doing here?” His gaze flickers to you. “Who the hell are you?”

Hoseok hesitates. The pause lasts no longer than a fraction of a second, but Yoongi’s eyes narrow grimly and you know he’s connected the dots and arrived at the correct conclusion. “You,” he breathes, and you flinch back at the venom in the single syllable.

“What?” Jungkook glances around, his gaze darting quizzically between you, Yoongi, and Hoseok. “What’s going on?”

“She’s our ally,” Hoseok says defensively.

“She’s been trying to kill Hobi,” Yoongi spits at the same time, and a beat passes before the entire room erupts into chaos.

It takes several seconds for Namjoon to reestablish any sense of order. As the cacophony settles into a disquiet buzz, the leader points at the monitor on the wall where the blinking red dot is slowing to a stop. “Looks like our man has reached his destination,” he remarks, and both you and Hoseok stride closer to get a better look.

“Is that where I think it is?” Hoseok squints.

“The Himura mansion,” Namjoon confirms softly, lacing his fingers together and propping his chin atop them. “Of course. It makes perfect sense.”

To even the most oblivious citizens, Himura is a well-known name in the city. The crime family is notorious throughout Asia, with rumors that their reach has extended into Eastern Europe as well. And though you can’t be certain of the validity of those claims, you know beyond a doubt that Seoul—and namely, the mansion on the northern outskirts of the city—is their main base of operations.

“What do we do now?” Hoseok looks pensive. “The Himura mansion is impenetrable.”

“Actually, I don’t know about that.” Thoughtfully, you stare at the little red dot still blinking insistently at you from the dark screen before glancing around the table of seated Bangtan agents. “If Daichi Himura really is The Baron, then… I think I know a guy who can get us in.”

///

“So, remind me again how you know this guy?”

You and Hoseok are walking down a crowded street in downtown Seoul, with hats pulled low over your faces and sunglasses obscuring your eyes. Hoseok’s wearing a black beanie, the collar of his denim jacket turned up to cover the lower half of his face, and you have a scarf knotted tightly around your throat. Any passersby could reasonably assume that you were just bundled up to ward off the wintry chill in the air.

In reality, however, you are taking precautions—against both prying eyes and any of the innumerable surveillance cameras that guard the city’s storefronts and street corners. After all, you’ve chosen to ally yourself with Hoseok and Bangtan. Now more than ever, you need to keep your movements a secret, lest any of Himura’s men catch wind of your deceit.

“I told you—we’re friends.” You tug idly at your scarf, securing it a little tighter around your face. “We went to school together for years before I dropped out.”

Hoseok hums. Over the past few days, you’ve revealed more of your life to him, and he’s well aware of how you left school at sixteen and fell in with a rather bad crowd. With no family and very few friends, you resorted to petty theft to survive, and things only escalated from there.

“You said he’s a mechanic?”

“More or less,” you confirm, hesitating before adding, “We… also have some history.”

“History,” Hoseok echoes, and you nod silently before hurrying on.

Turning to the right, you find yourselves on a smaller, narrower street. Away from the bustle of the main road, you finally allow yourself to marginally lower your guard, taking in the familiar storefronts that grace either curb. Hoseok follows your lead as you take a left turn and then a right, and slows alongside you when you stop in front of an unassuming building with a simple sign that reads The Auto Shop. “Is this it?” he asks, and you nod.

The shop, when you enter, is larger than it appears on the outside. The floors are gray concrete and the walls are a combination of concrete and brick, and the entirety of the room is filled with cars and the low hum of whatever song is playing on the radio. Slowly, you glance around until you spot a pair of legs beneath one of the many parked vehicles. “Ryo?” you call as you approach.

“{Name}?” The man slides out from beneath the car, surprise etched across his features. “Is that really you?”

You smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Hey.”

“Hey yourself, stranger.” Ryo breaks into a grin, and you’re reminded of just how handsome he is. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, Ryo is all affable charm topped off with rakish good looks and a penchant for mischief. You’re not immune to his ways, either, and maybe that’s why you allowed him to get so close all those years ago. Maybe that’s why you dated him for a few months during your school years—before you ran away from your life and left what few friends you had behind. Before you learned how to hone your innate talents for sneaking and lying into a lucrative way to turn a profit. Before you learned how to fire a weapon, and how to aim for the vitals first and ask questions later.

You met up with him once after all was said and done—once, when your car broke down and you had nowhere else to turn. He didn’t pry, but you knew that he could sense the changes that years away had wrought. You’d confided in him, perhaps against your better judgement, and he’d balanced the scales by telling you about his father’s brother and his growing criminal empire.

“So, what brings you here after all this time?” Ryo straightens up to his full height, dusting off his jeans and wiping a smudge of grease off his chin with the hem of his gray t-shirt. “Would it have killed you to text me every now and then?”

You raise a brow. “From an unknown number? Would you really have answered?”

“Won’t know until you try,” he teases. Then his gaze slides over to Hoseok, who’s standing off to the side and a few steps behind you. “Who’s your friend?”

“Name’s Hoseok.” Your companion pulls off his beanie and strides forward, one hand outstretched for a handshake. “You must be Ryo.”

“That’s me,” Ryo says easily, shaking Hoseok’s hand. The two men seem to be sizing each other up, and you let them have a moment before clearing your throat and speaking again.

“So, you must know that this isn’t just a social call,” you tell him. “I need some help, and I think you might be my best bet.”

Ryo stretches his arms overhead and crosses them behind his head. “You’ve gotten into some kind of trouble again, haven’t you.” His tone isn’t accusatory, and for that you’re thankful. “What is it now?”

“It’s about Daichi Himura,” you admit, not missing the way his face darkens at the name.

“Fantastic. What did dear old Uncle do now?”

Your gaze flickers over to Hoseok, whose expression is solemn. “He put a hit out on my friend,” you murmur, and one of Ryo’s eyebrows disappears into his hair.

“Wow. What did you do, man?”

Hoseok looks away, running a fingertip along what looks like a partially restored Porsche. “From what we can tell so far, it’s because I took out a crew of his men a few years back. They were key players in his smuggling ring, and brought in a lot of money for him. Understandably, he was annoyed.”

Ryo snorts out a humorless laugh. “Well, hey, it’s a wonder you’re still alive. From what I can tell, old Uncle Daichi only employs the best of the best to do his dirty work. Good on ya, man.” Then he glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Who’d he send after you, anyway? Assassin? Merc?”

“Actually, it was me.” Sheepishly, you raise a hand, watching as Ryo’s mouth falls open into a near perfect circle.

“W-ow,” he says once he’s recovered his speech, somehow managing to stretch the word into two syllables. “I’m sensing that there’s a lot more to that story.”

“How much time do you have?” Hoseok asks dryly. You shake your head, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth, and he flashes you a crooked little grin before turning back to Ryo. “Anyway, to make a long story short—she didn’t kill me. But sooner or later, the Baron’s going to find out that I’m not dead, and when that time comes, I’m willing to bet big money that he’ll be coming after both of us.”

“But he won’t be able to take you out if you take him out first. And right now, you’ve got the element of surprise on your side.” Ryo nods in understanding. “I get it. How can I help?”

You shrug. “I was hoping you’d have some ideas. We need a way into his mansion up north, and the sneakier we can be, the better.”

“Hmm.” Ryo rubs his chin thoughtfully, before turning and wrenching open one of the drawers of a nearby cabinet. “You’re in luck, then. My uncle’s been trying to get me back into the family business for years, no matter how much I push back.”

“Can’t really blame him,” Hoseok remarks, jabbing a thumb at the Porsche. “It’d probably be nice having someone who’s good with cars on your side.”

Ryo snorts. “Probably, yeah. Unfortunately for him, I don’t really wanna go to prison for smuggling or trafficking or whatever it is he’s up to these days. I like being a law-abiding citizen, thank you very much. I like recycling and paying my taxes and helping little old ladies cross the street.”

“And I’m sure all the little old ladies are grateful for that,” you tell him, grinning. “But what were you saying before? About us being in luck?”

He nods, rifling through the cabinet drawer for a few moments before letting out a triumphant exclamation and holding up what looks like a piece of cream-colored paper. “Here,” he says, handing it over to you. It’s made of heavy cardstock upon closer examination, and judging by the flowing text emblazoned across the front, it’s an invitation. “There’s a gala at the mansion this weekend, and it’s definitely your best bet to get in there undetected. But you’ve really gotta be sure. This is your way in, if you’re really bent on taking him down, but I don’t have a good way for you to get back out.”

“I think we can take care of that,” you tell him, exchanging a look with Hoseok. “What do you think? It’s pretty short notice. Today’s Wednesday, and this gala’s scheduled for Saturday.”

Hoseok hums. “We can pull it off, though. This is good stuff, Ryo. Thanks a lot.”

Ryo shakes his head. “Don’t mention it.”

With the invitation tucked securely into one of your coat pockets, you and Hoseok turn to leave. Ryo’s voice stops you in your tracks though, and you turn curiously when he murmurs your name.

“Hey,” Ryo says, gesturing for you to come closer and lowering his voice so that only you can hear. “You’re really sure about this?”

You tilt your head. “About the gala? Of course.”

He sighs. “No, not that. Are you sure about him?”

You glance over your shoulder at Hoseok, who’s standing a short ways away and using the reflection of a nearby car window to adjust his collar, his lips tilted into a little frown. He moves on to his hair next—fiddling with the auburn strands until they fall perfectly across his forehead before smushing his black beanie back onto his head. His ears fold down beneath the edge of the material, and something warm blossoms in your chest at the sight.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’m positive.”

-

The return to Bangtan’s headquarters is quiet. Hoseok seems to be deep in thought, his expression pensive as he pulls open the door and lets you enter the building before him. The ascent to the conference room is silent save the whir of the elevator, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as Hoseok stares unseeingly at the panel of numbered buttons opposite him.

Namjoon and the others are already waiting when you arrive, seated around the table and conversing in quiet tones. They quiet down when you enter, and you nod a quick greeting as you pull out the chair beside Jimin and take a seat. Hoseok lowers himself into the chair beside you, and there’s a beat of silence before Namjoon speaks.

“How was it?”

Wordlessly, you pull the invitation out of your jacket pocket, sliding it across the table to Bangtan’s leader. Namjoon picks it up, scanning across the text, and you watch his eyes widen before narrowing in satisfaction. Hoseok speaks up then, and you startle at the sound of his voice after his extended silence during your journey back. “What do you think, Joon? All hands on deck?”

There’s a minute pause, as Namjoon considers the question. “Yes, I think so.” Twining his fingers together, he rests his chin atop them and looks around the table. “We’ll reconvene here tomorrow morning to talk strategy. Jimin, Jungkook—we’ll need blueprints of the mansion. And can we tap into any of the surveillance cameras inside?”

Jungkook hums. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Good.” Namjoon doles out a few more orders before dismissing everyone, and you’re just about to turn and exit the conference room when his voice rings out again. “Hoseok, may I have a word?”

Your gaze flits back to said man, who’d been on your heels but is now turning around. Namjoon is reclining in his chair, and beside him is Yoongi—still slouched in his seat at the table and wearing a deep frown. “I’ll meet up with you outside,” Hoseok promises, offering you a reassuring smile. “Go on. I’ll just be a minute.”

You nod and step through the door, letting it fall shut behind you. Leaning against the wall, you release a long, pent-up breath, letting your eyes fall shut as your head thunks softly against the plaster.

“Think about it, Hoseok. She’s Stheno, and she’s notorious in our line of work. How do we know she isn’t still on a job?”

You recognize Yoongi’s distinctive drawl immediately. Belatedly, you realize that the door hasn’t shut the whole way, and curiosity has you edging closer, pressing an ear against the seam of the doorframe.

“Because I do, Yoongi. I know her, and she’s on our side.” Hoseok’s voice this time—the words soft but firm. “And even if you don’t trust her, you can trust me.”

On the other side of the door, Yoongi harrumphs. “Still. Be careful, Hobi. You never really know, do you?”

Hoseok doesn’t even hesitate. “No, actually I do. I’m positive.”

///

The Himura mansion is on the northernmost edge of the city, surrounded by trees and guarded by tall stone walls. Away from the majority of the light pollution, the night sky becomes a work of art—scattered with starry pinpricks that shine even through wispy gray clouds. You can see the full moon through the window of the limousine—her silvery luminescence a stark contrast to the golden glow that lights up the mansion and the surrounding grounds.

Heaving a sigh, you turn your gaze down to your lap and smooth down the silk of your dress, the material like molten emeralds against your skin. Even though it falls to your ankles, you still feel oddly naked without your trusty holster at your hip. The only weapon you have is a small knife strapped to your thigh, thin and unobtrusive enough to conceal beneath your skirt. Your companion is the one with the heavy artillery tonight, and your gaze slides over to where he’s seated beside you, staring pensively out the window.

Yoongi’s pale hair glows silver in the moonlight. He’s wearing a fitted black tuxedo tonight, and adjusts his black bow tie idly as the limousine reaches the end of the winding driveway and slows to a stop before the mansion’s entrance. Broad-shouldered guards flank either side of the double doors, and the assault rifles strapped to their backs aren’t subtle. The handguns on their belts aren’t either, and you trace the movement of Yoongi’s hand as he checks his own weapon in its holster beneath his jacket.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him softly. “It’s not obvious that you’re armed.”

He hums, still looking out the window. “I guess you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a jab at your previous life, and you know it. And while his intention may have been to hurt, you’ve heard much worse over the years. “I would,” you agree placidly.

Yoongi hums again. He adjusts his lapels and checks his gun one last time before wrenching open the door of the limousine, and you wait patiently as he skirts around the vehicle to open your door. “Thanks,” you murmur as you take his proffered arm, and he gives you a curt nod.

“Let’s go.”

The decision for Yoongi to accompany you to the gala instead of Hoseok was a deliberate one. By all accounts, Min Yoongi is a bit of a recluse, and is therefore least likely to be recognized out of all of the Bangtan agents. The fact doesn’t stop you from holding your breath as you approach the armed guards and present your invitation. It doesn’t stop your heart from palpitating wildly against its cage, drumming out an erratic beat that you hope no one else can hear.

“Welcome,” the guard says, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter. “Enjoy the festivities.”

“We will,” Yoongi replies, and you follow his lead as he guides you both past the threshold and into the mansion.

The entrance hall is a magnificent sight, lit up with golden light that glitters and refracts off the crystal chandeliers dangling from the arched ceiling. People mill about freely on the white marble floor—dark suits and long gowns as far as the eye can see. A grand staircase draped in burgundy carpet lies at the far end of the hallway, leading to twin walkways on the second floor that are framed neatly by carved marble railings and overlook the masses. Another corridor extends beyond the stairs into the unknown depths of the rest of the mansion, and the barrier posts stationed there tell you that the area is off limits. So do the uniformed guards standing watch like silent sentinels at the foot of the staircase. Mentally, you take stock of their weapons before mapping out all of the possible entrances and exits you’ve seen so far. All of this, you do under the guise of admiring the decor, and you can feel Yoongi doing the same at your side.

“Spot the Baron yet?” Your companion murmurs the words out of the corner of his mouth, his lips barely moving. “He’s gotta show at his own party.”

“Nothing yet,” you whisper back. “But we are early. Maybe he’s—”

The words die in your throat. There’s a figure at the top of the stairs, and even without seeing his face, you know that he’s the man who hired you. This is the man who paid you just shy of seven figures to kill a man you hadn’t had the heart to kill, and he’s staring down at you now with eyes like burning coals.

“Looks like he found us instead.” Yoongi’s voice sounds distant, like he’s underwater. You wonder if he can feel the current that’s sweeping you up, threatening to overwhelm you entirely and drag you into the depths. You wonder if what you’re feeling is guilt or fear. Maybe it’s a mixture of both—melding together into an unholy cocktail that has you sick to your stomach with unease.

There’s no way he recognizes you. You’ve never even met in person, and you’ve only ever communicated via phone call. The absence of your usual weapons is probably the reason for your heightened anxiety, and you try to focus on the knife strapped to your thigh to quell your worries. Yoongi has your gun concealed on his person, so you just have to stay close to him until the signal. Nothing to it, you tell yourself, and you hope it’s convincing. Easy as pie.

When you look back up, the Baron is no longer looking in your direction. He’s making his way down the stairs, greeting the people nearest him with a smarmy smile, and you almost lose him in the throng of people congregated at the base of the staircase. But fortunately, years in your line of work has sharpened your vision. You find him again quickly, mingling with a few other men in tailored suits, and spot him again a minute later beside a woman in a silky gown the color of rubies. Surreptitiously, you follow his winding path through the masses as you and Yoongi head deeper into the grand hall.

“I will say one thing,” your companion remarks as you pause at a recessed alcove between two marble pillars. “This guy’s got great taste in wall sconces. You think these are finished brass, or actual gold?”

Somehow, the fact that Yoongi possesses a wide breadth of knowledge regarding light fixtures doesn’t surprise you in the least. “Beats me. I doubt Himura’s one to skimp, though.”

