#that fucking denial was set up drafted already

[yuquinzel]

— crush culture.

feat. itoshi rin. fluff !! i love rin. maybe inspired by a tiktok. itoshi rin definitely has a crush on you.

“do you think i have a tell for when i lie?” you question, eyes absently trailing off deep in your thoughts. isagi hums from beside you, flicking his gaze to you in seconds as he ponders your words. “yeah, you definitely do. I can tell when you’re lying so easily.”

“wait, what is it? what’s my tell?”

“you avoid eye contact when you’re lying, I’ve noticed that like, everytime you say you ‘forgot’ to bring your homework.” he laughs, you gasp.

“no fucking way,” you breathe a sigh of utter disbelief, brows knitting together.

“yeah, you do that when we ask you about rin-chan too!” bachira joins in, and suddenly all pairs of eyes on the table are set on him— including your widened and hesitant ones.

“oh my god, totally. she just refuses to look at you if you ask her anything about him.” you don’t like the teasing undertone to reo’s words, the way everyone is narrowing their eyes at you with mischief flashing in their gazes.

it makes you shrink in your seat a little, “what’s that supposed to mean...”

“YOU DID IT AGAIN!”

“SHUT UP I DID NOT!”

truthfully, you’re aware you can’t maintain eye contact with anyone when you’re directly asked about the nature of your relationship with rin. you can’t look at your friends in the eye and say that “no, i only think of him as friend.”

“YOU’RE TOTALLY AVOIDING OUR EYES RIGHT NOW!”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE ANNOYING ME!”

you expect reo to retort, say something that’s definitely meant to annoy you even further. but he goes quiet instead, eyes trailing off and resting somewhere behind you. you follow his gaze, and surprise! surprise!— it lands on none other than the subject of your ordeal.

all eyes turn to him as he makes his way towards your table— he’s actually on his way past it, but you stop him just before he can pass you by. “where are you going?” you say, the answer already echoing in your mind.

you feel reo’s overly excited gaze on you at your laughable attempt to start a conversation with rin— there it goes, all your attempts to refute the supposed allegations of your crush on him.

���...to my desk.” he gestures towards his spot, a charming calmness to his words and a softer look in his eyes as he talks to you. it doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, and someone coos in the distance.

“oh,” you say, a little hesitantly. “just sit here... with us.” with me. you leave that part out.

rin ponders your words, looking back and forth between you and his table. you almost regret saying anything when he doesn’t reply. but then he takes a seat beside you, which, truthfully— is a surprise to no one because there are plenty of empty seats on the table.

which prompts the question from everyone, their eyes brimming with a hunger for teenage romance, any sparks of it lighting up their eyes like fireworks.

“rin-chan, you totally have a crush on y/n! don’t you?” bachira asks, risking his life for an answer everyone wants.

you are left gaping at your friends like an idiot, dumbfounded as you struggle to form words. you see rin stiffen in his spot, followed by his immediate denials. “what? no. no, i don’t. don’t just casually say shit like that.”

“oh my god, his ears are red!” reo laughs.

“HEY THAT’S HIS TELL FOR WHEN HE’S LYING!” bachira’s voice makes you snap your head to turn to rin again, a shade of deep maroon blooming on his ears, extending to his cheeks as well.

immediately, rin is covering his ears, “shut the fuck up! i have no tell for lying.” followed by empty threats and more coos from your friends.

but all you can really see is the glow of warm hues setting in further into his skin, and his attempts to hide his ears even more when he catches you looking at him.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

me posting my drafts when i’m on hiatus :’)

[darkwaveho]

Damage Control

Summary: You went through hell just to get this vacation, and everything has been going smooth but how long will it last?

Parings: Mob!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+, violence, fluff, jealousy, hurt -comfort, angst, drug use, alcohol use, bondage, edging, orgasm denial, Oral, fingering, overstimulation, scissoring, tribbing, psychotic le$beans <3

A/n: This shit is long asf lmaoo so if you don't have time to read it in one sitting I would probably wait until you do, buut that's just me idk? never again (unless on A03) anyway, I hope you guys like it and thank you guys for being patient with me. I know I promised this chapter like a year ago but I'm happy to finally post this and get it out of my dusty drafts folder.😂💜

Damage Control Masterlist

During the whole vacation trip Natasha was insatiable, never letting you get an inch before her hands and lips were on you. she fucked you anywhere she could. That whole situation in the warehouse was a wakeup call for her and she would never take you for granted ever again.

“Tashh, enough.” you whine into the pillow she licks a long stripe up the center of your neck before she bites your skin. “That’s not what you said last night.” she drags her lips against your skin and drips her head down to lower each kiss further down your body. “In fact, I believe the words that came out of your mouth was ‘more, don’t stop, more." She mocks you with pride, smirking against your skin as she travels dangerously closer to your covered sex.

“Shut up.” you harshly yank her hair in retaliation. “Shut me up then.” she smirks after she bites your cheek in retaliation and tugs on your panties you move her hand away from the expensive lace. “I’m serious, I still need to get dressed. we both still need to get dressed” you correct yourself and huff beneath her. “We can stay in and go to the club another night.” you roll over on top of her as she was caught off guard. thinking she’s won you over she places her hands on your hips waiting for you to give her what she wants.

“We’re going.” you untangle her hands from your hips and walk into the bathroom to fully dress yourself. “You know you want to; I don’t even know why you’re denying it right now.”

“We’re not staying cooped up here in the penthouse tonight, Tash. we already missed our dinner reservations.”

“Well, whose fault is that? you’re wearing my favorite set. what’d you expect?”

“I expect you to have some self-control but we both know you don’t know what that is, don’t we?” you snap back at her not caring if you bruised her ego or hurt her for bringing the amber thing back up in her face. Okay you haven’t completely forgiven her; you still threw things up in her face any chance you got, and Natasha couldn’t do anything but sit there and take it. she sighs on the bed waiting for you to return from the bathroom.

She checks her phone for any updates on anything back home. nothing out of the ordinary, Yelena bugging her about when you’re coming back because she misses her bestie and Clint dealing with import deals. She also saw a couple of text messages from Melina. Once she saw the mention of his name on her screen, she shut the whole thing down completely. She needed to take her mind off of it. There was no way she was going out tonight, she wouldn’t be up to partying now.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” you stand in front of her on the bed hand placed on your hip annoyance present on your face. say lays there on the silk sheet in her button up blouse that she was too lazy to button up at the moment and no pants. she stands giving you a better view of the lace that pressed against her body. she nears you with hunger and an unwavering gaze. she was mesmerized. staring at you, admiring your beauty. there was also a look on her face that you know too well, something set her off and she needs a distraction, a way to release her emotions.

“Look at you baby, absolutely breathtaking.” she swiftly slides her hand under the tight dress running her hands against your soft skin. “Tash, no. I already said we were going.” you try to remain firm on your plans, she’s done this many times before to sway you into doing what she wanted.

“Please.” you groan from hearing her beg and she knows it’s a weakness of yours. you rarely ever heard her beg. after almost losing you forever she’s wanted nothing more than to keep you to herself in this penthouse. “I’ll make it up to you in the morning, sweet face. We can have our own party right here.” You stand firmly on your decision by unlinking her hands from around your waist. “No, I said we’re going, if you're not downstairs in 10 minutes I’ll just go by myself.” You grab your jacket and make your way to the door.

“You wouldn’t leave me.” She replies with confidence, maybe the old you wouldn’t have but the Amber situation brought things up in a new light you were tired of her shit. You had just as much if not equal power as she did; you were no longer going to let things slide so easily. “I guess you’ll find out in about…” You glance at your phone to view the time. “Seven minutes now.”

Natasha sighs heavily as you leave her alone in the penthouse. She really didn’t feel like going out and maybe she should’ve given you more details about why she had a change of heart but then that meant she had to talk about it. She also didn’t want to spend the remainder of the night alone, so she put the rest of her outfit together, but she didn't rush to finish. Ignoring the time frame, you set for her. She was deliberately ignoring the timeframe you set for her just to remind you of who was still in charge regardless of how sorry she was for her mistake. Natasha is the one calling the shots, at least that’s what she thinks.

She makes her way downstairs coming out of the building as the doorman holds the door open for her. She waits patiently still not seeing the driver's car. She calls you promptly and you let the phone ring on the first call just to be petty. Truth, is you left immediately after you made it downstairs. Telling the driver that you had a change of heart and that you were still going to the club. “Y/n, where are you?” She has to shout into the phone and now it away from her ear as the loud screams and music drum through her ear. “I’m at the club, duh. You took too long.” Natasha goes to yell at you for leaving her. You weren’t even sitting outside for no longer than ten minutes. Her lips part but remain in place as she hears the mentions of body shots. She hears your voice agreeing and cheering on the crowd. “Y/n I swear to god! We’ve been doing so well on vacation, don't do anything stupid to ruin it.”

“It's called having fun Natasha, you could be having fun with me and my new friends right now if you came downstairs in a timely matter.” The only words that seem to register in her head is “new friends” “Listen, very carefully I will leave bodies all throughout this city if I have to, don’t add more deaths to your consciousness.” If Natasha could see your face on the other end of the phone, she would have regretted saying those words to you. She knows how hard you tried staying away from actually getting your hands dirty, not only was Amber a contest reminder of infidelity but a constant reminder that no matter how hard you tried you still had the blood of a killer in you.

“Well, I guess I should tell you to have fun on your Gta rampage then. I’ll see you back at the penthouse.” just as you finish your response the drunken woman you've come really close to in a matter of minutes comes back with your drinks. The only thing Natasha can accurately make out is that it was your turn for body shots. If that meant you licking someone else's body or someone else licking your body, she didn’t know, and she didn't care. It shouldn't be happening. She doesn’t expect the growl to escape her throat as she yells into the phone again, but this level of disrespect was causing her to lose every inch of restraint she's been holding back on this entire trip.

“Y/n!”

“Bye Tash!” You end the call with a muffled laugh as the phone goes dead. Natasha fumes by the curb, the realization of the club music no longer playing on her phone. Your voice filled with excitement. You, having fun without her. Having fun with strangers. Would you be bold enough to get even with her after everything she's doing to show you how sorry she was? Natasha’s not going to stand here and think about scenarios like that. If this is the game you wanted to play, fine she down to play but she won't be holding herself accountable for what comes out of it. Natasha gathers her thoughts and calls a contact to pick her up. As she sits in the vehicle dangerously calm, and stone faced. The inner part of her is excited. Yes, excited to cause a bit of chaos. She’s been loving vacation time with you, but it wasn’t every day that she gets to go on a rampage. The other non-rational devil on her shoulder keeps repeating that you're pushing her to do this. You want her to act this way. You want to see innocent people die and get hurt. One thing Nat is always good for is making your wish come true.

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Natasha swears she made it in record time telling her driver to run every red light that tried to slow her down. Her fast-paced steps hold a rhythm as she searches for you within the dark and crowded room. when she spots you by the bar preparing to lay on the counter the rage overloaded as she stomps her way over to you.

“Did you think that was fucking funny?” she adds more force behind the yanking of your neck. She practically drags you to the corner of the bar before a bystander approaches her for her aggressive actions. "Hey, leave her alone!” She naps her head around to face the person who dared speak to her and inserts herself in her relationship conflicts. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” The man doesn’t back down clearly not knowing who Natasha is and what her level of power was. “You heard what I said.” he reaches for you, thinking that you were actually in danger. You’re too buzzed to actually tell him that everything was okay. That and the fact that Natasha was jealous and angry had you wanting to see how things would play out.

Natasha lands a swift and impactful hit to his throat, crushing his air supply momentarily. As the man holds his neck in pain while coughing up a lung Natasha watches him still not satisfied with the damage. “Fuck!” The man cries out in pain. Always the observant one, Natasha picked up the abandoned glass off the bar and in one swift motion she lodged the shattered piece of glass into the man’s neck. Blood splatters out as the man's face raises in panic, he holds the wound on his neck for dear life desperately trying to keep all the blood from flowing out as much as possible. “You crazy bitch.”

The outburst caused a scene within the club, people yelling and screaming from the escalated fight that just occurred before their very eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” The woman's voice sounds louder than the music and the frantic screams in the club. Natasha turns her head with pinch brows as she recognizes the voice. “Long time no see.” she smirks to the woman and you stand there clueless looking back and forth between the two. “I should've known it was you Romanoff, what the hell are you doing wrecking my club?”

“Relax Sharon, it’s just a flesh wound he’ll be fine.” the blonde woman sighs and brushes it off, calling her worker over to clean up the mess. “Come on, let me show you to the VIP section.” Natasha quickly interjects Sharon’s offer.

“Oh that won't be necessary, we aren't staying anymore since this one wanted to get a rise out of me.” she clenches your forearm as she responds to Sharon, an obvious sign that you really made her mad tonight.

“Oh, come on, you can't come to madripoor unannounced, trash my club and then leave, have some class, Natasha. I mean unless you’re still working under Alexei and have no time for fun, or a social life then never mind.” Sharon pokes fun at her knowing she'd get her to stay at least for an hour by bringing up Alexei’s name. She turns away from you and Natasha and halts when Natasha's voice reaches her ears once more.

“We’ll stay for about an hour or so, my sweet face here already started partying without me.” she reminds you of what you did just to make you feel guilty. For making her lash out like that when this was supposed to be a relaxing time for the both of you to reconnect and just enjoy the sense of a normal relationship vacation trip.

“Ah so this is y/n? Had I known that you were in my establishment I would have treated you to a much more luxurious greeting.” Sharon grasps your hand with the utmost gentle care. “I’m Sharon Carter, nice to finally put a name to a face.” You rarely were involved with Natasha’s business. After what happened to your father you tried to block that part of your life out. So, it shocks you that Natasha would mention your name to someone you haven’t met before. “Sup Sharon.” You reply back to her and shake her hand that hasn’t left yours during this whole interaction. She accepts the greeting and releases your soft hand. Sharon turns to Natasha and motions with a tilted head nod for her to follow.

“So, I can count on you to spend a little more for that outburst you caused earlier?” Sharon speaks over the loud music as she leads you both to the top level of the club.

“Well, that depends.” Natasha shouts back and keeps you pinned to her side to make sure you don’t wander off causing more headaches for her.

“On what?” Sharon questions Natasha's response, only her focus was on you and your inebriated, loopy state. “If you keep making sly touches and glances at my girlfriend ” It takes Natasha to yank you by your clothes for Sharon to bring her attention back to Nat’s unamused glare. Sharon clears her throat and rolls her eyes. “Right, I forgot you’re not big on sharing.”

“Let’s hope you don’t forget that again, for your own sake.” Only Natasha could be this unfazed about making threats to Sharon in her own environment. The remainder of the walk was silent apart from the loud music and passing conversations.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Sharon showed you to the table right above the dance floor. Natasha sat down in the booth and drinks were brought to the table immediately. Natasha didn't say one word to you, she spoke about you as if you weren't sitting right next to her silently begging for her to acknowledge you, touch you, look at you or something.

You start thinking that maybe you went a little too far tonight, but then you remember that she had no right to act this way when she was the one who stepped out on you and this relationship. You throw back a vodka shot and stand from the booth. The sound of the glass firmly slamming against the table brought her attention to you, only this time you weren't really seeking for her anymore and she could sense that. The sudden movement of you standing has Natasha's grip on your wrist in an instant. “Where are you going?” Natasha's grip on your arm for the second time that night did not hold back on the amount of strength she used on you. "The restroom.” you reply back to her with gritted teeth and an annoyed attitude. She raises her eyebrow at the tone of your voice, maybe she’s been too soft with you. Let this be no mistake she was sorry for what she did, and she wanted to do anything to make it up to you, but she would never tolerate this level of disrespect, especially in a public setting. You know better.

The image she possessed was everything to Natasha, it always has been and it always will be. She releases you and turns back to her abandoned drink and lights a cigar. Silently telling you it was Okay to leave from the vip section. Sharon comes back to the vip section not expecting you to be absent. “Where’s your troublemaker?” She sits down across from Natasha casually fixing the cuffs of her suit jacket.

“What do you want, Carter?” Natasha takes the cigar out of her mouth as smoke fills the area. “Well, I wouldn’t be a businesswoman if I didn’t at least try to tempt you into something, now, would I?” Natasha doesn’t even hesitate with an answer. “No.” Sharon’s face drops from rejection and Natasha’s blunt but playful response. “Oh, c’mon you haven’t even heard me out yet.” Natasha looks Sharon over for a moment and thinks what warm could it do to at least hear the proposal. “Alright, fine but don’t waste my time.” Sharon smiles as she’s won Natasha over; she also knows the amount of money the two of them could make would have her set for life without any worry.

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During that time of discussing business Natasha lost track of time and your absence. She searches the crowd from above until her eyes land on you, on the dance floor dancing but of course you're not alone why would you be when you look that good in a club filled past its maximum capacity. “Nice, catching up with you Sharon but we have to get going now.'' Natasha puts the cigar out and throws back her drink before slamming the glass down against the marble tabletop. The glass cracks from the brutal force but Sharon doesn’t complain about it, she could care less about a glass right now, her mind was too busy focused on her future financial luxury that would be coming her way.

You let the music take over as all the negative energy fades away from your body. You dance close with strangers, well one woman wasn’t really a stranger you met her in the restroom. After a few traded compliments you two have since then become best friends even if she doesn’t know your name. As your body grinds against others without a care in the world you're once again snatched up and pulled away from the dance floor. "Ouch!" You yell out in pain, but Natasha continues on her mission to exit the club with her hand firmly around the back of your neck.

“Get in the car.” she shoves you into the backseat. “Aww are you mad at me baby?” you inch toward her with a condescending pout on your face. You reach for her face to bring her closer, she dodges with ease. Setting her jaw and sticking to keeping her eyes on the window she wasn’t in the mood to play your game.

The moment you were about to cave in and apologize to her, the car door opened on your end, surprising you both. Natasha was seconds away from blowing a hole into the intruders head just because she’s away on vacation doesn’t mean she let her guard down. She was always aware and alert. The sound of the bullet never comes as she blinks away the utter disbelief that someone would be stupid enough to enter her vehicle. It’s the woman you were on the dance floor with.

“Omg I was looking all over for you! One minute we were drowning in vodka, sharing a blunt and then the next you were gone babe by.” She moves the hair from her eyes and leans a little closer to you. She was obviously more drunk than you, not even taking notice of the gun barrel that was aimed at her head. “Omg you found me!” You move away from Nat scooting closer to the other side of the seat.

“Of course, I did! Now why don’t we take this party back to your place, we can have more fun with just us.” her hands start to travel in places that only belonged to the fuming red head seated on the opposite side of you.

“Absolutely not!”

“Cmon Tash live a little, I don’t mind at all” The woman snorts thin white powder from her wrist, that seemed to get Natasha’s attention again but what comes after it has her considering cutting this trip short and ending her no kill rule for this trip. The woman plants her lips onto yours. Humming in delight and moaning in ecstasy. It was quick but calculated so much so that her tongue sneaked its way past your lips for the second time tonight.

Natasha had enough. There was a part of her that thought this through, thoughts of participating in a threesome, thoughts of letting you sleep with someone else for what she did to you, but she could never go through with it, she was selfish and a hypocrite.

Her apology would have to be enough because once again she’s not big on sharing and she’s definitely not big on sharing when it comes to you, she’s had many requests over the entirety of your relationship. All have been shot down over the request and some have literally been shot at for even proposing such a thing. “Get the fuck out!” Natasha shields you away from the drunken woman pulling you onto her lap and raising the gun to a better eye level. “Woah, hey! No need to get violent red. I was going to give you a taste next.” She raises her hands up in surrender. She furrows her eyes and does a seductive motion, slowly lifting her dress up to change Natasha’s mind. “Mm can we take her home Tash?” You bite your lip as you slowly wait for the drunken women to reveal more.

“Don’t move your hands any further unless you want me to chop them off! Now get out!” You can only giggle hysterically at the interaction between the two of them. Natasha smacks your ass to quiet your annoying drunken giggles and gives the woman one last chance to exit the vehicle before the entire back seat interior was covered with her brains. If she even had a brain. She understands the seriousness now or either she’s started to slowly sober up but she doesn’t say anything else as she exits the car finally. “Byee madissyn.” You slur your words as you watch her leave the vehicle. Natasha grabs your face harshly turning you around to face her, and for the first time tonight she looks deeply into your eyes and lifts your eyelids. “Did you fucking take something?” You giggle and mock her as a reply “dId yOu fuckin take something.”

“Relax, it’s nothing we haven’t done before.” Natasha doesn’t need you to go further she can tell by your dilated pupils and the way you can’t sit still in the leather seats. Ecstasy. She knows the signs partly because you’ve done it together a few times when you were younger. She can’t decide if she’s upset that you took it from a stranger or the fact that you took it without her.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? You don’t even know her!” Natasha shoves you to the other side of the seat and instructs the driver to head back to the penthouse. You've made her mad, mission accomplished but at what cost?

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Entering the penthouse Natasha goes straight to the bar by the window, taking her jacket off and tossing it on the bar stool. For some reason it annoys you, how could she be so upset and hurt when all you did was dance and participate in harmless body shot fun. Okay maybe it wasn’t as innocent as you made it out to be but the fact that she was being hypocritical right now only angered you more. “You’re upset about a dance, body shots, shotgunning some weed and some ecstasy pills?” She keeps her back turned towards you as she sips on her drink. You walk closer to her stumbling a bit when you near the bar.

“It was more than that and you know it, the whore even followed us out to the car and had the nerve to touch you! We didn’t discuss anything about bringing a strange whore into our bed!” She deeply inhales and exhales, closing her eyes to maintain her calm demeanor. “Get away from me y/n, I’m not in the mood to even look at you right now.”

“Aww did you not like her touching my body?”

”Y/n” she says in a warning tone, her face is stern but the way her lips pout in a cute way only makes you want to push further.. “Did you not like her lips grazing mine?”

“I’m warning you, watch what comes out of your mouth.” You challenge her, what could she possibly do when she vowed not to hit you in that way again? You brush off her warning threat and you can’t fully blame it on the drugs and the alcohol for what comes out of your mouth because truth be told it’s been on your mind since that day.

“I would hate to see the look on your face when I actually do decide to fuck someone else!” Her hand finds comfort around your throat, your back pressed against the wall as you struggle to breathe. Natasha doesn’t look like she’s letting go of you anytime soon. Being in this position was a sense of deja vu. Being back home in the bedroom after finding out about Natasha's true actions at Tony’s club, but this time it didn’t end with you receiving a slap to the face and a split lip.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t m-“ your snappy response gets cut off when you feel the ripped fabric of your skirt. cold air exposing you and the wet spot of your fancy lingerie. “You think someone can fuck you better than me?”

“The way you’ve soaked your panties tells me otherwise, did you like making me mad? You like seeing me go crazy over you?” Your breathing picks up as she moves closer to you. Her lips ghosting over yours. Everything she said was true, you just wanted to be petty tonight, and give her a taste of what could happen if she ever stepped out on you again. There is always someone out there that would kill for a night with you.

“I asked you a question” she tightens her grip on your neck no doubt a bruise will be left when her hand finally retracts from your skin. You offer no reply back to your girlfriend, only smiling menacingly at her and placing your hand on top of hers adding more pressure to your restricted airway. A flash of excitement rushes through Natasha. You weren’t always like this, so willing to initiate certain kinks like airplay. “I know everything about you and your body, I know what sets you off, and I know I’m the only person that can make you cry out to god.” You don’t hide any sense of humility. Smugness plastered across your face. It’s not enough, you really want to push her.

“Unfortunately for you the same can’t be said for me.” You’ve pushed too far deep now. She knows you can find pleasure from someone else. Of course, it won’t be on the same level as her, but your body will react and openly welcome the pleasure. For her it’s not the case, the prime example of that is now dead. The darkness within her eyes had you retreating. No longer wanting to toy with her but the damage was done, and Natasha had her mind set, once she finally had confirmation that you wanted her to lash out at you and use your body to take out her frustrations. Finally, she slams you to the window, not hard enough to truly injure you but hard enough to have more than a hangover in the morning.

Her lips crash into yours leaving your plea unheard. The kiss was rough and messy, as it normally would be in this situation of claiming you. The feeling of her rough hands tearing at the remainder of your clothes.

“Fuck, you know I love this set on you.” She speaks with mesmerized once again as her eyes land on the lingerie set that had her begging you to stay on for the night. It was a midnight black two piece. Mostly basic, Natasha didn’t need much despite her lifestyle, at least when it came to you she welcomed simplicity she found it just as sexy as you dressing up for her but the reality of it all was she just loved you. No matter how long or how hard it’s taken her to admit that out loud and under the circumstances it came out.

“Duh, that’s why I put it on.” You don’t receive any form of reply. Natasha snatches the fabric of your bralette finally exposing your Breasts. Her animalistic growls only increase the burning desire to have her near your throbbing core. She briefly breaks away from the kiss, roughly turning you around to face the bright lights and industrial buildings. Your face pressed against the window and her fingers plunged into your warm cunt without warning. You didn’t need any foreplay, that started the minute you decided to leave her for the club. Riling her up any chance you got. You hoped that she would fuck you, but you didn’t want to be fucked against this high rising window. You teased her, you angered her, and edged her on, now you were just going to have to deal with it and take what she gives you. She keeps a steady and brutal pace pushing you closer to your high and pulling away just at the cusps.

“Hm, Tash- it’s enough.” You reach behind you with intentions to push her arm away. Natasha smirks and forcefully pushes your pleading hand away and plants it against the window as well. She keeps her hand there for extra security, squeezing your wrist as a silent warning not to do it again or to move it. She wasn’t done tormenting you just yet, but she’ll allow you to cum. She lifts your leg and hikes your thigh up for a better angle, adding another finger to your overstimulated hole. She grunts as her breath fans over the shell of your ear.

“Nat”

“Tsk, what happened to all of that mouth you had a few minutes ago? she knows your fear of heights and still proceeds to fuck you against the thick glass. The fear and the pleasure has your mind going foggy, experiencing both at the same time. She pounds into you harder with each thrust reminding you of who you belong to. The thick glass brought some sort of comfort to your skin, cooling it off from Natasha’s burning touch. No words come from you, only panting and whines. Your breath fogs the glass as Natasha keeps her brutal pace, slick runs down your legs . She doesn’t relent until you practically turn into mush against the tall frame window.

As you feel her body weight slightly removed from your back you sniffle as the tears built up in your eyes struggle from falling down your cheeks. The edges her on even more, the sound of you trying to catch your breath and the small sound of your sniffles push her further. She’s definitely not done being petty. She takes her previous position behind you and pulls your back against her front; she grazes her lips against the warm skin of your ear and her raspy voice lights a fire inside of you from anger and arousal. “Who’s the sensitive one now?” You didn’t need to turn around to know she was wearing that shit eating smirk, you didn’t even need to look at her reflection in the smudge stain glass, you could hear it.

You use all the strength you have left on your shaky limbs to push her away. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You asshole!” You wipe the stray tears that fell from your eyes and Natasha only returns a smirk in response before she reaches for her abandoned drink on the bar counter. “Relax, the window is custom made, there are very few things that would make it shatter and our body weight isn’t one of them.” Natasha isn’t hiding her enjoyment right now, it’s on a very rare occasion when you actually cry for her. After the small moment of silence the soreness and weakened state of your body starts to take effect. Your eyes feel heavy and the drugs start to come back in full effect. It's pretty normal for you when you do smoke, not to mention the post orgasm clarity.

Natasha stood next to you the entire time watching you and she knows you had the idea of sleeping on your mind next and that just wasn’t enough for her, she’s still angry at you. Natasha picks you up and heads for the bedroom, she lays you on the bed gently totally different from her aggressive demeanor in the living room. You think she’s helping you get more comfortable, but the light tap against your cheek tells you otherwise. “Oh, no sweet face, wake up we’re not done yet.” She removes your shoes and tosses them to the floor. You hear shuffling around you still not quite aware of your surroundings.

“You’re a hypocritical, psychotic, asshole.” You mumble into the cool air of the night with closed eyes. The small break was enough for you to gather yourself again and you’re still upset about her putting you into danger like that just to get back at you for what happened at the club. She stops unbuttoning her blouse and kneels over your body until she’s face to face with you, her hands softly rub against your cheeks. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Natasha takes her clothes off and sits everything she needs on the other side of the bed, the next thing you feel is the bed dipping. Natasha grabs both of your arms and lifts them above your head, the feeling of soft fabric against your wrist causes you to jerk your body. She pays no mind to you as she continues to focus on knotting the fabric and connecting it to the headboard.

Your mind is still hazy, so every little movement Natasha makes is keeping you alert. “Nat, what are you doing?” You say, your voice is scratchy and hoarse. Natasha returns with a liquor bottle, two shot glasses and one regular glass. “We’re gonna play a game, since you’re in a playful mood tonight.” Is all she says before pouring into the two shot glasses. You curiously watch her in anticipation. She kisses up your stomach leaving bites and wet kisses along the way before she stops at your neck and pulls away all together.

“If you spill any of my drinks you lose.” She places one shot glass on your bare stomach as you shudder from the cold glass she sends you a warning sound. “Careful buttercup you don’t want to lose before we even start now do you?” You have to compose the little self control you have left. Her fingers slide against your thighs as they get closer and closer to your sex her smirk grows wider. Her finger grazes your swollen clit and you have no choice but to react causing the drink to shake but thankfully the alcohol remains in the glass.

Natasha crawls up your body and takes the glass in her mouth while remaining eye contact, she doesn’t finish all of it, she leaves a small amount in the glass and removes it from her mouth and pours the alcohol down your body starting from the center of your chest. You shudder from the contact and Natasha doesn’t give you much of a break as she starts her attack going down your body. She follows the trail that the alcohol leaves behind for her with her tongue. Leaving deep marks and bites along the way until she makes it back to your clit with a gentle kiss that leaves you wanting more. She looks up from your clit at the sound of your moan.

“Isn’t this much better than doing body shots with strangers?” You don’t reply to her, your head is too busy wondering how long she’ll keep this game up. She pours another shot but this time she has a new agenda on her mind. She makes her way up your body right in front of your breathless face. “Are you thirsty?” She knows the answer to that question just based on your appearance. The tension in your throat was becoming too much. You need a sense of relief. She takes your head leaning forward as a yes. Just as your lips were about to make contact with the glass, she pulls it away from you and drinks the shot herself and chuckles from the bewildered look on your face. “What the hell Nat!” You don’t even know what number of shots she’s on right now, but it takes a lot for Natasha to be drunk. A drunk Natasha was a completely different story than an annoyed Natasha.

“You still thirsty?” She whispers against your lips. Her stare is intense and intoxicating. You look away from her to show her just how annoyed you are, of course she thinks it’s cute. She refills the glass and hooks her finger under your chin bringing you face to face with her again. She downs the shot once again and tosses the glass across the room. She keeps your face in place as you try no ring away from her. She smashes her lips against yours and pushes the alcohol into your mouth. It’s fast and sloppy, so small amounts of it leak down the corner of your mouth and as Natasha pulls back she uses her tongue to catch every drip she sees.

“You want more Detka?” She still remains close to you as she reaches over to grab the bottle of alcohol off of the small cart. You only silently nod eagerly, wanting her to do it again. Except this time she hooks a finger underneath your chin tilting your head backwards and tips the bottle over. She notices the sudden change in enthusiasm at the change of direction. She can only laugh at you and your expressions but she can’t get too lost in it. This was a punishment after all. There was no time to be soft, at least so early into things. “Don’t pout.”

The next time she reaches for a shot to place on your stomach she sits the bigger glass on your stomach as well. She follows it up with dropping a few pieces of ice into the glass. “Nat you’re not being fair” frustration grows more when you realize this was a losing game either way it went. It’s not a game at all, it's a punishment of overstimulation. She pulls the wand out and turns it on to the highest level, your moans rise in volume at the first touch. “What was that I can’t hear you?” She keeps a firm grip on the toy and doesn’t relent on the pressure against your clit. “Fuck” you whine from the overstimulation, your legs are numb, and you no longer have the strength to try closing them from Natasha's access. The drinks spill over your body and the sheets Natasha takes in the sight with pride even though you’ve clearly just lost she has not intent on letting up on this game “You lost, baby and you’ve made such a mess.” She taunts you with fake concern as her hand stays firm and she starts moving the toy against your folds.