He huffs out a dry chuckle. “You’re probably right about that.” Tearing away from the lights, he instead turns to the bronze bust sitting on a pedestal a few paces away. “What about this thing? Think it’s supposed to be him?”

You offer the statue the briefest of glances. “Maybe. Hey, are you hungry?”

Yoongi follows the direction of your gaze to where a line of impeccably dressed waitstaff are filing out of a nondescript door off to the side of the hall. All of them are holding silver trays aloft—some laden with flutes of champagne and others with a variety of hors d'oeuvres. Some begin laying food onto the trestle tables nestled against the wall, while another starts setting up behind a makeshift bar. Your focus, however, goes straight to the man at the very end of the line, bearing a tray of mini quiches and wearing a calm, collected smile.

Hoseok. You know you shouldn’t stare, but you can’t help yourself. The combination of a sharp white jacket and black shirt has his skin glowing golden beneath the warm glow of the chandeliers. Black slacks and a bow tie complete his ensemble, and you quickly turn back to Yoongi before your gaze lingers too long and begins to arouse suspicion.

“I’m starving,” you prod. “Aren’t you?”

“Famished,” Yoongi agrees. He extends you a gentlemanly arm, and you lay a hand in the crook of his elbow as the two of you head toward the tables.

Hoseok, upon your arrival, barely spares you a glance. He’s speaking quietly with the bartender—a young woman you recognize as another Bangtan agent—and you poke at a tray of canapés until he turns around.

“Good evening,” he says, all easy charm and genial smiles. “Can I interest you in a drink? Something to snack on, maybe?”

You pretend to think it over. “What wine do you recommend? Red or white?”

“I tend to favor white wines, myself,” Hoseok replies. “Reds make me sleepy, and I honestly can’t do a thing after I’ve had a glass.”

“White it is, then,” you answer, amused. “I imagine it’ll complement the ceviche better, anyhow.”

Hoseok nods. “No doubt about that. It’ll go nicely with the gazpacho, too.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the bartending Bangtan agent perk up, shifting into an offensive posture as she reaches beneath the counter. Yoongi’s arm tenses, his fingers twitching toward the array of weapons you know he’s concealed at his belt. And when Hoseok tilts his head, you catch a glimpse of a tiny black earpiece masked by a few strands of his auburn hair.

It happens in less than a second. A swarm of dark suited Bangtan agents materialize on the second floor walkway, and the remaining agents concealed amidst the waitstaff drop their guises and pull out their weapons. The Baron’s men spring into action immediately, and you whirl around urgently to grab your gun from Yoongi before the chaos can separate you.

Thunk.

Dark smoke begins to fill the grand hall, and you inhale sharply when a burst of gunfire rings out. Smoke grenades weren’t a part of the plan, and the metallic clang of a bullet ricocheting off a nearby column doesn’t give you time to discuss next steps with your companion. Whirling around, you duck into one of the alcoves, temporarily putting yourself out of the line of fire so that you can hike up your gown to free the knife strapped to your thigh. You use the blade to hack away the excess material, leaving the skirt in tatters around your knees, and readjust your grip on the handle as you glance out into the hall again. Yoongi has disappeared into the smoke, leaving you with no gun and no other weapons. You can’t see Hoseok anymore either, and there’s no way to tell whether the shadowy figures darting about are friends or foes. Another round of gunfire sounds from somewhere to your left, followed by a wave of panicked cries from the gala attendees. You’re certain that there must be a stampede to get to the front door, so you head in the opposite direction, weaving your way carefully between the columns with your knife at the ready.

The screams and shouts recede in the distance as you locate a hallway branching off the main room and carefully begin picking your way down it. The smoke isn’t as hazy here—and while you’re grateful for the increased visibility, you’re also fully aware that it leaves you exposed. The corridor is bare save for a few paintings lining the walls, and you increase your speed until you finally reach the end where it splits into two—one going left, one going right, and both lined intermittently with closed doors. A quick glance in either direction reveals nothing out of the ordinary, and you send a prayer up to any deities that may exist before veering to the left. Sucking in a deep breath, you tighten your grip on your knife.

You’ve taken only a few steps, edging past a table with a heavy-looking decorative vase, when one of the doors opens. You hide your blade behind your back as a man clad in all black exits with a gun in hand, and his eyes narrow upon seeing your tattered gown. “No one is permitted back here,” he says gruffly, gesturing back toward the way you came.

Years of deception have made you an adept liar and a master of improvisation. “Is this a joke?” you trill, stepping closer and shifting your weight so that it mimics a limp. “I nearly got shot out there! And look at my dress, it’s ruined. What the hell is going on?”

The man falters. He lowers his gun, his arm relaxing by the tiniest of fractions, but that’s all you need to spring forward and attack. One hit to his solar plexus, and a twist to disarm him. He’s on the ground in seconds, and you plant a sensible, block-heeled foot on his chest as you point his gun between his eyes.

“Talk, now,” you command. “Where’s the Baron?”

The man averts his gaze, and you press your foot down a little harder in silent threat. “I don’t like asking twice,” you remark, gesturing to the knife that you’ve tucked back into its holster on your thigh. “But I can certainly motivate you if I need to.”

That earns you a cooperative gurgle, and you let up on his chest just enough so that he can blurt an answer.“Look, I don’t know where he is, okay? He disappeared as soon as you guys showed up.”

You nod at the doors lining the hall. “And he’s not in any of these rooms?”

“No,” the man answers, blanching when you raise an eyebrow. “No, really! These are just offices. And the far door leads to the pool.”

You think back to the blueprints that Jungkook dug up, orienting yourself with this new information. “Good,” you remark, nodding. “Thanks for the information.” And then you lower the gun, refocusing your aim and putting a bullet straight into the man’s thigh.

“Fuck!” he snarls, grabbing at the wound. His hands quickly stain crimson, blood pooling between his fingers, and you back away slowly as he glowers darkly at you. “You fucking bitch. I told you what you wanted to know!”

“You did,” you admit, edging toward the table with the decorative vase while he’s distracted. “But I also don’t need you running off to grab your buddies the first chance you get. You should probably just lie here for a while and keep your weight off that leg. Get some rest, maybe.”

“Go fuck yourse—” he starts, just as you grab the vase and bring it down on his head. It’s just as heavy as it looks, and the man slumps down to the ground, unconscious.

Exhaling deeply, you set the vase back onto its table. Crouching down, you check the man’s pockets for anything that might be useful, discovering a few more rounds of ammunition and a small communication radio that’s been cracked on one side. Experimentally, you press a few buttons, listening intently when a staticky voice crackles through. You manage to make out the word Bangtan, followed by a string of unintelligible phrases. The last word you hear, however, is roof.

With no other leads, you decide that the roof is likely your best chance to find the Baron. Wrenching open the doors that line the hallway, you quickly locate a closet and drag your unconscious foe inside. If your memory serves, there are no stairs along this hall, and you pause to make sure your newly acquired weapon is fully loaded before heading for the opposite corridor. The commotion in the grand entrance hall has long since died down, and the silence that’s fallen is entirely too eerie for your liking. You keep your back to the wall as you move deeper into the mansion, trying each door and watching for enemies and allies alike. Somehow, even the soft sound of your breathing seems too loud in the quiet.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally reach the stairs and cautiously begin making your way up the carpeted steps. The silence only grows more oppressive as you ascend, but you press forward nonetheless. One flight of stairs turns into two, and you’re about to climb up a third when a shout halts you in your tracks.

“Stop right there! Identify yourself!”

Mentally, you curse. There’s no way to conceal your gun, and you reluctantly raise your hands in surrender as you turn to assess the situation at hand. Three men stand on the landing, all armed. The one who had spoken is closest to you, and much to your displeasure, he’s smiling. “What do we have here?” he asks, an edge of amusement coloring his tone. “What’s a pretty little thing like you going to do with that, hmm?”

If there’s one thing you hate more than anything else, it’s being underestimated. The casual misogyny behind his words ignites the embers of your anger, and it takes every ounce of restraint you possess to rein in the urge to shoot the man in his smug face. You didn’t attain your notoriety by being brash, after all. Stheno is calm, calculating, and efficient, and it’s a mask you slip into easily whenever the need arises. Donning it is as easy as breathing, and you inhale deeply before adopting a look of feigned confusion.

“Wh-who are you?” you ask, injecting a quaver into your voice. “What do you want from me?”

Much to your annoyance, none of the men loosen their grips on their guns. “We’re here to help,” the one in the lead says, in what you’re sure is meant to be a reassuring tone. “You must have gotten lost trying to get away from the intruders, but you’re safe now. So why don’t you give that gun to me, hmm? I wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot anyone.”

One step, and then two. He’s coming closer, and you relax your hold, taking your finger off the trigger and lowering it slowly toward his outstretched hand. Just before it makes contact with the skin of his palm, however, you stop.

“How do I know you’re the good guys?” you ask, letting your hand tremble.

“We are, trust me,” he replies. His stance relaxes—just the tiniest bit—but it’s enough. Rearing back, you pull the trigger, and as the man crumples to the ground, the other two curse and raise their own weapons. Immediately, you dart to the side, ripping a framed painting from the wall and hurling it as hard as you can at the one standing nearest you. The impact throws him off kilter, and you seize the opportunity to fire off a round of shots, a bullet lodging in his side.

“You little bitch!” the wounded man snarls, clutching at the bloodstain beginning to soak his shirt.

“Gee, haven’t heard that one before,” you mutter under your breath, just as a bullet plants itself into the wall just to the left of your head. Cursing, you fire off another round before the gun clicks, signalling that the chamber is empty. “Fuck,” you hiss, searching around for the nearest door and wrenching at the handle. It opens up into an office, and you sprint inside before slamming and locking the door, jamming a chair underneath the knob.

“How long do you think you’ll last in there, huh?” The voice is mocking. “Backup’s already on the way.”

You listen to the series of dull thunks as they shoot at the door, wincing when you hear the metallic ricochet of a bullet off the knob. Glancing around, you spot a heavy wooden desk at the far end of the room, and manage to duck behind it just as the door splinters inward and sends the chair careening off to the side. Hurriedly, you reach for the extra ammunition stowed away in your pocket, cringing when you hear the heavy thud of footsteps approaching.

“Come out and play, little girl,” one of the men sneers. A peek over the edge of the desk shows that his companion is beside him, leaning heavily against the doorframe but still armed and ready to fight. Off in the distance, you hear the pitter-patter of footsteps and creaking floorboards, and your stomach somersaults when the two men exchange glances.

“Well, well—I guess your time’s up,” the wounded man drawls. “Looks like our backup’s here.”

“Not quite, I’m afraid,” a familiar voice responds from behind him.

A shot rings out, and you poke your head out just in time to see the injured man slump to the ground, sagging heavily against the door. The other man is unceremoniously slammed into the wall, a pained grunt escaping him, and as he fights to recover his balance, you finally see your savior.

Hoseok.

He’s silhouetted in the doorway with his gun drawn, his attention riveted on his opponent. The white jacket is gone, leaving him in a black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his auburn hair is loose across his forehead in wild, wispy waves. There’s a rifle strapped to his back, glinting dully in the light from the hall, but his face remains hidden in the shadows. When he stalks forward, though, you catch a glimpse of his expression and it’s enough to steal the air from your lungs. His mouth is set and his jaw is rigid, and murderous doesn’t even begin to describe the look in his eyes.

“You’re being a little unfair, don’t you think?” Hoseok asks, taking another step toward the man against the wall. “Three against one is hardly an even matchup.”

The man coughs weakly before letting out a hoarse laugh, lifting his chin defiantly as Hoseok stalks closer. “You people just love playing hero, huh? Go on, lecture me some more. You gonna tell me that sharing is caring, too?”

The crack of a gunshot echoes in the silence of the room, reverberating against your eardrums, and Hoseok’s lips curl into a humorless smile as he lowers his weapon back down to his side. “Nah. I don’t like wasting my breath.”

A beat passes, as the man drops to the carpeted floor. Then Hoseok whirls on his heel, and it’s like a switch has been flipped because all traces of iciness have disappeared from his face. Worry creases his forehead, and you shake your head as Hoseok offers you a hand, standing up on shaky legs. “I’m all right,” you tell him, answering his unasked question. “How did you find me?”

“Luck, mostly,” Hoseok admits. Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out your trusty gun and hands it over. “Here, I got this from Yoongi. Figured you’d want it, even though it looks like you’ve done pretty well without.”

“Barely,” you reply, tucking your stolen weapon into the sash of your dress and hefting your own. Your fingers wrap around the worn grip, the weight comfortable and familiar, and you smile wanly as Hoseok looks you over and checks for any injuries. “I feel a lot better now that you’re here.”

Hoseok’s face splits into a grin, and it’s impossible not to grin back. Still, the distant sound of gunfire reminds you just where you are, and your companion’s expression quickly sobers as he glances at the open door leading back into the hallway. “We should get back out there,” he says. “Have you had any luck finding Himura?”

“I think he might be on the roof,” you reply. “I got a radio off one of his lackeys. Pretty sure I heard that he was trying to make an escape.”

Hoseok snorts. “Coward.”

“You can say that again.”

Together, you and Hoseok exit the office and begin your cautious ascent to the roof. The stairwell ends on the top floor, but a nondescript door near the end of the hallway reveals a smaller, narrower set of stairs that Hoseok takes the lead on. Only a single bulb lights your path, and you shiver as the air grows colder with each step forward.

A single metal door greets you at the top of the stairs, cold wind whistling around the edges and ruffling Hoseok’s hair into further disarray. “No way to know what’s on the other side,” he murmurs. “And opening this door’s going to let anyone on the other side know we’re here. Are you ready?”

You click off the safety on your gun and nod. “Ready.”

Hoseok nods back. “Here we go,” he says, and you steel yourself as he swings the door open.

The first thing you see is a sleek black helicopter, the propellers still and silent. You catch a glimpse of the pilot in the cockpit fiddling with some controls before your gaze flits to the dozen or so armed guards standing watch. Your entrance has drawn their attention, but before they can recover from the shock of your sudden appearance, Hoseok fires off two shots and finds his mark. Two guards crumple to the ground, and you manage to take out a third before they begin to return fire. Cursing under your breath, you duck back into the stairwell with Hoseok on your heels. He pulls the door shut, using it as a makeshift shield, and you glance up when he murmurs your name.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” you confirm. “You?”

Hoseok nods, but thundering footsteps at the bottom of the stairs force you both to reconsider your answers. Half a dozen dark figures swarm into the stairwell in single file, and one glimpse at their clothing tells you that they’re not from Bangtan.

“Fuck,” Hoseok hisses, wrenching the rifle from his back and firing off a round to halt their progress. Then he presses the weapon into your arms, and your eyes widen when he straightens up to his full height. “Can you hold them off?” he asks.

You heft the rifle up, your finger finding the trigger. “I don’t think I have much of a choice. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going back up there,” he replies, nodding at the rooftop door. “Can’t let Himura get away.”

You hesitate, then nod. Hoseok disappears back onto the roof, the door shutting behind him, and you grit your teeth as you fire another spray of bullets into the oncoming guards. The scent of metal fills the air, and a bullet whizzes past your ear. Another grazes your left arm and leaves a bloodied trail there, but you brush aside the sting. After all, you learned how to compartmentalize long ago, and the injury is nowhere near dire enough to keep you from finishing your task.

With the last of the enemy guards out of the way, the ringing in your ears finally subsides. An eerie hush settles in the stairwell, pervasive and heavy, and you realize with a start that you can no longer hear any gunfire coming from the rooftop. Cautiously, you sling the rifle over your back and check that your handgun is fully loaded. Then you ascend the last few steps to the rooftop door, cracking it open and peering outside.

The first thing you see is the helicopter, the cockpit window splintered in a jagged, spiderwebbing pattern. And just beyond it, you see Hoseok—his forehead creased as he disarms one of his opponents and slams a fist into another’s stomach.

There’s no doubt that Hoseok is outnumbered. Himura is standing near the edge of the roof, silently watching the fight play out, and the man guarding him steps in to strike at your companion before you can even open your mouth to shout a warning. A well-timed kick sends Hoseok crashing to his knees and a harsh blow to the head follows. The last guard lands a kick to his ribs, and your insides twist when you see blood trickling from the corner of Hoseok’s mouth, his eyes fluttering shut.

In an instant, you jump into action. The metal door slams as you dart out with your gun raised, taking down two guards with razor sharp precision. The final guard returns fire, but you’re faster. A bullet grazes your side and another whizzes past your hair, but that doesn’t stop you from making the last shot. With all of the guards out of the way, you set your sights on Himura at last, only to stop dead in your tracks at the sight before you.

Himura is no longer at the edge of the roof. He’s moved while you were preoccupied with his guards, and is now standing mere feet away. One of his arms is locked around an unconscious Hoseok’s throat, and with his free hand he’s holding a gun to his temple.

And now that he has your attention, he’s smirking. His grip on Hoseok tightens—just enough to start cutting off his air supply—and your frown deepens into a scowl as you find your voice.

“Let him go.”

Himura merely laughs—a cruel, deep rasp of a sound. “Now, why would I do that?” He raises a dark brow. “Because you said so? Because you’re Stheno?”

It’s as if the force of gravity has doubled. Your stomach plummets and your heart begins drumming a frantic beat in your chest, and Himura must see something in your expression because he laughs again even as you try to school yourself back into neutrality.

“You thought I didn’t know about you?” Amusement laces his tone as he pushes the barrel of the gun into Hoseok’s head. “You’re not as good at concealing your identity as you seem to think. And before you ask, it wasn’t Ryo who spilled your little secret, even if he is a traitor and a disgrace to the family name. I do my research, you see, and you were supposed to be the best. It’s really such a pity things turned out like this.”

Your gaze travels back to Hoseok as Himura continues his tirade, and to your surprise, he’s staring back at you. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—something that burns bright and steady in his irises—and you waver as you follow the trajectory of his stare to the gun in your hand. Almost imperceptibly, he nods.

“I suppose I’ll just have to do the work myself, this time around.” Himura releases a mock sigh and cocks the gun. “You couldn’t kill Jung Hoseok, so killing him in front of you should do the trick nicely.” He continues blabbering, but you don’t even hear the rest.

One beat. Two. You can hear the thud of your heartbeat in your ears, drowning out everything else.

And then you raise your gun and pull the trigger.

The next few seconds are a blur. Hoseok collapses—dead weight in Himura’s grasp—and Himura lets out a guttural yell. It’s quickly cut off when you put another bullet between his eyes—an easy target, now that Hoseok is no longer in the way. He crumples to the concrete like a broken marionette, but you pay him no mind as you rush to Hoseok’s side. Murmuring his name like a mantra, you press your fingers to the wound in his shoulder and try to staunch the flow of blood. He doesn’t stir beneath your touch, and your stomach turns unpleasantly as blood begins dripping down past your wrists. “Hoseok,” you whisper. “Hoseok, please.”

That’s how Yoongi finds you a minute later, laying a gentle, tentative hand on your shoulder when you don’t respond to your name. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “It’s over.”

You turn halfheartedly toward him, midway through tearing a strip from your gown to wrap around Hoseok’s wound. “Huh?”

“It’s over,” he repeats, casting a glance back at the rooftop door where Jimin and Jungkook are making their way over. Then he takes a knee beside Hoseok’s crumpled form, pressing two fingers to his wrist before nodding stiffly. “His heartbeat’s weak, but it’s there. That was a pretty nice shot, {Name}.”

“I could’ve killed him,” you whisper. “I don’t—I don’t know why I did it. He could’ve died.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “But he didn’t,” he replies simply. Jimin and Jungkook join you, hauling Hoseok’s unconscious form up between them, and you watch as they lug him back toward the stairwell—no doubt to seek medical attention. “And you look like you could use some patching up yourself.”

You glance down at the shallow wounds on your arm and ribcage, and the blood that’s beginning to dry in streaks on your skin. You take in the mangled hem of your emerald green gown, the frayed tatters blowing in the wind. “I—I think you’re right,” you mumble, and Yoongi huffs out a sardonic chuckle before extending a helping hand. Numbly, you allow him to tug you to your feet.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s blow this joint.” And you can only nod, following after him as you leave the rooftop and the Baron’s body behind.

///

The fourth floor of Bangtan’s headquarters houses its medical ward—a state-of-the-art facility that could rival even the city’s best hospitals. Jimin meets you in the lobby and swipes his access card to allow you inside, but wisely chooses to make himself scarce once you’re pointed in the direction of Hoseok’s room. One by one, you count the number of doors until you reach your destination, your heartbeat growing increasingly erratic the closer you get.

Room 418 lies at the end of the hallway—a nondescript wooden door in a nondescript white hallway, illuminated by stark white fluorescent lights overhead. There’s a narrow window just above the doorknob, one that offers you a tiny glimpse of the occupied bed within. You see rumpled blankets and the outline of feet, and very nearly lose your nerve when you remember exactly how Hoseok wound up here. You shot him, a little voice in your head nags, its tone mocking. Killing is the only thing you’re good at, and you nearly killed him.

But I didn’t, you think to yourself. And then, before the voice can retort or talk you into leaving, you grasp the doorknob and twist it open to step inside.

Hoseok lies on the bed at the far end of the room, the white blanket pulled up to his chin. His breathing is slow and steady, his chest rising and falling in time with the low beep of the machine he’s hooked up to, but your stomach still drops when you see how pale he looks. His hair is messy and his eyes are shut, and you are just beginning to wonder if you should come back later when he stirs.

“{Name}?” he mumbles, blinking against the sunlight filtering in through the window. “Am I dreaming?”

You shake your head, gingerly lowering yourself into the hard plastic chair at his bedside. “No, you’re not.”

He smiles, his lashes fluttering as he blinks drowsily. “Good.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you reach out instead, your fingers moving of their own accord to smooth a few wayward strands of hair off his forehead. Hoseok’s eyes fall shut again, and your heart does a funny little flip when he leans into your touch with a content hum. “I—I brought you something,” you mumble, pulling away to reach into your bag. “Here. Brownies. You always liked Bar Luna’s, right?”

Hoseok perks up, eyeing the plastic tupperware container you pull out. “Is that a full pan?”

You nod, prying off the lid before handing it over. “Freshly baked.”

“You’re wonderful.” He sits up, propping himself up on his pillows, and your chest tightens when he jostles his arm a little too much and winces.

“Hoseok,” you begin, reaching out to help him. You fluff his pillows and settle the brownie container safely on his lap, and when he beams, you shake your head. “Why are you so happy?” you ask, your voice trembling as your gaze drops down to the linoleum floor. “I shot you. You… you should hate me.”

A gentle hand settles atop yours, stopping you from pulling away again. “I could never hate you,” Hoseok murmurs. “I like you way too much for that. And I’m really, really happy you’re here.”

“You’re—” Your words stick in your throat. “You’re so weird.”

He grins. “So?”

You can’t stop your lips from tugging into a smile. Quietly, you take a seat on the edge of his bed, your heart swelling dangerously as you watch him root around in the brownie container for a middle piece.

Still, you can’t help the feeling of guilt that lingers in the spaces between your ribs, the dull ache of it settling into your very bones.

///

Winter has arrived in all her splendor, cloaking the grass beneath your feet in a light layer of frost. An icy breeze rattles through barren tree branches, replacing the birdsong and muting the hum of traffic from the road. Here, beyond the tall stone walls and at the very end of the winding driveway, lies the Himura mansion.

Or, at least, what’s left of it.

You aren’t sure what kind of deal Namjoon must have worked out with the local authorities, but no one had even questioned it when the mansion went up in flames. The fire department didn’t arrive until it was far too late to salvage the building, and the police determined that there were no signs of foul play at the scene. The official report ruled it an accident—something along the lines of an unattended candle or a curling iron left plugged in for too long. You, however, know better.

“I thought you might be here.”

You turn at the sound of Hoseok’s voice, watching as he comes to a stop beside you. He’s wrapped up in an army green coat, his hair tucked away beneath a black brimmed cap and his scarf pulled up around his chin. His injured arm is still in a sling, but in his free hand he has two cups of hot coffee balanced in a cardboard tray. Gratefully, you accept the beverage as he hands it over, taking off the lid and blowing on the surface of the liquid. “Thanks,” you murmur as you take a careful sip, and he smiles at you before turning his gaze toward the charred, skeletal remains of the mansion that once housed the operations of the most notorious crime family in all of Asia.

Hoseok doesn’t pry. He doesn’t push you to talk, or ask you what’s wrong, and you appreciate that. The silence that settles between you is a comfortable one, and you take another long sip of your coffee—prepared just the way you like it, you notice—before speaking.

“It doesn’t feel real, you know.”

Hoseok hums. “What doesn’t?”

You exhale, a misty puff of white dissipating into the chilly air. “This. All of it. Himura’s dead, but I still feel like he’s going to come back any minute and try to hurt you again. Or maybe we missed somebody, and they’ll rise up to take Himura’s place. It’s a vicious cycle with these crime families. Cut off one head and two more appear, and the whole thing starts all over again.”

“Maybe.” Hoseok shrugs. “But then again, maybe not. Empires rise and fall again all the time. Why should this be any different?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t any different. Maybe it’s me. I mean… I was working for Himura. And then I betrayed him.”

“You didn’t betray him,” Hoseok murmurs. “You saw an opportunity to change your life, so you took it. And while I like to think that it was all because of my dastardly good looks and irresistible charm, I think there’s probably more to it than that.” He grins, his eyes crinkling at the edges, before reaching down and taking your hand in his gloved one. “Besides, you heard him—he knew about you. He knew who you were. Who knows what kind of harm that could’ve put you in?”

You nod slowly, glancing down at his hand wrapped around yours and stroking your thumb along a loose bit of yarn that’s unraveled from his glove. “I guess it might be time to retire the Stheno name, huh?”

Gently, he pulls you a little closer, until you’re standing shoulder to shoulder. “I think so, yeah. After all, it’s never too late for a fresh start.”

///

“So?”

Namjoon’s voice comes as a welcome distraction from the text on your computer screen, the words beginning to blur after three hours of staring at it. Blinking, you turn in your chair to face Bangtan’s leader, offering up a wan smile in response to his own.

“Hey. Right. So, I’ve been tracking Golem, and it’s looking like they’ve definitely moved south to Bulgaria and Serbia. They’ve been picking off local officials—city mayors and whatnot—but after all the chaos they caused in Moldova, we should probably—”

Namjoon cuts you off with a raised hand and a small chuckle. “Clearly, you’ve been working hard and I thank you for that. However, I didn’t come in here to ask about Golem’s operations. I actually came to ask about you.”

“Me?” You point at yourself, uncertain. “Why?”

“Well,” Namjoon begins, pulling out the chair opposite yours and taking a seat, “I was hoping to see if Bangtan is to your liking so far. I trust the accommodations are adequate?”

You follow the motion of his hand as he gestures around the room. The decision to move into headquarters was an easy one for you to make, and you’d finished unpacking just over a week ago. It’s a simple space—nothing more than a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living area with a small kitchenette, but it’s the closest thing you’ve had to a home in what feels like ages. No doubt the new friendships you’ve forged have something to do with the sense of comfort and familiarity, but most of all, you owe it to Hoseok. Kind, gentle Hoseok, who always treated you with such care and believed in you when no one else did. Who put his faith in you despite the overwhelming evidence that he shouldn’t, and turned your life around.

And as if Namjoon has read your mind, he speaks up again with a knowing smile. “I also noticed that Hoseok’s been staying quite late the last few nights. He’s looking much happier these days, and I think I have you to thank for that.”

You duck your head, a pulse of warmth rushing to your cheeks. “There’s really no need to thank me.”

“Nonetheless, I do thank you.” Namjoon proffers his hand, palm up. “And you should know that you’re a welcome addition to our family, {Name}. If there’s ever anything you need, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I’m just a quick call away.”

Gratefully, you nod. “Thank you, RM.”

“Please.” He waves you off. “Call me Namjoon. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

Your lips curl up at the edges, your chest brimming with a swell of emotion that can barely be contained. “Namjoon, then. Thank you.”

///

Hours later, when Namjoon has left and the sun has set beneath the horizon in one last brilliant burst of color, Hoseok comes to your quarters. He knocks softly—five times, to the rhythm of shave and a haircut—and you call for him to come in from your comfortable spot on your bed. You’ve just closed your laptop to take a break from researching Golem and opened up a book to read instead, but the company is certainly not unwelcome. The door swings open, revealing Hoseok peering around the edge, and a grin spreads across his face as he steps inside.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply. “Busy day? I haven’t seen you around much.”

Hoseok settles onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he admits. “We spent most of the morning on the upper east side. The Baron had a few more cogs in his operation, just like we suspected, but Namjoon thinks we’ve gotten to most of them now. We’re close, {Name}. Really, really close.”

“Can I help with anything?” you ask, turning to face him. Hoseok smells like he’s been out in the sun all day, the warmth radiating off his skin and dampening the hair at his temples. He’s wearing the all-black ensemble he so often does when working—a fitted longsleeve and slim pants that taper and tuck into heavy black boots. A harness winds around his torso and over his shoulders, housing a variety of holsters for his weapons, and your fingers itch to help when he carefully starts unbuckling it.

“You already have,” he says as he slips the last strap free and sets it on the nightstand. “You put us in touch with Ryo, and he’s been a huge help. He invited us out for drinks on Saturday, actually—you wanna go?”

You blink, surprised. “Really? I mean—sure, of course. That sounds like fun.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Jimin and Jungkook invited themselves along too. I hope you don’t mind.”

You laugh. “Not at all. The more the merrier.”

Grinning, he pulls out his phone, typing out a quick message before tucking it back into his pocket. Stretching his arms overhead, he lets out a long sigh, and you can’t help the way your gaze locks on the definition of his chest and abdomen through the black material of his shirt. Setting your book down, you edge a little closer to him. His eyes have fluttered shut, but they open again when you gingerly rest your head on his chest, listening to the strong, rhythmic thud of his heart in his chest.

You aren’t one to initiate physical contact particularly often, if at all. You know this, and Hoseok knows this too. He inhales sharply—soft, but audible—and then he relaxes, his arm coming around to wrap around your back. Gentle fingertips trail along your arm in lazy patterns, and you settle into the warmth of his embrace with a soft smile tugging at your lips.

An hour passes—the two of you conversing and relishing the comfortable quiet in equal measure. It’s nearly ten o’clock by the time Hoseok exhales and reluctantly begins to sit up, the mattress creaking in protest. “I should probably head home,” he says softly, as if unwilling to disturb the silence that has settled. “And you should get some rest.”

You bite your lip. In the absence of Hoseok’s embrace, cold is already beginning to seep into your bones. The room suddenly feels much too large, and you realize, with a start, that you don’t want him to go.

“Stay?” you request, latching onto his fingers just as he reaches down to put on his boots. Surprise flits across Hoseok’s face, and you watch as his expression flows through a series of emotions before settling on careful, slightly awestruck disbelief.

“Really? You want me to stay?”

You nod. A beat passes, then two, and then Hoseok is beaming—his entire face splitting into a brilliant, breathtaking grin as he settles back down onto the mattress. Shyly, you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, and Hoseok lets you linger for a few moments before reaching up to cup your face in his palms. He turns you toward him, seeking out your mouth, and you melt into him, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips meet.

Hoseok takes his time kissing you. His thumbs stroke along the swell of your cheeks before one hand slides to the back of your neck, and you sigh when he pulls you closer, taking full advantage of your parted lips to dip inside and explore. You’re breathless by the time he pulls away, but he doesn’t stray far. His nose brushes against yours as he drinks you in, pressing a soft kiss to both your eyelids before finding your lips again. And while Hoseok seems perfectly content to stick to kissing, you are growing increasingly aware of the heat blossoming in the pit of your belly.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, and he lets out a curious hum, tilting his head and sending a tendril of soft auburn hair across his forehead. “Want you,” you tell him, smoothing the strand back, and watch as understanding blooms in his irises.

“You’re sure?” he asks, pulling back to study your face carefully.

“I’m sure,” you murmur, twining your fingers in the silky hair at his nape. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and… and I want to be with you. Is that okay?”

“Better than okay.” Hoseok breaks into a smile that crinkles his eyes and dimples his cheeks, and you’re suddenly drawn back to the pretty little mole that sits just above his top lip. “Can I kiss you again?”

Emboldened, you lay your hands on his chest, pushing until his back is resting against the headboard. Hoseok doesn’t even blink as you maneuver yourself onto his lap, watching raptly as you settle a leg on either side of his thighs. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he asks, and your cheeks warm when you see the sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him. Hoseok chuckles and settles his hands on your hips, and you smile when he molds his mouth to yours again, relishing in the feeling of his lips moving against your own.

There’s a growing hardness pressing against your core—you can feel it even through the fleece of your sweatpants. Ever so slightly, you shift your weight, and Hoseok’s sharp inhale doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Mischievously, you grind a little more deliberately against him, and smile when his grip on your hips tightens. The heat in your belly is growing—flaring up like a fanned flame—and you can only think of one way to extinguish it.

Hoseok, however, seems to have a different idea in mind. “May I?” he asks, nimble fingers finding their way to the hem of your shirt, and as soon as you’ve nodded your approval, he’s peeling it off and tossing it aside. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning back to admire your body. You’d foregone a bra today, and Hoseok doesn’t hesitate to cup your bare breasts, thumbing at the peaks until they stiffen under the attention.

“God, Hoseok,” you keen, your back arching. He smirks crookedly at you, his eyes dark beneath the fringe of his auburn hair, and you shiver when you see the carnality reflected there.