“Natasha, please.” She pouts at you with her fake sympathy. “Natasha please, what?” She gave your messy pussy a break by turning the level to the lowest Instead of taking it away completely. Your facial expressions plead more towards her than your words do. “Y-ou made your point, okay? now can you please- fuck! untie me?” She hums, weighing her decisions on if she thinks you’ve learned your lesson or not. Not really though because once Natasha Romanoff’s mind was set on something she made sure to go through with it no matter what. She took a little bit of pity on you right now but she really wanted to see this through, plus she was beyond turned on. She’s just stubborn like that.

“You know I don’t like pity cards and you know I don’t like cop outs, but nice try buttercup. You take what I give you and be happy with it.” If you were truly in unbearable pain, you’d use the safe word or Natasha would notice your breaking point and stop everything immediately. “Besides, don't you want to cum?” You growl in frustration as you glare at her, forgetting about the tight silk fabric strained against your skin you hiss in pain after your little tantrum. Natasha chuckles as she presses the toy firmly back into you. “You’re worried about me hurting you, it looks like those are doing it all on their own.”

“Mmh- h-how much longer are you gonna keep me like this?

“Until my feelings are no longer hurt or until I’m satisfied enough with how puffy and messy your pussy gets for me.” You were about to say something until the sensation of the wand tapping against your clit and the curl of Natasha’s finger entering your hole sent you further into ecstasy “Oh! Oh my-“ your fingers clench hard around the fabric of the restraints. “You know you haven’t even said sorry.” The look you gave her made her laugh but you can tell that she was being serious, maybe you did cut a little deep with your words knowing she has abandonment issues among many others. “I’m sorry, please. I’m sorry Tash.” You desperately apologize to her and she gives you no sign that she’s acknowledged it. Natasha turns the toy back on but not to the highest level and trails her tongue to your throbbing and neglected hole. She teases you for a moment by swirling her tongue around the hole before she spreads your folds, dives in and fucks you with firm and fast strokes. The sound of your wetness egging both of you on even more.

Every stroke and flick of her tongue was so intensifying that you forgot all about the silk fabrics restricting your hands from her grasp. Your body jerks from overstimulation but hearing the sound of Natasha’s praise filled moans made up for it. You ignore the stinging pain as the pleasure was much more overpowering. Just as you were getting used to the feeling of being on the edge again Natasha abruptly stops and pulls away from you with your juices smeared over her face. She enjoys the baffled look on your face right now. “I hate you.” You say, breathlessly while glaring at her as your legs shake uncontrollably with the loss of another orgasm.

You both know that’s not true she is using this moment to trap you, she wants to get a reaction out of you, she wants you to beg her to fuck you after you’ve been pleading with her for a break. “No, you don’t.” She places a soft but burning kiss on your skin while doing absolutely nothing to hide that smug expression from her face. You arch your back off of the bed, the sensation is now becoming too much to withstand. Natasha takes note of it and silently looks at you for any signs that you are at your limit. You wrap your legs around her as tight as your worn-out limbs will allow. “Keep going daddy, I’m okay.” Natasha’s strong hands have to keep you in place as she devours what belongs to her.

“Naat” your voice was finally at its breaking point. Worn out and hoarse. Natasha doesn’t budge, she keeps her focus on gaining her pleasure. “Hm fuck, just hold on a little longer” she thrusts against you groaning just how you like it, breathlessly panting with extra rasp in her voice. The moment her breath fans against your earlobe you felt your control slipping away. “Hold on for daddy?” She hooks your leg up for more security. Her fingers would surely leave behind imprints from the way she’s pressed her fingers into your soft thighs. “You feel so fucking good throbbing against me.”

“Just for me” she whispers the words out loud more so to herself than to you, but you respond to her anyway.

“Uh huh” you nod with eagerness as your nails claw at her skin. Natasha endures the stinging pain as she gets lost in the feeling of your warm slick. “Say it!” The sound of her hand making contact with the side of your ass jerks your body. “Just for you! Fuck, just for you!” You cum before Natasha does, you were already worked up and well spent she however still had energy left to use against you. Anger and jealousy were always a motivational boost for Natasha’s sex drive weirdly enough. As you lay there catching your breath Natasha’s movements slow down only for a moment before she’s repositioning herself on top of you. She finally frees your hands from the silk binds. Quickly massaging your wrists and leaving a chastise kiss on them. She spreads your puffy folds and begins angling herself against you. “Tash.”

“You can take it.” The sigh of relief and pleasure that takes over Natasha’s face was definitely worth the soreness that you will feel in the morning. She positions her clit against your dripping hole, she slowly pushes into you. The warmth of your pussy against the tip of Natasha’s clit was pure joy, she doesn’t do it often, or rather she didn’t really have time to do anything other than a quickie. Her mob activities and her regular nine to five businesses were always top priority now with new goals and a clean slate she wouldn’t dream about leaving you and your feelings out of the equation anymore. Especially not if she gets to fuck you like this more often.

Natasha snaps her hips forward, with each thrust your tits bounce in perfect rhythm. Her thrusts start slow but firm, until she can no longer hold on. Even though her entry point was small it didn’t take away the indescribable feeling of you sucking her in. Natasha pulls back for observation and once she sees the tip of her clit still inside of you something snaps inside of her. The perfect bounce of your tits soon starts to become erratic and sloppy just as Natasha’s thrusts. The loud sound of skin slapping, and wetness was almost enough to drown out anything else.

she buries her face into the crook of your neck, her muffled moans send the last bit of sensation you had left through your body. You don’t move. All of your limbs were non-functional at the moment, your bodies are still pressed together, and you hope to the highest heaven that Natasha meant what she said this time because you could still feel her throbbing against your folds. Your warm juices continue to flow as you watch Natasha come down from her high. “That was so hot.” She bites the side of your neck and soothes it over with her tongue. She takes a moment to place soft kisses anywhere she can on your body. You lay there in comfortable silence as you bask in the warmth and affection, she’s showing you right now because you truly don’t know how long it will last. How long this side of Natasha would stay before she’s back to her cold and set ways of thinking.

You fought off sleep as long as you could, but you were no longer winning the fight, Natasha obviously notices you trying to keep yourself awake. She makes quick work of cleaning you up, during your moment of dazed and fuzzy afterglow you only come down when you feel her in the same area she just abused. “Fuck off tash.” You limply try swatting her hands away from your cunt. Natasha scoffs and chuckles in the same breath. “Shut up and stop squirming. I'm cleaning you up, I should leave you a mess for what you did tonight.” She slaps your pussy once just to add on to the ‘asshole of the night award’ and you call her a bitch which only makes her chuckle. You know it’s a lie, Nat has never deliberately skipped aftercare with you. Only in times when she had to rush out unexpectedly, back when she was still in training to take over the business. Back when your relationship was in an awkward place.

During your small moment of reminiscing, you feel the bed shifting. The warm heat of Natasha’s skin against yours and the faint feeling of her breathing gets you to crack your eyes open to be greeted with her patiently awaiting your gaze. “Hey.” Your groggy greeting is cut off forcefully by Natasha’s lips smashing into yours. She pulls back looking you over as her nimble fingers ghost over your skin, over every mark on your neck and chest. She’s satisfied with her work tonight. She gives you a few more kisses before pulling you close to her side of the bed and turning the lights off. “Y/n.”

“Hm?” You hum in response while she rubs your back soothingly. “You're the only one for me." She wants to say, “I’m sorry I fucked up for me to realize that.” But she doesn’t want to get deep into that conversation right now. She doesn’t want to be vulnerable and open; she'll save it for another day. “Sleep.” Not long after that you were out cold.

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

The next time you shift in bed your eyes are halfway open. You notice Natasha is still sitting up with her back against the headboard talking in a hushed whisper. She hears you stirring beside her. She doesn’t want you awake, she doesn’t want you to hear the conversation. Panic bells sound off inside of your head anytime she gets a phone call in the early hours of the morning. “Let me guess, vacation is over.” Your voice still dripped with slumber but it wasn’t a question it was more of confirmation, confirmation that usually results in you being tossed to the side and neglected. Natasha pauses the conversation you weren’t too focused on trying to hear. You were nearly on your way back to sleep. “No, baby, just go back to sleep.” She gives you a soft kiss to distract your curiosity so you fall asleep without any hesitation or any push back.

The next time you wake up you hear voices, and you feel yourself being moved around. The cool breeze hits your face, but you still remain with low lidded eyes. You’re not in danger, you would know if you were. The hands that hold on to you and occasionally caress your face weren’t unfamiliar ones. You could spot them instantly; you drift back off to sleep with the reassurance of a body nestled close to yours and warmth radiating into you. You wake up feeling the aftereffects from the evening you had last night with Natasha. You stretch your arms out while remaining to keep your eyes shut. You feel the bed for Natasha’s body and freeze when you come up empty. She wasn’t here.

You vaguely remember being put in the car and seeing your luggage being carried out of the penthouse. You sit up in bed with pinched brows after you’re aware of your surroundings, you search for your cell phone and find it on the side table plugged into the charger. Most of the messages were from Yelena and a few emails about your new night club. You were just about to call Natasha’s phone to demand answers about the change in location when you heard voices above you on the top deck of the yacht. Not only is Natasha standing there but she has Bucky and Clint with her as well. This was supposed to be a trip away from the mob life and that includes them. You storm up the last few stairs towards her. She knew you’d be yelling at her sooner or later after you woke up.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I thought this was our vacation time?” You cross your arms as you await her answer while also being aware of the extra bodies that were not supposed to be present. “Good morning to you too honey, I slept great thanks for asking.”

“Don’t fuck with me, I’m not in the mood to play with you right now Natasha.”

“We’re still on vacation…this needed to be dealt with immediately.” Her response doesn’t do anything for you to ease up on her. “Oh, c’mon sweet face, I thought this would be better by settling this here so we wouldn’t have to cut our trip short.” She rubs your waist and kisses your face hoping it will cool your temper. “You couldn’t have handled it at the penthouse?”

“You’d rather have me do that in a place where we lay our heads?”

“Natasha, we’re in fucking madripoor! Shit happens here every hour on the hour! Packing me and our things away at the ass crack of dawn for this? was not necessary!”

“Will you relax? You’re always complaining about me being romantic. Well, I was trying to be spontaneous while also getting things done efficiently!”

“Nothing about this is romantic and your whole excuse is a cop out.”

“Surprising you with a morning on a yacht isn’t romantic?”

“Don’t condescend me Natasha, it was the way you did things while also having an ulterior motive behind it.” Natasha grabs your hand before you walk away from her. Linking her fingers through yours and somehow your eyes drift up her body just in time to see the flex of her muscles in the tank top she was wearing. “Calm down, have some breakfast. I have all of your favorites prepared Already. This is not the end of our trip, it's more of a small interruption.” “Fine.” You turn your face away from her and start moving towards the kitchen area for some breakfast. if you were going to be around for this you were not doing it on an empty stomach. Natasha stops you and places her lips to the shell of your ear. “It won’t take long I promise.” She kisses your neck. “We can go back to our room and make that champagne and ice bucket useful, hm?”

“No, absolutely not you’re not touching me after last night, I’m still sore.” You brush past her as she scoffs and glares at you, you can say that now but maybe when she’s finished, you’ll change your mind. Natasha walks back to the group at the seating area and picks up a few pieces of fruit as the paranoid man sits in silence. “It’s my understanding that I haven’t received your payment.” She holds her hand up when the man attempts to speak, no doubt to apologize or make an excuse for his actions. “I don’t want excuses” Natasha doesn’t like pity and she doesn’t like excuses. You'd be lucky enough for her to even ask you for a solution instead of killing you. Charles stupidly ignores her response hoping she’d be able to understand when she hears the full story and his side of things.

“We’ve been having a tough time at the shop and-“ Her fists cut his words short he wasn’t even aware of when she stood up to even get near him. “I thought I just said I didn’t want to hear any excuses.” Natasha sighs with disappointment as she checks her nails like the narcissist she is. “You interrupted my lovely trip with my sweet face over there.” She points to you while you sit at the counter sipping your orange juice. “This was not the way she was supposed to be waking up, Charles. Do you understand my dilemma here?” The man hesitated to answer Natasha. The question was dripping with a sexual undertone, not knowing if he would end up with a bullet between his eyes for answering truthfully. “I-“ Natasha delights in his uneasiness to reply, one wrong word would set her off completely, changing the mood of this meeting. “It’s okay, you can answer.”

“I understand, trust me.” He takes a little too long to turn his attention back to her. So, she grabs him by the collar. “Aren’t you going to apologize?” She tilts her head hovering above him. “I-I apologize for the intrus-“ the back of her hand makes contact with his face. “Not to me you fucking idiot!” She grabs his face and turns it towards your direction. “To her.” You grow awkward with the man’s eyes on you while you are trying to eat. “I’m sorry.” “She can’t hear you! Say it louder!” You heard his apology but you wanted to be left alone for now. After having a week of silence and wild nights with Natasha you weren’t ready for things to start going back to normal. You weren’t ready to go back home and fall into the same pattern again. “I’m so sorry” fully catching your attention you flip him off in response and go back to eating and drinking your juice. He turns around to look at Natasha for what to do next. She insists on him trying again for an apology. Shooing him away with her hands. He moves further into the kitchen area as you eat your breakfast. Unfazed by his presence. “Um miss I wanted to sincerely apologize for-“ his apology was stopped abruptly when the weight of the waffle iron collided with his face. “What the hell!” He shouts out in agony clutching his broken nose on the floor.

“Why the hell are you in my face? You already ruined my morning, now you’re going to ruin my breakfast too?” You grab him by the collar of his shirt. “No, that was not my intention.” Even if he was telling the truth, you were still pissed about it, so you use this opportunity to use him as a punching bag. Throwing multiple punches to his already broken and bruised face. Clint once again steps next to Natasha. “You just gonna let her do that? We don’t need him dead, Nat.” Natasha looks at Clint with a smirk on her face. She honestly loved that you let out your dark side more now. “I suppose you’re right, but I just love seeing my sweet face go sour and bad for a bit.” Clint makes a face of disgust.

“Please spare me the details of you and y/n’s psycho relationship dynamic, I already told you that you two need therapy like yesterday.” She rolls her eyes and walks away. You stop your attack on his face and you hold him up by the collar of his blood-stained shirt. The small blade presses against his skin; you trail the sharp knife down his cheek and stop at the curve of his neck. “What type of work do you do?” He seems caught off guard with that question as he nervously licks his lips. He doesn’t know if he is supposed to look at you or keep his eyes trained on the cabinets. “I own a butcher shop.”

“Oh, this is perfect.” You take pride in his blatant display of confusion and fear. “You cut and trim meat all day, what’s so hard about that?” You don't give him a chance to reply to you, not that he would even dare try to respond to that loaded question. “Since you’re a butcher I’m sure you’re aware that a single incorrect cut could ruin a good piece of meat.” He stares up at you in pain and confusion as you tilt your head adding more pressure behind the knife. Natasha arrives in the kitchen area just in time.

“Okay, that’s enough, buttercup.” She pulls your back to her front and holds you in place. “Put the knife down.” She rubs your body soothingly to bring you back to a calm state. It takes you a few seconds, but you eventually flick the blade back into its safety pocket and place it into Natasha’s hands and let the man go in the process. As she puts the small knife in her pocket Natasha looks down at the bloody figure on the floor. “I know how much you wanted to cool off a bit, I don’t know what possessed him to bother you.” She snuggles her face closer to your neck inhaling deeply, She loved the scent of you. As Natasha was distracted the man quickly defended himself once again.

“You literally told me to come over here and apologize!” He shouts out at her stupidly once again not knowing how dangerous that is. “No, I don’t think I did, actually.” Instead, she replies back with a cool and calm demeanor she wanted to see if you’d attack him again. ”Yes you did!” Charles shouts back defensively and Natasha kicks him in the face “Shut up!” You crane your neck to watch Natasha’s body language. “Don’t listen to him baby Especially since I know how grumpy you get when something interrupts our plans.” She softly kisses your neck when she’s done telling the lie. You take a moment to look down at your silk pajamas and groan frustration.

“He got his blood all over my new pajamas, now we have to buy another set of matching ones.” Natasha just chuckles at your response. Blaming that poor man for getting blood on your expensive robe when you were the cause of it being there in the first place. She loved it. Part of her wished your father would’ve made you more involved with the mob activities like she had to. She would’ve had this sight of you way early on into the relationship, but she loves you just the way you are right now. “Don’t worry about it. We can buy all the matching pajamas you want, I’ll take care of it.”

“Yeah, you will especially since this is your fault for sending him over here in my goddamn face in the first place.”

“See, I told you!” You both speak at the same time. “Shut up!” When the man quiets down Natasha doesn’t try to deny it this time she just laughs and pulls you closer to her. Of course, you knew she was lying. “I’m sorry, I just thought you wanted to let some anger out and I was clearly right.”

“How thoughtful of you.” You gently pat her cheek. “I know.” She leans forward placing her lips on yours. She growls in surprise when you take control, shoving your tongue down her throat. Backing her up into the counter and harshly biting her lip. “Don’t tease me right now dekta.”

“Can you two stop sucking face? We have import shit to deal with here!” Bucky was getting annoyed. From the time being wasted and just from seeing you two showing public displays of affection. You clench your jaw, looking over Natasha’s shoulder. Who the hell did he think he was? You pick up an empty champagne flute and launch it at Bucky. “Shut the fuck up!” He dodges the glass before it makes contact. Clint pulls Bucky aside with force. “You seriously need to let it go, Buck.” Clint harshly whispers to him. He snatches his arm from Clint and goes to sit down on the padded couch. Seeing him be seated like a good little guard dog that he should be. As Clint snatches the man from the floor and away from the kitchen area you focus back on your girlfriend. “Finish everything up here and I’ll be downstairs. Don’t take too long though, I’m not promising to keep my hands off.” You slide your hand underneath the silk waistband of her pajamas. Natasha’s eyes blown wide, she couldn’t wait to get this over with to have you screaming out in pleasure and pain once again. You bring your hand back out into the open. Natasha licks her lips at the glistening wet slick dripping down your fingers. You place your fingers on her lips. She welcomes them openly, sucking the flavorful juices off your fingers. You lean in ghostly whispering against her lips.

“If you get this handled quickly the next time, we kiss I’ll have the taste of your cum on my lips.” Her breath hitches and she’s more determined to get this shit done now more than ever. Hell, she might even give him more time and just have Clint and Bucky take Charles back home. That would be the only time she would show forgiveness. The only time she’d be so lenient to someone who wronged her.

Natasha makes her way back to the seating area; she makes a show to whistle from your previous actions. “Yeah, she’s pissed. I was going to put on a show for her but I’m feeling merciful and gracious.” She pops a few pieces of fruit in her mouth and turns directly to face the bruised and bloody man. “So, let’s talk about how you’re going to move forward to get me the money that I’m owed and how you’re gonna pay extra for this inconvenience, shall we?”

They found a way to come to an agreement and the instant that the problem had been solved Natasha jumped up from her seat with haste and intended to run downstairs to you. “Natasha, we have another problem.”

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

“No, we just fixed it…any other problems can wait until tomorrow or until I officially return from my vacation.”

“Uh, Nat you’re not listening…”

“And you’re not listening to me Clint, this trip was to make things up to y/n, and I don’t need calls interrupting the time I made for her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have holes that I need to fill downstairs and you’re making me late.” Clint visibly gags and Natasha’s satisfied with his reaction to walk away from him to leave him with that burning image. “Jesus! Keep that to yourself I swear to God I’m this close to ditching my earring aids whenever I’m on duty! and I’m serious Nat it’s about Alexei.” Just as she was walking away from him she stops in her tracks as soon as he mentions the name. She slowly turns around to face him and a silent Bucky. “What kind of problem is it?”

Time passes longer than you would’ve liked but once again you were used to it. This trip did nothing but show you the reality of your life and your relationship. You could never truly get away from this lifestyle. You quickly change into normal clothes, your mood has drastically changed and the likelihood of your girlfriend returning to you anytime soon was uncommon. As expected when the bedroom door opens you know it’s Natasha and you know she’s come to tell you the bad news but what she doesn’t expect is for you to already have the bags packed and ready to be put into the car. Her apology falls dead on the tip of her tongue as you cut her off before she even had the chance to release it. “I don’t want to hear it.” Your response is cold and calm, two signs she’s much familiar with now, you could snap at any moment. Which furthers the internal need to be close to you she knows there’s a chance of a fight happening, an item being thrown at her hell you could be hiding a knife somewhere just waiting to make your move. She ignores her thoughts and cautiously takes small steps towards you at a time.

“Hey, it’s another emergency that needs to be addressed and it’s much bigger than what happened this morning.” You don’t say anything to her as you sit in silence on the edge of the bed. She tries to be near you to bring you some sort of comfort, but you stand up and head for the door with your luggage in hand. “I told you I don’t want to hear it; I don’t want to hear excuses.” Natasha already felt bad and now you’re using her own shit against her which makes her feel even worse. She reached for you hoping you’d let her explain the situation further. Maybe it’ll ease the pain if you knew just how dire it was to fly back home. All she got in return was a stinging slap to the face before you stormed out of the room with your luggage completely. Natasha wasn’t expecting it but she isn’t mad at it, you’re upset, angry and hurt. She knows you’re not letting it all out, so a slap to the face is something she’d have to endure. She grabs a duffel bag and tells Bucky and Clint to get the rest of the luggage as she follows after you.

You remained silent in the car as Clint and Natasha discussed business matters. You settle for keeping your focus on the car window knowing Natasha is staring at you intently waiting for you to address her. To say something. Anything. She leans closer to you, and you counter her movements by sliding closer to the door. She tries again by placing her hand on your thigh to silently apologize for cutting the trip short. You remove her hand immediately. In your eyes it looked like she lied about what happened earlier, which in truth she didn’t lie, things just played out that way. How Inconvenient for her. She leaves you to deal with your emotions and goes to her phone texting Yelena about your incoming attitude and about this meeting that Alexei demanded to have.

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You make your way onto the private jet, and you still have not said one word to Natasha other than your outburst from earlier. You flop down in the seat after taking a sucker from the candy bowl and popping it into your mouth. Natasha brings two champagne flutes over as she sits next to you. She asks you something and your only response is to grab the abandoned pair of headphones and turn the volume up to true maximum level to drown out her repeating apologies. “Can I have some?” She removes the left side of your headphones to speak directly into your ear. When she has your attention, she nods to the candy that’s in your mouth. You roll your eyes and hand her the bowl only she never reaches for it. Instead, she goes for the sucker in your mouth, and she reaches for the end of the stick. Lightly tugging on it for you to release it from your tight grasp. Making a sound of annoyance and disapproval you swat her prying hands away.

“You’re not gonna share with me?” You once again shove the bowl of candy near Natasha, and she still doesn’t budge. That’s not what she wanted. This was her way of getting you to interact with her. To acknowledge her. It’s not the first time something so childish as candy could bring you back from a fit of rage and anger and back into her embrace of understanding and forgiveness. A little lighthearted interaction to let her know how deep in shit she was truly in once the two of you were back home and things went back to the everyday routine. Natasha makes a disapproving noise and tosses the candy bowl on the empty seat next to her. She’s had enough of your attitude and your unwillingness to hear her out, this wasn’t like any other excuse that truly needed her presence. Natasha quickly grips your face and turns your attention back on her.

“I didn’t plan this. Trust me I would rather still be on that yacht with you right now, but this is serious." You shrug her off of you, annoyed with her cryptic responses, she never really goes into detail about why things were serious or so urgent that you sit at the dinner table alone most nights. You remove the candy from your mouth and lick your lips, an action Natasha focuses on intensely. “You still haven’t told me what’s so serious that you cut our vacation short, a vacation I only got because you let Stark get in your head and you couldn’t keep your hands off of an attention seeking whore!” Your voice raises in volume and Clint and Bucky share a look but they remain in their seats unbothered. They’re pretty much used to the outbursts between you two and they’ll only intervene if Natasha tells them to. Meanwhile you lean away from her and place the candy back into your mouth seemingly being done with this conversation. Natasha rubs her face harshly and exhales a deep breath that she’s been holding since she got the news. Natasha calms her nerves trying to stay on her new path by managing her temper. She’s trying her best to communicate properly. “It has to do with Alexei.”

“Alexei?!” You could’ve cut the inside of your mouth with how fast you pulled the candy out of your mouth from hearing his name. She nods her head and swigs down her champagne. She was nervous. “You know just as much as anybody how dreadful this surprise meeting is going to be for me.” Natasha hasn’t spoken to Alexei directly in a long time and she hasn’t seen him in the flesh for even longer. The two of them never got along and when Natasha started to rebel against him and his orders, that caused the drift between them. The final straw that broke the camel's back was her continuing to defy him by being in a relationship with you. Once he found out about you two, things changed. He treated you differently, he deemed you as a distraction to his daughter. Of course, his attitude could only be expressed slightly back then with your father still being around and being the man in charge but once he was murdered, Alexei didn’t hold his tongue any longer. He had free reign to say anything he wanted. He Finally got to release the built-up aggression that built up over the years starting from the moment you came back, and the moment Natasha set her eyes on you.

The harsh and cruel words spewing out of his mouth no longer held back in the depths of his throat. The words remained there from the first day he caught you and Natasha together. The memories brought back pain not just yours but Natasha’s as well. You saw how she was treated by that man for as long as you’ve known her. You finally turn your whole body to her and the first thing you can see is the sincerity in her eyes. “I know.” You say with softness and love. You hold your hand out to her and she doesn’t touch you. You move your hand closer to her, placing it in her lap. “Are you gonna hold my hand or what?”

“That depends if you’re gonna slap me again or not.” You shake your head ‘no’ in response and she links her fingers with yours. Now you feel bad for slapping her knowing she has Alexei on her brain already, that abuse was enough on its own, even though your feelings and reaction was valid you needed to apologize. “I’m sorry for that by the way.” You use your other hand to rub against the cheek you previously struck. “No, you aren’t.” She cracks a smile and you return the same mirrored emotion back at her. “Okay, maybe not completely but I’m sorry for not hearing you out earlier.” You slowly exhale, lowering your gaze down to your abandoned hand on Natasha’s lap. “I was just really starting to get used to this kind of lifestyle.”

“You’ve always had a luxury lifestyle, what are you talking about?”

“Not that, I meant being normal. Having a normal and domestic lifestyle, that doesn’t involve waking up to random strangers in our living room or having to be pulled away from vacation after the shit I had to go through to even get here.” You take a brief moment to calm down. You weren’t trying to start another argument with her, not after you know what awaits her when this private jet lands. The mindset and preparation she has to readjust to. You feel the warm embrace of her hand in yours. Natasha gives you a firm and comforting squeeze before she finally links her fingers with yours. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I know I’ll never be able to truly escape it but it would be nice to put things on pause more often and just...get away.” You look to Natasha to answer your response as if your statement was a question. She understands perfectly without the use of your voice. She’s known how long you’ve wanted to get away and it was always put on the back burner, had she known that a vacation trip meant this much to you, your passport would’ve been overfilled with stamps by now. She feels guilty for neglecting you and not being attentive to your needs. All she had to do was make a call and everything you wanted would be everything you’d have. “We’ll take more trips…I promise.” You give her an annoyed look, it's something you’ve heard before and you’d rather not hear the lie again. “I’m serious, if you want to take a trip just book a flight or call Fitz to have the jet ready and we’ll go wherever you want.”

“Tash, you talk a sweet game, but we both know how this will play out.”

“I’m making changes, I’ve put in the effort and I’ve owned up to my mistakes. I’m being serious, I really mean it this time.” You hum with satisfaction as you see new determination in her eyes. Your hand tugs the collar of her shirt forward, you hold eye contact for a moment before your lips ghost over hers. “Next time something like this happens just tell me straight up, and don’t start with apologies. Do you understand Natalia? She smirks against your lips as they slightly graze each other. “Yes, my love.”

“Good.” You say, softly and finally lean forward to peck her lips you pull away way too soon for Natasha to even get started on her attack. You pull away with a smug smile while Natasha licks her lips tasting the remnants of sweetness from the cherry blow pop, she was practically begging for moments ago. “I’m stressed out over here and you’re teasing me?”

“You’re right” you go in for another kiss, but this time Natasha pulls you in and holds your face in place as she deepens the kiss. It’s sloppy and desperate, which is another silent sign that means she needs comfort and support right now. when you try pulling away again, she places her hand around your neck giving you a subtle squeeze as a warning to keep still. Natasha makes sure to savor the artificial flavor as she strokes her tongue around every part inside of your mouth. The noises you two pull from each other caused Clint to fully turn his hearing aids off and Bucky turns his headphones on max volume to drown out the lewd sounds. When she finally lets you come up for air, she admires your dazed expression and goes back to drinking her champagne as if nothing just happened.

“You just tried to kill me!” You say as you finally get the sensation of oxygen coming in again. she chuckles and turns her head towards you. “It’s your fault for not sharing with me.” Is all she says before shrugging her shoulders and sighing before she makes a move to get up. You quickly place your hand on hers stopping her movements, a silent question hung in the air about why she’s leaving her seat. “I need to plan things out with Clint and buck” you move your hand and silently nod in agreement but before she leaves you beckon her with your finger for one more kiss which she happily obliged to.

After a few playful nips and bites, you both pull away and you place the blow pop against Natasha’s wet lips. “I also forgot to mention that Alexei is meeting at our house tonight for dinner.” The moments of normalcy and domestication were over, now things were officially going back to what you've been used to since you were born. You just hope and pray that no one ends up dead but maybe that's asking for far too much when Alexei is at the center of the equation.

[chaewonplzbiteme]

Gift from Work

{Kwon Eunbi / M!Reader}

Tags: top!Eunbi, bottom!Reader (so slight femdom?), slight feet, body worship, paizuri, penis-in-vagina, mandatory cream pie, breeding, established relationship, orgasm delay / denial, signature humor, plot what plot, did-someone-order-metaphors-galore?.

2,671 words. Read it on AO3.

Summary: Eunbi comes home after a photoshoot and is in a mood to bring a gift home.

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Listen to this fic!

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A/N: This was a digital-only straightforward top-to-bottom writing-in-the-dark, first draft churned out in three days (~16h, plus ~7h of editing), without any notes at all, after we challenged each other to a BFH.

Direct your complaints at the regional kpop branch office. Send likes to CK. First attempt at BFH. My conclusion is, I’m incapable of a ‘haze-fueled’ thing. No, really, I don’t write when horny. I hope it’s still a delightful read.

Disclaimers: Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I wish it were real, though (/jk my stories are not my fantasies).

No person or entity associated with this story received payment or anything of value, or entered into any agreement, in connection with the depiction of clothing products.

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You were about to beeline straight to bed, past the living room and across the hallway, when the miniscule sound of the front door unlocking stopped you in your tracks.

In walked your girlfriend, Kwon Eunbi, her features hidden by a wide hat and sunglasses as idols commonly did when incognito. Loose jeans and ankle-high boots concealed her lower body; while the upper half was covered by a waist-long trench coat—even though it was high summer, where the temperatures stayed hot into the evenings.

You turned and pointed at the kitchen, greeting her as she sorted her boonie hat. “There’s food in the microwave, should I—”

“—Ah, I brought you something from work.”

“Huh, weren’t you at a photoshoot?” You scratched your head, watching her put the hand bag away; nothing worthwhile appeared to be inside, so this time perhaps it wouldn’t be branded pencils from the agency. But what would it be, then?

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

With her beautiful face uncovered, her blush rosé lip gloss parted and darted forward, the wooden heels jabbed the parquet and reverberated in the narrow convexity. You were given a very short countdown and no chance to evade. Eunbi slung her arms around your neck and her lips latched onto yours. Your breath had already escaped ahead of the impact.

After stressful schedules, usually you two made it to the couch first before dropping, maybe at least the arch of the living room when she had given some steamy performances (*cough* she was still wet after coming home *cough*). But today, Eunbi seemed extra avid, already completely unhinged at the doorway.

While staggering backwards, driven by her body pressing into yours, her breasts squishing into you, your back pushed open the door already set ajar. With wobbling steps you aimed for the couch. Well, actually you were wandering around blind. Her tongue attempted to give guidance, pushing yours around adverse to wherever you steered—but your clouded brain did not pick up any patterns from her moist stirrings.

Your leg got caught on the table; although low, that would prove to be even more fatal, sending you both in a tumble. Holding onto the tightness of her embrace, you two crashed short of the couch and the fall scattered the orderly arrangement laid on top. The mess was a hindrance to easy access for what you needed next.

Eunbi pulled off. “I think we lost the lube,” she laughed. Her wide smile wanted more. She climbed onto the couch. Her voluptuous body blocked out even the sun. Her curves in the shades turned your head with her movement. She turned and sat down with your head lodged between her thighs. Your face reflected her radiant gleam, so bright not just from the exuded warmth from her jeans.

“Do we need it?”

“Fuck you…,” she said nonchalantly, raising a corner of her mouth. You were not to question her, and you’d realize soon enough. Her hands reached for her coat.

“This is the gift, by the way,” she added. Her fingers untwirled the loops with elegant and smooth motions to open the curtains with the flaps flying.

Her jeans were unbuttoned, giving a peek at the infamous lettering stitched on brown cotton. Your eyes followed her waistline upwards across her soft stomach, until your gaze hit her mounds from below. Needless to say, you did not make it as far as her face, and she knew better than to not condone you for it.

Fit, toned, shaped, voluptuous. There were many words to describe Eunbi’s body, but the one thing she deserved the most: worship and appreciation.

Every day you had her felt like Christmas. You gulped hard. “Yes, fuck me….”

With haste, you quarried for the bottle, knocked over from earlier. Her thigh blocked your view and did not let you go. Under her watchful smirk your hand fumbled for the familiar shape, going through device remotes short and long, snack cans narrow and girthy, a bottle very viscous and a few ounces—yes, that’s the one.

You had a guess what she wanted the lube for, but you’d have to start at the bottom first.

Straightening your back and shifting your legs a tad away, you pulled your head down and unlaced her boots, gently sliding them off. Black was on the menu today. She changed her nail polish as often as her schedules, but black was a regular. It may even be your favorite (though the vibrant ones weren’t far behind) due to the stark contrast with her surrounding pale skin, so strong that the eye catching dark void was glossy even in this dim light.

Your hands rubbed her soles as your tongue circled around each toe before engulfing them in your mouth, where you could suck on them in reclusion and drown them in your admiration. Giving her your undivided attention, anywhere, unabashed, provided not just you with a sense of gratification and satisfaction, it also spurred the swelling excitement within you both. Finally, having paid her toes the tithe they were due, you pulled back again, this time to tug at her jeans.

In a wave she lowered the hem, and you picked up the torch to reveal her magnificent gems that were her sizable gams. While Eunbi was one of the shorter among her (very much) taller peers, none could match her in the shape of her legs. And you made sure to show how much you wanted to appreciate them by snailing a moist trail upwards—literally legs for days. Your dedication was answered with a satisfied smile. Your hands did not stay idle in treasuring her thighs, getting a good feel along the way.

Eunbi took loving care of her body, keeping it in a fit shape (the kind that fit her, that she’d be proud of) so well to the point where she often became horny when looking at herself. It was a natural consequence that she wanted to indulge in her body together with you.

Across the valley that was her toned stomach (especially when she lifted her arms, like right now), beyond the speed bump that was the elastic band with green lettering, you hit upon a steep incline.

The highly coveted crown jewels of idol royalty.

Your teeth grazed her mounds lightly a few times, giving her muted tingles, before kneading her breasts with your lips. The pressure on her flesh was not punctured, but firm enough to evoke a nasal sign of approval. The sheen of saliva you left on her, both the trail and from tasting her breasts, evaporated in just a few moments to an airy chill, so you kept adding more, going low and up again to freshen them up. Light bites once in a while stung her, brought her out of her trance of relishing the admiration she received.

“May I?” you asked, pulling away and shook the bottle, warmed to the touch.

Eunbi nodded and shifted around to kneel on the couch, as you lost your pants and worked the lube onto your penis. Another squirt on her breasts (“Fuck, this shit’s still cold!”) and you were ready to unite your scepter with her double orbs.

The bra parted exactly right, the triangular cut was wide open (while still looking decent), allowing you to align your cock between her breasts. She filled out the cloth even more now with you lodged in-between and her hand squeezing them together. Eunbi truly deserved her nickname, she was eunbig enough to wrap around and smother your shaft in a soft embrace.

This act was not an excuse for you to watch her knead her own breasts, though you could not help delighting yourself in such a gorgeous display, with her face looking up at you, searching for a reaction, and her voluptuous flesh being squeezed and shifting around like dough in a mixer. You aided her in the strenuous work by thrusting your hips when she was moving down, which was easier in intention than done, given that you couldn’t go far when standing.

“The CK is not exactly a… sexy cut…. But goddamn it, we can keep this pair, right?”

“Lube’s gonna leave a stain,” she said, ogling the dark blots below as they grew from the seams. The fringes were already drying up.

“I… hope that won’t be a problem?”

“Ha, yeah, well, no one knows I took them home. Yet.”

Eunbi flashed you a grin, cheeks raising into prominence before diving. Her tongue circled around your tip, choking you out of a reply.

You couldn’t be sorry for ruining the cloth now, not before you took the chance to cream the queen and added a few more spots yourself. Only then would you worry about getting rid of the blemishes. Maybe try the washing machine first, give it a spin. Oh yes, your head was in a twirl, thinking about the water sloshing around into a vortex, mind floating along with the flow. She increased the pace. The feathery tingles buckled your hips from the shudders induced by her slick actions on your shaft. Gosh, the shapes she drew with her wet organs. The cresting wave was about to hit the open door, threatening to spill out, and all the things you wanted to drench—

“—ffu—whack—”

—someone suddenly stopped the drum. The colossal whirling forces of nature, with the rug pulled away, first crumbled, then collapsed into itself. The massive downward tides clashed, and from the bottom a rogue wave shot upwards—a single spurt managed to leave your cock to hit square on her chin before her fingers tightened into a ring at the base. Empty and confused quivers followed, ears rumbling from the hollow pressure, hips spasming from wanting to give, to provide, but nothing more came through.

You found a shoulder to steady yourself with jelly legs trembling. A strained throat struggled to curse whatever befell you. Her hand braced your waist, and she sure could feel the turmoil that your muscles had gone through just now.

Eunbi’s arched brow told you everything: nothing shall spill unless her will. “Don’t thank me yet ’til you get to come inside,” she chuckled.

She gave your groin a push for your weak legs to flop onto the couch. A fresh sheen of sweat darkened the surface. Eunbi followed you right after with a mellow giggle. Pulling the panties aside and swiftly ensuring alignment, Eunbi mounted herself on you. Your breath sank as she lowered herself. Only for the first descent would she go slow, then she picked up velocity.

You may not have come yet, but you felt just as sensitive. Eunbi knew that. Your groaning and hoarse muffles confirmed it.

With her body pressing you into the cushions, you gave in to the fact that you could not dictate the speed at which she took you. Her contour blocked out most of the hallway glow, visible faint around the corner. Some last scraps glimmering through her black hair. Her head lowered until the side of her face was underlined by scattered rays, bringing her ethereal beauty to light. She bent forward for her bosoms to fill whatever remained in your view; all residual thoughts of your day were squashed by her humongous tits.

Surrounded, smothered, with nowhere to go, you were in the happy position to charge in all directions. Anywhere your tongue lunged out, wherever your chin winded up for your mouth to snap at, you managed to grasp her skin and flesh. By roaming your hands and arms across her back you pressed on the attack with ferocity. But despite all your best efforts, Eunbi was relentlessly gyrating her hips on your cock, her tight muscles—concealed within the opulent body—clenched around your shaft and rubbed it up and down as her taut stomach glided on yours over the layer of combined perspiration. Any shiver caused by your numerous offensives rippled through her as a flinch, a shudder in her folds. It was not long until Eunbi matched her moans to yours in volume.

Each quiver of her core sent an electrifying tingle through your penis and your hips started twitching. Wide movements smeared your sweat all over the couch, with enough momentum to outright stamp the marks deep into the material. Dry slick soon turned sticky, but each of you powered through, the humping never let up the bouncing. Still muffled, you could not tell whose breath was hitching more.

Everything melded further together the more you focused on not yielding to whatever your shaking hips wanted to do. Was everything you tasted now actually her transpiration; maybe your own; the natural flavor of her skin; or even the glistening gold from the sovereign’s orbs? Whatever stray and irrelevant stirabouts of which tastes the liquid were carrying that your brain had concocted up would be dropped right now.

Eunbi lowered her voice slowly to your ear, luscious lips scraping across your cheeks. You already knew what she wanted, you were more than ready, and just the brush of her whisper had sufficed to let you loose.

The air carried the demand of milk for the queen’s tea. Without doubt, what better way to serve it than by her favorite regalia!

At her behest, your body was finally granted the permission to unbuckle any and all holds, to unleash the boy juices from their restraints. The rumbling of your hips churned even more ferocious waves into the already violent sea, shaking the ship that was your lap, and on this unsteady deck milk was attempted to be poured, actually more like spilled, straight into the tea pot, filling it to the brim and beyond. Mutual groans, as if thrilled following along the action, accompanied each time your penis pulsed and shot out more spurts. Copious amounts of the white liquid spilled out. What couldn’t be accommodated in time ran along your most intimate connection to blend with the abundant fluids and drip out as the purest testimony of your dedication.

Tea was ready to be presented. The frothiness of chai latte was one of her secret pleasures. Obviously, she had never divulged this favorite of hers to anyone before.

Eunbi drew her tongue across her lips. But when she took hold of the kettle, shifting higher to pour herself an aromatic cup of blissful sweetness, eyes already closed, she slipped on all the sweat that covered you both. Eunbi fell down your cock again, letting out a deep groan, and from the sudden impact the kettle was dropped. The capsizing turn of events spilled out all of her love liquids. A tide sprayed from your connection that infused with what was in the puddle.

Panting, taking long breaths, you finally had the opportunity to behold the mess made on the couch and around. The sprawled clothes barely did a thing to cover the objects thrown off the table. The intensity of your combined exertion was evident in how much the set of remaining clothes on her was soaked. A literal lake had formed beneath you, its reaches pooling in any crevice and the valley where you sank in.

All those waves and splashes were not just some lecherous metaphors your mind had come up with. “Fuck, we should have put a towel down,” you gasped.

Eunbi scooped up some with her hand formed into a cup and brought it to her mouth.

The queen was not quite amused from the spillage, yet more than content and satisfied with what she could savor.

Perhaps next time Eunbi should do a home & bath CF, then. You’d love to watch her come home in a bathrobe, still glistening wet (or provide a bucket load yourself, do we pick white or clear?).

“I don’t think one will be enough,” she said before seizing your lips once more.

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER THREE | 18+

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

DRUNK IN LOVE

“I haven’t been the same since we met.”

«PREVIOUS CHAPTER» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, switch!Hyunjin, switch!reader, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, mutual fantasizing, sexual fantasy sequence (dom!reader, sub!Hyunjin), masturbation (f), heavy insecurity and self deprecation, oral (f receiving), rough sex, degradation, edging/orgasm denial, unprotected sex, misuse of alcohol (reader is a very sad drunk), both of them are actual idiots that will make you want to scream :( Word Count: 20.5k

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

The first thing Hyunjin understands when he comes to is how disgusting his mouth tastes. The faint, bitter taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue brings the memory of the night prior’s bad decisions; he’s never gone a single day in his life without brushing his teeth at night, in addition to the rest of his extensive pre-bedtime routine. The lack of moisture that pulls at his skin like a scratchy draft has him reaching for his nightstand, from where he’s burrowed in blankets like a corn dog. For a few embarrassing minutes, Hyunjin puts up a valiant effort trying to locate his special night repair face lotion solely with his flailing palm, before he’s rudely interrupted.

“Wake the fuck up, Sleeping Beauty.” 

The strangely familiar, feminine yet husky voice brings him hurtling back into reality. Cautiously, Hyunjin retracts his arm and opens his eyes; the blinding light that meets them does not help his splitting headache that rivals the shaking faultlines of San Andreas. 

When he finally adjusts to the brightness, he realizes that he’s in a room that’s definitely not his. The vast SolarSmart windows that would have already dimmed to match his sleepy blinking have been replaced by an antique bay window. Instead of the aristocratic fragrance of his favorite Le Labo candle, the air is thick with the smell of maple syrup. And his beloved Egyptian cotton sheets are gone in favor of a sherpa set that has him sweating in the year-round heat, which isn’t helped by the fact that this place isn’t humidity controlled.

“I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Rapunzel,” Hyunjin groans, stretching and tilting his head up to meet Lisa’s eyes. “You know, great hair and all.”

“Ha ha.” Lisa rolls her eyes, trying to maintain her expression of annoyance, but Hyunjin catches the hint of a smile on her lips; it’s inevitable, trying to fight the effect of his charms, especially when he’s just woken up all adorable and rumpled by sleep. “It’s almost noon, I thought I’d wake you up.”

“Noon?!” Hyunjin flies into a sitting position, frozen in an unfamiliar panic and unable to think of what to do next. By this time in his usual daily routine, he would have been enjoying a light lunch in his office while journaling in his gratitude notebook. Fuck, his stomach calls out for a nice balsamic arugula salad, maybe with a freshly-squeezed orange juice on the side to help with the regrettable effects of alcohol.

Lisa coughs lightly, bending down to pick up a discarded collection of clothing strewn on the floor, before handing it over to Hyunjin. The nausea rises up in Hyunjin’s stomach as he sifts through the clothes that he recognizes as his own. And then, as if in sudden remembrance, he looks down at himself and realizes that he’s completely naked except for his Gucci boxers. Horrified, he looks over at Lisa, but before he can say anything, she cuts him off.

“No. We didn’t have sex.” Lisa avoids Hyunjin’s eyes, picking at one of her burgundy-painted nails. She seems strangely skittish, in stark comparison to her confident, nearly feline-like mannerisms last night.

“Then what happened last night?” Hyunjin slips on his shirt and slides out of bed to pull his pants on, resolving to get dressed already right there; at this point, there is no more mortifying himself.

Lisa shrugs, an embarrassed blush overtaking her features. “We did some shots at the bar, before I suggested you come over for better drinks, so we could, well, you know. Hook-up. But you really did drink more. A lot more. And just as you took off your clothes, you blacked-out.”

“Blacked-out?” Hyunjin’s whole body feels racked with disbelief. And yet, the memories come fading back in: the botched matchmaking event, him retreating to drink away his sorrows, the handsy taxi ride back to Lisa’s place. “I barely even get tipsy.”

“It seemed like there was a lot on your mind last night. I don’t know what to say to you right now.” Lisa scratches her wrist lightly, as if trying to occupy herself while waiting for Hyunjin to get the hell out of her home. But the movement draws Hyunjin’s attention to her hand, where a fat, glimmering diamond rests on her ring finger, one that wasn’t there the previous night.

Realization flows in, ghastly and unwarranted. He clears his throat, tossing his jacket over his shoulders. “And you’re fucking married.”

Lisa freezes, the blood completely draining out of her face as her lips go paper thin. “I can explain.”

Hyunjin tilts his head with fresh resolve, taking his phone and wallet from where they’re fortunately perched on top of the nightstand. “Nope. I’m getting out of here. Looks like you’ve got some personal things going—” 

“Hyunjin, I’m not married. Please, just—” Lisa quickly crosses in front of him, blocking the doorway, looking at him with pleading eyes. “I’m engaged.”

“Big difference that makes,” Hyunjin mutters, crossing his arms. Nevertheless, he waits for her to speak, softening when he catches the glimpse of pain flash in her eyes.

“My fiancé. He’s… I- I know he’s not working late all those nights, like he says he is.” Lisa exhales shakily, closing her eyes. “I know who you are. The Love Doctor. Initially, I thought I would talk to Jake, maybe book us an appointment with you. But then I saw you at the bar, and I don’t know, it felt like a sign.”

“And you wanted to make him hurt like he hurt you,” Hyunjin finishes for her. He’d had clients like Lisa, the vengeful wives looking to bite back at the ones who wronged them— he just never imagined that he would have almost been a part of such a plot. 

She nods guiltily. “And I also just wanted to forget everything, even if it was going to be temporary. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so when you fell asleep, I was kind of relieved.”

Hyunjin snorts and snaps back with no real malice in his words, just a hint of mirth. “Glad me blacking out worked well for you.”

Lisa shoots him a tiny, sheepish grin. “To be fair, I don’t think you really wanted to go through with it. When you were drunk, you kept repeating the same name over and over again.”

He stills at her response, remembering no such event. But of course it makes sense; there’s a certain someone lingering in his thoughts 24/7, and she has no plan of leaving him anytime soon. “I guess.”

If she notices the immediate color in Hyunjin’s cheeks, Lisa says nothing. She just shuffles to the side, letting Hyunjin exit the bedroom before leading him to the main entrance of her apartment. “Again, I’m sorry about everything, Hyunjin. I shouldn’t have tried to use you like that. I really am sorry.”

Hyunjin accepts her apology, a strange mix of sympathy and understanding unfurling in his stomach. After all, he tried doing the same thing, to find someone else to warm his bed and take his mind off of the one person he really wanted. It was a bad night for both of them. “You’re still welcome to find me anytime.”

“Thanks a lot.” Lisa gives him a smile, before it fades into something more playful, one that fits her better than any expression he’s seen on her so far. “If I’m being honest, though, you're not really my type.”

“You know exactly what I mean. Call my secretary and book an appointment if you ever want one. With or without your fiancé.” Hyunjin scoffs, glaring at Lisa over his shoulder as he walks away. “And I’m everyone’s type.”

When his Uber finally pulls up in front of Oasis, Hyunjin hurries up to his penthouse and tries to make the most out of the rest of the cruelly shortened day— after a quick shower to wash off the stench of alcohol and pine air freshener.

Hunched over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch at his kitchen island, Hyunjin swipes through all of the pop-ups on his laptop, going through everything that he’s missed in the time during which he’d dissociated from all common sense. Everyday, Wonyoung makes sure Hyunjin stays up-to-date on all of his engagements by adding all of his event invitations to his Google calendar; Hyunjin spends a good few minutes clicking through everything, accepting all of his upcoming meetings. He’s been slacking off at work lately, skipping team lunches and sitting out on evening debriefs— but that’s all about to change, because Hyunjin needs to get his life back together again. And that includes making things right with you. 

“Want to pull up for a quick afternoon appointment?” Hyunjin mouths out loud. He then makes a face and deletes the letter, groaning out loud. “This isn’t a high school date…”

After a few more failed attempts at trying to write a breezy but appropriate check-in email to you, Hyunjin resolves to call his no-nonsense secretary, knowing that the Velma to his Daphne would help him rediscover his suavity again. Maybe she could even catch him up on today’s SeoulSpark gossip that he’d missed, if they had time. But he underestimates her temper when she finally picks up after the fourth ring:

“Where the fuck were you?” Wonyoung screeches into the phone, making Hyunjin wince and pull his iPhone away from his ear. “Do you know how worried sick I was? How many times have I called you? You didn’t even show up to the brunch you had with the Carters! I had to practically beg Beyoncé not to drop us, only after promising her and Jay-Z five free sessions! I hope you’re ready to deal with the company's losses!”

“I’m sorry, I know, I know.” Hyunjin whines. “I know I’ve been really sidetracked, but I promise I’m making things right.”

“You’d better, Hyunjin.” Wonyoung bites, before taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. “I want you over at SeoulSpark on Monday at 6 AM, sharp. We will be going over each and every single client, and then making a game plan for the next five months. You have a meeting with Dr. Jeon, and then Mr. Jung. And Ms. Y/L/N requested an appointment last night, and you can most certainly afford it right now, so you’ll also be meeting with her. Respectfully, I suggest you get your ass over here as soon as possible.”

“Yes, yes— wait.” Hyunjin perks up, dropping his spoon into the soggy bowl of cereal, not minding the tiny droplets of milk that splash up at him. “Did you say Y/N?”

“What’s the matter?”

He shakes his head, dumping the remnants of his meal into the sink. “Nothing. I’ll see you!”

The slow drag of the days until the next week turns into a blur on Monday morning. Hyunjin pulls on a crisp white Celine t-shirt to go with a flowy pair of pleated trousers from the back of his closet, the kind of casual, chic outfit tailored that can always uplift any day. As a final touch, Hyunjin shrugs on a simple yet effective cardigan and dabs some cologne onto his wrists. 

During the drive over to SeoulSpark, Hyunjin reflects on the fact that he’d be seeing you in just a few hours, even though he just saw you a few days ago. When you could barely look Hyunjin in the eye after his colossal blunder. When you’d run away to be far, far away from him, somewhere he couldn’t hurt you again. But he wouldn’t let that happen again, ever. You’re far too precious, and he doesn’t plan on losing you anytime soon, even if you’ll never know what you truly mean to him.

He sighs, parking Cami in her specially reserved spot in the SeoulSpark garage, before taking off his shades and heading inside. As soon as he steps through the sliding glass doors, he can barely muster up a ‘hello’ to his receptionist, Felix, before Wonyoung pounces on him. In the blink of an eye, Wonyoung has dragged him up to his office, where she sits him down at his desk and begins to ferociously rattle off his to-do list for the day.

Luckily, he’s saved by Dr. Jeon, who raps on the open door with a wry smile on his face. “Can I come in, Wonyoung, or are you still busy disciplining Hyunjin?”

Wonyoung huffs at him, before picking up her tablet and making her way out. “He’s all yours. Make it snappy, though. He has a full schedule.”

“Yes, Ms. Jang.” Dr. Jeon says with mock seriousness that makes Wonyoung shoot him a murderous glare, before making himself comfortable on the sofa and turning to Hyunjin. “Damn, where’d you buy this thing? I could take a fat nap here.”

“West Elm.” Hyunjin is unable to keep the smile off of his face. “What’s up, Jungkook?”

“Well, this is kind of an awkward question, if you don’t mind…” Jungkook shoots him a hopeful look, and Hyunjin gives him a nod to continue. “I was just wondering about the company policy about dating clients? It isn’t clear whether we’re allowed to or not, but I know it’s a little iffy.”

Hyunjin sits up in surprise, mind immediately going to you. The SeoulSpark guidelines on dating clients were never explicit to begin with, but it was kind of unsaid that dating clients is out of the question, especially when it could jeopardize business. Of course he’d thought about this before, on the nights when he had been feeling extra delusional over the thought of having you all to himself. But it could never be real.

“What’s this all about, Jungkook?” Hyunjin shifts in his seat warily. “We generally advise against it, even after clients decide to end their memberships. It’s messy territory, one that we try to avoid.”

Jungkook clears his throat. “I mean, she’s not even my client. I think she’s one of yours, actually. She caught my eye at the matchmaking event yesterday— she was wearing this sexy blue sundress. Y/N was her name, I think? I thought, I don't know, that I could maybe ask her out or something? If she didn’t have any matches?”

Oh, hell no.

Hyunjin’s blood immediately goes cold. He likes Jungkook— a lot, actually. He’s a good colleague and friend, and a great drinking buddy when he feels up to it. Jungkook has tagged along with him and Seungmin quite often, whenever they decide to go out to find someone to warm their beds for the night. The topic of women has never been foreign between them, especially in a setting like SeoulSpark. But his woman? Absolutely not. 

Even if you aren’t actually his, Hyunjin would rather break Jungkook’s annoyingly perfect nose than see his hands all over you, and that’s saying something, because Hyunjin hates killing even mosquitos. Jungkook watching you laugh over a plate of pasta. Jungkook helping you into his car. Jungkook kissing you while he brings heaven to you in his bed. All of the things that Hyunjin should get to do.

Technically, it wouldn’t be the end of the world for SeoulSpark if Jungkook dated you, especially since you aren’t his client— but it would be for Hyunjin. Hell if Jeon Jungkook, the notorious player of SeoulSpark, would have you in his stead.

“No.”

Jungkook frowns. “But—”

“I said no, Dr. Jeon. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Hyunjin snaps coldly, barely fazed by that uncharacteristic iciness in his own tone. “Please see yourself out, and come to me when you have something actually useful to discuss.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “You seem to be in a mood today, Hyunjin. But whatever, I’ll back off. See you later, I guess.”

Hyunjin knows he should feel bad as he watches Jungkook shrink out his view, but all he has is a vicious sense of satisfaction. That’ll teach him— Christ, is he jealous? Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t get jealous. The world is an oyster, and you, his shimmering pearl. He really is so screwed.

The next few hours are a blur, as Hyunjin does his best to be attentive as he sits through meetings with his executive team, including the one with his Chief Marketing Officer, Jung Hoseok, to discuss potential brand partnerships that would be good for SeoulSpark. He deserves an award for not falling asleep during the very essential Zoom call to confirm whether he should allow his face to be stamped onto a cat food brand (the answer was no, he’s forever a dog person).

By the time the sun has dipped below the horizon, Hyunjin has finished meeting with his second-to-last client of the day, Yang Jeongin, that brazen college student who had talked back to him during his TED talk. Poor guy had been through so much, really, with a history of being dumped, the latest offender being a cheating girlfriend who had effectively ruined his outlook on life. But over the past few months, Hyunjin had been able to chip through that broken exterior to find a brilliant young man in need of just a push in the right direction. He reminds Hyunjin of you so much.

“Thanks, Hyun. I’ll see you next week.” Jeongin waves goodbye at Hyunjin, who’s already rifling through his desk drawer for his compact mirror and breath mints.

Hyunjin flashes him a quick smile. “You too, Jeongin.”

As quick as Jeongin has left, the feeling of being alone washes away when you step into the room, knocking the wind out of Hyunjin’s lungs, as always. Today, you’ve foregone those usual pinks, a constant that Hyunjin had loved so much about your outfits. Nevertheless, you’re stunning; the sea-green floral maxi dress floats delicately around your ankles, and Hyunjin has to mentally kick himself to stop staring at the dainty line of buttons crossed along the ruched bust of the bodice.

“There you are!” Hyunjin beams like the sun, the stress of the day’s burdens melting away.

But instead of getting all cute and flustered at his theatrics like you always do, you give him a thin smile and sit down on the couch. “Hey, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin tries not to let the concern flood into his logic, but it’s impossible, when it comes to you. However, he makes a valiant effort in crossing his legs and trying to hide the turbulence of emotions beneath his skin by plastering a placid expression onto his face. “So… want to talk about last week?”

“There’s not much to talk about.” You shrug and avoid Hyunjin’s gaze, looking out the window with a forlorn glint in your eyes. 

“Darling, please.” Hyunjin breaks. He gets up from behind his desk and folds himself into the space next to you, failing to maintain his impartiality. He hates to see you like this, like you so steadfastly believe that you’re alone, when he’s been here for you the entire time. “Open up to me.”

You look directly into Hyunjin’s eyes, prompting a shiver to run down his spine. He wishes you could look at him like that while forcing him down onto his knees. “I had sex with Han Jisung.” 

Of everything, hearing that was not on Hyunjin’s 2023 bingo card. For a moment, he just gapes at you in shock. As your dating coach, he never thought you’d be ready to become intimate with someone so soon, especially the guy who made you run off in horror just a few days prior. And as the person who is secretly in love with you, he could never actually imagine you with anyone except for him. Yet, he now has the wonderful, vivid image of you and Han Jisung getting it on. How nice. 

And then comes the complete fury. But before he can act upon it, throwing aside his zen policy to bestow you with an aggressive line of questioning— that he is absolutely not entitled to, at all— you hold up your hand, shutting him up.

“And I think we should stop seeing each other.”

In that moment, nothing but utter horror slashes through every fiber of Hyunjin’s being. Of all of the scenarios he’d gone through in his mind, the worst case is actually happening— goddamnit, universe. What would the point of life be if you weren’t in his, anymore? “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

You give Hyunjin a pitiful smile that makes him want to go crawl into a hole somewhere and die. “That’s one way to put it, I guess. But I’m your client. This is a good sign.”

That’s not all you are. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This can’t be real. 

“You know what I mean!”

“Shouldn’t you be happy for me?” You purse your lips. “I guess I’ve finally moved on from Jisung, now that I’ve slept with someone else. I can finally go forth in the world without his shadow holding me back. I’m completely over it.”

Hyunjin closes his eyes, lightly massaging his temples using the stress-prevention technique that his old masseuse taught him before she moved back to Thailand. It doesn’t work. Fuck, is he sweating? “Well, I think you’re not completely over it. This is a step, not the destination. Having sex with a guy you just met is definitely not what we programmed into your love life GPS— we’re still driving! Besides, you still have a month of sessions left on your contract!”

“Uhhh, okay.” You give Hyunjin a puzzled look that makes him cringe inwardly— fuck his fruity metaphors. “Either way, I just don’t think I need your help anymore, to be honest. But I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“No.” Hyunjin shakes his head stubbornly, resolve set deep inside of him. If you wanted him to get all technical and make himself sound like a pretentious prick, then fine. Anything to keep you from leaving. “As the person who you have entrusted to provide you with a professional opinion, I do not accept your rationale for ending our contract. It’s sudden, and you’d just be wasting your own money because everything was prepaid. It doesn’t make sense for you to go like this, don’t you think? Talk to me.”

And Hyunjin sees you pause, the doubt written across your gorgeous features. You put on a little eyeliner today, and when your eyes crinkle in doubt, the winged ends of the liner downturn, making you look impossibly cute. Hyunjin wants nothing more than to kiss that pout on your lips— not smooth it away, but make it his, somehow, to watch you look down at him with that same expression when he’s on his knees for you.

He waits with bated breath, until you finally throw your hands up, relenting. “Okay. Alright. But only because I have a month left. After that, I won’t be renewing the contract.”

You grumpily sit back down on the sofa, and Hyunjin has to clench his jaw to keep from grinning like an idiot. “So, tell me. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

You sigh, looking away from Hyunjin as you toy with one of the beads on the skirt of your dress. You take your time thinking, and Hyunjin doesn’t rush you, wanting you to be as authentic as possible when providing him with an answer. “There’s this guy…”

Hyunjin then feels all of the blood drain out of face right then. If the abrupt announcement of your departure from SeoulSpark’s services had not sent him into a panic, then this definitely did. He sees that unsure yet determined look in your eye, the kind he’s observed appearing whenever you have a strong opinion to share, the thoughts of other people be damned.

“Who… who is it?” He manages to spit out, thinking back to his go-to metaphoric fork and stabbing himself in the thigh with it, over and over again, to keep himself in place. “Someone from the matchmaking event?”

“It’s not any of those guys, no. You probably don’t even know him. Some guy from work,” you explain quickly, prompting a fresh wave of confusion to wash over Hyunjin. “But that’s not the point. He’s, um, always on my mind. I can’t stop thinking about him, no matter how much I don’t want to. Because, for obvious reasons, I can’t be with him. And I don’t want to hurt him, because the pain from the past— from Jisung— is still there, even if I don’t love him anymore. I don’t trust myself with love.”

Love? Is that what this is? Do you love whoever this useless idiot is? 

Hyunjin’s thoughts cower in betrayal, even though you owe him absolutely nothing. He shakes them away, focusing on everything else you’ve just confided in him with. “It’s okay to not be completely over the past. You might never be, and that’s okay, because what you went through was traumatic. That kind of hurt sticks, and you’re strong for trying to move forward. But you can’t let the fear of the unknown stop you.”

You shake your head. “But it’s too significant to ignore, that fear. My worst nightmare is hurting him like Jisung did to me. What if I end up doing that, Hyunjin? What if I leave him, like Jisung left me?”

“Don’t compare yourself to that piece of shit,” Hyunjin says sharply, making you jump a little. Normally, he’d apologize for coming on too strong, but he couldn’t. Not when you talk about yourself like that. “And it’s just a risk you’re going to have to take. And if he’s really worth it, then he’ll stay by your side no matter what.” 

I would. I wouldn’t ever fucking leave you. 

Before you can say anything, Hyunjin keeps going, unable to restrain himself from asking this next question, because he has to know. He has to know if you truly mean it. “So, the question is, do you think he is? Is he worth it?”

“I love who I am because of him,” you state, and with the way your voice doesn’t even waver, Hyunjin knows it to be completely true. “I’m ten times less pessimistic than I usually am. He makes me feel like a morning person, even though I’m not. And I actually want to do more with my life, see everything it has to offer. He makes me a better person, but I never feel forced to do anything for his attention, for the way he cares.”

“He- he sounds wonderful,” Hyunjin responds, and he’s trying— he really is— but he just doesn’t believe he can be genuine, not now. Not when he feels his heart breaking inside, not when he knows he’s a selfish bastard who should be celebrating you. And what did he fucking expect? That someone wouldn’t see a diamond and pick it up, keeping it for themselves? He’s so, so stupid. 