Hoseok descends upon the column of your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin before nipping at a soft spot along your clavicle. Devious fingers find their way into the waistband of your sweatpants, and you lift off his lap to allow him to pull the material down around your knees. “That’s my girl,” he encourages lowly, satisfaction blooming across his face as he successfully manages to extricate you from the remainder of your clothing. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”

You answer him by crushing your mouth against his, your hands raking down his chest until you can tug his shirt up to expose the toned ridges of his abdomen. Hoseok laughingly allows you to pull it off, but stops you when you reach for his belt buckle.

“Not yet,” he chastises, batting away your wandering hands with ease. His palms glide down your thighs, anchoring you in place on his lap before one hand strays inward. A shudder wracks through you when he trails a gentle fingertip along the soft skin, and a gasp escapes you when he slides an experimental finger through the slick rapidly gathering at your entrance.

At the sound, Hoseok’s eyes dart up to meet yours. “Okay?” he murmurs, and your heart swells at his continued thoughtfulness.

“Okay,” you confirm, and he smiles before sinking a lone finger inside you, rendering you momentarily breathless. “Oh,” you manage when you find your voice again, and Hoseok cocks an amused brow before starting up a slow rhythm, adding a second finger and chuckling when you jolt in his grasp.

“Relax for me, yeah?” he murmurs, seeking out the spot on your clavicle again and giving it a suck. “Let me take care of you.” He punctuates the words with a well-timed revolution around your clit, and you quiver at the burst of pleasure.

Hoseok is no longer holding back. His fingers dig deeper, crooking upward in search of the spot that’ll be sure to have you seeing stars, and you nearly fall off his lap when he finds it. The heat is near unbearable now, and the growing pressure in your belly is fit to burst at any moment. Hoseok finds your clit again, his fingers now fully sheathed inside you, and the combined sensation is more than enough to have you coming undone in his grasp. His name escapes your lips in a garbled moan, and Hoseok swallows the sound with a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

After a few long moments, the pleasure recedes, dulling into a thrum. Breaking the kiss, you reach for Hoseok’s belt again, and this time he doesn’t stop you. Freeing the buckle, you unzip his pants and tug them down, allowing his cock to spring free. He’s hot and heavy and leaking, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips as you admire his length.

Next time, you’ll be sure to get your mouth on him. For tonight, you rock your hips sharply, pinning his cock between your swollen lips and the toned ridges of his stomach. The residual wetness from your orgasm eases your movements, and Hoseok lets out a strangled little groan as you glide along his cock in long, sensual drags. His fingers curl around your hips as you continue riding him, and you splay both hands on his chest to maintain your balance, careful to avoid his healing shoulder injury. With every stroke, the flared head of his length nudges your clit, and the pressure quickly begins to mount in the pit of your belly. It coils like a wound spring, growing ever tighter.

“Fuck,” Hoseok rasps, utterly fixated on the way you’re moving above him. “I’m not going to last much longer at this rate.”

You shudder, your core clenching around nothing as the feeling in your belly tightens even more. Your body is aching for release, and Hoseok seems to sense it too because he tilts you forward into his chest, positioning himself just right so that his cock can slip into your sopping pussy and fill you up to the brim. A choked gasp escapes you at the surge of fullness, and Hoseok grits out your name in response as you seize around him, his fingers tightening around your hips as he begins to roll up into you in earnest.

“H-Hoseok—” you whimper, your thighs quivering as he picks up his pace. Winding your arms around his neck, you try desperately to ground yourself as you meet him thrust for thrust, sweat prickling at your temples. Every drive of his hips sends you closer to the edge, and the hot, heavy drag of his cock along your walls sets seemingly every nerve in your body alight. Your orgasm comes all at once, breaking like a wave and nearly overwhelming you with its intensity. Pleasure ignites at the base of your spine and flares outward, tingling in your fingertips and curling your toes.

A groan escapes Hoseok as you clench around him. His rhythm stutters slightly, but his fingers quickly find their way to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in a way that has you keening his name. No longer able to hold yourself up, you collapse atop his chest, and Hoseok holds you against him as he chases his own high. His pace becomes increasingly sporadic, the mattress creaking beneath your joined weight, and the wet draw of your body proves to be too much when he tenses. Warmth floods through you as his rhythm slows, and you can only smile when he strokes a thumb beneath your eye and plants an affectionate kiss to your forehead.

“That was nice.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Very nice,” he agrees, before reaching up and tracing the curve of your jaw with a delicate fingertip Cupping your cheek, he brings you into a soft, languid kiss, and you relax into his embrace and wind your arms around his neck to tug him closer. Against your lips, he breaks into a grin, and you’re just about to grin back when there’s a loud, insistent buzz from your nightstand. On the ground, one of Hoseok’s pockets lets out a quiet little ding.

Reluctantly, you pull away and reach for your phone. Hoseok stretches out lazily, hooking a toe into the waistband of his pants and tugging until he can grab them and shake his own phone loose. “Looks like Namjoon needs us,” he remarks, glancing at the screen. Then his gaze wanders back over to you, traversing the length of your body before flickering back up to your face. “We should probably shower before we head down, though.”

“You’re probably right,” you agree, glancing at the adjoining bathroom before looking back at him. “And we’ll probably save time if we shower together.”

“That’s a dangerous proposal,” Hoseok says, chuckling. “But I’m down to risk it if you are.”

///

“Thank you for joining me.”

Namjoon is seated at the head of the conference table with his fingers steepled, his thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Seokjin is on his right and Yoongi is on his left, and when Hoseok plops down on Yoongi’s other side, you hesitate only briefly before taking the chair beside him, smiling when he nods in approval.

“I apologize for the late hour,” Namjoon continues once everyone has made themselves comfortable. “However, I have an update on Golem that cannot wait. We thought that the havoc in Eastern Europe was caused by a well-organized group, but it turns out that we were mistaken. Golem isn’t a group—it’s an individual. One man, as far as we can tell. And it seems that he’s making his way toward Istanbul.”

Seokjin leans forward in his chair, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Hang on, it’s one person? Are you sure? It’s hard to believe that one guy is causing this much damage.”

“You’d be surprised,” Yoongi drawls, not even looking up from where he’s examining his nails. “All you really have to do is knock over one domino, and the rest will follow. It’s just a matter of time.”

“And unfortunately, time is something that we don’t have a lot of.” Namjoon sighs. “Istanbul is a massive city with plenty of places to hide, and plenty of powerful people to hurt. We have to stop him before he can do any more harm.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Who are we sending after him?”

That gives Namjoon pause. “Golem… he’s fast,” he finally says after a beat. “There’s no nonsense with him. He picks a target, takes them out, and disappears again. I’m afraid he won’t be easy to track, especially if we send a larger team in.”

“This Golem guy sounds a lot like someone else we know,” Yoongi remarks. His gaze flits over to you, and you wonder if anyone can hear your quickening heart in the strident silence that falls over the room.

Hoseok is the one to break it, a deep frown etching wrinkles in his brow. “No.”

“No one said anything,” Yoongi points out.

Hoseok scowls. “No one had to. You can’t seriously be thinking of sending {Name} in alone, Joon.”

“It would be prudent,” Namjoon admits, frowning. “Her experience—” He pauses and starts again, this time addressing you directly. “Your experience. No one here has all the knowledge and skills that you have, {Name}. But at the same time, I don’t want you to feel any pressure about this. You’re absolutely free to refuse the mission if you aren’t one-hundred percent comfortable taking it on.”

You shake your head. “No, I’ll do it,” you tell him, and the certainty in your tone surprises even you. Nerves and excitement begin to brew in your belly as Namjoon nods in approval and slides you a manila file folder, but Hoseok grabs your hand before you can go to open it.

“You probably won’t let me go with you, right?” he asks, and you laugh softly as you give his fingers a squeeze.

“Right.”

He chuckles ruefully. “I’d probably slow you down.”

“Not by much,” you joke before sobering up again. “I just don’t want you in danger, Hobi.”

“And I don’t want you in danger,” he replies, lacing your fingers together. “Which means we’re probably in the wrong line of work, huh?”

“Or maybe we’re in exactly the right line of work,” you murmur. “I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine. Right?”

Hoseok brings your twined hands to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Always.”

A quiet, yet pointed, cough draws your attention back to Namjoon. “Then it’s settled,” he says. “Congratulations on your first mission with us, Stheno. Do you have any questions?”

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. “Just one—and it’s not really even a question, actually. I was thinking that maybe… maybe I should retire my codename. Stheno—it’s not really me anymore, and I don’t want anything to do with it. Not after everything that’s happened.”

Namjoon hums in understanding. “Of course, forgive my assumption. Did you have a new name in mind?”

You hesitate, and Hoseok speaks up in the silence. “What about Phoenix? Like the bird?”

Phoenix. You sound out the syllables, feeling the way they roll off your tongue. “I like that,” you murmur, casting Hoseok a small smile that he returns tenfold.

“Sounds badass!” Jungkook calls, earning himself a laugh from you and several others.

Namjoon suppresses a grin of his own, instead gesturing at the manila envelope lying open on the table in front of you. “Everything we know about Golem is in there, as well as your ticket to Istanbul Airport. We’re counting on you, Phoenix.”

You nod. “Understood, boss.”

“Oh, and {Name}?”

“Yes?”

“Do kick his ass, won’t you?”

You manage to curb your startled laugh before it escapes, instead hiding the smile behind your palm. “I’ll do my best.”

 also set in this universe:

[myg] [jjk]

[idy-ll-ique]

Beach Day.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

Summary: White clothing gets transparent in water... poor Y/N doesn't know that.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! This is kinda crack fic + fluff lmao ok enjoy!

---

Ah, what a perfect day to be on a beach.

Bucky smiled softly as he sipped on his beer, the sunshine and the sound of flowing water doing wonders for his mood. The Avengers had taken a mini-vacation of sorts, opting to spend a weekend by the seaside. A trip sponsored by Tony Stark. It was a shame Natasha and Wanda couldn't join in, they had a mission to go to. Y/N was the most upset.

"Don't leave me with so much testosterone, I will die," she had whined at the time which made everyone laugh. Currently, he was sitting on a beach lounge chair alongside Steve, Sam, Tony, Thor, Loki and Clint. Y/N was inside still, changing, he guessed. "Guys!" At the feminine voice, he turned and nearly choked on his drink. "Whoa."

"Looking good, Y/L/N," Tony whistled shamelessly and Y/N blushed, the colour spreading down her body. She was dressed in a white bikini that she had purchased for the trip; it looked really good on her. "Thank you, Stark," she quipped back before heading towards the waters. Bucky blinked. Surely she wasn't going into the water wearing that…

"Y/N?"

She turned. "What?" Sam and Clint shared looks. "You going for a swim?" Sam asked and she nodded, a bright smile lifting her face. "It's been ages since I last swam!" Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Are you sure you want to swim wearing that?" he groaned tiredly, causing Y/N to blink. "It's… a bikini, Tony, that's the whole point," she spoke slowly.

The 7 men glanced at each other. "Okay, then, you do you," Tony spoke and she left, stepping into the water. "If you don't date her I will, Barnes, consider this a warning," Clint breathed out once she was out of earshot. "You are married, Barton," Bucky rolled his eyes. "That's why I said it is a warning," Clint snapped back.

"I— I don't know how to ask her," Bucky admitted, playing with the bottle of beer in his hands. "Just ask her! What's the worst that could happen? Knowing Y/N— what a sweet little angel— she'll probably lay you down gently." Bucky groaned as Steve clamped a hand over Tony's mouth, shutting him. "Stop making it worse!" Tony pushed the hand away.

"Do you really think she's going to reject me?" All of them turned to Y/N, who hadn't strayed far from the group. She was alone, flinging the water here and there, laughing to herself. That warmed their hearts, Y/N was really sunshine in a bottle. "Any girl would be a fool," Sam hyped him, raising a bottle in mock toast. Bucky gave him a half-smile.

All of a sudden, they heard a squeal coming from Y/N. Their heads whipped towards her and saw her talking to some guy. Well, more like him trying to ask her out while she said no. Apparently, he wasn't listening. "Hey, asshole! Away from her!" Tony yelled obnoxiously and Bucky winced when the two people looked over. Great, she's gonna be mad at us for creating a scene.

The guy, recognizing the Avengers, fled. Y/N turned to Tony. "Thanks!" she called out before continuing her shenanigans. "The nerve of some people," Steve huffed, Loki and Thor nodding in agreement. Bucky, meanwhile, continued staring at her, shocked. She wasn't mad? Oh well, that's… nice. Suddenly, she looked up, right at him.

Freezing for a second, he managed an awkward smile and waved at her. She waved back before waving her arm, asking him to join her in the water. He gently shook his head and pointed to his arm, smiling sheepishly. Understanding his shyness, Y/N nodded and grinned at him before she started with her first lap of swimming.

"You should've gone."

"Shut up."

As Y/N swam around in the cool waters, she thought back to her conversation with the guys. Why were they so reluctant to let her swim? And whatever did Tony mean by wearing that? It was a nice bikini; a bit skimpy, sure, but it looked nice on her. So what was his problem? Shaking her head, she instead thought about Bucky. Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, the man she wanted to go on a date with…

He had many names. Y/N had had a crush on Bucky ever since she joined the Avengers, not knowing that Bucky reflected her feelings. After a few laps, Y/N decided the water was getting too cold and she needed to step out. So she started walking towards the beach again, the water level going from her chest, to her stomach, to her hips and eventually her ankles as her feet hit dry sand.

"Y/N!"

At the loud and sharp yell she froze, her eyes darting to where her friends were seated, paralyzed. They were all staring at her with mostly the same expressions; eyes wide with mortification, jaws dropped. Then she saw Steve running towards her. She blinked at him as he wrapped a towel around her, easily picking up the Y/N burrito and walking towards the others.

"Y/N, what the fuck was that?"

Steve set her down on her feet. "What did I do?" she asked meekly, moving to drop the towel but 7 voices shouted out in unison, "No!" She pulled the towel on tighter and shook her head, going inside her room. Bucky breathed out a sigh, quickly moving to hide his boner with the bottle of beer he was holding. "She is literally so—"

"Does she not know that—"

"She probably doesn't—"

That white clothes get transparent in water.

When she had stepped out of the water, her bikini was clinging to her body but what caught his, or rather everyone's attention was that her nipples were completely on display, the perked buds clear as day through the top. No wonder all of them reacted the way they did. They stared at each other, the silence getting uncomfortable.

"Oh, man…" Tony whistled finally, running a hand through his hair. "Think about something else," Steve suggested but try as he might, he couldn't get the image of her body out of his mind. Soon, conversation started floating between them again but Bucky kept quiet, staring at the sea, lost in thoughts. "Hey guys, have you seen my fanny pack anywhere?"

Bucky looked up and saw her standing there with her hands on her hips, looking at them with an innocent expression on her face. Her towel was long gone, she was still in the bikini and God, it's still wet, look away Bucky, look away— "Y/N, what the hell, go inside! We'll find it later, just— just go inside," Clint chided and she frowned but stormed off.

Bucky, not being able to bear the look on her face, followed her. The rest of them shrugged and decided not to disturb the two for a few hours. Bucky knocked on the door to her room and, finding out it was open, nudged it apart. He peeked into the room to make sure she was not changing and found her sitting on the bed. "Y/N?" She sniffled and he walked inside, closing the door behind him.

"Y/N, don't cry, come on…"

She was still in that stupid bikini. Noticing the towel from earlier draped over the back of a chair, he picked it up and walked to her, putting it around her. "Why are they being rude?" she whispered and Bucky sighed, putting an arm around her. He gently squeezed. "They were not being rude, they were being overprotective." She didn't look convinced.

"Do I not look good?" He sighed again. "You do look good, it's just… Y/N, you really don't know, do you?" She blinked at him, confused. "What do I not know?" He went pink. "White— white clothing becomes transparent in water and, uh— uh… your, um… nipples were… uhm… very visible through the top," he stammered and a look of understanding crossed her face.

Then she blushed furiously. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't know—" He shook his head. "It's fine. Maybe just wear a t-shirt before coming out again, okay?" She nodded before grabbing a random t-shirt off the bed; all the guys, before going out to the beach, had left a t-shirt each in Y/N's room, hoping for a quick change since her room was the closest.

Thinking it was her t-shirt, she stood up and dropped the towel. The t-shirt went down to her knees and her head tilted to the side; when did her shirt become so long? When she glanced at Bucky, he was smiling at her, amusement shining in his eyes. "What?" she asked as one of the sleeves dropped to her elbow, the neckline plunging in that direction.

One bikini strap showed on the shoulder. "You look good in my t-shirt, doll." A deep blush spread across her face. She moved to take it off but he stopped her. "Keep it on, it looks good on you. Hell, keep it forever." His words… "Buck, you need this—" "Trust me, I don't. How about this, when we go home, you raid my wardrobe because holy hell, my stuff looks good on you."

Y/N flushed deeper. Why was he acting all flirtatious all of a sudden? "I'm not raiding your whole wardrobe, Bucky." He frowned momentarily. "I thought girlfriends raided their boyfriends' wardrobes all the time." Her eyes snapped up and met his; he held a confident smirk on his face this time. "Wait… Barnes, are you asking me out?" He nodded and she squealed.