“He is.” You give him a meaningful look that makes his head spin. Now, what does that mean? Hyunjin doesn’t have it in him to be an interpreter today, strolling across the shoreline rocks of your mind, trying to decipher what today’s tides bring. It’s his literal job to know what you’re thinking, and yet, today his mind is completely clear of any sense of logic.

“He makes me feel seen, even if he may never feel the same,” you continue, biting your lip. “He’s the most beautiful person I know.”

“I’m not supposed to say this, but anyone who wouldn’t return your feelings is a total idiot.” Hyunjin smiles at the way you shoot him a skeptical look. He wants to at least try to convey even a single sign that tells you that he’s glad you’ve found someone good, someone that could make you happy— what he could never do for you himself. “And I’m glad, Y/N. It’s a good thing we still have a month, because I can tell that there’s still some unease on your end, because you’re clearly holding yourself back. I just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry if I was making a scene. I just so want to be done with all of this fixing. I just want to be ready to let go of all of that baggage, and I guess I was in a rush to do so.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. Trust me, I get the feeling, more than you know.” Hyunjin reaches across and places his hand on yours, trying to relax you. “It’s okay to want to move on. It’s okay to be frustrated. And it’s okay to want someone. Let yourself be happy, because ultimately, you’re the only one who can control that, no one else.”

For the first time during your meeting today, you break out into a smile, and Hyunjin has to blink to readjust him to the sight. It’s like a rainbow has cut through a stormy sky, joining in a perfect Yin and Yang. Hyunjin loves all of you, both the color and the tempest, because together, they make you who you are. He wouldn’t change you for the world; all he’s ever done for you was try to make you realize that yourself.

“You are such a gift, Hyunjin,” you say fondly, and Hyunjin has to remind himself that it’s because you see him as a friend, as a confidante. It would never be in the way he completely wants it to be, and he’ll have to make his peace with that, for you.

“I know. All I’m missing is a big pink bow,” Hyunjin jokes, plastering a smile onto his face. For the first time ever, he wishes you would walk out of his office, taking with you your infectious laugh and incandescent gaze. You can’t be here when he falls apart like he so badly needs to. 

You laugh, thankfully not sensing his internal turmoil. “Alright, Hyunjin. I have to get going. But I’ll see you next week?”

He nods, rising as you stand and turn for the door. “Of course. Have a good one, darling.”

“Same goes for you.” You reach up and give his shoulder a little squeeze, before you’re walking away, too soon and yet, not fast enough.

From where you touched him over his cardigan, Hyunjin’s skin burns with desire. But it isn’t enough to keep him from clumsily shutting the door closed behind him as he stumbles back inside of his office. He screws his eyes shut and tries to rapidly think of a list of his favorite things. Pink roses. Sequined Versace blazers. Puppies. Monet paintings.

But he should know by now that such sorrow is inevitable. It was written in his fate, the moment he set his eyes and heart upon you, knowing he would never get that happy ending. After all, he’s the Love Doctor, not a miracle worker. He knows this to be true especially when he feels a dampness on his cheeks and thinks it to be some kind of bewitched rain that’s able to fall inside his office. It’s only when he looks into his compact mirror that he realizes that he’s crying, broken and hopelessly gone for you.

That did not go well. You walked into SeoulSpark with a plan and had promptly failed, when Hyunjin decided to persuade you into staying. But you gave in to his pretty eyes and assuaging words, conveniently forgetting about the half-hour long promises you made with yourself in the morning. 

You were supposed to end your contract, regardless of whether you would be wasting your money or not. That would have been a small price to pay for the pain of love. And you know you’re right, because you start to cry during your shameful walk through the parking lot.

You don’t know what it is that made you open up so profoundly to Hyunjin, past the point where it was safe to conceal your feelings for him. But you just had to keep speaking, going so far as to describe Hyunjin as the object of all of your agitation and pretending like it was someone else that he had no idea of. You’re a fraud, and your only consolation is that Hyunjin sees you so platonically that he probably would never catch onto your feelings. After all, in what world would someone like you being with someone of his caliber ever make any sense? And it’s ironic, really, that you’ve fallen for him, the person who is there to help you find someone else to spend lonely nights with.

After unlocking your car, you collapse into the front seat, letting all of your emotions out for a good few minutes into the night. When the sides of your face finally begin to dry, you open your eyes with a groan, turning the key in the ignition and driving back home. 

You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, because that godforsaken networking party was looming sooner in the future than you’d like, and you still had to buy something to wear. Your current wardrobe was much more vibrant than it had been just a few months ago, the jeans and plaid blazers hidden behind fluttery sundresses and silky skirts. However, it was all far too casual for the heightened class that you knew the event would require, and therefore, you’d recruited Yeonjun to help you shop, with the promise of all of his meals being paid for the next day.

As soon as you get home, you toss your keys onto the little side table next to the doorway with a huff, knocking your heels off and not bothering to arrange them neatly back onto your shoe stand. With the efficiency of a carpenter ant on a mission, you march into your bathroom and slip out of that god-awful dress, changing into a pair of soft pink pajamas with a magenta heart pattern printed all over them. The set had caught your eye as you were strolling through Costco the other day, a little more expensive than you’d like, but they reminded you of Hyunjin, so into the cart they went. You could allow yourself this comfort, you tell yourself.

Once freshened up, you head into the kitchen, dumping some leftover pasta into a bowl to heat it up, glowering at the microwave as the seconds tick by far too slowly. And as always, you eat at your crappy dining table, alone. Just this morning, you had been sitting in this same place, brainstorming ways to secure project funding, navigating the path to reviving your old startup, ITEM.

Before Hyunjin, you had ditched the excitement of indulging in work, your passion, for more self-destructive, wasteful behavior. In the past few months, after meeting him, there was this renewed sense of productivity in you— he inspired you, made you ache to find your own success in the world. So even though Mark denied you the opportunity to participate in the upcoming function, you disobeyed him and secretly went through with your own idea anyway, especially after hearing through the office grapevine that a lot of big-name investors would be attending. Somehow, you decided, you would figure out a way to present to them and achieve your dream. It was optimistic, maybe a little foolishly so, but that hadn’t bothered you. 

Today, however, you felt this sense of loss that hadn’t touched you in a while. It was nothing related to work, fortunately, but still, you couldn’t focus, mind wandering to your meeting with Hyunjin at the end of the day. For the first time, the thought of him was hurting you, not motivating you. And it still hurts you, with the way you disinterestedly poke at your fettuccine. 

So when you go to bed that night, touching yourself to the thought of him doesn’t have the same velvety allure to it. No, it’s more of a physiological need that forces its way into your hand that glides down your body. It’s the rabic, animalistic desire that drives the tips of your fingers under the waistband of your shorts. It’s the anguish, the longing, that makes you spread your legs, hips bucking up against the mattress.

You had smiled at him, earlier today, after that short drama you’d exerted, when he calmed you down and placated you with a soft, but commanding tone. You had poured your heart out to him, holding back just his name on the tip of your tongue, and he had listened. And you had feigned being amiable, and he accepted it, when in reality, you were so fucking furious with Hyunjin.

After you paraded into his office like a brat, demanding to end the contract as if you cared nothing as to what he might think, he had still treated you with so much understanding, with a quiet concern. You haven’t lost your temper in a long time now, but Hyunjin never failed to respond so well, so kindly to you. In every way that you were irked, he remained calm and gracious. It makes you inexplicably angry, so much that you just want to scream into the cool Angeles night air, letting the sound reverberate off the crumbling buildings of your shitty neighborhood. You hate how good is to you almost as much as you despise yourself in your absolute lowest moments, moments like these. You don’t want the sensuality of his gaze washing over you, worshiping you. You don’t want to melt into his touch, let him take care of you. You don’t want to fuck him like a lover would— no, you want his tears, you want to ruin him like he has done so easily to you.

You think of Hyunjin and his lovely, lovely mouth. A lip pulled in between his teeth in thought, slightly slick with spit when he licks them before speaking. You want to feel the stretch of them around your fingers as you force them into his mouth, choking him and chasing away his breathy complaints. 

You close your eyes, the image of you working yourself with your fingers fading in favor of imagining Hyunjin doing it for you instead. You, gripping his wrist harshly, pumping Hyunjin’s own fingers into yourself, berating him for not being able to do it well enough on his own. 

Then you’d slap his hands away, pushing him onto your bed and straddle his narrow hips, grinding your dripping pussy onto his thighs while getting off both in the friction and Hyunjin’s pleas for you to ride his cock instead. 

But when you decide to put an end to his torture, it wouldn’t be for his pleasure. You want to fuck Hyunjin hard, fuck him sore, the minuscule gap between your bodies clogged and messy with sweat and a mixture of arousal and saliva, from where you’d spit onto his cock. You want him on his back, staring up at you hopefully as he falls apart, begging you to let him come. You want to refuse him, snap at him and make it mean, but he’ll come anyway, guilt and arousal on his beautiful face. Of course he’ll have to clean up his own mess, sucking obediently on your fingers covered with the come you had retrieved from where it was splattered between your legs. 

And then you’d kiss him, slow and deep, nothing like how you took him apart under the sheets. You’d cup his face and whisper praises, running your hands down his body. Declarations of love would fall from your lips, because no matter how much he worked you up, the truth would never change. 

You finish to that final thought, barely hearing the shameful, wet sounds of you abusing your cunt with your fingers that thrust in and out of yourself wildly. But even though you have already come, you cup your pussy again and run your finger, feather-light, through your folds, imagining it was Hyunjin’s lips placing a kiss there, instead. Imagining that no matter how many spiteful words you spat at him during the time you fucked him, he knew that you would never hate him. You understand, that no matter how enraged you have the potential to be, you will never, ever hate Hyunjin. Because you love him— so much that it hurts.

“You’d think that my body was made for Gucci, but there’s something about Privé that turns me on so bad.”

You fight the urge to gag as Yeonjun brings the ugly sweatshirt up to his chest, holding it up in front of the mirror in an attempt to model it on his scrawny frame. You briskly snatch it out of his hands and shove it back onto its hanger, grasping your cousin’s hand like a mother and her toddler. 

“Stop talking about brands like you want to fuck them,” you scold him. Yeonjun rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation, but doesn’t try to wriggle out of your hold when you drag him to the women’s section. Sometimes, you feel like you’re an exasperated single parent, toting him around and snapping at him to behave, even though he is barely three years younger than you.

As you enter the evening wear end of the department store, you let go of Yeonjun to sift through the variety of fabrics available. He gleefully bounces around, swishing through the dresses you’re both drowning in and nearly knocking a couple of them off of their racks. But you can’t find it in yourself to chide him again, not when he looks so happy to be here with you. Not that you would ever let him know that you have the capacity to be soft when it comes to him.

“This beats working on job applications,” Yeonjun sighs, sticking his arm through an armhole on a particularly gaudy tea gown. You snicker at how the satin pools beneath his underarms, making him look like a child cosplaying in their mother’s old outfits.

“How’s senior year? I haven’t even been asking you about school, lately.” The last part is less of a rationale for your question to him, and more of a surprised self-proclamation on your end. You can’t remember the last time you ever listened to Yeonjun complain about his ancient professors and weird roommate. The thought fills you with a certain sense of regret; you might not have a lot, but Yeonjun has always been there for you. Most of the time, he annoys you to no end, but his constant presence reminds you that you’re never alone.

The playfulness melts out of Yeonjun’s demeanor, a sight to see with someone who is always so easy-going, never taking life seriously. But you see the somber look in his eyes as he turns to gaze at you critically. “You’ve got a lot going on, I know that.”

You flush, mind automatically going to Hyunjin. Outside of the slice of your day in which you are truly focused on work, the rest of your time goes into dreaming about the attainable object of your fantasies. Eat, sleep, work, and think about Hyunjin. “I— yeah. Work’s been crazy. And reopening ITEM, as well. But that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

Yeonjun gives you a wry little smile, foxy and sly. “Work. Sure. Definitely not a certain sexy ass dating coach, right?”

For a guy that presents himself to be so unendingly superficial, Yeonjun has the ability to read people in the snap of a finger. You don’t understand why he tries to act so vapid when he has such a capacity— if you had such a power, you’d use it to no end. 

Your cheeks flush, embarrassingly evident. “Got me there, but I’ve already reached a resolution about him. I’ll go through with the rest of the contract, pull away gradually, and then stop seeing him. Easy.”

Except it is not easy, and both of you know it. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “I just don’t get it. Why are you so down bad for him? He’s pretty, don’t get me wrong, but there are a lot of pretty people. He’s the guy who’s supposed to be setting you up with other people. Like, you’re not supposed to be falling for him.”

“I know, Jun,” you sigh. “But I think we’re more alike than outward perceptions allow. I feel like he never really lets his guard down around other people. I just wish I could have the chance to make him feel as seen as he does for me. He’s like no one I’ve ever met.”

Yeonjun stays quiet for a long moment, scrutinizing the way you lower your eyes and resume haphazardly shuffling through the dresses. “I think you should tell him how you feel.”

You would burst into laughter at how ridiculous his proposition is, except it’s not funny at all. “Now that would be crossing the line. Our relationship is completely platonic. Imagine how uncomfortable it would be, to find out that the client you’re trying to help connect with others falls for you instead? I couldn’t do that to Hyunjin.”

“I think Hyunjin still deserves to know. He’s your dating coach, Y/N. If there’s anyone who can understand you, it’s him, because if he really cares about you, nothing about your relationship will change. And who knows, maybe he reciprocates. You never know.”

Listening to your cousin give you such advice makes you feel strange, but not in an unpleasant way. You truly are thankful for it, even if you might not completely trust in it. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Jun.”

Yeonjun looks like he wants to say more, but he seems to notice the note of finality in your voice and decides to move on. “Back to me. Ask me again, about how school’s going, and I’ll tell you all of the tea.”

“How is school going?” 

“Oh, thank God you asked. Beomgyu is still trying to get me to feature my feet on his OnlyFans, but even though he’s a little creepy with it, he’s the only one who agrees to come thrift shopping with me. And he’s a pretty chill roommate overall, so I can’t really complain. Ugh, and it turns out, my evil ex is still obsessed with me…”

You grin and listen to Yeonjun ramble on about his very animated life at UCLA, thankful for the distraction as you comb through the racks. After a few minutes of tuning into Yeonjun’s story about how he walked in on Beomgyu hooking up with some guy named Jeongin, you freeze, because you meet eyes with the one person you wished you would never see again. Yeonjun’s babbling comes to a jarring stop, and you both just stare at the monster who tried to ruin your life.

“Y/N! Is that you?” 

He saunters forward as you stay rooted to where you are, and it’s like he has walked right out of an old photo album carrying the bitter memories of your past. You recognize those round, sparkling doe eyes, the ones that reminded you of the dark pearls in the milk tea drinks you both would always share at night markets. The same choppy, boyish haircut streaked with caramel, the locks you would quietly run your fingers through after every time you forgave him. That delicate, nearly fairy-like face, the one that you could never bring yourself to hate, no matter how much he pushed you. Park Jisung has not changed one bit, except for the space you used to clutch on his arms has now been occupied by someone new. 

The girl is stunning, you can admit, but on closer look, you realize that it’s Kazuha Nakamura, the last girl he cheated on you with, the one that severed the final threads of your relationship. She, on the other hand, looks completely different, with her blonde curls chopped into a dark Brazilian-permed lob that swishes when she tilts her head down derisively, surveying you from head-to-toe. She looks like the epitome of the girl that Jisung was always trying to get you to be, stuck into the mold of a life predetermined for her. And for the first time in a long time, you’re glad you didn’t fit.

You regain your bearings a moment later after the initial shock wears off, when Park Jisung laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that contrasts with the way Kazuha titters next to him. But instead of acknowledging Jisung, you turn to Kazuha first instead.

“Kazuha! What a surprise!” You smile sweetly at her while she just gapes at you blankly, clearly surprised by your absence of hostility. In the periphery of your eye, you can see Jisung ball his fists at his side, ever the narcissist to be irked by even a slight dearth of attention. “You look great, girl!”

“And you look exactly the same, Jisung,” Yeonjun says flatly in a way that obviously conveys insult, before slinging a protective arm around your shoulder. You stifle a snort, and watch the way Jisung rolls his eyes.

“Ever a delight, aren’t you, Yeonjun?” Jisung shoots him a venomous smile, that Yeonjun responds to with a cheesy little salute. This time, you can’t contain the chuckle that escapes your lips. 

Before anyone can say more, you pipe up, determined to have the last word in the conversation you have no intention of repeating. “It was wonderful to see you, Jisung. You and Kazuha make a lovely pair— hope it works out!”

With one last gracious nod of your head, you loop your arm through Yeonjun’s and move past where Jisung and Kazuha stand rooted to the spot, speechless. As you and Yeonjun flounce away, you feel Jisung’s gaze burning into the back of your neck, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

“Damn, and I thought I’d get to watch a fight today. I really would have liked to see that dickwad get his just desserts,” Yeonjun grumbles, but you see the impressed look on his face.

You feel an unfamiliar rush of both adrenaline and triumph coursing through your veins; you saved your anger, and yet, you know you’ve won. For months, you told yourself that if you ever got the chance to tell Jisung off, you would use it. But the thought didn’t bring you as much satisfaction as it did before, and besides, you have someone more worth your tears now. Seeing Jisung again didn’t affect you as much as it once would have, because you finally, truly have moved on. And comparably, your current predicament seems much more daunting than some loser who never deserved you. 

“They looked like morons when we didn’t give them the reaction they wanted. Besides, I’m taking the high road.”

“You’re boring when you’re not a bitch.”

“Thanks.” You grin, pausing your gait when you see it. The giddiness drains into something more mournful as you take in the dress, delicate folds of pink chiffon that dissolve into a painstakingly threaded gold-beaded skirt. “This is the one, Jun.”

Yeonjun doesn’t miss the beat of sadness in your voice, the thickness of your words. “Seriously though, you don’t have to talk about Jisung, but I feel like that’s not who you’re upset about. You don’t seem okay.”

“I’ve found my peace with Jisung, but there’s still something else.” You inhale sharply. “I’m in love with Hyunjin.”

He stays quiet for a moment, before taking the dress off of the rack for you. “This is on me.”

“I appreciate it, but you don’t have to—”

“I want to. And if you’re not busy tonight, I have somewhere to be, and I’d like it if you came with me. What do you say?”

You’re not oblivious— you recognize the sympathy, Yeonjun’s clear attempt to cheer you up, a switch-up from the banter you usually trade. Before, you would refuse, retreating home to bury yourself deeper into a hole. But for once, you don’t want to push away the people who care about you. So you accept and look forward, accepting the poignance of it all.

“Hwang Hyunjin, you’d better get your ass over here on time, or else I’ll—”

Hyunjin bursts into a dramatic fit of coughing, cutting off Seungmin’s nagging. “Remind me to take you to one of my yoga sessions. Your chakras are seriously off, but there’s nothing that Dr. Sachet can’t fix.”

“Hyunjin.” 

“I know! I just got here, Seungmin.” Hyunjin sighs, ending the call before Seungmin has the chance to say anything further. He slides his phone into his pocket, already regretting his choice to accept Seungmin’s request— which was actually more of a demand— to be his plus-one at his college reunion. 

Any other day, he would have loved to ditch his introverted activities to accompany his best friend to get tipsy and gossip about everyone’s glow ups. Today, however, all he really wants to do is curl up in his bed with Princess Diana and binge-watch Friends. But alas, his loyalty— and fear— for Seungmin won out, and now here he is, standing in a rounded glass elevator on his way up to Highlight, the upscale rooftop bar venue of the event. 

When the elevator finally reaches the top floor, the telltale bell dings, opening the door into what can only be described as high-end chaos: people decked out in crisp suits and cocktail dresses and jewels, as they crowd around the lighted bar counters, shouting out their drink orders to harried bartenders while trying to brag about how successful they’ve become over the past few years. Waiters walk around, serving hors d'oeuvres to the guests that promptly ignore them, and the orchestral jazz, courtesy of the live band crowded into the corner, is drowned out by the raucous laughter of a group of men situated at a section of tables next to the windows. The whole effect is ridiculously ostentatious, and even Hyunjin has to restrain himself from letting his lip curl with disgust.

“Fuck, there you are.” Hyunjin feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and turns to see Seungmin staring at him with an overwhelmed look in his eye.

Hyunjin takes in his friend for a moment, admiring his black and white silk polka dot shirt that’s tucked into a pair of belted navy slacks. At least someone at this place had style, and it’s always a pleasure for it to be Seungmin, as by now, Hyunjin has gotten used to seeing him wearing bloodied scrubs. “You look good, man. But why in the world would you want to come here and see all of these jerks?”

Seungmin shrugs, and Hyunjin is surprised to see a slight blush overtake his features. He traces Seungmin’s wandering gaze over to the edge of the open balcony, where a devastatingly handsome man strangely stands on his own, sipping on his cocktail while observing the view of skyscrapers stretching out around the building. Ah. 

“He’s Seungcheol, isn’t he? Your old crush that you never talked to? That’s why we’re here?” Hyunjin teases, remembering those nights when he got Seungmin tipsy enough to confess his unrequited feelings for Choi Seungcheol, the resident heartbreaker of the pre-med student body at UCLA. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Seungmin grumbles, but his complexion betrays him, turning as red as a tomato. 

Hyunjin laughs heartily, thanking a passing waitress before accepting a mango and vanilla parfait from her tray. “Alright.”

And then it’s Seungmin’s turn to check out Hyunjin, who strikes a little pose and preens at the attention. “I don’t know how, but even with all of your designer shit, you never seem like a dick.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Hyunjin grins. Hyunjin never dresses to appease the dress code— instead, he makes it his bitch, and does it in a way that’s classy, not ostentatious. It’s clear in today’s sophisticated yet roguish ensemble: a crisp white Givenchy suit paired with Nike Air Forces to deflate the grandiose of the former brand. And the sheer black tank top and silver chain-link necklace under his oversized blazer was just enough to add a touch of gender-bending sexiness. 

The corner of Seungmin’s mouth quirks up, and he hooks his arm into Hyunjin’s, steering him towards a high table tucked into a more quiet section of the bar. “Having fun, Hyun?”

Hyunjin fights a smile. “Moresoe now that you’re here with me, babe.”

That is Seungmin’s cue to shove Hyunjin away, who continues to bat his lashes prettily. “I hate you. I should’ve asked Nicholas the hot nurse to be my date instead.”

“But then you couldn’t flirt with our Seungcheol!”

Seungmin groans, head falling onto the table, lolling to the side hopelessly. “I don’t even know how to approach him, though. I mean, did you see him? He just managed to get even more gorgeous! His hair? His height? He’s totally out of my league.”

Hyunjin immediately morphs into wingman mode. “Trust me, I can just tell he has a thing for cute nerds. And, not to be crass, but his body language screams brat tamer.”

“I am not a brat,” Seungmin scowls. 

“Touché.” 

After a few more minutes of hyping Seungmin up, Hyunjin triumphantly sits back and watches his friend slink off in the direction of Seungcheol; he snickers to himself when Seungmin tentatively taps on Seungcheol’s shoulder, shaking like a fangirl about to ask a celebrity for a picture. Seungcheol turns, a friendly beam cutting across his stern features. Seungmin says something indiscernible to Seungcheol that makes him laugh, and that’s Hyunjin’s sign to leave the rest to his friend. 

By this time, the company around him has eased slightly, with everyone digging into the buffet-style dinner that the caterers have set out. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, thinking back to the flimsy cup of ramyun that he had scarfed down earlier. He picks up a plate from one of the long tables and gets in line, mouth already watering at the spread of food. After loading his plate with copious helpings of every dish of carbs in sight, he also makes sure to secure dessert, snagging a couple pastries and slices of cake. The gaggle of ladies behind him shoot him pointed looks, but he ignores them, walking away to find seating; he’s needed this, after the week he’s had.

He winds up sitting next to a giddy couple that just cannot keep their hands off of each other. Most of the time, when he winds up somewhere with people who exhibit excessive public displays of affection, he tries to discreetly slip away or make himself as unknown as possible, the hopeless romantic in him quietly cheering them on. Now, however, he unceremoniously plops onto the farthest end of the loveseat opposite of them, all alone and just grateful that the food is good.

“Earth to Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin looks up, mouth stuffed embarrassingly full of a caprese salad sandwich. “Mrph?”

Seungmin stands there, hands on his knees while he pants a little to catch his breath. “You will not believe what just happened.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Seungcheol and I are going out to dinner tomorrow!” Seungmin huffs, cheeks flushed a bright red as he looks over at Seungcheol where he’s standing by the elevator. Seungcheol gives him a shy smile before quickly looking away. Seungmin smirks and leans down to speak into Hyunjin’s ear. “And he just asked me if I have any plans for the rest of the night.”

He leans back to gauge Hyunjin’s reaction, which, in Hyunjin’s knowledge of his friend, does not disappoint. Hyunjin gasps theatrically and nearly drops his plate in trying to clap him on the back in congratulations. “That’s my man!”

“That’s right!” 

Hyunjin grins. “Even your ship name would be cute. 2Seung. Meant to be.”

“You’re such a dork.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, but fails to hide his blush. “Now, I’m gonna go get railed by the man of my dreams.”

Hyunjin bids Seungmin goodbye, remaining enthusiastic up until the moment he sees Seungmin and Seuncheol take their leave. As soon as they do, he lets his smile fall. He’s happy for Seungmin, really. He just wishes it could be him disappearing into that glass elevator with his lover. He would press you up against that heavy gold railing that rounds the inside, kissing you as you begin your descent down the building. Kissing you as fireworks go off in the distance, brighter than the Los Angeles skyline. Kissing you even when the elevator door opens, an irked crowd of people waiting to get in. He wishes he could flaunt you off to everyone in the world, show everyone how perfect you are for him. 

Hyunjin is so lost in his muddled, wistful thoughts that he doesn’t notice the couch dip, someone just as miserable as him occupying the tiny space next to him. 

“Hyunjin?”

He turns his head, slowly, to see you, of all people, glaring at him with a bewildered expression on your face. He remains in a momentary stunned silence, taking in the slight redness of your nose, how watery your eyes are. The space in between your eyebrows that’s painfully scrunched. The way your lips are pressed together tightly. You’ve been crying. Still gorgeous, no matter what.

“Darling?”

For the second time today, you are caught off guard. You have been stewing in your loneliness all evening, ruminating over your hopelessly unrequited love. It surprised you, a little bit, how you were barely affected by the run-in with Jisung, but that faded away when you took your first sip at the absurdly lavish open bar. For others, alcohol can be liquid courage— for you, it’s a depressant that brings out the sad drunk in you.

You shake your head, trying not to let the immediate horror seep into you. But how can it not, when the gorgeous man you are in love with has just become witness to your ugly tears for the second time? And from where did he just appear out of, when you thought you were going to be able to spend your time wallowing in your sorrows alone? Life is truly unfair.

“What- what are you doing here?” You sputter. 

You imagine that Hyunjin looks stunned, for a moment, but his face lights up when he realizes that it is you who is the mess curled up next to him. If he seems put off by the remnants of your crying, he does not show it. “I was here as my friend’s date, but it seems as though he’s ditched me for a better one.”

He gives you a furtive smile that makes you feel like you’re in on a joke, and in spite of your pitiful state, you immediately feel the warmth spread through you. “The Love Doctor always works, doesn’t he?”

“It’s my nine-to-five, as well as my five-to-nine,” Hyunjin jokes, chuckling. “So, you’re a UCLA alum? You didn’t strike me as the sort, I didn’t think.”

You scoff playfully. “Absolutely not. Proud Case Western grad here. Where else would I get my inherent computer geek complex?”

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle. “Then what brings you here?”

“My cousin.” You jerk your chin in the direction of Yeonjun, who’s currently trying to break up a fight between two men who seem to be arguing about something related to stocks. “He’s trying to fulfill his senior undergraduate community service requirement by volunteering at this thing. But this is barely community service— I think the UCLA Alumni Association just wanted some free labor.”

Hyunjin laughs at your shitty joke, and you nearly feel like your attitude just turns up at that sound, unfurling like petals when touched by sunshine. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Too kitsch.” You tilt your head towards the dizzying display of debauchery currently swarming your little bubble: most of the guests have separated into their own cliques by now, and the one closest to you has set up an uproarious gambling circle on their table. This is a bit much, even if for a swanky college reunion.

“Agreed.” Hyunjin stays quiet for a moment, and you watch him curiously, wondering what he’s thinking of. He relieves you a moment later. “Darling, I don’t want to intrude, but I just wanted to ask if everything’s okay?”

You hesitate to answer, because although you know he genuinely wants to check up on you, given the astronomically considerate person he is, you don’t want to burden him with your problems— especially if the problem is him. So you do what any sensible person would do and deflect. “It’s a long story. How about we check out the bar?”

You expect him to turn you down, but maybe you’re not the only one who needs a drink, because he accepts. “I feel like I’ll regret it, but alright.”

Hyunjin helps you up from where you sit, grabbing your purse for you and handing it to you as you stand, making your heart squeeze even tighter in your chest. But you both make your way over to the open bar, snagging two seats at the very end of the counter on one side. 

The teariness made your intoxication a bit more discreet, so you’re openly able to ask for a beer without raising Hyunjin’s eyebrows. Hyunjin, on the other hand, orders a pink champagne on the rocks. He really is so sophisticated. After you both finish speaking with the bartender, he turns to you, placing his elbow on the counter and propping up his chin in his arm. The soft smile on his face fits perfectly as his eyes lock onto yours, and it feels… flirtatious. 

You’re suddenly transported into all of those times you were alone at a bar, men approaching you with a similar demeanor, but with very much different intentions. Therein, with Hyunjin, the aura of respect and boundaries still hangs in the air, so it doesn’t linger, no matter how much you wish it would stay. 

The bartender sets your choices in front of you, and you try to enjoy the drink, but the overwhelming bitterness of it just makes everything come crashing down. You sniffle, and then immediately hope that Hyunjin has not noticed that you are beginning to cry pathetically— again— into your mug of beer.

Hyunjin looks concerned, leaning forward as if to put his arm around you, but after a moment’s hesitation, he retracts his arm and instead, focuses on your face. "Y/N?"

Shit. You try to laugh it off as an extremely severe case of allergies, but even besides the fact that there's barely any pollen in the concrete jungle of Los Angeles, you suck at acting. Too bad Hollywood is only a ten-minute commute from your apartment.

"I’m… I’m okay. I'm totally okay." You try to laugh it off, but instead, it sounds like a strange, very unattractive quack. The thick tears that begin to roll down your cheeks are not even necessary for Hyunjin to call you out. He is not buying any of it.

"Darling, please. Don’t lie to me.”

"Hyunjin, I'm fine! God!"

At this point, you're full on sobbing in the middle of the room, and people are shooting you weird looks. Hyunjin should leave. Being seen with a mess like you could taint his spotless, perfect image, and outside of his office, he has absolutely no obligation to you. Fuck, you don’t even know why you’re being such a crybaby— before Hyunjin, you could actually down booze without losing it on the spot, especially surrounded by a bunch of strangers.

But as if he couldn’t tug at you anymore, he doesn’t think this time to cross the miniscule space between you both and pull you into a tight hug. You feel like utter crap, and it’s been so long since someone just held you, assuring you that everything is going to be fine. But you can’t help notice one insignificant detail: Hyunjin smells fucking amazing and expensive and elegant— perhaps Chanel or Tom Ford? And in that glorious suit too, he’s like the real-life, less embarrassing embodiment of the mafia overlords that dominated your questionable high school fanfiction phase. Fuck. This isn’t helping the situation.

Hyunjin, meanwhile, rubs soothing circles on your back, definitely unaware of your inappropriate intrusive thoughts. “Shhh, it’s going to be okay. Do you wanna get out of here?”

You blink up at him tearily, mind frazzled but remembering your engagement. “But, Yeonjun…”

And as if the devil whispers in his ears, your cousin manifests out of thin air, collapsing onto the empty stool next to you. “My dear cuz, smack some sense into me if I ever volunteer again with— wait. Bro, are you crying?”

The shame piles up on you again, heating up your skin in a way that’s too obvious. But before you can muster up a lie, Hyunjin speaks for you, taking the mug away from your hands. “I think it’s best if Y/N gets some rest, she isn’t feeling too well.”

Yeonjun just stares dumbly at Hyunjin for a second, jaw hanging open a little, as it does for anyone when they are first in the presence of Hwang Hyunjin. “I, uh. Yeah. That’s good. You’re Hwang Hyunjin, right? Her dating coach?”

Even through your intoxication, you feel like you see something flicker in Hyunjin’s eyes, but as always, it doesn’t last. “Yes, it’s wonderful to meet you, Yeonjun. Y/N has spoken a lot about you.”

“Same to you.” Yeonjun snickers, before clearing his throat and turning serious. “Listen, man, I hate to ask you this. But can you please help her home? I can text you the address? I really can’t leave this stupid shindig until it’s over, but I don’t wanna leave her alone—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of her.” Hyunjin states firmly, motioning to the bartender to bring you a large class of water. The way he’s looking out for you brings up something hot, aroused in your stomach. 

Yeonjun nods, and to his credit, he really does look as apologetic as you can discern in your drunk haze. Hyunjin helps you finish your water, before buying a water bottle for you to sip from, as he slides his arm around your shoulders and helps you out of that terrible room. In most cases, when sober and thinking straight, you would be as rigid as a bar, humiliated and unsure of what to do with yourself. But you let yourself have this, just once, melting into his side and enjoying your misery more than you should.

Sometimes, Hyunjin really can be such a piece of shit. Like the time he promised Princess Diana extra cuddles before bedtime, but forgot because he had been working late at SeoulSpark on some overdue reports; he had felt like such a horrible father to his baby. Or the time he mentioned a Gucci product during an interview, inadvertently advertising for Versace’s biggest competitor; Donatella wouldn’t reply to his texts for nearly a week. But all of that seems tame in comparison to today.

You’ve had too much to drink and can’t stop crying, and here Hyunjin is, thinking about how much he wants to kiss you. In his defense, you look so adorable, with your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, eyes drooping with drowsiness and lips pouted preciously. But it’s still highly inappropriate of Hyunjin to be thinking of you in such a way, so he shoves those treacherous thoughts into the back of his mind and focuses on staring at anything but you.

After a few swipes on the Uber app, your ride pulls up in front of the hotel in which Highlight is located inside. At this point, you’ve become pliant in Hyunjin’s arms, cuddling into his side and clutching at his waist. Hyunjin can barely breathe, and is vastly thankful for the distraction of the car's arrival.

He helps you into the backseat of the car, before getting in from the other side. The drive back to your place is quiet, save for the breezy orchestra music that the driver plays on the low and the soft sounds of your sniffling. Hyunjin clenches his jaw and stares out the window, trying to focus on the green highway signs whizzing by and not the fact that you’re barely centimeters away from him, humming sadly along to the radio. 

Twenty minutes pass, and suddenly, you’re both standing in front of your apartment building, an old but dreamy housing complex tucked away in one of the quieter sectors of the city. Hyunjin walks you up to your door, telling himself that he’ll leave as soon as you’re safe inside. He watches you sway on your feet a little while you take a few extra minutes to fumble with the door lock. Hyunjin wants you to go inside and slam the door in his face, bringing him back to his senses. Instead, you look over at him, a lilt to your voice.

“Wanna come inside?” You slightly slur over your words, giving him a small glance. It’s innocent enough that Hyunjin knows your motives are pure, even if a tiny part of him wishes they weren’t. 

He hesitates, the logical side of his mind screaming at him to politely refuse and bid you a goodnight. But then again, he hasn’t been very logical whenever it comes to you. He now promises himself that this is just a little post-party hangout. You can be friends, can’t you? And besides, you need someone to look after you. And friends look after each other, don’t they?

Hyunjin steps inside, instantly in awe of your apartment. The open floor concept allows him to explore the entire layout with his eyes, from the soft throw blanket lying on your very comfortable-looking couch to the bellowing linen curtains hanging over your windows. The mismatched furniture and nearly overflowing book cases are incredibly charming, the artful dissonance of your decor coming together in a harmony that just makes everything feel so cozy. 

In Hyunjin’s mind, your apartment is so quintessentially you, a feeling of home that his own place never quite felt like. Yes, he loves Oasis more than anything, but there’s this slightly pretentious air to it, this urge to keep it constantly pristine. It feeds into Hyunjin’s obsession over perfection, instead of being the one place where he can truly be himself. Here, however, Hyunjin feels comfortable, secure in his own skin, even when in reality, he probably looks ridiculously out of place in his over-the-top outfit.

“Hm,” you mumble, prompting Hyunjin to whirl around and rush forward to steady you when you lean a little too forward. “Do you wanna drink?”

Hyunjin frowns at you while you just giggle nonsensically. You’re nowhere near sober, but at the very least, at least you’re not distressed anymore. Hyunjin hates to see you upset; your face was made for smiling.

“Absolutely not. We have done enough drinking for today.” Hyunjin chides you sternly. “You can’t go to bed on an empty stomach, though.”

You prop yourself on one of the chairs at your dining table, giving him an anticipating look that Hyunjin takes as permission to rummage through your cupboards. After looking through the fridge as well, Hyunjin settles on cooking you his comfort grilled cheese recipe. He pours you a glass of water and gives you a little pat on your head when you obediently finish the entire thing and accept another.

You quietly watch Hyunjin while he putters around the kitchen; the sheer domesticity of it all makes him yearn for this to be a regular occurrence. He’d cook for you everyday, filling you to the brim with all of the affection you deserve. But that’s not going to happen, so he keeps his head down and concentrates. Hyunjin flips the sourdough bread on the griddle until it’s golden brown, spreading liberal amounts of butter on each side. And the pièce de résistance, he adds one-third white cheddar, one-third yellow cheddar, and one-third American cheese, his favorite combination of cheeses for a rainy day. 

“This is so yummy,” you declare after your first bite, eyes full of delight. “Here, have some. You’re such a good cook, Hyunnie.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know whether to be more shocked at the fact that you’re holding out your own sandwich for Hyunjin to try, or how you just called him such an endearing nickname. “I– it’s okay, darling. I’m not hungry.”

But you don’t accept it, because it looks like you’re just as stubborn even when inebriated. “You need to taste, or else I’ll be sad.”

You flash him a heartbroken set of puppy dog eyes that makes him melt and give in. He reaches across the rickety little table and tries to take the sandwich in his own hands, but you pull away slightly and hold it out to him expectantly. Oh. 

Hyunjin gingerly leans forward and lets you feed him a bite of the grilled cheese. He chews quickly, trying not to blush under the intensity of your gaze. Once he swallows, he watches you finish off the rest of the sandwich, satisfied with his compliance. When you’re done, you look up at him proudly, and he just can’t help but be endeared by you. 

Hyunjin clears the table and washes the dishes, wiping his hands on the fluffy towel hanging from the oven handle. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches out to brush a few stray crumbs off of the corner of your mouth, trying not to revel in the sensation of how soft your lips are under his thumb.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a guileless smile while you bite down on an orange-colored candy from the small bowl on the counter. “Let’s do something fun, that party was so boring.”

Hyunjin lets you wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling him to the living room and onto the couch. He huffs out a laugh as you clumsily fall onto the sofa, moving to get comfortable. “What are you thinking?”

You tap your chin dramatically, making a show of trying to decide what to do. “How about… karaoke?”

Hyunjin grins and takes the TV remote that you hand him, hopping onto YouTube and flipping through the list of lyrical videos. “Any preference for a song?”

You shake your head vigorously. “Surprise me.”

He settles on “Gone Away,” a ballad by one of his favorite underground rock bands. The slow notes of a love song float out through the speaker, the lovely voice of the lead singer, J.One, filling his ears. He nervously glances over at you, but you give him an encouraging nod, and Hyunjin lets himself go.

“Inside collapsed time, even my hopes for us to be together, no longer matter,” Hyunjin sings along to the lyrics, the song resonating within him more than he wishes it did. “My love, tangled up while looking for you, is gone, gone away, gone away.”

“I don’t think I can stop you from leaving anymore,” you join in softly, and Hyunjin looks over at you in surprise, but you’re staring straight ahead at the TV. He tamps down his nerves and gets through the rest of the song with you, both of you somehow harmonizing together in tune. At some point in the middle, the tears start pouring down his cheeks slowly, in the way he can never control. He just hopes that you don’t notice every time he reaches up to swipe at them, before inevitably fall.

The song doesn’t finish quick enough, and an advertisement begins to run on autoplay, but Hyunjin can’t bring himself to look at you again, terrified of the way his heart beats so deafeningly in his chest.

“Hyunjin.”

Serious, without a single hint of playfulness. Hyunjin clears his throat and lifts his head to see your indecipherable expression. He notices the traces of haziness in your eyes, but there’s undeniable determination written across your face. “Yes?”

“Don’t cry,” You nearly sob out, breath catching in your throat. “It doesn’t suit such a beautiful person to be filled with so much grief.”

Hyunjin covers up his astonishment at your words with denial, trying to push them off as an emotional reaction to the song. But you’ve just called him beautiful, and that cannot be covered up. “I’m sorry, that was a bit much.”

You swallow harshly, the dry sound of it audible. Maybe Hyunjin should excuse himself to bring you some water and escape this conversation. But— “You can never be too much. I want you, all the time. I think of you, all the time.”

This time, Hyunjin is effectively rendered gone. Frozen to the couch, time stopped and his train of rational thought put on hold. He reruns the sentence in his brain, trying to piece them together. You want him. You think of him? You want him? His confused, frantic contemplation is interrupted when you crawl over the couch and lift your palm to cup his jaw, so close that he can nearly feel the soft puff of your breathing against his face. Fuck, you’re still drunk.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” you murmur. Hyunjin is sure he has died and gone to some otherworldly dimension— maybe heaven, or hell, depending on how the higher powers have judged his situation to be— when he feels your lips slot against his, reeling him in like a needle through thread. So what else can he do, but accept what you give him and circle his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer so you’re on his lap.

You taste like the mango candy you popped earlier, sweet with a hint of tanginess, and it’s driving Hyunjin absolute nuts. Your eyes flutter shut and so do Hyunjin’s, both of you melting into each other, diving into the dangerous waters that Hyunjin swore that he wouldn’t tread. But he can’t stop, he just can’t, not when you lick into his mouth with a passion to rival the one he’s felt for you since day one. 

“Hyunjin…” You whisper, a long, obscenely drawn-out syllable that’s reminiscent of the noises that Hyunjin imagined eliciting from you. That one sound snaps him out of it. You’re drunk, you’re drunk, and this means nothing. This means nothing to you, and he’s just been here, the unfortunate sap to receive your sweet, empty words just because he’s been here for you once. He doesn’t deserve any of it. You’re not going to remember any of it. You are so fucking drunk.

Before he knows it, he’s shoving you off, and with the way you heavily land on the cushion next to him, he wasn’t gentle at all, in his panic. You just stare at him with a half-dazed, half-dismayed look on your face that makes him cringe away. 

“I am so sorry,” Hyunjin croaks, grabbing his phone and scrambling to stand up. He will pull himself together, eventually, in time to see you for the next appointment. And then he will remind himself that he is a mere service to you, and nothing more. As it should be, and as it always was.

Hyunjin doesn’t even wait for your response before he’s running out the door and into the night.

You come to at around noon, groggily blinking a few times before the memories come flooding back in. You drinking yourself stupid at the bar. Hyunjin leading the way back home. Karaoke while relaxed on your shitty couch from Craig’s List. Kissing like in a movie before the atomic bomb dropped. You kissed Hyunjin. Your drunk, sentimental ass was lucid enough to remember your feelings, but not sober enough to remember to conceal them. You kissed Hwang motherfucking Hyunjin, and you have colossally fucked up. 

You scream about it for a good half hour, ripping at your hair and keeling over on the couch, dry heaving in a failed attempt to let out your guilt. It sticks. You’re mortified. Scared. Disgusted. How, how could you do that to him? Taking advantage of him when he was in your own home? You didn’t even get proper consent from him! You are such a damn asshole, and now, Hyunjin is probably never going to want to see you again. 

All you want to do is jump under your covers and cry yourself to a sleep that you’ll never have to wake up from. But you love Hyunjin too much to do that to him. You owe him an apology and the entire world, which you have no qualms about bringing to him if he asked you.

And that’s why you’re at SeoulSpark, ignoring the fear pulsing in your body as you push open the door, closing your eyes as the cool gust of the air conditioning washes over your skin. But the drop in temperature does nothing to tamp down the nerves boiling under your skin. 

All of the composure that you have carefully curated in the past few minutes shrivels up— charred to a crisp and punted out of Hyunjin’s ridiculously extravagant floor-to-ceiling windows— when you lay eyes on him. Because that’s the effect he’s always had on you, and you feel like an idiot for not already anticipating that familiar cyclone of emotions that hits you whenever he’s in vicinity. 

There he stands, gazing out at the view leisurely spread out at his feet, lax hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers like he has no worries at all. In the perfect world, you could have just an ounce of his self-command, of how assuredly he carries himself. You envy him almost as much as you want him. Almost. 

When he turns away from the glass at the sound of entrance, the sharp angle of his side profile is shadowed by the light pouring in from behind him, portraying him as some magnificent sort of Greek god. And he might as well be, with the way he has directed both torrents of lightning and spelled arrows through your heart. 

You just stand there awkwardly as he steps out of the sun and completely into your vision; you don’t trust that there will ever be a day when you are not so devastatingly floored by his beauty. The buttons of his shirt are haphazardly hooked in a way that seems not so careless, but more effortless, and you have to fight everything in yourself to not stare at the smooth expanse of skin revealed at the top. 

The moment Hyunjin recognizes the intruder of his office as you, his lips erupt into a smile that seems too genuine given the stunt you pulled just a few hours prior. If he carries any disgust towards you as a result of last night’s events, he doesn’t show it. Warmth pools in his eyes like honey, and you find yourself swimming in it, insatiable and begging for more of that lovely taste. You wish you knew how it would feel to have him look at you so sweetly while he harshly fucks into you, a complete juxtaposition to the adoration painting his expression.

“Hey,” you wave your hand lamely, and then immediately mentally punch yourself in the face; you really missed your calling as the awkward main character of a Disney original show. 

“Good morning, darling. I wasn’t expecting you today.” Hyunjin gestures towards the sofa and you hastily sit down on it, whereas Hyunjin elegantly settles himself across from you. 

“I know.” You avert your gaze, feeling the blush creeping up your neck and onto your face. “Last night was, uh, something.”

That’s one fucking way to put it.

Hyunjin lets out a surprised little chuckle, a sound so cute that you have to ponder ways to inconspicuously pinch your arm. “Well, I was talking about how you didn’t have an appointment. But I’m glad that you’re using the walk-in hours.”

“Yeah… so I thought we should maybe talk about what happened,” you stutter out, shifting under Hyunjin’s steady gaze. “I don’t even know where to begin though.”

Hyunjin hums encouragingly. “It’s okay. What do you want to tell me?”

You take a deep breath, thinking back to the previous night. “I’m sorry. I crossed so many lines yesterday and I was too drunk out of my mind to even tell. I must have made you feel so uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing I would ever want to do.”

And you mean every word. You would rather hurtle yourself into the Grand Canyon than hurt Hyunjin, Hyunjin who has been so good to you even when you never deserved it, Hyunjin who you’re hopelessly and utterly in love with. Hyunjin, who you can never have.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything during that miniscule gap in which you pause, so you take it as a sign to keep going. You’d rather get it off your chest all in one go anyway, as you fear you may not be able to finish if you stop. “I get it if this changes things. If you don’t want to see me anymore.” 

You shut your eyes as soon as you finish speaking, too apprehensive to see his reaction. This is it. This is the part where he agrees and so very politely asks you to leave his office and never come back again. It’ll probably take Wonyoung all of five seconds to boot you out of Hyunjin’s Google calendar, and then Hyunjin will go back to charming the next poor sucker to walk into his office. Gosh, you want to continue being that poor sucker, as pathetic as it is.

“Did you mean any of it?”

Against every fiber of your being telling you not to, to stay in blissful ignorance, you pry your eyes open to see Hyunjin waiting with his arms folded. Something about the intensity of his gaze, coupled with the unexpected potency in his usually soft voice, makes you shift uneasily. 

“I know it was inappropriate. I’m sorry—”

Hyunjin cuts you off, shaking his head in exasperation. “I need you to tell me the truth. Did you mean what you said to me last night?”

You tilt your head down so that you get an eyeful of the plush rug spread under the sofa. Of course you meant everything. You might have been drunk, but the intoxication only brought out the deepest, most hidden parts of yourself; it gave you the courage to manifest what you want the most. But to admit anything to Hyunjin— again— when he clearly did not want any part in it would hurt even more, because this time, you didn’t have alcohol in you to numb the pain of rejection. 

“Why did you leave?”

For a moment, you think that Hyunjin will ignore your question and insist on you giving him a hard answer. Instead, he tentatively reaches his hand out and hooks his thumb and index finger under your chin, carefully angling your head up to meet your eyes. That familiar gentleness once again radiates from him, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from melting into it. In spite of how utterly miserable you feel right now, the telltale flutter of your heart betrays you. God, you want to be his. 

“I left because I didn’t know how much of it was real,” Hyunjin rasps. His words are hushed, but you feel the weight of them, soaked and dripping with both tenderness and hesitation. “I didn’t want you holding my heart when you couldn’t fully feel it in your hands.”

You exhale slowly, trying to ignore the false hope rising like bile in your throat. The way his eyes brighten whenever he sees you. The stolen glances you thought you were imagining all this time. Darling. It can’t be. “Hyunjin… what are you saying?” 

“Do you have feelings for me? Because I do.” Hyunjin purses his lips and slides his palm up to caress your cheek. “I have feelings for you, and I’m so tired of pretending that I don’t.”

“You what?” You search his eyes wildly for any sign of a joke, because you’re unwilling to believe that this is really, truly happening. All of your reasoning feels tightened by this nostalgic lavender haze, a dizzying sense of deja vu pulled from your thoughts. The ones in which you get to call Hyunjin yours. They cannot be real, not in this universe.

He nods bashfully, a pretty new color in his cheeks— a shade that both astounds and confounds you. The cherry lips that you’ve endlessly fantasized about shine red and swollen with how he has so anxiously bitten into them. Hyunjin’s eyes shine in the hazy glow of his sunset lamp, full of feeling and twinkling brighter than any high rise. You’ve never seen him like this, vulnerable and laid bare in front of you. You’ve always been the one to fall apart in front of him, and yet, here he is, surprising you once again. And that’s something that will never change, how he remains the warlock of your wildest dreams and unraveling sanity. 

“I haven’t been the same since we met.” Hyunjin murmurs, softly stroking the side of your face. “And- and after last night, I think I actually might be going crazy. Because maybe it’s not all in my head. Maybe you want me as much as I do. Do you?”

You shake your head, heart fluctuating with every emotion that has ever been registered in your mind. Exhilaration. Doubt. Fear. Devotion. You are so overwhelmingly in love with the man in front of you that it hurts, even when he stands in front of you with his heart in his hands. It hurts, because you know that no matter what, there’s no going back now. You know you can’t leave him alone now; you are completely and utterly his. 

“Hyunjin—”

“Y/N.” Hyunjin pleads, and all you can feel is disappointment at the address. Not darling. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. Just please—”

“Hyunjin.” You cut him off harshly, and he freezes, his arms dropping back to his side. You immediately feel the magnitude of losing his touch on your skin, and it does nothing to tamp down the mix of frustration and arousal inside of you. “Hwang Hyunjin. You drive me absolutely insane.”

There’s a moment of charged silence, before his lips are on yours. When you were younger, you’d spend hours hunched over romance novels and rereading the parts when the leads finally kissed, their repressed emotions finally amalgamating in one stunning, golden moment. But nothing about kissing Hyunjin feels golden; it never did. 

No, it’s an ardent, burning red, a fire blooming in the hands that you use to yank him closer to you, a distance that will always feel unending whenever it’s him. It’s sin, pouring over hot coals and shimmering ore, enchanting yet raw. It’s so perfectly imperfect, wet and frantic, shameless and desperate. It’s rose vines creeping up crumbling brick and the roll of thunder in the middle of the night. It’s you and him and no inhibitions whatsoever, until… 

“Wait, wait, wait.” To your disappointment, Hyunjin pulls back. Even though he was the one who kissed you, you don’t fail to recognize the uncertainty written on his reddened lips. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to block out the nagging thoughts in which Hyunjin has already regretted you. Moving out of his hold, you give him space by backing away. “Is everything okay?”

“I wanted to make sure that you are one-hundred percent okay with this. Like, I drive you insane in a good way, right? Not a bad way? Just checking. Consent is key and all,” Hyunjin breathlessly, letting out a nervous giggle. It’s a display that is shockingly similar to how you act whenever you’re agitated, and you never expected it to be put on by Hyunjin, of all people. It’s… cute. 

You give him a small smile, letting your handbag carelessly slip off your shoulder and onto the rug. You take a tiny step towards him, wrapping your arms around Hyunjin’s slender waist and reveling in how Hyunjin’s breathing quickens, pulse jumping with your touch. Drawing him close to you, just until your lips are barely touching, you look up at him through your eyelashes, focusing on that gorgeous beauty mark under his eye. 

“Hyunjin, is the door locked?”

He just stares at you for a good moment, and you let him, enjoying the way his lips part at your husky tone. “No. I didn’t lock it.”

“Good.” You lift your hand and trace the outline of Hyunjin’s bottom lip with your finger, observing the way he shivers at your touch. “Pay attention, because I’m about to prove to you just how much I like you.”

A blush speckled across his features is all that is needed to induce that familiar urge in you, the one that makes you unreasonably aroused. You want to make him yours, to take care of him and demonstrate to him specifically how insane you are for him. You want to make his wildest dreams come alive, just like he has done for you.

Hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut, a movement so delicate that it almost makes you cry. “Please… just touch me.”

Talking will come, eventually. Both of you will sit down tomorrow morning and establish what exactly this is, what you have done by that point— what you plan to do to Hyunjin now. You’ll find out what this is for Hyunjin— whether this is lust, a brazen act committed in the heat of the moment, or the complete opposite, what you’re too afraid to even think of. Your heart wishes for the latter to be true, for Hyunjin to want you not only as much as you want him, but in the same way as well. Maybe you can’t put it in words, what you feel for him, but you can show him your sincerity in other ways. It’s all you can imagine doing, after Hyunjin has currently rendered you with no other form of thought. Right now, it’s just you and him and a novel of proofs to be written on each other. 

And so you cup his cheek and draw his body closer to yours; this time, you move slowly, every action deliberate, exploring Hyunjin and his depths. Your lips touch his softly, a ghost of longing on skin. In turn, Hyunjin’s hands clutch at yours, silently asking you for more, and you indulge your prince, because there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

Hwang Hyunjin tastes like a sunrise, if dawn’s dainty fingertips blessing the sky with a brilliant, fiery spectrum of light could be encapsulated in that sense. Coffee ice cream, spearmint, unadulterated eroticism. Finally, you’ve found the end of your questions. You shut your eyes as Hyunjin slips his hands into your hair, pulling it out of its tight hold and deftly sliding the tiny pink elastic around his wrist. You mirror his actions, carding your fingers through his soft, silky strands and holding onto him as he deepens the kiss. Instinctively, almost, you part your lips, allowing for him to slip his tongue inside and have his own answers.

Hyunjin pulls back from you to look at you directly when he starts to run his trembling hands down over the curve of your hips, the way he regards you full of attention and lust. You are sure that the confidence that you might have projected earlier has diffused into something more unfocused, with the way you already feel so high off of Hyunjin. Taking control has always been something that has come to you easily, until Park Jisung subjugated that part of you. But you don’t mind it right now, Hyunjin taking all of you and turning you into a mess, because this is the very comfort that you’ve been craving for so long.

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin whispers, even though there’s no secret to be kept. He leans down so that his forehead touches your own, in a way that feels too intimate, but at the same time, it makes you want it and more. It’s a genuine question ringing with the slightest hint of hesitation, and yet, you can’t believe he has to ask you; you love him, even though you may not be able to say it, yet. 

“This. This is what you do to me.” You take Hyunjin’s hand into yours and lead it to the place between your legs that’s been begging for his touch since you first laid eyes on him, second to only your heart. Hyunjin’s eyes widen in surprise when you guide his hand under your skirt, pupils dilating in want when he realizes how drenched you are just for him. But his reaction is nothing compared to you, to how you suck in a sharp breath and try not to fall apart with just one touch.

That one sound is enough for his gaze to darken, before he’s gripping your hips like a vice and pushing you against his desk. You let out a small gasp at the roughness of the movement, and even more so at how Hyunjin is finally taking what has always belonged to him, and him only. In response, he captures your bottom lip with his teeth, nipping at you slightly, not enough to cause pain but just enough to have your back arching at the sting of it.

“Did that hurt?” Hyunjin asks you, a smirk painting his features as he drags his lips across your cupid bow ever-so-softly.

You try to hide your blush by rolling your eyes defiantly, fisting the collar of his shirt in your hands. “No, it didn’t.”

Hyunjin laughs as he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, before he’s moving to your neck, attentively peppering kisses along it just to garner more proof of the utter pleasure that has pervaded your senses— and he has barely even touched you yet.  

Your hands slide down to the bottom of his shirt and to tug at it, the desperation of the movement mirroring the pulse of your heart. Hyunjin lets you unhook the top few buttons before hastily tearing off the rest of it, the tiny silver knobs scattering across the floor. But you can’t think about the mess now, not when Hyunjin takes your hands in his and runs them down smooth, toned places of his torso. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, easily untying your blouse with just his right hand, something that shouldn’t be as attractive to you as it is. He pushes it off of your body, the material now a nuisance to the way he begins to explore every inch of skin his lips can find purchase on. 

You decide to help him out, unzipping your skirt to step out of it, kicking it away along with your heels to some forgotten corner of the office. Seeing no point in prolonging your mutual misery, you also reach behind your back and unhook your bra to free your breasts to him, shrugging it off with a smile as you meet Hyunjin’s eyes.

“Do you want to touch me?” You give him a teasing grin, loving the way he audibly gulps when taking in how you’re nearly bare, all for him. 

“I want to fucking ravish you.”

You tense with his words and how his gaze hardens with the challenge, trying to maintain your cocky front. “Let’s see how you do, Dr. Hwang.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t reply immediately, the corner of his lips just barely tipping up. His fingers find the band of your panties, hooking under to pull you forward to him as he guides you to sit on the desk. “I can literally smell how wet you are for me, you know.”

And you nearly come to his words, but he doesn’t give you the chance, hands coyly smoothing up your stomach before gripping your panties on either side and ripping them off your body. Before the lace has even touched the floor, his mouth is on your cunt, blazing hot and wet. 

You gasp, sucking in a shattering breath as his lips move against your pussy as if spelling out letters in the filthiest language known to man. He envelops your clit with his lips in a slight kiss before you feel his tongue delve out, adventuring between your folds and getting his first, full taste of you. Hyunjin moans as he dips into you, blessing your ears with the prettiest sound to grace them, and it seems as if eating you out pleases him just as much as it does for you, if not more.

Hyunjin pulls away momentarily to look at your center, hands wrapping around your thighs and encouraging them even farther apart. Trailing kisses along your shin, he lifts your right leg to place it comfortably on the desk, caging himself between your legs. The sight makes you clench and grasp onto his hair, bringing him right back into you. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out as he pressed his mouth against you once more, relentlessly starving and savouring the taste of you at the same time. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

You moan, taking fistfuls of his soft, soft hair as he fulfills his sinful promises. You can’t think of any good comeback like you would prefer to do, but this position, while compromising, isn’t anything but ideal at this moment. The worlds have coiled in your throat, coming out as broken sobs, and you have effectively gone crazy for Hyunjin.

“So pretty,” he compliments, eyes drinking in your core before softening as they glance up at you. He slides a lone finger inside of you, and you immediately tighten around it, making him chuckle. “You like that? Like my mouth on your cunt? Like how I’m fucking you like this, so slow yet not enough?”

You just whimper in answer, but Hyunjin remains unbothered by your lack of coherent response. “You taste fucking heavenly, by the way.”

“Oh my God—”

He hooks two of fingers inside of you this time, thrusting in and walking the tips of them along your g-spot, making your head go hazy with pleasure. Your breathing hitches as a pressure starts to build in your lower stomach, your walls shamelessly sucking at Hyunjin’s fingers. 

“Mm, you’re going to drench me, aren’t you? You talk up a big storm, but you’re dripping down my hand already.”

Hyunjin’s talk is almost as dangerous as his touch, and he knows it, with how he grins knowingly at you while he so sweetly puts you in your place. He attaches his mouth to your clit, sucks deftly, and moves his entire arm against that one beautiful place, making your legs give out beneath you. 

“Hyunjin, please,” you sob, amazed with how you were even able to form that sorry excuse for a sentence. “I need—”

“Need what?” Hyunjin mocks you, knowing exactly what you want, but he takes his time, playing with you and drawing out this sublime form of torture on your body. “Can’t wait for me to fill you up, yes? So greedy.”

Fuck, you love the way he talks. Measured and polite when fully clothed, but uninhibited and dirty behind closed doors. Your spine straightens as he starts to pump you so hard that you begin to see stars, or maybe just the lights from the buildings outside. You can’t be sure. You begin to arch your back, trying to lessen the intensity of his movements, but he wraps his arm around your hips to hold you down.

He flicks your clit mercilessly, his tongue winding you close to your climax. You mewl his name softly, rolling your hips up towards his face and on his fingers, clenching impossibly tight around him, but he only responds by fucking you harder. Faster. 

You can feel your orgasm approaching in addition to his heightened attention in your blissful facial expressions, watching the way your brows turn up in the middle. 

“Close, aren’t you?” He murmurs against your clit, and you concentrate on his voice, the sole thing you can comprehend past the obliterating pleasure you’re suspended in. You swear he smiles, before he pulls away from you. 

You cry out pathetically at the loss of contact, feeling that tsunami of ecstasy fail to crest and eventually fade back into the shallows, leaving just an unbearable ripple of disturbance behind. You can feel the tears form in your eyes at your interrupted orgasm that was so cruelly taken from you, and you narrow your gaze at Hyunjin. 

“And you’re such a brat, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Hyunjin responds cheekily, tracing his middle finger slightly against your folds, and you have to grind your teeth to keep from shuddering. “I want you to come on my cock instead.”

You’ve had enough of his games. This is something that you started, and you completely intend to finish it, even if it means not playing by Hyunjin’s twisted rules and making your own board. You dig your nails into Hyunjin’s shoulders, feeling him wince under your touch, and push him back roughly. He collapses onto the couch, looking up at you in wide-eyed surprise. 

“Did you have fun, Hyunjin? I hope you did.” It’s your turn to smirk down at him, all of the explicit thoughts of what you would love to do to him running through your head. “Because we’re going to be doing things my way now.”

Before he can even muster up a retort, you are already straddling him, shifting back to unzip his trousers and shove them down his legs, while he just obediently lifts up his hips to help. All in one go, you get both his pants and boxers off, freeing his length. And he really is so pretty— all of him, down to his cock that’s perfectly hardened for you to use. 

Hyunjin shivers as you experimentally palm his cock, testing how sensitive he is, and you’re pleased with what you discover. “What are you going to do to me?” 

“What do you want me to do to you?” You question him right back, pretending to actually listen to him. Hyunjin takes the bait, relief and desire evident in his features.

“I want you to fuck me with that sweet little pussy,” he responds, the urgency filling his throat making you smile.

“I see.” 

You shrug nonchalantly, gripping him and enjoying the way he gets even harder in your hands. Slowly, you begin to pump him, spitting into your palm and spreading it down his length for better friction. It works, with the way he curses under his breath and looks at you pleadingly. 

“Darling, stop… stop doing that,” he pleads, eyes involuntarily rolling back as you lean forward, pressing your tits together and sliding his dick between them teasingly. 

You cock your head to the side and let your hair fall slightly over your eyes, smiling innocently at him. “Stop doing what, baby?”

“Stop fucking teasing me!” He gasps out, watching you lift yourself just barely onto his cock, holding him at the base and rubbing his tip between your slick folds. Both of you let out soft sighs at the sensation of him nudging your entrance, but you still don’t relent. 