"Yes!" She rushed forward and jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. He did not hesitate to kiss her, his hands landing on her butt as he caressed the soft flesh. Y/N's hands ended up in his hair, combing through the long locks. "I do have some rules, baby," he whispered as he led her to the bed, setting her down. He climbed on top of her and smirked again.

"What?"

"Number one: I'm throwing that fucking bikini away."

"Buck, why?!"

"No white bikinis allowed because I don't want people staring at what's mine."

"Ugh, deal."

"Good. Now, where was I? Oh yes… you and I are gonna have some fun before we go out now, okay? Be quiet for me…"

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part one - zuko x fem!reader

I am not your concern 

masterlist | part 2 

summary: as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to learn a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

a/n: im so excited about this guys you dont even know. i have so much planned and i hope you all love it as much as i do - just for reference, in this first chapter y/n is 9 and zuko is 10

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): mentions of a raid, reader and zuko both being little shits lmao

chapter title comes from not your concern by the hush sound! 

Y/N sprawled out on the grass and sighed contentedly as the sun shined down on her and her mother. Today was easier than most as they had been given the day off, an occasion that was rare in the royal palace. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent aerating their surroundings. Her senses were blessed with a mix of sea salt and fire lilies, an ever present reminder of the two worlds she walked in.

“Y/N,” her mother chided as she glanced down at her daughter from her sewing. “You shouldn’t lay in the grass like that. You know how hard those stains are to get out; I don’t need even more work on my plate.”

“Yes, mother,” she sighed as she sat up with mock exasperation. “I just feel like I should take advantage of this! We spend all day inside, and now that we’re out here you’re worried about things like stained clothes.” Y/N pushed herself to her feet and spread her arms out as she spun in a small circle. “Life is short, and I already spend all of it sewing and healing. Don’t you think I deserve some grass stains?”

“Did you find your way into the poetry books again?” she joked. “Of course I think you should have fun, but you know how things are here. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She continued to twirl, the soft breeze a welcome sensation on her skin. “I know, I know, but you don’t need to worry! I can—”

“Dear, watch where you’re going!”

Her mother’s warning didn’t reach her in time, a fact that became known to Y/N as she collided into the boy in front of her. A small gasp escaped her as recognition filled her now wide eyes.

“Prince Zuko!” she exclaimed, nervous hands finding their positions as she bowed. “Please forgive me for the accident, I didn’t realize you were there.”

Y/N had never spoken to the young prince directly — she mainly shadowed her mother while she did her work around the palace or honed her healing abilities under the watchful eye of Rika, their most skilled healer — but she knew enough to understand that she was to never disrespect the royal family in any way.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a small smile, alleviating the tension that had built up in her shoulders. “I’m sorry too, I wasn’t paying attention either. I actually came here for some help.” As she straightened her back, she noticed the bundle of fabric he was holding. “Are you Kura?”

“Oh, no. That’s my mother.” She pointed behind her where her mother greeted the prince with a respectful nod and smile of her own. “Did you come to get something fixed? She’s the best seamstress in all of the Four Nations.”

“My daughter flatters me,” Kura chucked. “What is it that you require, Prince Zuko?”

“She’s right, actually.” He held up the bundle of cloth which Y/N now recognized as one of the many outfits he owned. She didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but the prince’s extensive wardrobe was an exception to that rule. She had one set uniform for her work supplied by the Fire Nation, and a threadbare set for everything else that her mother had bought for her after saving up what little copper they had to spare. Y/N didn’t mind it too much as she was able to practice her sewing whenever the seams broke, but she was sure that her handiwork made up more of the outfit than the original by now.

“I tore one of the sleeves while I was training with Azula,” Zuko expressed with a frown. “I showed it to my mother, and she said that Kura would be able to fix it. I had to go through every single servant to find you, so I really hope you can. ”

Kura set her current project down and took the cloth from the prince, examining it with the skillful eye of a seamstress before meeting his eyes with another smile. “Of course, dear. I should have it ready for you by tomorrow; my daughter will deliver it to your quarters around midday.”

“Do it well,” he demanded. “I can’t focus on my training if my clothes are falling apart.”

“Hey!” she spoke up, scowling as she crossed her arms. It was like every shred of sense Y/N had disappeared the moment he talked down to her mother. “This is our day off, so you should be thankful that my mother is taking time out of her day to do this for you. Be nicer to her.”

“Y/N!” her mother scolded, her tone frantically apologetic as she turned back to the prince. “Please, forgive my daughter. She speaks her mind far too often, she doesn’t mean any disrespect.”

“No, you’re right.” A thoughtful expression found its way onto the young boy’s features, his eyes trained on her own displeasure. “My father always talks that way to the servants and I guess it came off on me. I’m sorry. It’s not nice.”

“Apology accepted,” Y/N said reluctantly.

“Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure to tell all my friends about your work.” The young prince smiled and walked off, though not without a curious second glance at the girl who righted his wrong.

As soon as the prince was out of range, Kura began to berate her daughter. “Y/N, by now you have to understand that under no circumstances may you ever speak to a member of the royal family like that! Do you know what kind of punishment you could’ve gotten if anyone else was around to hear that?”

She sighed and settled back on the ground, plucking a blade of grass from the ground. “I know, mother, but he needs to learn manners, prince or not!”

“That’s not how it works here. Our job is to serve the royal family without question. Sometimes they say mean things, but we can’t do anything about it. Apologies are not yours to demand or accept.”

“That’s not fair,” she mumbled as she wrapped the strand of grass around her finger. “Back home I could say whatever I wanted.”

“I know, honey, I know. But we’re not at home anymore, so the rules there don’t apply. We have to follow the rules that are put in place here. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me?”

“Yes, mother.” It was a phrase that seemed to always be at the tip of her tongue now that constant apologies were littered throughout her days, usually accompanied by a sigh.

“I miss home,” The murmured sentiment was almost too soft for Kura to hear and her heart sank. Her daughter’s gaze was trained on the ground, idle fingers tapping against her legs, and she put a momentary pause to her sewing with a sigh.

“Dear, don’t you have a healing session today with Rika?”

“You know I don’t,” she grumbled. “It’s my day off, which no one seems to remember.”

“Y/N.” Kura’s voice was more firm and she now understood that it wasn’t so much a suggestion as a demand. “I think you should pay Rika a visit.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh and stood up in a far more exaggerated gesture than necessary. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight, mother.” And as Y/N began her walk back to the palace, a sour feeling brewed in her chest.

Kura watched on, unable to prevent the fear that permeated her thoughts. They were fortunate that the young prince was generous, but along with his mother they might’ve been the only two who shared those views in the royal family. She hated having to constantly admonish her daughter — the girl was too young to constantly live in fear, especially having already been through so much — but in the Fire Nation they couldn’t afford to do anything less. A spitfire girl like her daughter was constantly treading on thin ice, and it was all she could do to keep her safe.

Kura feared the day when she wasn’t there to protect her.

-

After a short walk that consisted of muttering things to herself and taking her anger out on the pebbles unfortunate enough to be in her path, Y/N found herself back at the palace. She let herself into a side entrance meant only for servants and set on her way to the infirmary when she collided with someone else — an apology was already on the tip of her tongue when she recognized it was Prince Zuko once more. She truly had rotten luck.

Y/N shot quick glances around to ensure that they were alone, then lowered her voice just for extra security. “My mom says I’m not supposed to talk to you like this, but I don’t care. Just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you can just go around bumping into people!” she whispered angrily.

“But— you were the one who bumped into me the first time!”

She could feel her face heat up from embarrassment and she crossed her arms. “Just— whatever! Do you want something or do you just like popping up in places you're not supposed to be?”

“I guess I just wanted to talk to you,” Zuko shrugged. “I’ve never really seen you around before, and you’re interesting.”

Y/N scrutinized him trying to find out if he was tricking her somehow, but after staring at him for a solid ten seconds she finally caved. “Fine,” she said, already beginning to walk. “But you’d better make it fast. I have to get to a healing session.”

He took a few quick steps to catch up to her and frowned. “I’m the prince. Technically I could order you to stop and you would have to listen.”

“Yeah, well when it’s just the two of us, you’re just another boy. I don’t have time to talk to boys for hours.”

His brows creased for a moment as he thought about it, then ultimately shrugged once more. “Okay. You said you were going to a healing session- does that mean you’re a waterbender?”

She nodded, and Zuko waited for her to explain further. He heaved a sigh, realizing that he was going to have to carry this conversation. “Well.. what’s a waterbender doing in the Fire Nation?”

She fixed him with a puzzled look. “I’m a servant. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know that,” he frowned. “But most of the servants here are from the Fire Nation, and there are hardly any around your age. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

Y/N sighed heavily — she now knew that the child prince of the Fire Nation had zero sense of boundaries, and if she wanted to get him off her back she had to answer to his satisfaction. “My mother is a waterbender from the Northern Tribe. She left home when she was young to travel the world and help who she could with her healing, and eventually she fell in love with an earthbender. That was my father — they ended up marrying and settling down in his village where they had me a few years later. Last month, my village was raided by the Fire Nation, and my mother and I were captured after they discovered we were waterbenders. And now I’m here, being annoyed by a prince.”

Zuko frowned once more — it seemed if he continued hanging out with this girl the expression would be stuck permanently on his face — and he suddenly felt ashamed for pushing. “I’m really sorry,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”

She heaved another sigh and shook her head. “Yeah, well they probably keep a lot of the bad things they do from you. It’s easier to send raids to destroy families when your children don’t know.”

“What happened to your father?” he questioned.

Y/N’s body stiffened, and she had never been more thankful to see the infirmary door. “Save your questions for next time,” she grumbled.

Zuko’s eyes lit up, her earlier stumble going unnoticed, and a small smile found its way across his lips. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

She managed to cover up her own growing smile with an ambivalent shrug. “As long as you don’t bump into me again.” Y/N opened the door and gave him a polite parting nod before disappearing inside.

“Good afternoon, Master Rika,” she said with a small bow. “I know this is unexpected, but my mother insisted that I come here to—”

“Let me guess,” the older woman interrupted with a raised brow. “Kura got tired of you and sent you here to annoy me instead?”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she pushed the sleeves of her tunic up to her elbows. “When have I ever annoyed you?”

“That’s a question you don’t want me to answer,” she joked as she rummaged through the closet to get supplies. “Besides, what was that smile for? Meet a boy on your day off? A girl?”

Her eyes widened momentarily and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks intensely. “I don’t ask you about your life while we heal, you shouldn’t ask about mine!”

Zuko, who had been eavesdropping by the door in an extremely un-covert fashion, felt an even bigger smile. The girl was prickly as a cactus, but he found himself strangely drawn to her — not in spite of it, but because of it. He was so used to anyone he talked to outside of his immediate family and friends bending at the knee to fulfill his every will, and it was exhausting at times. But this girl — Y/N, as he had learned — was the complete opposite.

He started to walk away, sure that he was late for some kind of session of his own. Zuko found himself thinking of the glimpse of a smile he got, already finding himself scheming up ways to make it return.

And despite her request, he was almost certain he would try to bump into her again.

[angeloroki]

tiktok towel prank with shoto;bakugo;izuku & denki

— character ; aged up!shoto x gn!reader ; aged up!bakugo x gn!reader ; aged up!izuku x gn!reader ; aged up!denki  x gn!reader 

— request ; Could you do Shoto, Katsuki, Izuku and Denki (or any other character you have inspiration for!) react to the towel prank? Where the reader pretends to undo their towel so they would be naked in front of the camera but actually they are wearing clothes. Just thought their reactions would be amazing!

— warnings ; nudity mentionned 

— a/n ; here you go sweetheart, thank you again for your request ♥

SHOTO TODOROKI 

« i need to prank shoto with this », you whisper to yourself half hilarious 

a video had just pop up on your foryou page where a girl was pranking her boyfriend by pretending to show herself naked in front of the camera,

you just wanted to see your boyfriend's reaction

you were mentally planning to do it tonight when you’d be together in the bathroom

finally it was time !

you were getting out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, when it was shoto's turn to enter.

except you already had clothes on, shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. something he didn't know.

he was quick, as you were now both standing in front of the mirror applying your after shower products

you put your phone down in front of you, then started the countdown

he glanced at you, amused and busy brushing his teeth

you started dancing on a doja cat music

he watched you through the mirror, enjoying your little improvised show

when you started to take off your towel

you saw his eyes widen

and just as you took off your towel, shoto threw himself on you to take you in his arms and hide you from the camera that was still rolling

« what the hell baby !? »

you burst out laughing before shifting from his grip

he looked at you with red cheeks, and the toothbrush still in his mouth

then he noticed your clothes

you continue to laugh before taking your phone

« it's a prank baby! oh my god, i can't wait to see it on video. » you say between laughs.

he grunted before putting his face back in the mirror

« you know very well that this body of god/goddess is only for your beautiful eyes » you say a malicious smile on your face.

« you're unbelievable y/n. » he said, finally smiling.

« that’s why you love me, baby », you winked.

« mmh, i’m not sure anymore... » he smirked.

« HUH ? »

you took his face in your hands to cover it with kisses

which provoked a radiant laugh from your boyfriend

you always loved his laugh

obviously his reaction made the video go viral, with just under 200k likes and 50k comments

“ IT’S THE CAT REFLEXES FOR ME LMAO “

“ SHEESH HE WAS QUICK “

KATSUKI BAKUGO

you were in the kitchen, your phone in hand, scrolling through your foryoupage

wrapped in a big towel that covered the clothes you were wearing under, you were waiting for katsuki to come back from his patrol so you could give him the prank you've been waiting to do since this morning

you had seen a video of a prank when you were at work, which made you want to do it too

« oi I'm home! »

« hi baby ! » you say from the kitchen.

he comes to join quickly before putting a kiss on your forehead, he took something to eat and sat in front of the kitchen island

you got up when your coffee was finally ready

well, you could start

you put your phone down so that your boyfriend could see the camera and then you started the countdown

then you started your show and started to dance on nicki minaj music

you saw through your screen, katsuki watching you enjoying your dance show

then your hands came to rest on the knot that held the towel around you

you were making your future move obvious

katsuki let out a hoot of surprise and stood up abruptly which spilled the food he was eating on the floor

then you felt big arms moving you so that you were no longer in front of the camera

« OI Y/N ! NOT IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA »

he wasn't angry but his cheeks were all red which triggered a huge laugh from your side

then he quickly understood that it was a prank

he let go of you slowly, before growling

« did you really jump through the table for this? » you say with a howl of laughter. 

he returned to his place after picking up everything, looking grumpy.

« yes and i would do it again without hesitation. »

you blew him a kiss before saying "aww".

« this app will drive you crazy. with me by the way. »

the tiktok blow up in a few hours with almost a quarter of a million views, and thousands of comments.

“YOU WERE HERE AND YOU JUST DISAPPEARED” 

" the mess he made to come and cover you lmaoo"

IZUKU MIDORIYA 

your boyfriend was sitting comfortably in the chair, typing up some important files for work.

he had been totally engrossed in his work for some time now.

he needed a distraction

so the prank you had on tiktok could only do good

while he was silently typing on his laptop

you stood in front of him, in a towel, and secretly dressed underneath, putting your phone on the shelf

without waiting you started to dance on some rihanna music

your hands went dangerously up to the knot that held the whole towel over you

deku was giving you little amused looks, totally in love with you, he had almost given up his work

then your hands landed on the towel that you tore off with a sharp blow

a horrified expression was painted on his beautiful face

« y/n the camera is still on, your followers are gonna see you naked ! »

he took you in his arms, and in an awkward way dragged you with him on the sofa, him above you

you could see that his eyebrows were frowned

« i'm not letting you go until the camera is still on ! »

you bit your lip to keep from laughing at him

his face was a mess like no other,

red cheeks, wide eyes, and especially his lips that were rolled up

her expression meant confusion and shame in itself

you finally burst out laughing and then you got out of the way so you could show him the clothes you were hiding under the towel

he blew softly and let out an embarrassed laugh.

« baby calm down it's a prank ! »

you had to hold on to his arm to not fall on the floor hilarious

he gave you a flick on the face, a smile on his lips.

« you are not the best comedian for nothing. » he said ironically.

you kiss him on the cheek. 