“I don’t know… I kinda like the position we’re in. Think I could get myself off just watching you like this,” you say, lightly circling your hips as you grind your clit on his cock. “Be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for months,” he whines— in any other situation, you’d laugh at how adorable he is if you weren’t so damn turned on right now. He places his arms around your waist, squeezing lightly. “I have to have you.”

You take Hyunjin’s hands and bring them up to rest over your breasts, keeping eye contact with him. As if a trying to placate you by seduction, he traces his fingers over your nipples, sending a jolt through your body; he need not know that you have been wrapped around his finger ever since he pushed you against that desk, and that you’re this close to surrendering to his pleas. You need him.

“Say ‘please’,” you giggle, your cocky façade cracking. After all, you’re endlessly weak for him. 

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but obliges you anyway. “Please, fuck me.”

You want to have one last word with his attitude, but then his palm cracks hard against your thigh, and your legs give up. Your hips sink fully down onto his lap, and you both cry out at the feeling of being sated in the best possible way. Hyunjin is so deep inside you that you feel like you can barely breathe; yet, your chest rises and falls rapidly, as Hyunjin anchors his hands on your ass, assisting you in riding him.

Hyunjin tilts his head back, the veins along the graceful arch of his neck prominent as your walls pulse around him. Meanwhile, you’re practically shaking at how full he makes you feel, pressed up so deliciously inside of you. You’ll lose your mind if it means you can’t have him like this in every moment for the rest of your life, but it’s an unfortunate truth you’ll have to confront later. For now, you know he’s going to make an absolute mess of you.

“There we go, sweetheart. Use me, take all of what you want from me.” Hyunjin just whispers, guiding the roll of your hips while staring up at you in a way you can’t believe is reserved just for you. Enamored, raptured, and completely captivated. It’s so similar to the way you know you always look at him, that you nearly want to cry at the sight.

You’re breathless, gazing down at the man you love through hazy eyes. Hyunjin always looks beautiful no matter what, but right now, he’s simply breathtaking, with how his hair is so artfully mussed, and how his cheeks are tinged with the blush of pleasure. He’s especially exquisite, knowing that he’s like this just for you.

“F-feel so good, Hyunjin,” you manage, both of you fucking each other at this point— you bouncing on top of him while he fucks into from below with equal energy.

Hyunjin smirks, control coming back to him as you give it up. He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you both to rub slow, firm circles on your clit. “Fuck, are you going to come already?” 

In spite of yourself, you shoot him a look that isn’t nearly as sharp as you intended it to be. “You already got me halfway there.”

“Definitely more than halfway— eighty-percent’s more accurate,” Hyunjin responds with haphazardly feigned indignance, before shaking his head and kissing you. He bows his head down to encase your nipple with his lips, gently sucking at the bud while his hand trails over across your chest to grasp and squeeze at your other breast, eliciting a strangled moan from you. “It’s that nice, right? I know, baby. Let go for me.”

And you do. Shattering, fierce, red-hot. You can’t handle the way he’s looking at you, touching you, talking to you. Your toes are numb from how harshly they curl, and your fingers sting from how you dragged them down Hyunjin’s back, hopefully leaving marks for him to smile at later.

“Hyun—” You can’t finish even calling out his name, the attempt fading into something nonsensical. Your eyes water from the intensity of your climax, before nestling into his neck.

But he pulls away to look you in the eye when you come, whimpering hopelessly. “That’s it, let go for me, darling.”

Your vision blurs as your orgasm finally crashes into you, overwhelming and so earth-shatteringly beautiful. Hyunjin’s voice soothes you as he guides you through your high, whispering hushed praises against your skin and doing dangerous things to your heart. A wave of unmatchable euphoria washes over you, but it never passes, like his body is an expert in prolonging the pleasure so intricately. You cannot believe that Hyunjin is real, with the way each time he thrusts into you tips you closer and closer into a never-ending free fall into absolute ecstasy. 

With a soft, drawn out sigh, you finally come, and Hyunjin swears under his breath as you clench around him, your pussy gripping his cock so hard that it almost draws the climax from his body. You find a single ounce of strength in the aftermath, wrapping your arm around Hyunjin’s neck and turning his chin to make him look at you.

“I need you to come for me, Hyunjin,” you say, lips quivering against his.

He groans into your mouth, kissing you deeply. “Where, baby? Tell me where.”

“Inside of me.”

Hyunjin throws his head back, moaning desperately before capturing your mouth in a messy kiss. When he breaks away, a string of saliva connects your lips, and it feels so treacherously erotic. Hyunjin comes while calling your name over and over again, pressing your ass down on his lap as his thrusts become shallower, and more erratic. He rolls his hips a final time, pumping his come as deep as he can into you. And then he slumps against you, panting heavily as he gently lays you back down on the couch to fit you comfortably under the crook of his arm.

You hold each other just like that for a long time, hands clasped together while simply existing in the universe that feels like it is all your own. Hyunjin sighs, kissing you deeply in a way that makes your heart flip. He then pulls back to look down and inspect you, both concern and care written deep in his expression. 

“Are you okay, darling? Was that too much?”

You give him a fucked-out grin, cupping his beautiful face with your palms and reveling in how warm his skin is. “No. That was perfect. You are perfect.”

“I… I’m glad.” Hyunjin blushes and looks away like he’s suddenly tongue-tied, as if he wasn’t moaning the dirtiest things into your mouth just minutes earlier. “I don’t even have the words to describe how I feel about you. You’re… everything, and I won’t ever be able to convey that to you completely.”

Something tells you that he isn’t lying, that he means every word, that this isn’t just some kind of lust-filled one-night stand that’ll merit those awkward, unwanted conversations in the future. Maybe it’s the earnesty in his voice, the pure devotion in his eyes, or maybe, you’ll allow this for yourself, just once. You’ll let yourself be happy, let yourself fall and be caught in his arms. 

“I feel the same way,” you say, feeling the tears of something bittersweet form. “You’re gorgeous, Hyunjin. You know that? I just need you to know that.”

Hyunjin wipes the fresh dampness on your cheeks away with his lips, placing a kiss on your forehead when he’s finished. “We have so much time for you to tell me. We’ll talk tomorrow, baby, I promise. Just rest, for now.”

You sniffle, swiping the backs of your hands over your eyes. “I just wish I was completely sober for our first kiss. I remember it perfectly, but it just had to happen when I was a drunk mess.”

He shakes his head, blinking at you like you make no sense to him. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

“Hyunjin,” you start, heart aching and wistful for his thoughts. It seems like you would want to know everything going on in his mind, but perhaps, the challenge of not knowing and being vulnerable to the mystery, that’s what makes it truly so special.

“I wouldn’t change our first kiss for anything. You were so cute, I should have taken a picture.” Hyunjin smiles down at you fondly, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger. “But if you really want, we can say our first kiss was today.”

You give him a doubtful but adoring look. “That wouldn’t be real.”

Hyunjin shrugs carelessly, nothing but adoration in his tone. “No one has to know except for us. Our lives. Our rules. Our secret. Don’t you trust me?”

Our. You can’t help but feel giddy at that word, the very one that joins you two in the harmony that you’ve yearned for so long. 

“Always.”

Long after the sun has dipped far below the horizon, after every other SeoulSpark employee has gone home for the day, you and Hyunjin lie together on his sofa in a tangle of sated exhaustion. The many hours of finally acting on long pent-up desires have rightfully ended with you drawn close against his chest as you both silently gaze out at the twinkling cityscape. 

For the years that he has been settled in this office, Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel a strange twinge of sadness whenever he looked out at the stretch of towering skyscrapers. After all, he spent all of his time helping others find love, but there he was, left with a great view that he would never be able to share. He told himself that he didn’t mind it, not when his dreams lay solely in working. He would be happy to be the one to bring love to others, if it was never meant to be his. And he repeated it to himself everyday like it was just another mundane step in his cherished daily routine, until he truly started to believe it. 

But how could any of that be true, when he can feel your heartbeat against his own? When the scent of your gardenia shampoo has so gracefully invaded all of his senses? When the moon so delicately traces every single one of your curves, bathing your smooth skin in a silver glow? How could he ever be meant to be alone, when the void in both his heart and arms have finally been filled?

It’s too soon to tell, and it scares the hell out of him to even think about it. But when you look up at him with those starry, radiant eyes, it all seems so worth it, so justified. You are simply the aurora to his night sky— you light him up beyond his own flimsy understanding. Therein lay the words that haven’t strayed from the tip of his tongue ever since he laid his eyes on you. The words he so fervently spelled earlier into your core, joining them with your essence. The words he’ll bite back for as long as he can because he doesn’t want you to leave.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»

AUTHOR'S NOTE (& IMPORTANT WRITING UPDATE) Announcement: Jisungsdaydreamer™ has risen from the dead after, like, four months. I apologize, once again, for the terrible wait time. This was my longest gap in posting yet, because it took a while for me to make the adjustment to college. I'm trying to get back to regularly writing, but even when I don't respond/post on here for a while, I just want you to know that I'm still here, and I see you, and I appreciate you! Anyway, I hope you liked the turning point this chapter was (i.e. THEY FINALLY CONFESSED!!!). Cue the fireworks and doves and wedding music!! Also, I just want to mention Yeonjun being a UCLA student- he is sooo Los Angeles coded, and I could totally see him being one of the most popular students at a school like UCLA. And did anyone get my Jane the Virgin reference (hint: it has to do with the grilled cheese recipe)? I used to be obsessed with that show and I have re-watched to the point that I remember almost all of the dialogue... Another thing- for Hyunjin's outfit at the reunion party, I totally was going for what Jungkook was wearing in the 3D music video. I would actually die if Hyunjin dressed up like that IRL. If you know, you know! Here's to Dr. Hwang and designer obsessions and being on that sigma grindset. For the next two weeks, I'll be crying over my textbooks in the library while blasting Rock-Star in my headphones. Here's to getting through what I believe is the worst time of year for students! Stay strong and 樂 on 🎸💫 -Dreamy

TAGLIST @skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahhspider @8makes1scream @jetblackbelle @143hyunes @raginghellfire @sinforsuccubus @lixiesw1fe @chartrucewhore @freckleboilix @ultimatestayandminoronce @cheesytangerine @leyknowsbin @stay278 @strawberry-dreamland @lvrgrl-xo @moasworld @hyunnielix @httphans @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @1clickawayfrominsane @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @moasworld @kykeu @sxlxna @writingkills @boomfrogg @tyongyuta @levislifeline @hyunzerolv @starlost-andfound @browniebearr @hanniemylovelyquokka @ardef38 @loveemmy08 @anyhow-everything @liillii @sweetpickledjins @insertsomethingaboutanimehere @kylielovesu @moon0fthenight

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©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

[optimisticgrey]

Yes, yes, I concede: I had to tell him off.

This is for all of us who ever got dumped by their coward partner without any chance of ever voicing their feelings.

Happy friday 💕

This is also the last part of

In the wake of your departure, Part 6 - Epilogue

As someone who has a hard time finishing drafts, editing, re-editing and rewriting everything until nothing makes sense any more and just to lie down and cry, this is a big step for me.

Pairing: Unnamed, genderneutral Tav (Bard/Sorcerer but not really relevant) ; Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart, Halsin, Astarion, Jaheira and Minsc mentioned

WC: 5496

Summary: You stand at the docks of Baldur’s Gate, the Netherbrain is slain. You watch Gale leave to retrieve the Crown of Karsus. It takes you very long to realize he is not coming back. This is what happens afterwards and it burns slowly.

Warnings: Fluff, anger, some tears. Getting to tell God Gale he fucked himself over.

Five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance

Song recommandations: Linkin Park - Heavy is the Crown Fiddler's Green - Apology

This beautiful divider was made by @cafekitsune

Looking back, you can only manage a faint smile.

You are seated on Wyllach’s porch, as the village has come to call them.

Wyll and Karlach.

They settled here years ago when Karlach was expecting their first child.

They chose a large house at the edge of the river, knowing more children would follow.

Now, all three are asleep upstairs, their loud enthusiasm and laughter replaced by the stillness of night.

The porch has become a familiar retreat after your weekly dinners, a tradition Karlach insists upon.

Even Astarion joins them during the winter months, when the nights are longer.

Your hand rests in Halsin’s beneath the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin.

The first bottle of wine has been emptied, and as he pours you another glass. You nod in quiet gratitude.

As you watch the deep crimson liquid flow, your mind drifts.

There are things in your life you regret.

Fights you could have avoided, choices you would make differently now, armed with the wisdom you have earned.

But opening your heart again is not one of those regrets.

It was not easy.

The journey was riddled with setbacks, sleepless nights, and the ever-present fear of another broken heart.

Of not being enough.

Again.

But Halsin has never, not even for a moment, made you feel like you were anything less than perfect.

You look at him while he offers wine to Shadowheart who is already giggling. He smiles warmly, knowingly before he refills her glass and sets the bottle down to look at you.

A moment of quiet understand is shared, his thumb brushes your knuckles.

Wyll steps onto the porch, balancing an elaborate dessert adorned with too many cherries and an impressive dollop of whipped cream.

His other arm is tucked behind his back, a theatrical flourish to his entrance.

“Behold! My newest creation!” he declares.

Laughter ripples through the group as he places the dish in the centre of the table and begins handing out portions.

There is a smattering of polite applause.

“This looks brilliant, Wyll. Thank you!” Shadowheart says warmly.

Halsin chuckles, his thumb brushing over your hand one last time before releasing it to pick up his fork.

“It does look... quite a lot,” he quips, drawing more laughter.

“In the spirit of honesty,” Wyll says with a grin, “this isn’t entirely my creation. Our wizard came up with the base idea when we first arrived in Baldur’s Gate.”

Our wizard.

The phrase has stuck.

At first, it was a kindness, a way to shield you from the sharp sting of his name.

Now, it is just how they refer to him.

You chuckle softly, savouring the decadent combination of chocolate cake, whipped cream, and cherries.

“It’s brilliant, Wyll,” you say, taking another bite. “Gale used to make something similar with strawberries—”

The air shifts before you can finish.

He materializes beside you, his presence impossible to ignore.

Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Halsin leap to their feet, startled.

If it was custom to wear weapons inside of Haven, they would have drawn them.

You remain seated, unmoved, calmly finishing your bite.

You knew this moment would come.

You have known it for years.

You have avoided speaking his name since that morning on the docks, all those years ago.

But tonight, in a rare moment of carelessness, it slipped.

And now he is here.

“You have called upon me, my love,” he says, his distorted voice laced with triumph.

You set your fork down and sigh, unwilling to face him.

To even look at him.

For once, everyone else is silent, a mixture of shock and surprise freezing them in place.

“Gale,” Wyll breathes, his tone caught between disbelief and caution.

“The proper form of address is Dekarios the Divine, my friend,” the God replies, his voice swelling with grandeur. “However, I shall magnanimously forgive your oversight.”

You roll your eyes and rise from your seat, gesturing for the others to sit.

“Take a piece home for me, please,” you murmur to Halsin, cupping his face and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. And another.

He searches your expression, his hand gently resting onto your hip.  Worry is etched into his features. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

A weak smile is your only reply as you move to hug the others.

He watches, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Oh, so you’ve finally decided to grace me with your attention, my love?” he says, his tone mockingly light. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d faded into the background entirely. But now that I’m here, I cannot wait to make the best of our shared time.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes again.

“This is long overdue,” you add gently, turning back to Halsin. “I might as well do it tonight. Celeste is on baby duty, and Soren takes the first shift tomorrow morning. However long this,” you gesture toward the God, “might take, I can sleep in. Don’t worry.”

Halsin nods, though his worry remains. He draws you in to kisses you again, a quiet reassurance. “Be safe.”

“Please,” Wyll says, his voice tight with concern. “Be careful.”

Karlach only nods, her eyes flickering between you and him.

“I solemnly vow not to bring harm to our precious and beloved leader,” the God announces with exaggerated formality. “Their safety is assured by my word.”

Shadowheart’s expression hardens, her disdain cutting through the air.

“You’ve certainly done enough,” she mutters.

You step off the porch into the kitchen, motioning for the God to follow. “Let’s get this over with.”

Continue on AO3

[oetscop]

i found some random rainer lore in my drafts HI ^}^

- both times he went missing, he was in a dissociative fugue and has very little memory of before and during running off. the first time, he came to while digging in a random field. he couldnt find his car and assumed he was still in connecticut but was, in fact, on the coast in rhode island! nobody has seen him since the second time he walked off. anna is realistically sure that hes dead, but jill remains in denial. its not easy losing both your sons.

- he didnt actually die in the Mark's bathroom, but he almost did. it left him with nerve damage and cognitive issues bc he was deprived of oxygen for a short period if time. not that he didnt already have issues with impulse control and shit but his coordination was fucked. he had to relearn how to properly use a computer again. his quality of life plummeted.

- while he can still see stuff up close, he is legally blind. got them thick ass glasses but even with them not everything is clear. when anna would have him babysit care, she got him that bright green key to make it easier to tell it apart from his own house key.

- on that note, he babysat care quite a bit shortly before and after mike passed away.

- hes also really good with kids. youd think he would come off as kinda unsettling just bc of how flat he can be, but he rly doesnt. part of that is due in part to mike being born while he was in his teens, and babysitting care. when the school was still up and running, marvin pushed to have daniels "petscop kids" program set up there. thats where most of his playtesters came from.

- when marvin hit the dog (who ive named jack lol), he was driving drunk with care in her carseat in the back. when he couldnt get ahold of anna, he would show up to the hammond household trying to talk to her thru jill. it had happened three times by then, but this time he hit the dog and got the car (anna's car) stuck in a snow bank directly in front of them. daniel watched it happen but didnt see care until he went outside. he ended up pulling marvin out of the car and verbally attacking him before shoving him onto the driveway. jill had to pull him off, and both care and mike saw the whole thing. its one of the few times he outwardly expressed any emotion, which is pretty scary knowing hes never been a violent person.

- the other time was shortly before christmas 1997. anna got sick of daniel coming to the house just to try to convince her that care is lina reborn, since a lot of those ideas came from marvins own delusions. she didnt really feel safe with him anywhere near care. he broke into the garage and she was having to hold the door shut while hes just. screaming and slamming against the door sobbing bc he put so much into trying to save her. begging for even just a photo of her. refusing to be cut off after everything he put himself thru.

[weebsinstash]

Honestly valentino is such a dramatic bitch that if you did ever leave, saying fuck it you’ll figure it out as you go, he’d lose his shit. Torn between worried and pissed and it would be so delicious for those who love runaway readers

Protags/FLs/Readers what have you that run away are my bread and butter and i need to do more running away fics. Funny enough I have a few ideas in my drafts but homie there's so much to dig through at this point 💀

Imagine setting a really polite two weeks notice on his desk (that you don't really owe him) about how you're moving and getting another job, and you're extremely nervous because he doesn't say anything after you leave it in his office, and he waits until your literal very last shift when you already have some sort of other arrangement set up or trying to when he finally says "so what the fuck is this about you trying to quit?"

I imagine so many different ways he's shitty to you. Ripping up your letter right in front of you, catching it alight with a lit cigarette before dropping it into a trashcan, merely crumpling it up and throwing it on the floor to show you your feelings and your wants are absolutely nothing to him, he really finds it so funny you were just going to try and leave? As far as he's concerned you have absolutely no reason to leave and it would have only negative consequences if you did. And considering he was already a grown ass man and has been dead for a few decades, I can imagine him acting like you're just some dumb little girl, just some cute little bimbo with all her big stupid ideas that doesn't know how to do shit compared to him.

Not to mention the grief you'd catch if you ran away and had to be rescued, say a rival of Val's has had his boys watching all his lil errand runners and knows you fetch his shit sometimes and they scoop you up to ransom you back, not knowing you've ran away and to your knowledge your former Overlord boss has forgotten about you. Meanwhile Valentino goes to do a drug deal or whatever mafia dealings he does and, oh what a surprise, there you are, tied up and gagged with your big watery eyes looking up at him in fear while also silently begging him for help while he's developing a rager and realizing you look pretty cute when you're bound and helpless. I've even thought of like, he saves you from being kidnapped or like has you resuscitated from overdosing or trying to kill yourself and he slaps you with the bill just so you owe him a debt he can slap interest on and keep you indebted to him for literally forever. And if you don't show up when he summons you, it's just a couple of texts to his Goon Group Chat and an order of "bring this bratty lil shit back asap" before you're being dragged back by his henches

Outwardly he'd try and act tough but we all know Val doesn't take his little "breakups" well. At first he says you're just a loser and he doesn't need you, doing his typical self-soothing denial routine of going to the salon, buying himself new things, posting to social media about how everyone is useless and he doesn't need them, like what he does when he breaks up wirh Vox before getting back together.

Homeboys up on here like "mothpimp posted at 2am: bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks"

hellraiser42069, sending a photo of a familiar certain someone from a distance: I was just at the corner of 6th and mulberry, ain't this your bitch big v

mothpimp, already dispatching some of his lackeys to retrieve you within .00001 seconds: pfff that's stupid im a pimp not a simp 🙄 I don't chase no one 😤"

You finally see him again and he's clearly been pampering himself which is a dead giveaway for how you've gotten under his skin and he's all "look who came crawling back" when he knows full damn well he had to kidnap you to even have a conversation and fully refuses to acknowledge he's being legitimately creepy because you aren't even making him money like Angel or his other workers,you're just like. An unrequited crush almost. A little pet/companion/future fleshlight.

It's common with pimps and sex trafficking to force the workers to get tattoos or certain identifying marks of ownership to designated who they belong to but I imagine depending on the kind of story you've craving that Val's version of this, for the Reader, is basically having you constantly wearing things he's given you if not outright deciding what you wear and look like 24/7. That big hunky hellhound at the bar thinks you look cute? His pickup line dies in his throat when you spin around and you're wearing a choker with a big red bejeweled heart and he instantly knows that if he so much as says hi to you that there's a particularly aggravated moth sitting right across the room ready to shoot him dead out of sheer possessiveness

[tellmethisisnottumblisnextfuckup]

Oh boy that was some wild times… @twopoppies So some more vocal blogs like Emmie, scrufflecake, and possibly some more who were a bit stalkerish, started getting anons that Louis was gonna be a dad. At first everyone was laughing it off because we’ve gotten some crazy Nostradamuses in the fandom, and none of them ever became true. So what happened here exactly is that they probably received more exact info and these blogs created a secret society of sorts, where the link between each other was knowing about this upcoming stunt.

These were the same blogs who linked that chimp to Briana because there was this early visit and they uncovered that the chimp from the SMG music video was a link all along, and if my memory doesn’t cheat me, that chimp’s keeper (?) was a relative to Briana. That visit was supposed to be the “doctors visit to confirm the pregnancy”, the only problem is that the human body doesn’t work like that lol. And there’s such thing as ovulation, and even if she was on the peak of high pregnancy chance THAT night where you know they did the walk with Brioni’s old face, then the maths and biology still don’t add up and this was entangled from day to day by our famous now ex-larrie block-obsessed Emmie so BELIEVE me it’s biologically impossible. These blogs also received a link to an ig pic of Louis and Austin and underneath they could screenshot the Briana’s aunt and mom’s chat about removing the pic because news isn’t out yet. Needless to say, yet again we encounter a wonderful obstacle which is biology. If you count back from the birth, the timeline yet again doesn’t match, like so horribly not matching that we’re talking weeks! What else? Oh yes Tammi following a billion of baby accounts on ig but yet again the timing (that goddamn biology I know) didn’t even fit.

These are super foggy memories, but summa summarum the fandom already received news of pregnancy MONTHS before, and it was supposed to be a girl too (just look at all those domains) but the family got fucked over so they had to build on a boy. And it was supposed to be called differently but Louis the Biggest Larrie was smarter and released the FIMQ name last minute so Brioni and co had to rush to those domain sites again to register all kinds of permutation of 1D & baby & Freddie. Also fun fact those domains were only brought for a limited amount of time, yet again proving this wasn’t supposed to last this long.

Well this was a fucking trip down memory lane, but I hope I was able to scrape some memories. Feel free to correct anything incorrect.

@twopoppies

Gina, so historically "someone" was also trying to get the babygate narrative on tumblr, via anon? I'm a bit new and I've been reading some posts, and in some they said that some people received messages saying that Briana was pregnant

Hi darling. I think @tellmethisisnottumblisnextfuckup or @betterstllbemywindingwheel might remember more clearly exactly what happened. But at the initial party boy Louis push, there was a definite push to get the idea out into the fandom that Louis had hooked up with some girl he'd been with at a club (the night of the "this one's for the sun" photo). I don't clearly remember how the pregnancy rumors started though.

Anyone else who was around then?

[aidanezra]

Happiness is Fleating (Part One)

A/N: Long time, no see! I am so sorry for disappearing. Completely lost motivation to do much of anything creatively. And got sick, again. I'm okay now though, just some chronic illness stuff but I'm going to try and bounce back, hopefully with some more original works and maybe fics of heartstopper, dbh and stranger things. As well as anything in my drafts lol.

I've never seen a crossover with Doctor Who and Detroit: Become Human, anywhere. I know this is definitely a very specific niche and I hope those of you who enjoy my writing will enjoy it! It should be at least a two-parter, this just being the start of it. As always, I'm figuring out the plot as I go, anywho, I hope you all enjoy it! And again, gif choice has very little to do with plot lol.

Summary: Reader is devastated after the death of Connor during the fight for android rights, in denial, they use the Tardis to go back in time the day before he died, but The Tardis has other plans.

Theme: a lot of angst, sorry

Setting: a world where equal rights exist except for intelligent ai, also in the dbh universe where the doctor who universe merges.

Pairings: Tenth Doctor x Gn!Reader, Father!Hank x Son!Connor, Reader x Connor

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human, Doctor Who

Warnings: swearing, character death, grief, alcohol

Words: 2,391

<-Previous || Next-> (To be Continued)

----

"Hey, hey, stay. Please, stay." I practically whisper to Connor. I've held him in my arms for who knows how long, awaiting the doctor as he finishes off some Cybermen. He told me to stay here and keep Connor awake until Ten could come help. It's been so long and I don't think he's going to last any longer. The blue blood seeping from the gash on his side, looking at it makes me feel so hopeless and fearful that this is it. "Please stay, I can't lose you, Connor."

"Do me a favor, travel with the Doctor, and live your life. Please don't fret over me, I'll be okay." A soft smile creeps upon his features, his free hand, the one not holding onto his wound, reaches up to brush against my cheek. I hold his hand there with mine, the waterfall of tears threatening to fall.

"What about Hank? He needs you, Connor, you need him." I turn my head to place a gentle kiss on the palm of his hand. It's cold, his heaters have failed already.

"He'll be okay," Smiling again as he pauses, his blinking begins to slow. He continues, practically reading my mind, answering the questions yet to make it from my throat. "You'll be okay too. The Doctor will take care of you."

"You'll be okay." He mutters, throwing me one last smile before his systems shut down, everything slowing and turning off. And he's gone. He's already gone.

I hold him closer to me, rocking back and forth as I'm riddled with debilitating sobs. I move his hair out of his face, tangling my fingers in his locks, leaning my forehead down to touch his. Tears finally escaping from the confines of my eyes, dripping onto his cold--dead features. I couldn't save him. I couldn't save him and now he's gone.

I stay there, the lifeless Android held tightly in my arms. I lose track of time, letting it flow past me and letting grief evelope my being. Rocking him, whispering what good he could have done, muttering sorries while holding back sobs. Apologizing for failing him and letting him die.

Voices call out my name, muddled by the pain-stricken in my heart, a pair of hands gently pulls me away and up to stand. I close my eyes, ignoring the others around me. When I look back, I see someone take away Connor, carrying him away to whoever the hell knows. I scream, trying to run after him, to take him in my arms and somehow bring him back. I'm restrained as I struggle against their grip, screaming bloody murder. They've taken him, he's gone, he's really gone.

-----

"Y/N, you know you can't bring him back. He's gone." Ten tries to reason with me, he's been trying for the past few hours. But I could care less. I have a fucking time machine at my whim and I'm going to use it.

"Yes, I can. Him dying wasn't supposed to happen and you know that." I snap at him, running around the console, flipping switches, turning a couple knobs, and pressing a few buttons in the process.

"You could create a paradox! Not even remembering you saved him!" He counters, trying to pull me away from the console, I wiggle from his grip, jumping to push the final lever. It bangs, the Tardis whirring to life.

"I don't give a shit about paradoxes, he needs to be alive." I stare blankly at him, gripping onto the console, readying for the usual turbulence.

"Fine, you do this. But if you fuck up, don't come crying to me." His lips form a straight line, as he stares daggers at me, if looks could kill, I'd be six feet in the ground.

I roll my eyes, "I don't fuck up." Pursing my lips, I play with my next remark, weighing the consequences. "Unlike you."

He lets out a small sound, only to be described as a growl. Wow, mature. He steps back, anger painted on his features as the Tardis comes to a stop. I step back, turning on my heels and running out the TARDIS doors, yanking them open. I slam them shut, stepping out and onto the grass of the Earth before me.

"Y/N!" the Doctor practically growls as I hear him run after me, I walk farther away from the Tardis, looking for any sign of what day it is. I meant to come back the day before he died, to keep him far from the fight. So he wouldn't-- Nevermind.

The Doctor reaches me, his hand grasping my shoulder tightly, "Be careful."

"Sure." I hiss through clenched teeth, venom dripping from my voice. He cringes, regretting what he said before.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes, features softening.

I break from his grip, finding a digital newspaper laid on the bench not too far from where I stood. I grab a hold of it, then look beside me, noticing where I am. I'm stood in the park that looks over all of Detroit, I have no clue what park it is or in what relation to everything else it is. But I know what happened here. I look down at the newspaper tablet in hand, inspecting the date. when I find it, strategically placed in the top right corner, I throw it on the ground.

"Goddamn Tardis!" I yell, running my hands through my hair half hazardly, ready for another breakdown.

The Doctor must've followed me because when I turn to stalk towards the Tardis, he stands there, stopping me. "What is it?"

"Did you do it? Huh? Did you change the coordinates so you could get your fucking way?" I seethe, ready to stomp off, but he stops me. Looking at me with an innocently concerned gaze.

"Change the coordinates? No, I don't even know how to do that!" He yells back, turning on his heels to face away from me, ready to jump back into the TARDIS himself.

"Then what the hell happened?" I yell, chasing after him. He reaches the TARDIS, attempting to open the doors. Nothing, it doesn't budge. He tries to unlock it with his key, still nothing. Sonic, nothing. Brute force? Also nothing.

"She locked us out. She changed the coordinates. One of us must be needed here." He sighs, kicking the ground.

"Why the hell the day after he died?! That does nothing!" I throw my hands in the air, storming off. I head over to the railing that looks over the river. I shove my head into my hands. Tears threatening once again to fall. I hold them back, trying to keep my composure.

He stays silent, standing beside me at the railing. I raise my head to look over at the view, trying to come up with any reason as to why she brought us here. Why today of all days? I swear I set the exact date and time- Why would she do this, why would she change it?

"What do you think happens today?" Ten asks me, his hands having hold on the railing, keeping himself steady. I shrug, letting out a sigh of frustration, and anger-- everything that I could possibly be feeling at the moment. Hatred, sadness, grief- all of it.

"I don't know. I only know what was meant to be, what happened before. I- I never knew what happened today. If anything." He rests his hand on my upper back, trying his best to console me. Guess he's given up on anger.

"We need to find Hank." He tells me bluntly, in a tone that's expectant, expectant of me. But why?

"What good would he do? I'm sure he's furious with me." I let my gaze direct itself to him, my eyes meeting his. His expression is so soft, eyes glinting with something I can't even find the words to describe, his mouth formed in an understanding frown, eyebrows knitted as if I just told him everything I had bottled up. He looks as if he read my mind and my heart and knew all my thoughts and feelings with a single look. Breathe in.

"I don't know, but if he isn't the puzzle piece, he may lead us to what truly is." He holds my shoulders gently, his lips twitching up into a soft grin. Breathe out.

"Fine," Breathe in. "It's worth a shot I suppose." Breathe out. I go in for a hug, wrapping my arms tightly around him, "This doesn't mean I've forgiven you by the way. I'm still cross with you." As I say that, I press my face into his chest, hiding, hoping that if I hold onto him tight enough, I'll fade away and never feel again. Never exist again.

"Noted." He lets out a soft laugh, then pats my back as I step out of his grasp.

"So Hank's place, should we start our search there or the bars?" I ask, my hand reaching out to him.

He takes my hand in his, "The bars."

----

"Five bars and we've come up with nothing! Zip! Zilch!" I groan in frustration, kicking the ground with my foot as I dig my hands deeper into my pockets.

"What about Jimmy's bar? That's where we first met him, maybe he's there." He suggests, his shoulders shrugging, hopelessness painted in the browns of his eyes.

"He could be home as well," I add, wrapping my arms around myself as I gaze around me. It's decently cold, and it feels like it may snow soon. The road we stand on is completely abandoned, with no sight of another person, Android, or even a car.

"He could be, but there's a higher chance we'll find him at Jimmy's. He did just lose..." Ten then stops himself when he sees my expression fall, furrowing his eyebrows and then taking a sharp breath. He looks away, "I'm sorry." His hands are stuffed in his pockets when he looks back at me. "I really am. I am so sorry."

"Jimmy's bar then." I change the subject, looking away from him down the long and winding road before us. Littered with protest signs and..Android parts? But we just won the revolution yesterday? Maybe it's old, yet to be picked up and taken care of. And how did I not notice this until now?

"Allons-y!" He puts on a goofy grin, trying to lighten my mood as he holds out his hand for me, wiggling his fingers. I take his hand in mine and he runs. Again.

We take a few corners down the sidewalk along closed down buildings, lights off, and closed signs out. This doesn't feel right. I haven't seen one building besides the bars in town that are open or at least look semi-taken care of. We take a right at an intersection, where a grocery outlet is sat on the corner, aka the only open building I can see. I look in and for a second I think I'm seeing things when I see a speckle of brown hair poking up, an Android jacket donning on the person in ownership of the brunette locks. I stop Ten, my hand gripped onto his jacket sleeve. I stand there for a moment, trying to get a good look at the serial number on the jacket. The Android moves closer to the door, down an aisle and I catch a closer glimpse -- RK...800? No, no, it can't be!

"Ten..." I whisper and he catches my gaze, as I point over to the Android with Connor's hair and jacket.

"It can't be.." He grabs my hand in a tight grasp, turning me around and away from the grocery outlet, making a run down the sidewalk. We turn another corner to the right and we find the Jimmy's bar sign just a block away. This time we speed walk, our fingers intertwined with one another, whether for comfort or for security.

"You think he's here?" I whisper, gazing into the window of the small and very worn-down bar.

"Like you said, it's worth a shot." He gives me a warm half-smile, shrugging his shoulders.

"I suppose," I give him the same smile before looking forward again and opening the door. We step inside one after the other, me first with him following--our hands still intertwined--as the bell rings indicating our presence. I look around the room, a lot of middle-aged men sat in the booths that line the wall, a few younger-looking blokes sat at the bar--except for one. Hank is sat in the middle of the bar, his gray hair pulled up. Since when did he pull up his hair?

"Hank!" I call to him, waving as I make my way to sit in the vacant barstool next to him. He turns to me, donning a warm smile.

"Oh! Y/N! And the Doctor! I thought you two left yesterday?" He exclaims, waving back. Ten then takes his spot next to me, his hand resting on my leg.

"We intended to, but we felt like it was too soon. I uh, wanted to check on you, Hank." I try to give a soft smile, but I end up failing, turning into a faded grin.

"Why'd you need to check on me? I'm fine!" He assures me, my gaze moving to the door behind him.

The bell on the door rings again and out of curiosity, I gaze over. My jaw drops a bit, and Ten must catch my dumbfounded expression when his head turns in the direction of the door as well.

"Is that...?" I whisper, my hand flying to hold his.

"Why is your face like that? You look like you saw a fuckin' ghost, Y/N." Hank chuckles, bringing his drink up to his lips and then downing it in one go. I cringe, the idea of drinking that grosses me the fuck out. Must hurt like hell too. I shake my head, gaze still locked on the new customer. Connor. Connor's alive? I swear he was.. That he was gone?

"Well, I think I did." I sigh, my breath shaking. Hank follows my gaze towards the door.

"Connor?" His voice wavers, mumbling nearly inaudible, but I manage to catch it, my free hand resting on his shoulder. "I.. I haven't seen him in two months."

"What?"

<-Previous || Next-> (To be Continued)

[colossal-fallout]

@cursedranger121​ asks;  Mikasa x Male Bodied Reader modern setting. MBR Mikasa at a party. I'll let you pick kinks used, but any possessive elements from Mikasa in it would just be *chefs kiss* perfection.

Male Reader X Mikasa Ackerman - Modern AU 

AN: Sorry if this seems a little rushed. I was half way through earlier and Tumblr decided not to save the draft. It’s not the first time it’s happened either... sigh. 

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ Orgasm denial. Smut. Alcohol consumption. Slight possessiveness. 

Your stomach flutters and churns with eagerness and excitement as you pull up to the booming house, the siren call of a night of fun and debauchery calling your name.  

As you step out of the cab, your name is already called over the music from the people spilled out onto the lawn. You turn your head to see Eren and Jean standing with a beer in hand, raising them at you in a greeting. You begin to walk towards your friends as the cab makes its way back down the long, isolated country lane. Historia’s house is ideal for parties. It’s nestled within the middle of nowhere. No one is to be disturbed and the chance of someone calling the cops for a noise complaint is minimal.  

“What took you so long?” Jean asks before putting the glass bottle to his lips.  

“Work.” You sigh, gladly taking a fresh bottle Eren hands you.

The hiss of the suds is like music to your ears as you finally get to have fun with your friends after a long week. You relish the bubbles and foam that dance on your tongue with a bitter tang, the sound of laughter from within the house already lifting your spirits to a higher place.  

Your attention is pulled when Historia calls your name in a greeting and a wave from the porch as she keeps her farmhand boyfriend company as he sparks up a cigarette.  

The three of you slink over and exchange greetings - Sasha's booming laugh ringing from somewhere inside the house.  

"Mikasa's been looking for you." Historia mutters as Jean and Eren head inside.

Your cock twitches in a hopeful flutter at those words. Your eyebrow arcs as you shrug it off casually.

You and Mikasa had been chatting over the months. You'd even went on a date which had to be cut short because work had called you in. You were sure she'd lost interest until Historia lets out a small giggle.  

"She's been looking forward to you coming."

Maybe you still do have a chance?  

Tampering down your eagerness you nod in thanks for that titbit of information as you follow your best friends into the interior of the Hallway.  

Your memories decided to remind you of the moments your eyes had accidentally rested upon her beautiful chest during a conversation or her peachy ass as you headed up the stairs on your date. Her soft skin, her scent... It drove you wild. Those sweet lips and October sky blues along with that adorable little blush she hued whenever you stared a little too long... you were more than happy to see her again.

An hour went by in the blink of an eye as you caught up with your friends and let loose. Mikasa was indeed happy to see you, greeting you with a warm hug and her smile was evident from across the room. You tried to ignore the sly nudging's from Eren’s elbow and the envious pout from Jean as you chatted with the raven-haired beauty.  

At one point, you were about to take a swig of your drink when Annie purposefully knocked herself into you, your suds soaking the front of your shirt.  

“Ah, shit.” You sigh. “What was that for?”  

“Oh, lighten up.” She beams.  

The pink hue across her cheeks showed she was either drunk or just blushing at your presence; which you seriously doubted.  

“How have you been?” She then asks casually, as if you weren’t now patting your chest dry with your hand fruitlessly.  

“Good thanks. Yourself?”  

Before she can even reply you flinch at the surprisingly soft touch of someone snaking their arm around your waist, followed by a familiar scent.  

“Hey.” Mikasa smiles, giving you a little squeeze.  

Annie’s eyes roll. “Do you mind? We’re kinda in the middle of a conversation.”  

All your mind can focus on in your touch starved state is the feeling of Mikasa’s chest pressing against your arm.  

“Yeah, I do mind.” Mikasa smiles in reply. “He’s with me tonight. Okay?”  

Annie shakes her head and walks away, muttering. “Whatever. Not worth my time anyway.”

The raven-haired beauty pushes her nose against yours, her eyes crossing as they focus on your orbs. “You’re all wet. Come on, let’s get you more comfortable.” She laces her fingers within yours before leading you up the stairs, the building still vibrating under your feet from the thumping music.  

You were expecting her to take you to the bathroom to get dried up. But she’s taken you to one of the spare bedrooms, locking the door behind you and guiding you to sit on the bed. A cool and welcomed breeze rolls over you from the open window, the light drapes floating in the updraft. You weren’t sure why you were focusing on that. Maybe you were nervous, as Mikasa begins to unbutton your wet shirt.  

“We’ll hang it to dry…” she whispers, her eyes enlarging as more of your skin becomes revealed to her. You couldn’t identify why just yet, but as her face came close to yours, all you could think about was that beautiful draft from the damn window. Your head snaps away from hers as she pushes the material down your arms.  

Your mouth becomes dry as her now heavy lidded ocean blues close the gap between you.  

“Mikasa… how much have you had to drink?” you mutter, realizing it was your conscience preventing you to enjoy the moment.  

An etch of crimson sketches across her nose as she shyly glances away. “You’re so sweet. Don’t worry. I’ve only had two drinks all night.”

Her hands then slide up your chest to your shoulders, her slender fingers brushing up and circling your back. “Don’t you want me?”  

Of course, you do.  

You gaze down into her eyes, hopeful with a bittersweet undertone of a fear of rejection. As if you would.  

“YEE YEE!”  

Your heads snap to the window as the sounds of Connie and Sasha heading out into the back yard for air carries up on the breeze above the muffled booms of the bass.  

You both let out a small laugh. You adored your crazy friends.  

Knowing she wasn’t intoxicated; your confidence returns - your hands running through her hair as you firmly pull her gaze to yours.  

“I want you too. You’re so beautiful…”  

Her blush deepens as you press your lips against hers, a small moan already emitting from her throat. By the sounds of it, she’d wanted you for a while now.  

You’re not sure how long you’d made out with her for. You’d pulled her down to lie next to you, your hands palming her breasts, her hair and shape. But however long you had been, she was a flustered mess – her hair dishevelled and face deep red as your lips trail down her neck, leaving sucks and nips, her skin darkening as you mark her.  You could tell she was becoming desperate for more as her hips begin to absent mindedly grind on your thigh, her sex desperate for some friction from you. Your own throbbing cock was an indication of your own yearning as you sit up slightly, pushing her onto her back. Your hands fumble her shirt, quickly removing it - her breasts spilling out pulling out an unintentional groan from your depths of perversion.  

“Fuck...” You gasp at the sight of her squirming under you.  

Your cock is pulsing, begging to be inside of her as you pull down her pants and sighing as the scent of her arousal rolls down with the material. Her pussy is small and pink, neat and gleaming as if weeping for you to touch it.  

Your hands harshly  

Grab the underside of her thighs, pushing her knees to her chest as you begin to sensually kiss her fluttering slit.  

“Ah~!” She gasps, her chest pushing up and her grip tightening on the sheets beneath her.  

Her taste is like copper with a nice, sweet aftertaste, your finger stroking and teasing her entrance as your tongue harshly bats against her clit. Her eyes clamp close as her entire body tenses and trembles, the ignition of your act lighting up the kerosene of her yearning for you.  

You push your finger inside of her, followed by a second before you curl them and beckon at her g-spot as she melts into the palm of your hand in gasps and moans. You can’t actually believe you finally have Mikasa like this, the most vulnerable a person could be as you massage her insides with the pads of your fingers, building her orgasm from the very foundation, each wiggle, each stroke making her more and more hysteric, your name now leaving her parted lips.  

“Do my fingers feel good inside you? Huh?” You breathe onto her slit, her head bobbing in confirmation.  

You return to her nub; flicking and licking, your pace quickening as her wetness starts to splash around onto your wrist, her insides beginning to spasm erratically.  

“Ah, I'm... going to...” She whines, almost shy and embarrassed you were about to see her come undone.  

You slow your pace to a painfully gentle rhythm. “Hold back for me baby... wait for me.”  

Her hands run through her hair as you pull out your cock that’s been begging to be freed for some time now. You grab the base of the shaft, prodding your swollen head at her hole.  

“You ready for me?” You pant.  

“Yes!” She sobs.  

With a long push, you groan loudly as her warm insides embrace your entirety. Each bump and ridge rub you in the exact right way as you slide inside, her walls assisting your movement and pulling you in as she sighs deeply, her nails digging into your arms as you hover over her.  

“Shi~~t...” You hiss. “God, you feel so good.”  

Once you’re at the hilt, you lower yourself to her neck hiding your head into the crook while you begin to slowly dip your hips in and out of her, your moans muffled as you bite and kiss her neck and earlobe whispering all sorts of things. Anything your mind musters up about her.  

“You’re so tight...”  

“Oh baby... fuck... it’s too good...”  

Each slow drag of you, her volume and desperation increase slightly, the wet sounds of her cunt sucking you and pushing you are turning you onto another level while her nails sink into your back, your name leaving her over and over.  

“Please, don’t stop...” She begs, her eyes watering from the intensity of pleasure.  

You rut a little faster, caressing her hair as your cock begins to throb with more violence, the deep feeling in your stomach telling you that your time is almost there.  

“Cum for me...” You whisper. “Let me hear that pretty moan as you cum around me...”  

“y/n... oh my god...” Her walls tighten and clamp you in place as you push her over the edge, her silent scream beyond human perception as your rhythm falters, your thick cream spilling out inside of her as you both unravel into the ether.  

[pascalpanic]

hi i love ur writing so much!! can i request something with mutual pining, denial of feelings, idiots-to-lovers, hurt/comfort/angst , maybe some jealousy and fluff and smut if you want i just need something really angsty with javier peña, frankie m or din djarin?? tysmm!!!!!

The Bantha (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being an animal lover does not work well with the plans the Tuskens and Mos Pelgo citizens have to kill the krayt dragon. A retelling of S2E1 of the Mandalorian: The Marshal.

W/C: 4.4K

Warnings: talk of animals being harmed/dying, lots of arguing and angst, Vanth kind of is gross bc I hate his character aha, we respect the Tuskens in this house and use proper terminology for them, language, tiniest mentions of alcohol

A/N: Not gonna lie, the idea for this fic came to me pretty quickly but it took me a long time to properly figure it out. Lots of drafting and editing so THANK YOU to my beta readers, you’re all the best ever!! Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope it’s worth it!

Of all the dilemmas you’d expected to face as you traveled the galaxy with a tiny, Force-sensitive, 50-year-old toddler and a Mandalorian with the emotional capacity of the earlier-mentioned child, the last one you’d ever predicted you’d face had to be the challenge of ridding a tiny desert town of a giant sand beast that eats their banthas.

“You are so fucking dense,” you groan as you and Din settle on a speeder bike, the little green child tucked in a wrap on your chest. “You’re a Mandalorian, a battle-worn bounty hunter with a kill streak probably in the thousands, and some random man asks for your help and not only do you fucking freely give it, you decide to help them kill the sand dragon terrorizing their town.” You groan to him, rubbing your temples.

Din nods and starts up the speeder bike. “You don’t need to summarize what we just lived through,” he grunts and you wrap an arm around him.

“I do, because I need to clarify that your dumb ass would do that. Sometimes I really do think you don’t have a brain under that beskar bucket,” you shake your head, trying to keep the anger that you’re feeling. If you’re not careful, it’ll turn to adoration and love.

You’ve been battling your feelings for Din for a while now, trying to force the giddiness bubbling in your chest deep down inside. The man is everything you look for in a partner: strong, committed, tall, protective. He’s good with the child, adorably cuddly and loving. He’s even funny sometimes, making dry-humored remarks around the ship.

“Excuse me for caring,” the man grumbles through the modulator. He’s strong and warm beneath your arms, the Tatooine heat making the beskar warm like your bunk in the morning when you don’t want to get up. Stop it, stop it you remind yourself. This is not the time to be enraptured by the Mandalorian man’s body.

That’s yet another trait you love about him- how caring he is. He’s a bounty hunter, a warrior by oath who never shows his face and probably knows millions of ways to kill someone with his bare hands. Yet he cares. He raises the child well; he even raised him alone before you came into the picture. He puts himself in harm’s way for innocent people on the daily, all because he simply thinks it’s right.

You take a sip from your water canteen and hand it to the baby on your chest so he can drink too. “No, I will not excuse you for caring when you’re doing stupid shit, Din,” you scowl and cap the canteen as two three-fingered green hands give it back to you. “You came here- we came here, our family did, to find Mandalorians. There are none.”

“This man will give me his beskar if we help,” Din hisses, revving the engine of the speeder, non-verbally telling Vanth to get moving. The man is dawdling along, a few meters away, as he packs his bike up.

“What do you need it for, huh?” You ask him, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I’m not a Mandalorian. This little shit doesn’t need beskar. You have a full set of armor already.”

“Beskar belongs to me, to my people, by my Creed,” he says, articulating himself with his hands too. It’s a habit he’s picked up from you. “You wouldn’t ask a Tatooinian to deprive themselves of the moisture they farm.”

You put your face in your hands and groan. “No, you’re right, because they fucking need water to live. You do not need beskar to survive, Din!” You shout, getting off the speeder bike. “And please, forget I called us a family. We’re clearly just a bounty hunter and his… assistant, whatever the fuck I am, and some little kid we picked up for the ride.” You stalk off towards the building.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you turn.

Cobb is standing to the side somewhere, and you approach him. “You got another speeder? I don’t want to put up with him for the ride.”

The man chuckles and claps your shoulder. “Sure thing, pretty thing.” He wanders off and returns about a minute later with another speeder. Din watches the two of you in annoyance, visible from his rigid body language. “Hop on. You know how to drive?” You nod once and he heads to his own speeder. “I’ll lead. You two follow.”

-

The ride is uneventful at first. Cobb Vanth tells the two of you the story of how he came to be the town marshal, and Din nods his silent comprehension when the man in beskar looks over at him. Most of the stories are aimed at you, desperate to crack your stony anger. It doesn’t work. You stare straight ahead, daring to break your frown into a neutral expression when the little green baby coos excitedly at the wind in his ears.

There are valleys and caverns to navigate through, nimbly ducking and weaving on your speeder bike. The kid loves it, squealing happily when you fly over a bump or turn a sharp corner. It’s a joyride to him.

When Din and Vanth suddenly stop your ride, you panic, holding the child close against your chest. From your holster, you grab your weapon and stand next to the two men. The growling noises are revealed to be massiffs, huge dog-like lizards. You squeal in delight, immediately dropping to your knees and summoning the beast in Tusken.

“What in the hell is she doin’?” Vanth mutters to Din as the big animal comes bounding toward you.

“She’s always like this with animals. Thinks they’re all big puppies,” Din rolls his eyes but can’t help himself: he smiles beneath his helmet as the beast licks your face and you scratch its sides.

You’re such a wonderful person, Din sighs, even though he’s mad at you. You’ve always been amazing with other species, like massiffs and the little green child strapped to your chest. You’re so intelligent too: speaking seemingly endless languages.

“They are big puppies!” You coo and press a kiss to the forehead of one massiff. Another finds Din, who also bends down to give it scratches and attention. “Green bean, look!” You tell the child and put out his hand for the massiff to lick. “See? They’re our friends,” you tell him, admiring the way the little green child giggles at the scaly skin.

From around a corner, a Tusken appears, then several. You stand and lower your weapon, speaking to them first in their native language. “We mean no harm. You have beautiful massiffs,” you tell them then turn to Din and Vanth. “Drop the weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” Vanth shouts.

“We are here to put an end to the krayt dragon,” you explain to them in their language. “Your assistance and knowledge would certainly help us. You want it gone too, yes?”

They affirm you that it’s a yes, and you nod back at the men. You know Din understands. “They’re willing to help if you’ll stop being a douchebag.” Vanth starts to talk but you hold up a hand and cut him off. “I know, I know. We can strike a deal. Are you willing?”

Din’s heart is nearly exploding. In any other timeline, he’d be the one conducting negotiations, using his threat as a Mandalorian to run the show. But here you are, with your gentle nature, making deals and completing them through cooperation and kindness. It’s hard to speak in a soft tone when speaking Tusken, yet you can do it. All with a baby strapped to your chest. Maker, Din thinks, he might be in love with you.

Vanth sighs a few moments later. “Why the hell not?”

-

Din talks with the Tuskens for a while at the camp, planning and negotiating as night falls and the air starts to get cold. To entertain the child, you spend time with the banthas, brushing their fur and letting the baby get exposed to the animals.

The kid loves them. He coos happily as he strokes their thick fur, giggling as one of them gives him a kiss and covers him in slime. You wash him off and return, quietly talking with the Tuskens caring for the creatures.

You’ve taken a liking to them. They’re gentle and soft, like big lumbering puppies, really. They moo when you brush their fur just right, let their eyes slip shut when you scratch them between the eyes. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals, like Din said earlier.

Cobb likes you. That much is clear from the way he finds you when he’s not working with Din and the Tuskens, bringing you food and water as you and the child mind your business. He’s overly flirtatious, to the point of annoyance. He’s rude and crude about the Tuskens, calling them words you’d never use to describe a human.

Politely excusing yourself, you allow the child to run with some of the other Tuskens’ children and spot a silver-plated man sitting by the fire.

“Vanth is such a goddamn xenophobe,” you grumble as you sit down next to the fire with Din, the child off playing with some Tusken children. He’d ranted about the Tuskens as you rode with them, luckily in Basic so that the people couldn’t understand him.

“Thought you liked him,” Din says and cocks his head. “He certainly likes you.”

You roll your eyes and sip the canteen of water, looking at the crackling fire. “Those things are not mutually exclusive,” you chuckle, looking over at him. “What, are you jealous, tin can?” You tease and knock on his beskar pauldron.

“In your dreams, cyar’ika,” he teases. It’s clear to him that whatever tension had been between the two of you earlier has dissipated, enough for him to steal the water flask from your hand and pass it to the child as he toddles past.

“I was drinking that, you fucking bantha,” you laugh and smack him on an unarmored part of his arm. The Tatooinian desert gets cold at night, you find, and you pull into yourself a little more from the cold.

Din unclips his cape and drapes it over your shoulders, tucking it in beneath where your arms press against your ribs so that it wraps tight to your body. “Hm. You do have a heart under there,” you tease and sigh, naturally leaning against Din and resting your head on his shoulder pauldron.

“So it’s been said,” he nods and even dares to rest his head on top of yours. Through the bare spots in his beskar, he can feel the way your body radiates warmth into the chilly night. You spot a little green head toddling past again, much slower than the other children thanks to his tiny legs, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, the roar of the Tuskens’ conversations creating a soft hum around you. “For what I said, when I yelled at you. You’re right. You really are just caring for them.”

He nods. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m more sorry for saying we aren’t a family. I mean, we are, right? Not that we’re like, a couple or anything,” you say hurriedly, your voice low as you stumble over your words. “But you and this little womp rat…” you muse as you scratch the baby’s little green head. “You are my family. That much is clear to me.”

Din nods once more. “I agree.”

You smile up at him. “What’s going on under that bucket, huh?”

He turns, looking off. “Just going over the plans for how we’re going to get that krayt dragon.”

“Ooh, share,” you ask, taking one of his hands and lacing through his glove-covered fingers. “I didn’t mean it when we said all of this for some banthas, you know. I’ve really fallen in love with them lately.”

Din is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t answer. “Din?”

He knows you’re going to hate him for this. Your big heart, your animal-loving, sweet talking kindness is not going be okay with this, but he has to tell you the truth. “We’re going to have to sacrifice some of the banthas for this mission to work.”

“What?” You exclaim, dropping his hand. “You can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to. We need to lure the dragon.”

“Do it some other way!” You frown, looking over at the big soft desert cows. “Seriously, please, Din.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “They’re not sentient.”

“But they can feel!” You exclaim again, standing. “Fuck this. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself to the krayt dragon and see how that feels?” You shout, storming off. You’re aware it’s childish, but you stomp to your tent and lie down. You close your eyes and hope Din doesn’t come to find you.

-

Of course you didn’t mean it. Of course you didn’t want Din to sacrifice himself to the krayt dragon. So why is he doing it? Why are you on your knees, screaming to the sky that he did exactly what you said?

You’d been avoiding him since that night, since you showed vulnerability and subsequently returned to anger towards the man. You’d wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t get over the sacrificing of the animals for the cause. You just couldn’t.

Din had flown straight into the sand dragon’s mouth, just seconds ago, and is now deep inside its bowels, you’re sure. You clutch the baby to your chest and wail, agonized and terrified. Vanth stands at your side, a hand resting on your shoulder as you wheeze and sob.

But this is Din. He must have a plan.  He has to have a plan; he’s a battle-worn warrior and you’ve never seen him lose a fight. You’d stormed off before you could hear the rest of his plans the other night- maybe this was part of it. But the way Vanth stares at the dragon in terror makes you think that maybe it isn’t. Maybe Din just really fucked it up. You set the little green kid in his cradle and stand, sniffling and clinging to the metal sphere as if it’s your last lifeline to Din.

Suddenly, there’s a burst of green goo and out flies a shining silver rocket: it’s Din. “Oh thank the fucking Maker,” you shout as he lands not far from your small group, the wailing and dying sand beast behind him.

He’s covered in slime, but you’ve never been so happy to see the man. You rush to him and throw your arms around him, not giving a single fuck as you jump on him. “Please, never fucking do that again,” you wheeze into his cape, getting yourself covered in slime.

The hug is not comfortable. Din is all beskar where you want to feel his strong body, but it’s all worth it when he wraps his arms around you too. You’re crying, he knows it, and he knows just why. “I didn’t do it because you said it. You know that, right?”

You let go of him, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I was just so scared- oh Maker, Din, I can’t fucking lose you,” you admit, freely crying now. “I love you, I really do, and I can’t-“

“How?”

You look at him in confusion.

“How do you love me?”

This damn man. He’s full of surprises, just getting literally eaten alive by a krayt dragon, and now he’s asking you for a full emotional confession. You’re still reeling from the shock, but the fact that he’s there is enough. You don’t care that Cobb is definitely listening over your shoulder. “Every way. All of them. Romantic, friendship, family. You feel like my home and I want to be with you.” No better time than now, you suppose, to admit this all.

Din walks a step closer. “Romantic. Huh.”

“I hate that fucking helmet,” you admit, trying to deflect the emotion between the two of you. “I can never see your face. Can’t know what you’re thinking, your tone, your-“

Din cuts you off. “We ride back to the village and clean up. Meet me in the home as the suns set.”

What that means, you have no clue, but you nod. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” you murmur, putting a hand on the cut-out cheek of his helmet.

-

The town rejoices when you come back, shouting and celebrating over the dragon’s death and the plentiful meat that came with the creature. You’d joined in the reverie, taking a shot of spotchka and chanting along to a Tatooinian call-and-response they’d started. It was wonderful, really, and you and the little green thing were the stars. They admired the little green thing, cooing over him. You were proud to stand there as his mother.

The party died as the suns set. Din was notably absent from the hubbub, preferring to be alone as usual. You and the kid talked with the villagers, but as the suns started to sink, you excused yourself and found your way to the spare home you and Din each had rooms in.

Vanth and the women had taken the baby when you told them you were going to talk with Din. Not that it was hard: they all loved the little beast, showered him with affection. It was practically a competition over who got to play with him most.

The building has a warm glow as you wander over to it, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night has become cold now that the two harsh suns have sunk below the horizon, and it’s a relief to open the door to the home and feel the warmth radiating from a fireplace inside.

You find Din staring out of a window on the back, watching the endless wind sweep across the sand dunes, a dark sky contrasting the golden ground. Just his silhouette is visible, black against the deep blue. “Hi,” you say quietly as you walk in, the worn floorboards creaking beneath your feet no matter how deliberately you step. “Glad to see you got cleaned up.”

The man tilts his head in an obvious eye roll, even through the helmet. The slime was disgusting, although Din’s adoptive son had seemed to enjoy the gooey texture, as little ones are prone to. “I almost died and you’re already back to the sarcasm.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism,” you laugh gently and place a hand on his shoulder. There’s no beskar there, just soft fabric warmed by his body. It makes you shiver; even in the safety of the Crest, Din never takes off the armor. You wonder why it’s gone. Maybe to clean it?

Din’s quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers splayed over his shoulder in such an affectionate gesture. “You know how much I trust you, don’t you?” He asks and the black visor turns toward you, admiring what’s visible of your face in the moonlight. Your eyes glimmer and he admires them, the color he’s always loved.

You nod and smile just a little, cheeks growing rounder with the movement. “Of course.” He’s trusted you with his son, the most important thing to him in the galaxy. There’s one clear gesture even now: the absence of the beskar from his form. Maker, he’s broad, shoulders just as wide as with the metal.

He nods and shuts the window’s shutters, allowing even less light in before turning to you. There’s just a soft glow in the room, outlining the shape of the helmet and his shoulders. You can’t see any detail, just the shape. He walks over towards the long comfortable seating in the middle of the room and you instinctively follow, standing in front of it and stopping when he stops, facing him. His hands find your shoulders and his fingertips brush down your arms until they find yours. “Take off my helmet.”

“What? No,” you exclaim, frowning even though he can’t see it.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, a hand gesturing, an even darker shadow through the already murky visibility.

“No.”

“My Creed says you cannot see my face. Not that I can’t remove the helmet.”

You gulp hard, your fingers lacing through his. They’re bare. You’ve never felt them before. Often you’ve wondered if they’re calloused and tough from his work, soft from being hidden beneath the soft leather for all those years, or somewhere in between. They do fall into that in between, but they’re warm and strong and large, even without the leather casing them.

“I can’t do that to you,” you shudder, squeezing his fingers. “It’s the very thing about you, that you can’t take it off,” you start to ramble. You want to, desperately, but there’s no turning back now. If you feel his face, if you’re even so lucky as to kiss him, you’ll never be able to get enough of it. You’ll be subjected to an eternity of longing, even more than you’re yearning now.

“I want you to,” he breathes, his beskar-covered forehead falling against yours. “Please, cyare.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” You ask, your voice straining. You need to keep stalling, need to keep pushing it off or you’re actually going to do it. “I’m so mean to you. All the time,” you point out to him. You do it to keep him away, but he’s persistent. He never seems to care. “All we do is argue.”

“I may not be able to use the Force like the kid,” he mumbles, bringing one hand up to cup your face. “But I can sense your feelings. You don’t hide them well.”

“Din,” you plead, biting your lip and closing your eyes to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in them. “You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I want to.”

“Why are you so fucking patient with me when I’m only ever a bitch to you?” You practically wail, half annoyed and half honored. “You’re such a good man, Din. You don’t deserve someone shitty like me. I’ve got no hunting skills, I’m too stubborn, I’m mean and-”

He stops you by lifting your hands, setting them on either side of his helmet. “You can’t see me, so it doesn’t break the Creed. I want you to do this, because I want you.” He’s eternally blunt, but in this moment you can’t tell if it’s breaking your heart or warming it. “I love you too. Please. Take it off.”

“This is your last fucking chance, Djarin,” you tell him with a wavering voice.

“Cyare.”

“Okay,” you nod and take a deep breath. Din unlatches the little bit at the bottom that keeps it sealed against his head, and there’s a soft rush of air. Your hands grip either side and you slowly lift it off. Din takes it once it’s gone and rests it on the plush seat.

Your hands are drawn to his face like you’re being pulled on a string, your skin prickling as you feel the stubble along his chin and jaw. Your fingers trace his face for a few moments, exploring the new terrain. His cheeks feel hot, and his lips make you shiver again with how soft they are. Swallowing hard, you dare to look at his silhouette, noticing his hair is mostly matted down from the helmet. “What color are your eyes, Din?”

“Brown.”

You smile at that, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands dropping to your sides. His arms encircle you and it feels perfect, like you were meant to be like this for all of eternity and it took you long enough. “Of course they are.”

He chuckles at that and presses a kiss into your head, his hands finding your waist. “I did take this off for a reason.”

You lift your head, looking at his just-visible shape. “Really? I don’t know what you mean,” you flirt.

He’s silent. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, absolutely certain. “May I kiss you?”

The words are ever blunt, just like Din. “Yes, you bantha,” you tease, but the laughter is gone as his hands find your face again.

Just like that, his lips are on yours, radiating heat and love and it immediately tops the feeling of his arms around you. You gasp, not expecting him to do it so quickly, but your lips quickly meld to his and you sigh in content.