« i know right !»

the tiktok went viral on twitter and tiktok leaving you with countless notifications

“ HE LOOKED GENUINELY SCARED POOR BOY “

“ THE LOOK OF TERROR LMAO “

DENKI KAMINARI

you and your boyfriend denki were lying quietly on your bed,

he was reading while you were hanging out on tiktok

it was the perfect moment to make this prank that was viral on tiktok

you were ready, dressed under your towel you put your phone on the furniture in front of you

making sure your boyfriend could see the screen

he followed you with his eyes, a mischievous look on his face

« oh, a surprise dance for me i see. »

you giggle before starting the countdown

you knew in advance that his reaction was going to be way too funny

you started to dance on a music of megan thee stallion

denki was used to do the dances you did to post on tiktok

and he loved watching you have fun

you finally put your hands on your towel that you took off with a sudden move

you saw denki's shocked reaction on your screen

« y/n ??? »

and suddenly you saw your phone burn out

« HUH ? » you reacted with a gasp

denki had just thrown electricity with his quirk to turn off your phone

you turned around half pissed off and half laughing

then he understood two things :

that it was a prank

and that he had burned your phone

"oh sorry, i was just supposed to turn it off  »

you finally burst out laughing

« you're really unbelievable.»

he comes to take you in his arms

« and what about you? with all your pranks you make me lose my mind ! »

he smiles gently at you, but it’s before you gave him a peck on the cheek

« for the moment it's you who owes me a new phone babe. »

he sighed loudly

« oh hell nah, you're the only responsible for this incident. i’m not going to pay for anything ! »

« in your dreams »

with a little luck your phone wasn't completely dead, and you were able to post the video.

which went viral with 1 million likes 

"THE BEST ONE BY FAR LMAOOO”

“ ELECTRIC BOYFRIEND ”

[the-cult-of-russo]

Who's my Good Boy?

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: will you write the post you reblogged, the one that says billy likes to be called 'good boy' in bed? if not, can i request that? 👀 thanks!!!!

A/N: Oh man. This one… I had way too much fun with this one lmao It took on a life of its own and I don't know if it went in a direction you're okay with, but fuck me sideways, it went there 😂 

Warnings: cursing, smut. Like serious fucking smut, I'm not even kidding. Knife play, lil bit of blood, dom/sub bullshit. Sub!Billy for once and the little shit secretly loves it. 

If you're under 18 then please avert your eyes and scroll on by. If you're over 18 then enjoy and maybe cleanse yourself in some holy water when you're done lmao. I'd say I'm sorry but that would be a bare faced fucking lie 😂😂😂

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

You glanced in the mirror and admired your appearance. The black lace lingerie looked good on you and you felt pretty sexy. It was a new set since Billy had already seen every piece of underwear you owned. It was time to cash in on your win and you knew just what you wanted. 

You and Billy often bet with each other over numerous things and more often than not, Billy would win. This time you'd actually won and like hell you'd be squandering this opportunity. He'd bet that he could get more girls numbers at the bar you'd been at and you'd gladly accepted. Never one to turn down his challenges. 

Maybe it was weird for a couple to go off and flirt with other people and get their numbers like that but both of you never intended on calling the girls. It was simply a fun challenge. And you wished you'd taken a picture of Billy's face when you both counted and you'd got 5 more numbers than him. He looked horrified, wildly offended, ridiculously proud and also pretty aroused. You hadn't cashed in then, two nights ago, and you hadn't told him what you had planned. But you most certainly had plans.

Billy loved being in control in every aspect of his life. It was just the way he was and that bled into the bedroom too. You were more than happy to play the sub to his dom and you loved it, but you often wondered just how Billy would fare if the roles were reversed. How would he handle you taking charge and teasing him to the brink of insanity like he did to you?

You were waiting for him to get home from work and once you heard the door, you grinned to yourself. You knew Billy's senses were sharp, perks of dating a former marine sniper, but you crept out of the bedroom and saw him sat on the sofa facing away from you. You knew you wouldn't be able to sneak up on him, not through lack of trying, so you weren't disappointed that he didn't jump when you leaned over the back of the sofa, wrapping your arms around him from behind. 

"Hey, baby," he murmured with a smile, tilting his head to look at you. His hands came up to stroke your arms and you could see curiosity burning in his eyes at your lack of clothes although he couldn't see from his angle just what you had on. You kissed his cheek sweetly and he smiled, leaning into the touch. 

"I'm ready to cash in my win," you smirked. He raised a brow, lips quirking a little as his eyes glittered with curiosity. 

"Really?" He asked, voice low and sultry and you had to remind yourself you had a plan. 

You were nowhere near Billy's level of patience and control but you'd try hard to stick to the plan. You unwound your arms from him, stepping back a bit and you saw his eyes trail down your body, taking in the black lace against your skin and the stockings you had on. The wolfish grin that spread across his face made your knees weak. 

He got up, slinking over to you like a panther, dark eyes drinking in the sight of you. You had to fight the urge to submit to him. To fall on your knees and worship his cock. Now wasn't the time. He reached out to grab your hips but your hands darted out, seizing his wrists tightly. 

"I didn't say you could touch," you said firmly, quirking a brow at him. His lips parted slightly, a dark chuckle leaving them as his fingers flexed but he made no move to escape your hold despite how easy it would be for him. He looked curious and delighted by where this was going, to see this side to you. 

You let him go, pleased when his hands settled by his sides, clenched into fists. You knew he would take it as a personal challenge but you also knew it would be hard for him not to touch you which is why you had plans for once you got into the bedroom. You grabbed his tie, yanking him close as your lips ghosted his. His clenched fists were still by his sides.

"No touching," you reminded him before you kissed him. He kissed back fervently, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth and it caused you to moan. Drawing out a groan in response from him. 

When you broke away, a sly grin painted your lips and you could see his resolve for not touching you was wearing thin. You let his tie fall back against his chest before you turned on your heel, feeling his gaze on your ass as you sauntered into the bedroom. He followed obediently as you perched on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other as you looked up at him. 

"Strip," your firm command was met by a smirk from him and he took his time to remove all of his clothes. The man was built like a god and you could feel how wet you were already as your eyes drank him in greedily. His smug smirk let you know he knew just what he did to you. 

You stood up, loving the way his eyes didn't leave you as you beckoned him over. He walked over with no hesitation and his hands went to grab you again. Before you had to intervene, they snapped back to his sides, balled up into fists and you smirked at him as your hands smoothed up his bare toned chest.

"Good boy," you murmured, your lips ghosting his. His groaned, head snapping forward and his teeth caught your lower lip. The only act of rebellion you'd allow for the night. 

You kissed him greedily, a hand fisting his hair as his mouth devoured yours before you moved away feeling breathless. You really needed to make sure you kept control over yourself. You pushed him to lay back, gesturing with your hand for him to scoot up and lay on the pillows. He did as instructed, his heavy lidded gaze never leaving you. You knew for a fact he was staring at your ass when you bent down to get his tie. You made a bit of a show of it and he groaned. 

He raised a curious brow as you returned with his tie in hand and you smirked, moving to straddle him. You sat more on his torso though so he couldn't find any friction from you. You grabbed his hands without a word and pinned them above his head, making quick work of tying them together and to the headboard. His almost black eyes pinned you in place from where he lay and it sent a thrill right through you.

"Y/N…" his low voice was silky smooth but it was full of warning. It was the voice he usually used before he made your ass cheeks red and had you begging him to fuck you senseless. You loved it. You fluttered your lashes at him with a coy smile, gripping his jaw before you leaned down to kiss him deeply. He kissed you back hard and it amused you how he was still trying to have some level of control with this. You'd soon break him. 

"I'm in charge, be a good boy for me," you purred against his lips. He groaned, shifting his hips as he tried to find something, anything, to rub against but he found nothing. You could see the frustration on his face. You moved to kneel next to him, really wanting to avoid his cock as much as possible to really drag this out and you started to kiss and nip at his neck. He tilted his head, giving you easy access as he hummed, hands flexing over his head as he gave the tie a tug to no avail. 

You kissed down his toned chest, giving his nipple a teasing lick and nip and he moaned softly, arching his hips again pointlessly. You couldn't help but smirk against his skin as you continued to kiss down his body. You purposely steered clear of his dick, kissing his thighs as you settled between them and biting them, leaving marks as he groaned. He kept tugging at the tie and you knew it was killing him not to be able to touch you. You were revelling in it. You left another mark at the juncture of his thigh that had him gasping and squirming and you really started to see just why he loved to tease you so much. 

"Shit," he moaned, head falling back as you started licking and sucking at his balls. You hummed around them as you lavished them with attention and he couldn't stay still as he kept arching up at nothing with frustrated groans. You grinned to yourself before licking a stripe up his lower belly, adjacent to his throbbing cock but making sure you didn't touch it. 

"Untie me, Y/N," he strained voice was full of authority as he punctuated his words with a sharp tug at his binds. 

"Ah, ah, ah. I'm in charge," you tsked at him, raising a brow. His nostrils flared at your defiance, a growl leaving his lips. But his eyes were sparkling and you knew that despite how unsettling the lack of control was, how frustrating it was for him to have you not do as he says, he was enjoying it at the same time. 

You moved to straddle him, once again higher up and leaving his cock with no purchase to rub against. You gripped his jaw tightly, leaning down with hard eyes as he blinked up at you.

"You're not being a very good boy, Billy. Only good boys get rewarded," you murmured, delighting in his answering moan. You reached over to the nightstand, grabbing one of his many knives that he always kept there. You twirled it with ease in a move that he'd taught you and you heard his breathing hitch. 

His black eyes glanced at it before going back to your face and you smirked at his groan of 'fuuuuck' as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. You trailed the knife carefully down your neck and over your lace clad breasts and it wasn't lost on you how still he became. The knife was incredibly sharp but even through his lust filled haze he wouldn't do anything to hurt you, not wanting to jostle you and have you cut yourself. 

"You gonna be a good boy now?" You asked, blinking down at him. He nodded stiffly and your answering smile was devilish. You slipped the knife between your breasts under the bra, angling it away from you and slicing the material with ease. His eyes were locked on the knife now and his hands kept flexing into fists over and over despite how still he'd become. Your breasts now exposed, you kept the knife in hand as you slipped the straps off one by one and tossed the now useless material carelessly on the floor. 

His eyes drank you in with a hunger that made you wet and you smirked down at him. The knife then sliced through either side of your panties and you slipped the material off and it was discarded with the bra. Obsidian eyes drifted down to where your legs were spread on him and he bared his teeth a little before licking his lips. You took your time, surprisingly still calm and in control as you trailed the blade down from his neck to his chest. He shifted his hips up, once again finding nothing to help, but the tip of the blade nicked his skin ever so slightly and a drop of blood pooled on his chest. You knew he'd done it on purpose since he'd been so careful when the knife was on you. 

Locking eyes with him, you leaned down and licked up the drop of blood and he hissed, tugging at his binds again.

"Fuck… Y/N…" the authoritative tone was gone and replaced with a pleading one and you knew you were finally wearing him down. You gave him a wolfish grin as you set the knife back on the nightstand before giving him a deep kiss that he responded to willingly, his hips moving once more to no avail. 

"Do you know what I want?" You asked softly, lips a hair away from his.

"My dick?" He replied, not missing a beat. His voice was low and hoarse as he leaned up trying to chase your lips but you moved just out of his reach with a snort. You couldn't help it. His grin back at you made you smile despite the current situation. He always loved making you laugh and even this didn't change that. You placed a teasing kiss at the corner of his mouth and when he tried to tilt his head to meet your lips, you gripped his jaw firmly and held him in place. 

"What I want…" you kissed along his jaw, "is for you…" you kissed your way to his ear as he squirmed under you, "to beg," you purred in his ear. 

"Fuuuuck," he groaned, tugging helplessly at the tie. It made you smirk as you sat back upright and looked down at him all innocent like. Your hands trailed down your body, palming your breasts as his eyes took you in. He squeezed them shut for a moment as if that would help but it wasn't for long before his obsidian gaze was back on you. He couldn't help himself. 

He watched with rapt interest as your hand trailed lower until it reached between your legs. You moaned softly as your fingers circled your clit lazily, your eyes not leaving his face. His eyes looked wild now, desperate and you were just waiting for him to snap. 

"Y/N," he pleaded, making you grin wickedly. It wasn't enough though. You ignored him and his restless hips as he tried his hardest to find friction. 

You knelt up a little, allowing yourself to slip two fingers inside your soaked pussy with ease and you moaned, biting your lip as you started fingering yourself. 

"Shit… fuck… Y/N, please," he begged, sending a thrill right through you at how desperate he sounded. 

"Please what?" You asked breathlessly, another soft moan leaving your lips as you continued to pleasure yourself. His dark eyes were darting from what you were doing and to your face, his chest heaving as he squirmed. 

"Fuck me. Fuckin' touch me, I don't care. Do something! Please," he was so helpless and looked on the brink of insanity and it's just where you wanted him. Where he'd gotten you so many times before. 

Your fingers slipped out of you and you offered them to him, quirking a brow. He wasted no time in opening his mouth and sucking them clean, groaning like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted as his tongue swirled around your fingers. Fuck, if that didn't turn you on. 

Gripping his jaw, you rewarded him with a filthy kiss, all tongues and teeth as you tasted yourself on his tongue. 

"Good Boy," you breathed softly, earning a moan from him. You shifted down a little, kneeling up and he hissed when you finally grabbed his cock. You lined him up before sinking down onto him with a moan and the noise he made was downright dirty and you knew you'd file that away for a later date. 

You stayed where you were, unmoving, and when he shifted his hips up to you, you raised a brow in warning at him. It amused you when he complied and stilled immediately, worried you'd climb right off him after he finally got what he wanted. You still weren't done driving him crazy yet and you knelt back up, his cock almost slipping out of you, only the tip inside. You teased him, not sinking down all the way, not even halfway before you lifted back to just the tip and he whined. Billy fucking Russo actually whined and you smirked in delight at the noise you'd drawn from him. 

"Please. Please, please, just… fuck," he gasped, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow as he bared his teeth again. Having someone as composed and calculated as Billy like this was a huge turn on and you rewarded him by sinking back down fully until he bottomed out and he moaned loudly. The tug on his binds let you know he really wanted to touch you. If it wasn't for the fact you'd googled the best way to tie him up, you had no doubt he'd be pinning you to the bed right now and fucking you like an animal. He got like that sometimes. Practically feral. And you could see the glint in his eyes right now. 

You started bouncing on his cock, the pair of you moaning and you felt the relief the same as he did. You'd worked yourself up quite a bit but you were proud of yourself that you'd held out and got what you wanted out of him. You'd fully expected to cave to him way before it got that far. He was chanting your name like a fervent prayer, head thrown back in pure ecstasy as you rode him hard and fast. 

He was still tugging on the tie as his hips arched up to meet each hard thrust and you felt him hit all the right spots as you moaned. 

"Untie me. Please fuckin' untie me, I need to touch you," he begged, voice raw as he pulled more on the tie. You snarled, your hand darting out and gripping his throat, squeezing it a little as you kept moving. His eyes went wide, lips parted as he moaned even louder.

"No," you bit out, eyes blazing. His back arched, a gasp leaving his lips as he fucked up at you harder. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he moaned desperately, actually whimpering when you squeezed his throat tighter.

You leaned down, hand still firm around his throat and you nipped at his lower lip. 

"Who's my Good Boy?" You asked breathlessly. 

"Me… I am," he moaned without hesitation. He looked completely blissed out and you felt the pleasure building up at a rapid rate inside of you. 

Seeing him in the throes of pleasure like this sent you over the edge and you cried out, clamping down around him as your hips faltered for a second, your release washing over you.

"Don't stop, don't… please, don't fuckin'  stop," he begged helplessly, his voice a mere breathy whisper as he kept rutting up into you. You obliged through your orgasmic haze and his moans got louder, hands balled into fists above his head before a loud groan filled the room. After a few more stuttered thrusts up into you, he stilled, as did you, and you smiled feeling heavenly.

You leaned over, easily untying him before you collapsed on his chest and caught your breath. He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, his hands smoothing the skin on your back as if making up for the time he hadn't been able to touch you.

"Holy shit," he murmured breathlessly, nuzzling your hair. You smiled tiredly before sitting back up. You took his wrists in your hands delicately. They were a little red from all his tugging and you placed soft kisses to each of them. When your eyes landed on his face again he was giving you a soft smile that made your heart stop for a moment. 

"Did you enjoy it?" You asked hesitantly. His smile widened, one hand on your hip as the other stroked your face.

"You're kiddin', right? I think it's obvious I did. Didn't know you had it in you," he smirked. You blushed and rolled your eyes playfully, leaning down and kissing him softly. You moved away to lay your head back on him feeling content to just fall asleep like this with his softening cock still inside of you. 

"I gotta say… I'm pretty impressed. You did me proud," he smirked into your hair as his fingers trailed lazily up and down your back. You hummed softly, snuggling into him more. 

"Well, I learned from the best," you replied with a sleepy grin. He chuckled and you felt him press a kiss to your head. 

"Don't think we're makin' a habit of it though. Was fuckin' torture," he snorted, making you giggle a little. 

"Now you know how you make me feel," you murmured tiredly. He chuckled, a hand winding into your hair as his fingers rubbed your scalp and you were helpless to succumb to sleep when he did that. The pair of you drifted off still tangled together and you still had a smile on your face as you remembered that you'd gotten Mr Marine to beg for you. 