You stay like that for a while, hands traveling each other’s heads and necks and shoulders and sides as you kiss. He’s so warm and strong, his muscles just as sculpted as the indestructible metal that covers him. He’s so human.

After a bit, Din breaks away and presses his forehead to yours once more. He doesn’t speak, just rests there, his hands on your waist. His breath mingles with yours. For once, you’re speechless, unsure of what you can say back. The sarcasm has been stripped from your body like the beskar from Din’s.

“I better put the helmet back on,” he murmurs.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. You sit on the couch and he follows, desperate not to lose your touch. “Just… we’ll stay like this.”

He nods. He can’t say no when you kiss his neck feather-lightly, when your skin is pressed to his like this. He hasn’t had contact like this in years. He’ll prolong it as long as he can.

You do stay like that, relaxed and curled into each other. His arm wraps around you and you curl into a ball, nestled into his side. It’s been a long day for Din, you know, but the depth of it occurs to you as his breathing slows and his muscles relax.

He’s fallen asleep in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his neck and set a timer on the wrist-comm you’re wearing, so that you’ll both wake while it’s still dark in the room. For now, he deserves his rest. His face nuzzles into your hair, and he gives a soft sigh in his sleep. Yes, this is exactly what the beskar warrior needed: rest and you.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part Two, Chapter 1

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“What if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes? Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life? And, seeing those choices, choose another path?”

January 1997

She wakes to the feeling of his chest pressing against her back, a hand on her belly finding its way just under the hem of her pajama bottoms. She stiffens reflexively, and then wills herself to relax.

“Hey,” he whispers hotly into her ear, gaging whether she’s awake. She could feign sleep, but if she does that too often he starts to pick up on it. That is a conversation she’d rather not have again.

“Mmm,” is all she gives in response. He presses his erection into her ass and she grimaces, glad that she’s facing away from him so he can’t see.

“You fell asleep on me last night,” he says as his hand moves lower, now slipping below the hem of her panties, “Happy New Year.”

She glances at the clock; it’s 5:45. She has to leave the apartment by 7 to get to work on time so maybe this is an ideal situation; it will have to be quick. She hates herself for thinking this way, but since what happened with Mulder, she can’t seem to enjoy sex anymore. It’s perfunctory, an obligation. Somewhere in her subconscious she knows that it’s guilt that prevents her from being truly intimate with Ethan, but she only allows herself to see it as temporary, a hormonal change that won’t last. These things happen, she knows. Sex drives wax and wane. Maybe she should switch her birth control.

“Sorry,” she replies, gently pushing back against him, granting permission. Maybe they can stay like this, spooning; it’s easier when she doesn’t have to look at him, to fake enjoyment and connection. When he pushes her pajama bottoms down to her knees and enters her from behind, she sighs in relief and lets it happen, her mind elsewhere.

She tries not to think about it. About a lot of things, really. About how unfulfilling her marriage to Ethan is. About whether she can do this for the rest of her life, or if things will get better. About Mulder. She has the hardest time not thinking about him.

He hasn’t tried to contact her. Each day she arrives at work and checks her email, holding out a secret hope that there will be a message from him, but there never is. Every time one of her colleagues pops in to ask her a question, she hopes that maybe there is someone there to see her, and maybe it’s him. It never is.

She fakes her orgasm flawlessly, a skill she never hoped to acquire, and then showers for work, washing away the evidence of...what? Bad sex? A loveless marriage? Except the sex isn’t bad and the marriage isn’t loveless. Something is missing, but she can’t quite say what.

Or maybe she can’t quite admit who.

She skips breakfast, kissing Ethan chastely on the lips before she heads out the door. She looks away so she doesn’t have to see the pain in his eyes, the recognition that the woman he married isn’t the one he fell in love with anymore.

The fact that she seems to bring so much pain to the men who love her is something she cannot forgive herself for.

———

Priscilla is alternately licking his cheek and biting his nose and he pushes her away gently, checking the time. His alarm didn’t go off and he’s half an hour behind schedule.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, sitting up abruptly and sending her to the floor. She lands on her feet and scurries off, alarmed by his brusqueness.

He peels off his pajama pants and turns on the shower, rushing to the kitchen to feed Priscilla and start the coffee so it will be ready when he gets out. When he realizes he’s out of filters, he abandons the effort and decides to be late for work so he can pick up coffee on the way in.

He stands under the spray of the shower and tries not to think about her. Everywhere he looks, he is reminded of the short time they spent together. His couch, where they bonded over the X files. His bed, where he touched and tasted her. His dining room, where he kissed her for the first and then last time. His doorway, where she broke his heart.

Sighing with defeat, he takes his cock in his hand and lets himself remember, chasing that brief moment of release. The thought that he may never feel about another person the way he feels about Scully makes him sick, as though his life ended before it even began. Will he still be pining away for her when he’s in his seventies? Will he marry someone else, just so he can have some semblance of a normal life, but always wish it could have been her?

Every day since the moment she walked out of his apartment he’s thought about emailing her. He has an entire folder of drafts that he’s typed up but never sent. Some of them are old-timey love letters full of flowery descriptions of the taste of her lips and the color of her hair. Some are Jane Eyre quotes and song lyrics. Some are angry, accusing her of denial and an absurd obsession with commitment. They tell her that she broke his heart, ruined his life. He’s glad he never sent those ones.

He lets out a strangled cry as he comes, doing his best to aim for the drain so he won’t have to scrub the floor of the shower again. He imagines how she felt when she was coming around his fingers, and on his tongue. He wonders if it was as good as it seemed like it was, and whether Ethan is as good at going down on her as he is.

Was. As good as he was, because it only happened once and it won’t happen again.

He dresses for work, pausing to apologize to Priscilla for being rough with her and thank her for waking him up. She is, and will be for the foreseeable future, the only woman in his life, after all. Not that he doesn’t have options; between the Gunmen and other agents at the bureau someone is trying to set him up with their lovely single friend at least weekly. He tried to go out with a couple of them but it felt unfair. Although single, he’s not available. He leaves the apartment with an empty stomach, already late for his division briefing.

Even if she won’t accept it, his heart belongs only to Scully. He’s afraid it always will.

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

Guest Speaker Part 2

Author's Note: I received two anonymous requests for a smutty part 2 for Guest Speaker, so here it is!

Part 1

Tags: @that-aesthetic-wannabe​

Contains penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, mention of pregnancy, sex while in cheerleader uniform, orgasm denial(?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a couple of months since that fateful football game. Spencer and I really hit it off and were now officially dating.

He came to all my performances now. Sometimes he would bring some of his co-workers along, but my favorite days were the days he came by himself. I love them of course, but can you blame a girl for being possessive of perfection?

I stayed over at his apartment a lot now. And of course, Naomi never lets me hear the end of that one.

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

Present time:

"So you're telling me that you stay over at his apartment, sleep in the same bed, and you HAVEN'T had a piece of that yet? Girl! Get to it!"

"Naomi," I hissed at her over my lunch, "Either get a man or get a dildo because you are way too into my sex life."

Her eyes widened and she laughed breathlessly.

"Woah, feisty. Alright, I'll leave you alone. But come on, you've had to have wondered what it's like..."

She wasn't wrong. I had been thinking about it and wondering how it would feel- how he would feel. But for now, I just needed to worry about cheer practice.

"Come on, let's get to practice, Naomi."

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

Practice went by smoothly. No injuries, no drama, just practice. It was nearing the end of the season and a lot of the seniors, including me, just wanted to make the most of these last couple of weeks.

I cought the bus to Spencer's apartment like I normally did. He gave me a spare key, so I just let myself in most days. Surprisingly, he was already home.

"Spencer?" I called as I pushed the door open.

I smelled coffee brewing from the kitchen. Leave it to him to make coffee at this hour.

"In here!" He called back to me.

I dropped my bag by the door and kicked my shoes off, relishing in the feeling of not having my aching feet confined.

I made my way into the kitchen and saw Spencer sipping at his coffee.

"It's like, dinner time Spencer. Most people don't drink coffee right now," I laughed out.

Spencer looked at me in genuine confusion and said, "What boring lives they must live."

I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head.

"You're a dork."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. He was the best kisser; I could never get enough.

"Are you okay? It seems like something is bothering you," he said quietly while looking me in the eyes.

I bit my lip. Could he tell what I was thinking? Could he tell that the way he kisses me puts my stomach in knots and makes my core throb like no tomorrow?

"I- no, nothing is bothering me, exactly. I've just been thinking- and Naomi was being stupid today."

Spencer looked at me, expecting me to say more. When I didn't speak, he looked down at me and smiled softly.

"Have I ever told you that you look beautiful in your uniform?"

I smiled up at him, and laid my head against chest. My heart was pounding and so was the bundle of nerves between my legs. I had never wanted anyone this bad. I had to say something. I had to.

"Ever wondered what I look like with it off?"

Spencer tensed up for a split second. Then he pulled back and looked at me with an expression I had never seen on him before.

I thought he would speak. I thought I had caught him off guard and he would stutter out some kind of ramble like he usually does. But no. This wasn't one of those times.

"All the time," he growled in my ear, "But I think I'd prefer fucking you with it on."

I felt the color drain from my face. I halfway expected my knees to start buckling and knocking together too.

"What-what did you say?"

"You heard me. You know exactly what I said. And unless I'm mistaken, I think what's been bothering you can easily be fixed. You're easy to read, (Y/N). Now, should I bend you over this counter right here, or should I take you to my bedroom and make your toes curl against the sheets?"

I had never been so taken aback in my life. Who was this? This couldn't be Spencer, my Spencer.

But at the same time, I trembled with lust at his words. So he had been thinking about me too.

"Bedroom."

Without a word, Spencer lifted me off my feet and carried me into his bedroom. He set me down on his bed and stooped down to meet my eyes. His expression was normal now, his eyes gentle again.

"We don't have to do this. I- I just look at you in that uniform and can't help myself. I've been waiting for this forever, it seems. So if you want me to stop, just tell me."

I smiled up at him.

"And I've been waiting for you to fuck me senseless, Dr."

Any sign of gentleness on his face was now gone, as if it had never been there at all.

"In that case- panties off. Now."

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and quickly did as I was told. I wasn't sure where this dominant side of Spencer was coming from, but it was exhilarating.

He watched me as I slid my already wet panties off.

"Lay down," he told me, surprisingly gently.

I did so and he leaned over me, kissing me hard while holding my face in his hands.

"All those people back in school would be getting a huge kick out of this, huh? Somehow I managed to snag the most beautiful, sexy, and intelligent cheerleader in the entire world. And I'm about to make her scream," he said quietly with a smirk.

Confidence bubbled up in my chest as I saw the way he looked at me. I could tell he wanted me and loved me. Only me.

And if he wants to play a game, then I'll play.

"Why don't you prove it? Read enough books to teach you how to eat pussy correctly, genius?"

I swear his eyes darkened while he looked at me. I could feel the desire radiating off of him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

I grinned mischievously at him as his head lowered in between my legs. I couldn't deny I was nervous, but seeing him down there was just too good.

He started out gently, trailing his tongue along my folds while his hands gripped my thighs. When he felt my hips start to move, he got a little more aggressive, lapping at my clit like a starving animal.

The noises that came from my throat were almost embarrassing. I hoped to God that his neighbors weren't home.

"S-Spencer," I whined.

I felt his smirk as he continued his assault on my core.

"Where did this all come from?"

Spencer raised his head to look at me, a draft between my legs now where he once was. His chin glistened in the dimly lit room. Knowing that was me all over his mouth made my stomach flutter.

"No talking," Spencer commanded.

I had to restrain myself from saying "Yes sir!" Although he probably would've liked it.

Before I could think about what was going on, he dipped a finger into me.

"Spencer Reid-"

I liked the way his name felt in my mouth when I moaned. Almost as much as I liked his fingers knuckle deep inside of me.

He pushed another finger in and stroked my sweet spot. How did he find it so fast?

My muscles tightened and I grabbed at the sheets with my sweaty, shaking hands. I panted in time with his fingers moving inside me. With his other hand he rubbed my clit aggressively, seeing how close I was to becoming undone all over him.

But as soon as I felt my climax closing in, he withdrew his fingers and smirked down at me.

"What the hell?" I almost yelled at him.

His smirk only grew as he sucked his fingers off.

"Not yet. I wanna feel you cum on my dick, pretty thing."

I threw my head back and bit my lip, trying to keep from screaming.

"That's my girl. You stay just like that."

I stayed where I was even as I heard him undress. I had never wanted to look at him so bad in all the time we'd been together.

"Spencer, please," I whimpered.

"Look up."

I raised my head slowly, my muscles shaking. He was naked from the waist down and he was lining himself up painfully slow.

"Oops, I almost forgot," he said quietly. He then reached over to his nightstand and pulled a condom out of one of the drawers. "Don't wanna get you pregnant... just yet."

I stifled another moan at his words. He was going to be the death of me.

"Just fuck me already, Spencer."

He looked me in the eyes with an amused expression as he finished putting the condom on.

"I'm coming," he murmured.

Spencer leaned over and kissed me sweetly. I felt him enter me and I opened my mouth against his in shock. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue in my mouth, which I definitely wasn't mad about.

Our tongues danced against each other as he pounded into me. Each time he would slip out, he simply rammed his dick back inside me.

I grabbed at his shoulders and his hair, anywhere I could get ahold of. His mouth left mine and relocated to my neck. Soft grunts escaped his lips as he nibbled my skin, sending vibrations into my neck.

I felt myself falling apart around him and I knew he did too.

"Cum for me," he grunted out in my ear.

His words and his noises, coupled with the sound of his slick skin against mine made me unravel completely. I tightened around him and came forcefully, my thighs even more slick than before.

I hadn't realized I moaned throughout my orgasm until the room got quiet. I opened my eyes and saw Spencer completely lost in thought. His eyes were closed and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

I held onto his shoulders weakly and grinned, trying to catch my breath.

"Your turn, Dr."

His eyes shot open and he looked down at me, as if he forgot I was there. The thrusts were becoming more and more sloppy and I felt his arms begin to shake as he continued to hold himself up.

"The things you do to me, (Y/N)," were his only words before he collapsed on top of me, the condom now filled to the brim with liquid.

We laid in silence, except for the sound of our mingled panting. A stupid grin spread across my face and my eyes fluttered shut in contentment.

Spencer removed himself and threw away the soiled condom. He grabbed a new pair of pajama pants for himself and handed me a change of clothes after placing a sloppy kiss on my lips.

"We should do that again sometime," he said as he laid down.

I smiled and finished changing into the clothes Spencer had grabbed for me. My legs shook as I walked back over to the bed. I fell next to him with a huff.

"Maybe next time you can undress me."

Spencer blushed slightly.

"I'm not apologizing. The way you look in the uniform just gets to me," he laughed breathlessly.

I laughed with him and cuddled into his side.

"I love you, Spencer."

"And I love you, pretty thing."

[the-lincyclopedia]

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime. 

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is. 

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute. 

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault. 

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always. 

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other. 

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad. 

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity. 

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap. 

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form. 

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story. 

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

[bugsinthebayou]

heres that wip philza angst chapter

I cleaned it up a little but it's still a draft so sorry for mistakes. Enjoy! :)

//death, blood, repeating words, a little cursing, and general not having a good time angst. 

_________________

A familiar sent made him wrinkle his nose, by his third step in it was pungent. Something about it teased his fight or flight response. It wasn’t exactly bad, just metallic and almost… poignant...

  Blood. It was the smell of blood. He didn’t register it at first because it was so... but why? Why was it so strong? 

  There was a conclusion here his head refused to acknowledge. 

  He kept walking, slow and blank-minded, towards the back. His grip on the hat fell so lose it nearly dropped from his fingers from just the swaying of his walk. 

  There was no one in the front room. 

  He kept walking, making his way to the back. He stopping thinking. He didn’t notice the smell anymore. He didn’t register himself opening the door to the hall. He doesn’t remember how he made it down the corridor or into the frame of the workroom. The single door on the left, the door left wide open.

  He stood there... and he stood there... and he stood there... not comprehending. Not feeling. Not thinking. 

  He only saw the nightmare in front of him minutes (Or was it hours? Days? Seconds?) after it came into his field of vision. 

  Even as his brain clicked on again he couldn’t process it. The only thing he could think, the only thing he could feel, was denial.

  No. 

  He doesn’t remember walking over; he was simply next to it, blood on his shoes. He crouched down, eye level with the cor... the bo... the b... the thing he refused to see. The person that he couldn’t see. The person that was no longer there. The absence he couldn’t acknowledge but couldn’t refute. 

  It was like he was in a photograph. Nothing moved, nothing changed, nothing gave him the sign of hope he was so very desperate for. He held his breath. He waited. Nothing. It was so... so still.

  No.

  Phil carefully reached out and set a hand on its cheek (his skin was so cold) gently turning its head to face him. There was... nothing... the face, the eyes, empty. 

  His mind went blank again. He reached out his other hand to caress its face, to hold it, to pretend that something, someone, was still there to comfort. 

  A voice in the back of his mind whispered for him to stop, that he was messing up the crime scene, that he was tampering with evidence. He screamed in return. He cursed at its existence. He screeched back, how could he care about that when he was where he was? When what had happened that happened?

How could he even think about anything like that when he was staring into the hollow eyes of his dead son-

  His son was dead.

  The fact finally sank in like a weight broken through ice over thick, ugly, mud. 

  Wilbur- no, Wilbur’s body was lying slumped against the wall. There was blood... there was so much blood seeping from his chest. It soaked its shirt and its coat and even the carpet around it. Phil squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to examine the wound, but the little he did see was already burned into his mind like a cruel scar. He didn’t get a good look, didn’t want to, he only saw a tear in the fabric and deep, dark, red. It was enough, though. It was too much. 

  He was going to be sick. He was sick. Clearly, he was sick and delirious and hallucinating. He could feel himself burning up, sweat beginning to dampen his clothes, and shakes overtaking his body. 

  He was sick. 

He was sick. 

He was so, so, so, sick. 

  He needed to get better. He needed to make it through this moment and feel better so all of this would go away. It would happen eventually, right? Moments like this seem to last forever when you’re sick. The pain, the nausea, they slow down time and- and... 

  Phil opened his eyes. His heart didn’t jump or sink at the reality still in front of him. He didn’t feel anything, he couldn’t bear to. He still held Wilbur’s face in his hands. His hands snapped back, he held them against his chest as though he’d realized he was touching a hot stove. Wilbur’s- its head clumsily dropped in a fashion that made Phil’s stomach churn. 

  Why had he done that? Tears began to sting at his eyes. Why had he let go? He wasn’t surprised or scared, he’d just pulled away, why? He grabbed one of its shoulders and laid his face into the other. Burying his face into Wilbur’s coat, he could smell- underneath the stench of blood- something familiar. It smelled like a coat. A regular coat. A regular coat that brought back memories of Wilbur laughing and singing. 

  Memories of when he never once had to think about seeing someone he knew, someone he loved, with empty eyes and cold skin. With arms, legs, a head, that would fall limp like a doll’s. He- He was being moronic. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t hallucinating. 

  His. Son. Was. Dead.

  Wilbur. Wilbur Soot. Will. Wilby. He was dead. 

  He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

  Phil had a body in his hands. Phil had his body in his hands. 

  He kicked away the nagging voice lecturing him about evidence and scooped up his son- what used to be his son- in a hug. An apology. Phil doesn’t remember when he started crying, but he wept. His arms shook and his knuckles turned white as he held onto a fucking corpse tighter and longer and more sincerely than he ever had his living son. 

  Rage washed over him, drowning him, choking him in wave after wave of anger. Anger at himself. At Wilbur. At Tommy. At Techno. At Wilbur’s friends. At Wilbur’s boss. At Wilbur’s customers. At people who saw Wilbur walking down the street. At anyone who had ever stepped foot in this cursed fucking place. At anyone who had ever laid eyes on Wilbur happy or laughing or alive. Anger at himself. 

  At himself. At himself. At himself.  

  Where was he?

  Where had he been the moment his child needed him the most?

  Where had he stood, slept, sat, whatever, as the light left his son’s eyes and all the breath left his lungs?

  His son has died. His son had died. Where had he been?

  His son had laid, struggling for breath in a pool of his own fucking blood, and where was he?

  His son had been murdered, where-

  Phil stopped. 

  He stopped breathing. He stopped crying. He stopped feeling.

  He pulled his head back from the coat and felt his eyes fall downward, glassily stopping at the gaping wound in its chest. He stared him- at it, at the excessive blood staining everything around it, at the terror and sorrow and anguish plastered onto its face.

  His son was murdered.

  A numbness darkly swirled in his heart as he stood up, gently letting the thing, the husk of what used to be his son, fall back to the ground. His legs were weak like he’d run a thousand miles; nausea kicked at his stomach. He felt cold as his shirt and pants were drenched in blood but he barely acknowledged any of it as he stumbled. Stumbled out of the back, over the hat he couldn’t remember when he dropped, stumbled emptily towards the exit.

  His son was murdered. 

  He had no idea how he could be so empty, so numb, and yet so stuffed full of seething white-hot wrath. He had no idea what he was going to do with everything inside him. He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea what he was going to do. 

  The door was his only goal but it seemed years away, mocking him with pale winter sunlight shining onto an ordinary ally. An ordinary ally connecting to a normal city where everything was fine. It was just another day. The thought of stepping out into a world that didn’t realize or care what tragedy had taken place made his stomach boil. There were people in the city, in the world, just going about their lives like everything was normal. He hated them. He hated every last one of them. He hated the idea of going outside and having all of this be pointless… to have all of it be real. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay in this awful moment forever if only to pretend it was a dream.

  What… what did he do? What should he do? Go outside? Then what? Where would he go? Just stay here forever like he wanted? He couldn’t. He didn’t want to stay here, he wanted this to all be a bad dream. Phil suddenly became aware of the reek of blood again. He stiffened, afraid to even look behind him in fear he’d catch a glimpse of the nightmare he’d just coddled. 

This… this was a nightmare but- he glanced to his side, not even daring to turn his head, and swallowed back. This was not a dream.

-inky

----

holy fucking shit dude you fucking killed him

[arofili]

Cause & Consequence (ch5 alt draft)

Since some people expressed interest, here you go! @himrings :)

This is from the POV of Ryndil, my Haleth/Caranthir baby, and takes place directly after the Nirnaeth after the Feanorians fled to Caranthir’s stronghold in Amon Ereb. I intended it to be part of Cause and Consequence ch5, but having reread it now after I’ve written ch1 of that fic, I know I’ll have to rewrite most of it to fit the Caranthir characterization as well as the general tone.  This confrontation will happen, and there are parts of it I’ll probably keep, but overall I’m gonna have to change most of it.

Still, I had a lot of fun with the arguing Feanorians, especially Maedhros who is less “in denial about Fingon’s death and crumbling entirely as a person” and more “completely Does Not Care about anything now that Fingon is dead, would be happy to watch the world burn because Nothing Matters, but still has his wits about him.” and I really let myself go off with my headcanons! I’ll have a note at the bottom explaining some of them :)

~

“Who are you?” demanded Celegorm.

Rýndil glared up at him, undaunted by his blood-stained figure and the astonished looks of his brothers.

“I am Rýndil,” they proclaimed. “Rýndil of Brethil.”

“Didn’t I see you in the fighting?” one of the twins asked suspiciously. “You aren’t one of the Accursed’s people, are you?”

“I’m from Brethil,” they said, affronted. “I’m one of the Haladin!”

“Regardless, this is no place for mortals,” Maglor said flatly. “You do know who we are, don’t you, Rýndil of Brethil?”

A shiver ran down their spine. Seven tall elf-lords, gaunt and scarred and bloody in the aftermath of a disastrous battle. Maedhros, the eldest, was a shell of the glorious figure he’d been on the battlefield; they weren’t sure if he was even awake, his eyes were so glassy and unfocused. Grief, they supposed. They’d heard the rumors about him and the High King, after all.

Maglor, leading in his place, trembling despite the firmness in his golden voice. Celegorm, bitter and angry and mean despite his fair features. Curufin, his dark shadow, flint in his eyes and venom on his tongue. Amrod and Amras, mirroring each other in their distrustful glares. And yet despite the blood and dirt and pain, a light shone from each of them. These were men to be feared, men to be worshipped.

And then there was him. Caranthir the Dark. Rýndil’s father, the blood flowing through their veins, the reason they were here in the first place. Gaunt and red-faced, the weary host of his defeated brothers, he had scarcely stopped moving about and making room for them since they arrived.

As much as Rýndil was of the Haladin, as much as they were the child of Haleth, they were bound to this family and people also.

Rýndil stuck their chin out and glared directly at the unobservant Caranthir. “I know who you are,” they said evenly. “You are the Fëanorians. Well, so am I.”

There was a horrid pause, in which Rýndil wasn’t sure if they were going to be sliced open from gut to throat or welcomed with open arms. Even those that hadn’t been staring at them before turned to look at them with open mouths.

“They’re not mine,” said a wry voice at last. Everyone turned to stare at Maedhros, speaking his first words since their arrival.

“What?” he said. “Fingon is—he’s dead. No point in hiding it any more. Yes, I was sleeping with him. We were in love. You’re all shocked, I know—yes, Curvo, I was being sarcastic, don’t even start, I’m well aware that we were the worst-kept secret in Beleriand.”

“More like all of Arda,” muttered Maglor.

Maedhros ignored him. “My lover is dead,” he said, a deep and righteous grief rumbling in his chest. “And so. This bastard child. Is. Not. Mine.”

Bastard! Rýndil recoiled. They knew it was true, knew that the Fëanorians could see the truth of their relation but also the truth of its illegitimacy in the way that elves had. The way Rýndil only partially understood, like they only partially understood everything about who they were.

No one else spoke. Maedhros stuck his feet up on the table, crossing his arms. “I’m done with dancing around unfortunate subjects,” he said. “Whoever of you bed some mortal woman, fess up. I faced my scandal, time for you all to face yours.”

Still no one moved, until Maglor blurted out, “I know you’re looking to me, Nelyo, but Arasdil’s children had other fathers.”

“What?” Curufin yelped. “You slept with a mortal? And you mocked me for being faithless to Quilla with Finrod! What would Ezellë think of this, at least I didn’t stoop that low—”

“This is rich,” Maedhros drawled, “coming from the person who would never shut up about me being a cousin-fucker.”

“Look, Finrod was the whore, look at him, he had Edrahil and Bëor and at least two of those dwarves, and besides he was already fucking Turgon well before me—”

“I’m asexual,” Amrod said, raising his hands and stepping backward. “It wasn’t me.”

“And unlike some of you, I remember my marriage vows,” Amras snapped. “Thennes may have died in the Bragollach, but if we get out of this blasted Oath and reunite in Aman I’ll be doing it on a clean conscience!”

“Tyelko?” Maglor demanded.

“Hell if I know,” Celegorm growled. “I’m not the type to get tied down—”

“Valar damn it, Tyelko, how many times have we told you—”

Rýndil watched, wide-eyed, as the Fëanorians fell apart into bickering about their various sexual exploits, bringing up long-buried grievances while Maedhros watched with a morbid amusement. Morbid, that was the right word for him; just looking at him unsettled them.

Throughout all this, Caranthir stayed silent in the shadows of his own home, his face growing more and more red. Rýndil looked at him, crossing their arms. They weren’t going to say anything—this was his fault.

“I think I’d know if they were my kid, though,” Celegorm argued. “Has Tyelpë been sleeping around?”

“How the fuck should I know?!” Curufin snarled. “Ever since you fucked up our perfectly good plan with the witch of Doriath I haven’t seen hide nor hair of my unfortunate whelp!”

“I fucked it up?” Celegorm shouted. “Really now?! You sending your boyfriend off to his death had nothing to do with that?”

“It was me,” Caranthir said quietly. The others didn’t seem to hear him at first, though Rýndil saw Maedhros’ eyebrows shoot upward at the confession. “I’m their father.”

Slowly, the Fëanorians fell silent, looking to their middlest brother in astonishment.

“Moryo!” Maglor groaned. “Of all of us, only Ambarussa were less likely!”

“And me, don’t kid yourselves,” Maedhros interrupted. “I had my money on one of the ‘Three Cs’ as I hear they’re calling you all in Dor-lómin. Though I doubt Dor-lómin will be around for much longer.”

“Don’t group me in with those idiots,” Caranthir said scornfully. “Yes, I fathered the brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat,” Rýndil growled. “And I may be a bastard, but that’s to your shame, not mine, Father. My mother’s people treat me very well.”

“Who is the mother?” Amras asked. “I never pinned you for the romantic type, Moryo.”

“Haleth wasn’t, either,” Caranthir said glumly. “She...conquered me, I suppose. I didn’t even realize that she got a child out of the exchange until I met Rýndil several years later. And frankly, they’re so unimpressive, even for a peredhel, that I’d forgotten about them until—”

Rýndil sprang across the room and bitch-slapped Caranthir to the ground. “Fuck off,” they spat, hitting him where it hurt. “My mother was right to send you away when she did. You’re worthless, all of you Noldor princes, bringing only ruin to this land and blaming it on everyone but yourselves. Look at who brought Beleriand to ashes in this last battle—it wasn’t the Sindar, nor the Edain! It was you lot and your double-crossing friends! And maybe I’m an unanticipated, unimpressive peredhel, but everything I can claim is thanks to Haleth, not you. I may be a Fëanorian, but I’m worth seven of you.” They curled their lip. “And for the record, uncles, I think Celebrimbor had the right idea.”

They gave the stunned Caranthir one more knee to the groin and stormed out of the room. “Thanks for giving me a place to spend the night,” they called as they left, “and for letting me get that off my chest.”

“I like them,” Maedhros observed sardonically once Rýndil had rounded the corner. They hung by the doorway, catching their breath and trying to regain their composure. “They’re not afraid to tell you all the truth.”

“I’ll remind you who led this Union of peoples that failed so disastrously,” Caranthir hissed, “and if tonight has proved anything, it’s that Ambarussa have the right way of looking at things.”

Rýndil didn’t know if they would go that far, but they smiled grimly. So much for finding a place with their father’s people—but at least this venture hadn’t been uneventful.

~

A/N: So really this turned out to be more of a sequel to “Unanticipated” than part of C&C - my Halenthir characterization there is fairly antagonistic and playful, but after thinking about it I don’t think Caranthir is actually...ashamed of Ryndil, or particularly regretful of their existence, he just...doesn’t know what to do with/about them. So I’ll tone down his disdain for the actual fic, because I don’t think this is really representative of how he feels anymore.

A lot of my headcanons for the Feanorians and their relationships showed up here! I went into more detail about some of that in my longfic “ATATYA.” That fic, however, is not set in the same universe as this one; Ryndil is discussed in Moryo’s chapters of “ATATYA” but he didn’t actually know they existed until after his rebirth in that story, where he does know here.

There are references to Quilla and Ezelle; these are my OCs for Curufin and Maglor’s wives, respectively.

I mentioned Amras’ wife Thennes in this fic - she’s another character discussed in “ATATYA,” but her fate is different here than in that fic. Here, she dies in the Dagor Bragollach instead of absconding with Elured and Elurin after the Second Kinslaying. I have some headcanons about her relationship with the Ambarussa and how that plays out in both fics; one of these days I’ll get around to writing them.

Someone else I mentioned was Arasdil, a mortal lover of Maglor’s. That relationship was something I was workshopping around the time of writing “ATATYA,” but I ultimately ended up going with a different version of his life in my fic “Sins and Sorrows,” which is set in the same verse. I still think she existed, but they weren’t married like I originally envisioned. Basically, Arasdil was a woman of the house of Beor that Maglor rescued from an abusive marriage and had a relationship with. His comment about her children having “other fathers” is just that - he slept with her, but she never had his child. This is an affair that Maedhros knew about, but the rest of his brothers didn’t until this moment.

There’s a lot of swearing here that I’ll probably end up toning down, and I don’t think I’ll be as explicit with Amrod’s line about him being asexual, though that’ll still be there in spirit. And by the end, with Ryndil “bitch-slapping” their father and just Going Off at him and his brothers - I don’t think that would fly in actuality, but it was too fun to resist, tbh.

Also, the main thing this fic is missing is Ryndil’s dog!! They always have a dog with them - though perhaps Tallagar also died in the Nirnaeth.... :(

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this snippet, and if you haven’t checked out the actual fic, you should definitely do that!! :)