[jiminrings]

yoongi grills stem koo’s ass <3

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo wants to explain himself and yoongi may not want to listen

"hyeji's never packed you a sandwich before?"

jungkook pales at the mention, mouth drying when he sees yoongi bring up the soft smile that doesn't comfort him at all

“the one that’s all knuckle?”

oh my god

IS THIS A RIDDLE????

yoongi tilts his head in amusement when this pathetic excuse for your past crush is calculating what he just said in his mind

what is a sandwich that’s all knuckle?? but it doesn’t even rhyme!!

aren’t riddles sUPPOSED to rhyme????

jungkook’s more than well-versed in stem-related problems that are just rephrased 237 times over and over so that it wouldn’t be as easy to solve

he can solve that!!!

but this!!! :O his mind is short-circuiting pls do not approach him

“hm?” yoongi’s smile patronizes him further and puts him on the spot, straightening his figure and jungkook’s quick to stop him from coming back inside your dorm

“i want to-“

“i asked you — have you ever had a knuckle sandwich?”

yoongi enunciates with so much clarity that kook finds his mind blanking, tripping over his words he hasn’t even formed yet

“i-is it-...” he stalls, trying to rack his mind for the bread he’s not sure he’s ever even heard of in his life, “i-is it like, a pork thing? uhm, t-the pig’s knuckle? and then you put it between, uhm, bread?”

,,,, laughable

jungkook’s supposed to be smart, isn’t he? or atleast that’s what yoongi thinks he’s supposed to be

lmao he would’ve laughed at the boy’s poor attempts if only he wasn’t furious at him

he’s dumb but not the endearing kind ://

“no,” yoongi drawls out, pretending to fish something out from his pocket

jungkook watches in intrigue, thinking that yoongi’s reaching for his phone to show him a picture of what it looks like

the hypothetical situation in jungkook’s mind is clearly not the one that happens

jungkook SHRIEKS as he stumbles on his heels backward — crystal clear to him that yoongi was not looking for his phone, but instead balling his fist and him being the receiving end

almost the receiving end

yoongi almost sucker-punches jungkook in a blink, fist literally a millimeter away from his nose and the only thing he could see at the moment is red

... red and jungkook’s wide eyes that have never carried this much fear up until now

“that’s a knuckle sandwich, kid. would’ve fed it to you if only y/n isn’t in the room right behind me.”

holy fuck

his heart is beating right against his ribcage and that shouldn’t be possible, fists closing upon themselves nervously as he tries to soothe his thumb so his mind relaxes

spoiler alert: it doesn’t work

jungkook’s mind is all over the place, even more rattled than it was when he takes a text without studying (he was so low he got a 98), but the only thing that’s clear is that you’re behind this door

“yoongi — mister yoongi, please. i-i need to explain myself, and if only you let me try, i can!! i swear. i’m not forcing you but-...”

there he is again

jungkook’s only been in his sight for like two minutes but his eyes are already sore

“why are you even here?” he scowls and even if the younger boy’s taller than him, every bit of his posture and demeanor at the bite of his words scream small, “why go all this length for someone you stomped on today, then have the gall to be a crybaby about it?”

he's speechless and it only serves him right, looking at his mudded-up converse and trying to focus on anything besides the guilt within

"m-my explanation," jungkook mutters, hands behind his back as if he's being scolded, “will you tell y/n?”

yoongi releases an agitated breath at him muttering your name

he dOESN'T get to say your name!! no!!! not after what he did to you

“i’m not concerned about you. what i decide to do or not, has nothing to do with whatever you say right now.”

kook solemnly nods, and even if yoongi's much harsher in your words compared to yours, the gravity of yours with him not being related to you cuts deeper

there's nothing else he could care about, actually

jungkook follows campus curfews to a T and would come home two hours earlier in the rare event that he goes somewhere

but now, he couldn't care less when the dorm master could just be there any second and he'd pass a hall monitor like usual

for the whole day, you were the only one that occupied his mind

"i know hyeji isn’t the one."

god, it was clear as day

he'll be the first one to admit that he can't read people very well, but he knew from the start that it's probably not hyeji who's been packing his lunchboxes

jungkook sometimes takes attendance in behalf of the professor because as much as he's shy, he's also a teacher's pet

the classes she shared with hyeji? she wasn't present everyday for the whole duration of two weeks, and how could it be that she still managed to make him a lunchbox if she wasn't present in the campus at all?

there was a probability that it could've been her, but it was so low that it sat right next to improbable

"i-i entertained the possibility briefly that she was, but then nothing was making sense the more i thought about it."

jungkook sometimes also checks papers because his professors trust him enough and he has perfect scores anyway, so he uses his own as his answer key

"i needed to interview y/n for an assignment, a-and a signature above a name was needed and it was just so familiar."

the moment he racks his head for hyeji's writing, it seemed fAR from the writing on the sticky notes on the lunchboxes

"then she seemed mad at me, but when i went to her on the field to try and confront her-" jungkook pauses and almost whispers the next part, the shame on his skin starting to seep into his bones, "she told me that we weren't related for me to feel hurt about it."

yoongi clenches his jaw, a pressure forming on the center of his eyebrows because he knows where this is leading

"a-and i thought it was hyeji again."

jungkook can't bring himself to be elated that it's been you the whole time because he might be a little too late; a little too late when he's already subjected you to the heartbreak you didn't deserve

"i-i didn’t know what clicked in my mind but i was just so hurt that-"

that's the fiNAL straw for yoongi

this has been him trying to keep his anger at bay the whole time, but this one!! this one he can't just accept

"you are a fucking asshole. honestly."

jungkook slightly winces with the sudden cussing, but it barely scratches the surface

"you think you’re the only one hurt? tell that to me who’s never seen y/n cry so hard before — or even cry at all."

his explanation wasn't an excuse and he knows it, but nonetheless, it tears him apart

"i’m sorry."

his lips quiver and he's trying sO hard not to cry in front of his senior, but yoongi doesn't feel even the slightest remorse for the kid

"i don’t care. you don’t apologize to me; you apologize to y/n. whether she forgives you or not, which for the record i don’t think she should, you cannot take back what you said."

if what jungkook said was eVER said to yoongi, given that he had the same circumstances as you did, he wouldn't know how to bounce back at all

it's a pain he doesn't wish to feel and he could only helplessly look at you who's trying to navigate it

perhaps you don't even plan to navigate it — knowing you, you're just gonna sail through it all to the point you're not giving yourself enough time to even realize that you already are

it was the same cycle of trying to move on without grieving through it properly that it hurts yoongi and seokjin and the tiny amount of people around you

"grovel at her feet. cry her an ocean. commit penitence. whatever you wanna come up with, no matter what, you do not make my y/n feel like she isn’t deserving of love."

you're family and yoongi goes above and beyond for family.

"i don’t care if you make up. i don’t care if you don’t. all i know is that in any other place besides outside the room she sleeps in, i’d hurt you like you hurt her."

jungkook almost wishes that yoongi punches him now and he won't even try to dodge it

"i deserve it."

"you do."

they whole-heartedly agree and it's the only time that yoongi can get behind jungkook's words

"i’m always gonna be on y/n’s side, kid."

there's no other way around it and as much as you know it or not, you've cemented your position in yoongi's heart unknowingly

"the only way that i’m gonna be on yours is when you’ve earned my utmost respect," he can't even see when that happens, crossing his arms across his chest, "and you don’t."

jungkook's tears are falling to the floor but they don't get on his cheeks, the sudden set of footsteps coming from his side making his head straighten and wipe his eyes immediately

he's the only one alarmed and he spares yoongi a glance, then to said person

yeah right that couldn't have been you :((

the guy who's approaching doesn't stop walking and he looks like.... he's uh,,, coming to where he's exactly standing????

he seems oddly familiar though

“oh, taehyung!"

where did he hear that name before??

taehyung stands at the same height as jungkook, maybe a centimeter or two taller, but he just couldn't stop looking at him from the corner of his eyes

yoongi's oblivious to jungkook's ongoing deduction, immediately engulfing taehyung in conversation

"y/n’s already asleep. i could do her part of the project-“

he offers because he recalls that right, you told him that taehyung's coming over to finish your shared project of a business plan late tonight

uhhhhh you're kinda zooted and going through it rOUGH so yoongi doesn't mind doing your contribution for you

“yoongi!! oh no man, it’s not what i came here for," he leans for a side hug, eyes landing on jungkook to drop a polite smile to acknowledge him

jungkook only slightly bows, confused but even more intrigued because he heard your name in the conversation

"i just uh, i just saw y/n crying while i was on my way home awhile ago, and i didn’t get to ask why, but i felt bad, so i came by to drop some cookies.”

oh

taehyung continues talking and it leaves yoongi and jungkook stunned, but he only focuses his attention on the former

“you looked like a hazelnut cookie kind of guy, so i baked some too!! is y/n allergic to peanuts? i put some too in a separate container in case she is.”

yoongi laughs and they go from there

IT'S LIKE JUNGKOOK ISN'T EVEN HERE!!!!

baby he's here he's nOT a hallucination!!!!

despite the fact that he's sticking out like and (unacknowledged) sore thumb, no one makes a move to take the conversation elsewhere

“thanks, tae. damn, you did all this yourself?”

yoongi whistles when he takes the tupperware opening it and almost watering at the sight

he doesn't mind baking cookies for you in case you wake up hungry, but taehyung really just did himself a nice favor without knowing it

he smiles softly, eyes narrowing in intrigue now that he realizes

"taehyung. no offense, but you’ve only interacted with y/n like once and it’s only for a project. why would you bake her uhhh 28 cookies?”

hehe

“35, actually :D”

tae interjects, waving him off when yoongi's jaw drops even further

“yeah, i know. i just felt so sorry for her — i’m not related to y/n but i just felt like i wanted to make her feel better.”

jungkook's jaw locks at this, his breathing becoming shaky all over again, fists balled this time

“it’s like,, economics!! i don’t actually know, maybe??? i’m in visual arts. y/n took over my part for me when i was sick-“

".... so you made her 30 cookies."

taehyung's the personification of a golden retriever and now that he thinks about it, jungkook reckons seeing him more than a handful of times

he laughs deeply at yoongi's rebutt and it may be in unfortunate timing that jungkook realizes he kNOWS him

he's in the same year!! he's the one that takes the portraits for the school paper and it's always his name in the credits

"good night, yoongs. hug y/n for me. tell her i'll take over her part, no questions asked."

taehyung walks away and he's perfectly content even if he didn't get to give you the cookies like jungkook thought he would

"night, taehyung."

yoongi looks at the retreating figure briefly, then looks at jungkook pointedly

he doesn't realize that he's still budging and listened on an entire conversation, dropping his head when yoongi points to the elevator

"bye, jungkook."

"good night, yoongi."

he feels hesitant to leave but it's probably for the better, putting his hands in his pockets still not enough to make his hands stop trembling

kook stops at the middle of his walking, turning his head to look back at yoongi whose mouth already has crumbs

"c-can i see y/n tomorrow?"

"i'm not her dad."

jungkook nods somberly, leaving it at that while his bulk of emotions consume him

he thinks all about the ways he could attempt to make it up to you, a million ideas in his head but his head doesn't hurt

his nose twitches at the lingering scent the cookies left, annoyed at the persistent smell and perhaps the boy that brought them

jungkook's never really liked cookies.

[cotccotc]

SKZ REACT to...

 ◈ you being followed

part of my eight as fate event !! ( requested by anon​ ♡ )

genre/s: comfort, skz x gn reader

warning/s: description of being followed on the street, descriptions / mentions of panic attacks

wc: 1.8k

a/n: this one took me quite a while but i’m happy with it !!! i decided to write out a longer introduction to this to kinda set up a scene !! i hope y’all enjoy it (esp the comforting parts ofc kdjdjf)

it’s somewhat unlike you to walk alone at night. you figured it would only take you a few minutes, but you got out of work late, setting you back quite a while. to make things worse, while you were working overtime, the sun had set, leaving you to traverse the dimly lit city streets on your own. all you know is that your boyfriend left the door open for you, and a couch date sounds really great right now.

somewhere along your walk, you heard a shuffling noise coming from behind you. you disregarded it, thinking it may have been simple paranoia. you’ve seen too many movies, you think. however, as you keep up your leisurely yet steady pace, you hear another noise. this time you turn around.

a man. in a black hoodie. looking you dead in the eye.

your eyes widen as a small gasp leaves your mouth. needless to say, you begin sprinting to your destination, heart racing at a pace that rivals the speed of your feet. with your focus aimed at getting as far away as you can, you’re honestly not even sure how your legs know where they’re going. nevertheless, your saving grace comes into view. after a quick glance at the now empty street behind you, you sprint even faster than before. and, once you make it to the apartment door, you fling the door open and leap inside with enough force to rattle the hinges.

“y/n? what’s wro-”

“i was being followed,” you interject, a choked sob finally escaping you.

◈ CHAN

his first instinct, no matter what, is to make sure you feel safer now.

he’ll sit you down on the couch, staying close beside you and rubbing your back while reiterating that whoever that man was is gone now.

i’ve always liked to think he’d be good to have around in the event of a panic attack. especially if you’re the type of person who needs physical and verbal reassurance. back rubs, hugging, and breathing reminders galore.

once you’ve calmed down, he would wipe away your tears and hold you close to him as he asks you about the rest of your day.

he’s an amazing listener and he can’t wait to hear about the latest employee or customer gossip lmao

but more importantly, it would take your mind off things, which is all he truly wants.

if you start looking a bit gloomy or drifting off in thought, he’d probably suggest some cuddle time !! he would make sure to remind you of how courageous you were in that moment before promising you one last time that you’re safer now, here with him.

you’d finally fall asleep in his arms, filling him with relief.

◈ MINHO

first reaction: absolutely pissed.

not at you of course, but at the guy who was following you. with you still in his arms, he glances pointedly out the front door and the windows, closing the blinds after giving the entire apartment a once-over.you end up in the bedroom, in which he’ll guide you to sit beside him on the bed.

his expression will have completely changed from anger to loving concern. he’d look deeply into your eyes while holding both your hands in his, assuring you that you’re safe now.while you continue to cry, you explain what had happened in more detail. he strokes your hair as you speak and nods along, blood boiling.

he can’t stand the thought of any person making you feel unsafe. but, he’d maintain a calm exterior in order to make you feel more at ease.

once you describe the whole situation, he’d reassure you once again that the man can’t get to you now.

“he’ll have to get through me.”

you giggle.

“hEY”

◈ CHANGBIN

i think he’d have a similar reaction to minho !!

very visibly pissed that some random guy had the nerve to intimidate you. that dude’s lucky he didn’t follow you the whole way home or else he’d probably be pretty uh. damaged. by now..

he’d sit you down on the couch, do a quick check-in at each of the windows and doors, and come back as soon as he can to console you.

when he does, he’s quick to sit beside you, arm wrapped around you with the other wiping the tears off of your face.

after you explain the situation a bit more clearly, he becomes even more angry (probably mutters some curses under his breath)

but !!!! i think he’d really try his best to focus on cheering you up

asking you what you’d like to do for the rest of the night, if you’d like any food, if you’d like to sleep or stay up for a while.. etc.

plus he’d amp up the silly antics to make you forget about things !!

◈ HYUNJIN

i think his physical reaction would become similar to yours. very quickly.

like once he sees your tears and senses your quickened pulse. his immediate response (whether voluntary or not) would be to emulate you.

so, naturally, he’d hold you in his arms and let you cry it out, while small sobs of his own escape him.

seeing you so scared is a scary feeling.

of course, he’d reassure you that you’re safe !!! he’d look into your eyes, tucking your hair behind your ears, and tell you that it’s all over now and that you’re safe.

you, of course, don’t want him to feel sad or scared, so you’d console him as well.

you two would comfort each other the whole rest of the night. i think the most probable option would be the two of you cuddled up in bed watching a movie or reading webtoons together

distraction !! but make it a drama !! or a romcom because .. vibes !!

and when you decide it’s time for bed (however late that may be due to the stress from earlier) he’d be sure to remind you that he’ll be with you all night & when you wake up

(but he’s also secretly clinging onto you out of fear as well kdjfgj)

◈ JISUNG

“oh sh- oh sHIT-”

wouldn’t know what in the fuck to do

would haphazardly check all the windows like minho did, holding your hand as you continue to cry

after he’s done, he’d cling to you and hold you SO very tight <3

lots of “shh shh baby.. baby shhhh” and all that jazz.. you know the sungie vibes…

he’d stroke your hair and arms, noticing your slight shakiness and suggesting you both cuddle for some extra comfort and warmth

no matter what time of night it is, he’d turn off the lights and cuddle with you as you describe the event in more detail

quiet & calm

even if you end up crying again while you speak, he’s there to brush the tears off your face with his thumb and help you calm down again

◈ FELIX

before you came, he might have cooked a small meal for the two of you to share. even though you worked late, it’d still be waiting for you when you arrive. he’d wait too.

when you do happen to burst through the door, he’d jump and gasp out of fear but he’s quick to run up to you and hold you as you let out everything you’d held in during your walk-turned-chase

also !! will help you get settled in as you describe what went down

helping you take off your coat and shoes, getting water for you, grabbing some blankets; all while listening intently and giving you all of his attention

once you’re seated on the couch, wrapped in the softest blanket he could find and staying hydrated after such a harrowing event, he’d be sure to hold you as close as possible to remind you that everything’s okay

eventually, through his subtle gestures and calming demeanor, you won’t even realize how you got situated !! he just knows what to do to make you as comfortable as possible without even trying all that hard

you may choose to skip dinner, but no matter what, he’ll be holding you close the whole night through to make sure you know he’s there to protect and care for you

◈ SEUNGMIN

he’s very methodical about how to proceed. his first instinct is to do what some of the others would and check the house, but he decides to help you calm down first.

you’re rambling about what happened in between sobs and quick breaths, which sends a pain through his heart as he shuts and locks the door.

if you’re shorter than him, he’d bend a little to make direct eye contact with you. he’ll rub your arms and tell you that you don’t have to be afraid anymore

the most calming and reassuring voice in the whole world omg !!!!!!

he’d wipe your tears away and cup your face with both of his hands, prompting you to look back into his eyes before smiling at you

“you’re safe now, right?”

you smile back at him, nodding.

“now, let’s lock all the doors so no bad guys can get in!”

then, he’d take your hand and let you help him lock the doors and shut the curtains, making it feel like a chore instead of a precaution

and for your “good work”, he’d reward you with some binge watching & cuddle time !!! (as if that wasn’t the original plan skjdfg)

◈ JEONGIN

(under his breath, eyes wide) “oh my god…”

i think he’d start freaking out a bit like hyunjin did, but he’d do his very best to hide it. he knows he has to be strong to help you calm down and feel safe.

like felix, he’d help you take off your coat and shoes, leading you over to the couch as you shakily describe what happened.

(i’m sorry i keep making comparisons to the other members bUT) like minho, he’d hold your hands in his, rubbing them softly with his thumbs to soothe your nerves as you let everything out

he’d try to cheer you up by suggesting alternative motives the man might’ve had instead of wanting to harm you

for instance:

jeongin: “what if he was lost and needed directions but he was too shy to ask because you’re so pretty/handsome?”

you: “babe i don’t think-”

jeongin: “OR what if he thought he knew you !!”

you: “but he-”

jeongin: “WHAT IF IT WAS BATMAN-”

overall, his aim is to distract you (as well as himself), which ends in success. you’ll both be in stitches by the end of the night

and… laughing is super tiring, right?

therefore, as reiterated throughout all of these reactions because we all know it’s true:

CUDDLESSSS

oh also.. right before you fall asleep in his arms, he’d ask if you want to leave the light on during the night :( bc he’s a cutie :((((

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17​, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @cyberskz​, @seungminsaidsta, @somethingrandomworld, @ethan806 ( join my tag list !! )

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[svchengss]

hey barista! | l.dh

summary | befriending the barista from your local cafe doesn’t seem too bad

pairing | lee donghyuck x fem!reader ft. jaemin who’s a rlly cute side character in this :(

genre | fluff, angst, slight humour (?)

warnings | a kiss?? i don’t think there’s any but if i missed anything do lmk !!

word count | 3k+

s. tg | @hyuckefi [my apologies since i didn’t release a proper teaser for this 🙏🏻]

author’s note | this is my first fic exceeding 1k words so if u enjoyed reading this, please leave some feedbacks !! rb’s are also appreciated :D ALSO I SUCK AT SUMMARIES LMAO PLS IGNORE THAT

just another day of working at palm coffee, the same old routine. cleaning the countertop and tables before opening up the cafe, prepping the ingredients - more for top favourites! - and examining the machines to make sure they’re working properly. that’s some of hyuck’s daily routines as a barista. he didn’t mind them though, he loved his job. he couldn’t specify the reason why but all these tasks are genuinely interesting to him.

seeing you drop by the cafe is a normal occurrence for him. since you are a regular customer after all, the rest of the staff already know you well. heck, they’re even good friends with you. jaemin hangs out with you more than he does despite being jaemin’s childhood friend. except for him, he doesn’t really know why. he’s not really shy, considering the fact that he’s a social butterfly. he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you, the only times he did so was to take your orders when the rest of the workers were busy in the store.

upon hearing the doorbell chime which signals a new customer entering the cafe, hyuck blurted out the usual line. “hello, welcome to palm coffee! how can i help-“, looking up from the cash register only to find you in a disheveled state. “-you?” he eyes you up and down, noting how a few strands of your hair were out of place, the nude lipstick smeared on the left corner of your mouth and your outfit looks really rushed. 

“sorry, what was your name again, hyuck right?” you quickly glanced at the nametag hanging nicely on his apron. “i’m in a rush right now, can i get a,” you scanned over the menu behind him, “uh, white coffee, please?”. 

“that will be six dollars. you can use the restroom in the meantime to, you know, touch up your makeup and stuff,” he takes the bills from your hand, putting them in the machine in front of him before flashing you with that warm smile of his. you wished him a quick thanks before disappearing into the back of the place.

now that was embarrassing.

your eyes scanned over the hall to find your friend before hearing her shout your name from across. damn, why does she have to be so loud? stares were directed towards you as you walked up the stairs to your designated seat. all the chatter going on in the lecture hall became quiet as soon as your professor placed her things on the desk, which means class has started. 

after hearing a two-hour lecture and writing some notes - where suddenly song lyrics and scribbles appear - the words you’ve been waiting to hear finally echoed through the speakers. 

“class is dismissed, thank you everyone for listening,” mrs. hui’s voice later being flushed out by the buzzing voices of the students walking out the hall, determined to finish their own activities. you stuffed your ipad and papers into your light yellow jansport backpack before going out to meet vic who’s waiting for you outside. 

“i’m exhausted, what did she even teach just now?” vic sighed to her heart’s content. you can’t blame her, today’s topic was quite complicated. circuits analysis or something? you can’t really wrap your head around it, your brain being stuffed with all the information. vic kept on ranting  about the problems she faced from the moment she woke up, making you giggle at some comments she made. 

“wait for me, i’m almost done,” he folded his apron neatly before shoving it into the drawer and grabbing his bag from the counter to join jaemin, who’s waiting at the front door with the keycard. hyuck accepted jaemin’s request to help him with some shopping for his sister’s birthday party next week. obviously, the rest of the staff were also invited. 

jaemin divided the shopping list into two, allowing hyuck to find the rest of the things with ease.

“now where are the streamers…” he muttered out loud enough for himself to hear, crouching down to browse through the party decorations on the shelf. or he thought so, as you could hear him sighing clearly in dire need of the certain decoration, that you decided to help him out. 

“um, hyuck? i think the party streamers are in the aisle beside this one? you look a bit troubled there,” you chuckled lightly. the heat flushed to his cheeks, feeling dumbfounded. 

“really? uh, thank you for the help,” he gave you a small grin that could hardly be seen if you didn’t spot the corner of his lips. and with that, he’s long gone with his shopping basket.

you are fond of the atmosphere you’re in right now. the decorations left you in awe - white and pink silk hanging from the wall with silver letter balloons spelling out happy birthday stitched onto them. you can see jaemin’s sister, eun-ji, being carried out of her room with a small flowy white dress and wearing a golden bow on her head, her brunette hair being tied into ponytails. the na family really adore their youngest girl.

meanwhile, there are only a couple of adults your age attending the party -  jaemin’s co-workers, some of his other friends which you aren’t familiar with and hyuck. he looked rather chill, with an oversized beige sweater and white jeans to suit the party’s theme. you’re not quite bad as well, your hair combed nicely and kept neat with a headband, a white sundress with strawberry patterns on it fit nicely on your figure, complemented with a heart-locket necklace placed on your collarbones. before reaching jaemin’s house, you made sure to drop by a local store to get some gifts for eun-ji. she’s a very well-mannered kid which made you adore her very much.

“y/n? very glad to see you here,” hyuck said as he approached you, offering you a plate of cake which he cut.

“i could say the same to you too, mr. lee,” you let out a soft laugh. he made sure to keep a mental note over how pretty you looked today.

“y/n, hyuck! glad you two broke the ice, did you know how hurt i was seeing you two act like strangers whenever y/n came by the cafe?” jaemin enveloping you into a small hug before fake pouting. you can only laugh at the fake debate the two guys in front of you were having. after conversing with hyuck and jaemin for quite some time, you realised that he’s a cool person to talk to, where all this time, you thought he hated you for some reason. before leaving, you made sure to thank mrs. na for hosting the party and off you went home. 

following the previous encounters, hyuck felt much more comfortable around you - even hanging out with you during his shift where you would do your assignments at the cafe he’s working at. every now and then, he would also invite you to hang out with him and jaemin. however, what he didn’t realise was how he slowly pent up feelings - romantically. 

ding dong!

he pressed on the doorbell button with a box of doughnuts in his left hand. the three of you were supposed to be having a movie night, but jaemin got caught up with his groupwork which leaves the two of you alone. 

“hey hyuck! come in,” you gestured, arranging the cushions on your sofa to make it look more organized. the interior of your rented apartment is calming, the light grey walls suiting the navy blue sofa and furniture with darker undertones. the walls are also not left empty, with modern art portraits hanging from it. 

“i brought donuts, your favourite, right?” he opened the box, placing it on the coffee table while you set up the television. you wished him a quick thank you before grabbing two canned drinks from the refrigerator, handing one to him and pressing play on the remote control. you two weren’t quiet throughout the whole movie, with snarky comments on how hot the actors were or how stupid they were being were made. 

he didn’t know you were sleepy though as all of a sudden, he could feel the weight of your head on top of his shoulder. it was a rather awkward situation as he didn’t move at all so you could sleep comfortably. before long, he joined you and dozed off to wonderland. the next morning, you were more than embarrassed to find yourself cuddling up to him, with the next movie still playing on the screen.

seeing your figure outside the front door made hyuck more excited to greet you today. after making a quick order for a green tea latte, you fished out your purse from your handbag, feeling frantic if you’ve lost it outside. luckily, you were the only customer in line as the rest of them were already seated and carrying out their own businesses.

“sorry, but i think this might be yours,” you turned around to find a tall-looking guy handing out your black purse. a wave of relief washed over your soul, thanking the latter profusely.

“mind if i buy you a drink? i hate feeling like i owe someone,” you offered, which he gladly accepted. 

“i’d like a double espresso, please,” he kept his hands into his pockets. 

“and your name, sir?” hyuck looked mildly bothered.

“yukhei,” he ran his slightly blonde hair through the slender fingers. hyuck hated how cocky he looked, feeling more annoyed than ever over the scene that was played in front of him just now. he hated how yukhei looked at you. 

why should he get jealous? he’s just a mere friend to you, that’s all. you have to stop overreacting, hyuck. 

those words kept running through his mind all day.

“dude, are you okay? you looked-” jaemin opened the staff room, interrupting him from the self-talk he was having, “-distracted,” finishing up his sentence. 

“nope, i’m just fine,” he said, bringing the honey smile back onto his face. jaemin nodded before disappearing back to the front to serve the customers. 

stop being so jealous, hyuck. you’re just a friend. not more, not less. 

“jaemin, how do you know if you like someone?” that question is kind of shocking to him, especially if it’s coming from hyuck. of course, he’s had a crush before but it was during middle school. just a silly, little crush. growing up, he’s never had one - not even in high school.

“you’ve asked the right person,” jaemin managed to do his obnoxious voice, even while driving the car. he’s right, he is the matchmaker of the friend group, just how many relationships worked out because of him? eyes still focused on the road - he’s a responsible driver of course, he began to explain the feeling to hyuck, making his points loud and clear.

“first of all, you start feeling a little too happy whenever you’re around them. and no, this is not the oh-we’re-best-friends-forever type of happy, it’s the i’ll-make-you-the-happiest-person-on-earth one. not to forget, you will also experience some kind of turbulence in your heart, expect them to be jumping around a bit. or a lot, whichever suits you the best.

you also tend to feel nervous around that person. like, stuttering your words in obvious or non-obvious ways, feeling faster heartbeats than usual, you name it. oh! if you’ve ever felt jealous whenever they are around someone else, i mean, in affectionate ways, you might have one. however, my tip is for you not to act out of your mind. you don’t want to ruin whatever relationship you have currently, do you?” even when driving, he still managed to deliver his points with full precision and accuracy. 

nodding his head, hyuck took some mental notes to be thought through when he gets home. 

hyuck stared at you, whose figure is snoring soundly on his lap. he assumed you must be feeling exhausted, mid-terms just ended after all. while threading his fingers through your hair, he remembered what jaemin said to him weeks earlier.

1. being happy around them

like jaemin said, it is normal to be happy around your friends. but being with you, it kind of gave more joy for him. not to mention that he started to catch himself smiling over your texts and being reminded of you over small things - your favorite donut topping, the name of that one stray puppy you gave. 

2. feeling nervous around them

his heart would beat a lot faster whenever you get closer towards him, whether accidentally or to mess with him. 

3. getting jealous over someone else

he shouldn’t be jealous of how yukhei looked at you. but he seriously can’t help it. and the way he’s always there during your hangouts. he doesn’t care if he seems petty, yukhei just isn’t in his favour.

his deep thoughts came to a halt when you called out his name, eyes still half-closed, attempting to open them a bit more. 

“did i interrupt you or something? gosh, i’m so sorry,” you quickly stood up but he pulls your body back onto his lap, asking for you to stay.

“what are we?” that question caught you off-guard. the same one that has been at debate in the back of your mind these days. 

i don’t know hyuck, it’s complicated. 

“what do you think we are, hyuck?” you shot the question back at him, your gaze piercing through his soul.

“i don’t know. it’s just-” 

“are you sure?” a deep sigh left your lips. have you been interpreting his body languages wrong? did he only see you as a normal friend, nothing more? 

“sorry, i’m not feeling well. see you later hyuck, bye,” you tried your best to shoot the sweet smile of yours but only a faint one seemed to appear. once you stepped out of the room, he buried his face into his hands. 

god, what have i done?

“don’t feel too down, y/n. maybe there’s something more that he couldn’t bring himself to say?” vic suggested, handing you some tissue.

“i don’t know, i seriously have no idea. why can’t he just say it?” you continued to sob into her arms, she pitied you, especially in your condition right now. but she can’t do anything to help you, other than consoling and listening. 

jaemin knew something was wrong, from your rare visits to the cafe to hyuck not being himself lately. something was definitely wrong and it’s between the both of you. sure, hyuck might be saying that he’s fine again and again, but his expressions can’t lie. the sweet smile of his is long gone and his jokes are no longer heard. whatever it is, jaemin is determined to solve it. he just wants his best friends back. 

looks of dismay can be read all over hyuck’s face when the person facing him is no other than the guy himself, yukhei. still, he tried to control his composure, not making his inner feelings any more obvious.

“so what brings you here?” he took a sip of the mineral water, still making his throat rough from the tension hanging in the air. 

“look, i’m not here for any fights. i know you like y/n, everybody can see it. and honestly, you were oblivious to your own feelings,” he rubbed his hands together. the latter’s puzzled face made him continue his words.

“i’m not trying to make her like me, or whatever you’ve been assuming. sorry if i gave the wrong message but you are the one who should make a move. i can see from the way she looks at you, the feelings are mutual,” he straightened up the denim jacket outside the white shirt wrapping his figure. 

letting out a heavy sigh, hyuck’s face begins to soften up. “no, i should be the one who’s sorry. i’ve been such a prick to everyone around me lately, especially you,” he took of the cap from his head, messing up his hair. 

“no problem, bro. it’s understandable, i guess. now good luck with her, please treat her well,” the two guys exchanged a fist bump for the problem solved. jaemin leaned his back against the wall, smiling and feeling satisfied.

you called out jaemin’s name but to no avail. he invited you to his apartment but seeing that the lights are out, it’s clear enough that he hasn’t finished whatever he was doing yet. just as you were about to leave, you saw hyuck at the other side of it, both your faces mirroring the same look of confusion.

“so, uh, how have you been doing these days? it’s been a while since we talked,” he chose to break the silence. now, you two were sitting facing each other by the balcony. inhaling the breeze, you paused for a moment before responding to his question.

“i’ve been feeling, not as usual. definitely not happy but not that sad,” you pushed some of the loose hair strands hanging on your forehead behind your ears before asking about his.

“you know what, i’m just going to be direct with you. i, lee donghyuck have been holding feelings for you since i don’t know when. yeah sure, i wasn’t really sure at first about what i was going through. i guess i was just scared of how you would react,” he scratched his ears which are not feeling itchy at all, but rather an attempt to distract himself from the overwhelming emotions deep inside him. 

not wanting to waste time any longer, you placed your right hand onto his cheek, standing on the heels of your feet to bring your two lips together. the kiss was short before he pulls you back in for another, this time a more passionate one. he could feel you smile against his lips before enveloping your body into his arms.

“i’ve missed you, you know?” he whispered, his voice tender, directing right into your ears before you replied with how you missed him more. the both of you continued to whisper sweet nothings while embracing each other’s presence. 

jaemin looked at the both of you from a distance, his heart swelling with pride. 

— another pair of lovers matched, cupid jaemin signing out.